tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36138519613249328882024-03-05T08:51:48.036-05:00Doc Webb's Wasteland JournalTranscriptions of the holotape recordings of Dr. Jacob Webb
<br>during his travels in the Mojave Wasteland in 2281.Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-55314892304311218642012-03-23T17:05:00.000-04:002012-03-23T17:05:26.975-04:00//Log Date: 2281-11-07 07:21//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> --not all that bad.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*Sounds of chewing, along with a crackling fire.*</span></i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Not bad at all. PIP-Boy says it’s damn healthy eating, too, with almost no rads. What did you say these critters are called?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Lakelurks. Guys used to report sightings of them around Camp Golf.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhZj6RO0aSq5Tax_1ZMoyIdPl29aErdtQ8wtDDbAYw3F1PgWjn5SS1ur8b38oux7gFW9MfvMTyxollY9H6E0zYG0claDfh_6dkv7HliVUtscXrHRLReZMYL-vIhVRjB6aAHtAHGaa-ap4/s1600/lakelurk1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhZj6RO0aSq5Tax_1ZMoyIdPl29aErdtQ8wtDDbAYw3F1PgWjn5SS1ur8b38oux7gFW9MfvMTyxollY9H6E0zYG0claDfh_6dkv7HliVUtscXrHRLReZMYL-vIhVRjB6aAHtAHGaa-ap4/s1600/lakelurk1.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Female>> “Lakelurks”? Who comes up with these names? That sounds like a body of water that’s about to sneak up on you.<br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Heh. Well, it certainly tried sneaking, at any rate. Nice shooting, Boone.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Hmmph. Stupid thing was coming right at us. Hell of a way to start the morning.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Still, good eating or no, I wonder what the hell it is.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010100110111010101100010011010100110010101100011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010000100000011000010111000001110000011001010110000101110010</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001100100000011101000110111100100000011000100110010100100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110000100100000011010000110010101100001011101100110100101101100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111100100101101011011010111010101110100011000010111010001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110010000100000011001100110100101110011011010000010000001101111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001000100000011000010111000101110101011000010111010001101001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110001100100000011100100110010101110000011101000110100101101100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Female>> That explains the taste.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> What?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Wait, what?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Female>> Just wondering if it was mutated from some sort of fish. Tastes like fish. Or, you know, what I’d imagine fish to taste like. Hey, do you think we could catch a real fish, rather than a fish-man?</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt3Z_zBPWgDpNIa7lr9Rtr-Zxa4kpFfodQixPxyySuAZVT1yknU4cagZE2__PJO8Mo6CgN7DOWUb-gRSwS2OXNP8zDaD_ixK93b6oWioLMI9XYwrGar6Ry5Xq-P2R5KMCypRD20-ShkcE/s1600/lakelurk3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt3Z_zBPWgDpNIa7lr9Rtr-Zxa4kpFfodQixPxyySuAZVT1yknU4cagZE2__PJO8Mo6CgN7DOWUb-gRSwS2OXNP8zDaD_ixK93b6oWioLMI9XYwrGar6Ry5Xq-P2R5KMCypRD20-ShkcE/s1600/lakelurk3.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> No, did you just understand ED-E?</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Female>> You mean the eyebot? No, of course not. Absolutely not. No way. Maybe.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> ...How?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> She’s lying. It’s just beeps.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Female>> Right, absolutely. There’s no possible way a Brotherhood Scribe could listen to so many binary-encoded transmissions that they start to make sense without a decoder.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Silence.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> ...Holy <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i>.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Female>> Jeez, Doc, watch my virgin ears.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010000110111001001100101011000010111010001101111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001000100000010101110110100001101001011101000110110001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111100100100000011000110110111101110101011011000110010000100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010101101110011001000110010101110010011100110111010001100001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111001100100001000000111010001101000011010010111001100100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010101101110011010010111010000100000011101000110111101101111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*More silence.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Well?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Female>> Well what?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Did you understand that one?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Female>> Nope. He DEFINITELY didn’t say you have fishman bits in your beard, either.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjndTxmV-p4nDf87NzAPQ-qYuH1OhJ3DspHgmEzyeGoJO02gPfWBTfCLWjiaKqREZuzEu9c_0jijqurYIM_gp9ojvjyTHKj0200X4bEWUCsnYII4L7ltwKPIwZSFOwl6N6YgB7ScdSDqBI/s1600/lakelurk2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjndTxmV-p4nDf87NzAPQ-qYuH1OhJ3DspHgmEzyeGoJO02gPfWBTfCLWjiaKqREZuzEu9c_0jijqurYIM_gp9ojvjyTHKj0200X4bEWUCsnYII4L7ltwKPIwZSFOwl6N6YgB7ScdSDqBI/s1600/lakelurk2.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Heh. You do.<br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> ...Goddamn it. Where’s my handkerchief?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-80593955299987358102012-03-18T22:09:00.000-04:002012-03-18T22:09:38.254-04:00//Log Date: 2281-11-06 20:06//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> <i>*Singing quietly*</i> Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How I wonder...</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*A long sigh, then silence.*</span></i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Let’s be honest, Webb. You’ve got more than enough firewood at this point.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There’s another reason you’re taking your sweet time going back to that campsite.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*Another sigh.*</span></i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Why did I even tell her she could come along? Lord knows I’d sleep better without one of them around, even if she doesn’t seem cut from the same cloth... or clipped from the same sheet metal.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Still... “cloudy with a chance of friendship”? This is what you get for listening to little lunatics. Just because this particular lunatic was a kid with funny headgear who looked like he needed a good meal doesn’t mean he had anything more useful to say than the shaggy fellows panhandling in the streets of New Reno.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What did he call himself? The Forecaster? Poor little fella. He apparently lives at the trading post we passed through today, after we said our goodbyes to our guitar-playing friend and kept heading north on Route 95. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">An hour or so along the way, we overtook a few traveling merchants also going north, leading a brahmin train loaded with salvage and supplies. They’d been hit once by raiders -- Jackals, from the sound of it -- and had fought them off, but they’d lost a guard in the skirmish and one of the merchants had taken a round to the shoulder. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They were cautious at first, but when we didn’t try to shoot or eat them, they relaxed a bit, and I patched up the wounded woman -- the bullet had gone straight through, thankfully -- and rigged her up with a sling in exchange for some food, fresh water, and a pocketful of .357 rounds.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We traveled the rest of the morning together -- safety in numbers, after all, and word was there were more raiders the closer you got to New Vegas, at least on the southern and western sides -- and they filled us in on the road ahead.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Turns out there’s a fairly well-established trading post at the junction of Route 95 and 93, which some mathematically-minded locals have dubbed the 188, in what apparently passes for rapier wit around here. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When we finally arrived an hour or so past midday, I was pleasantly surprised. It certainly wasn’t a town, but they’ve got some shacks and buildings set up, along with old buses and trailers that serve as walls and flophouses for people passing through. Several other caravans were stopped there as well, and the comforting babble of hawking and haggling filled the place. Plenty of NCR milling around the place, too, keeping things orderly, but they mostly kept to themselves.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPGTYkwRXpoGBnXk7DF7HZD-FXIEGhtYoWzABF5Md1Op8iGjUlNKvGzKnXR2SADt11Z9KQkJtFtSi3K_IOwz_w_FICBnwIABk3lt_h_7yyiqoKfT5lQkFdyQTBhsMrmYa8tUEepJLIkv4/s1600/188_overpass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPGTYkwRXpoGBnXk7DF7HZD-FXIEGhtYoWzABF5Md1Op8iGjUlNKvGzKnXR2SADt11Z9KQkJtFtSi3K_IOwz_w_FICBnwIABk3lt_h_7yyiqoKfT5lQkFdyQTBhsMrmYa8tUEepJLIkv4/s1600/188_overpass.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">From the upper level, situated on a hill and an overpass, you could even see Vegas off to the west, walled and glittering in the afternoon sun, with that oval-topped tower looming over everything.<br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I wished our traveling companions good luck with their trading, and Boone and I set out to see what was on offer. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Our first stop was the Forecaster, a boy who couldn’t have been older than ten wearing an odd piece of headgear. Apparently an orphan, he lives at the 188 and earns his keep selling his “thoughts” -- sort of like one of those fortune tellers you occasionally get with traveling shows or fairs back west.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I rummaged through my packs and gave him one of my warmer blankets and some cans of food -- he looked cold, and far too thin -- and he insisted on giving me a few thoughts in exchange. At first, I declined, but he looked so miserable and determined that I caved in and listened to what he had to say.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Most of it was political gossip related to the NCR/Legion conflict draped in symbolism -- the Bull and the Bear clashing in the east, with a light shining out from Vegas -- but one comment was more immediate in import. He said there was a girl here named Veronica, with her heart wrapped up and carried with her. And like an old weather broadcast, he forecast that it was “cloudy, with a chance of friendship.”</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8ffeUBpx16_igprBi-HNTpczGJaLActPgFJsLBPtmP4en6j-9DvNqS_d6VLOilMR6eAmIc35qY9vdk3EMw2zSxxGgO7quFKvoetDNAeKGCvgFshppjoKGsV1MK18tCRDvek8zb2bPUo/s1600/188_forecaster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx8ffeUBpx16_igprBi-HNTpczGJaLActPgFJsLBPtmP4en6j-9DvNqS_d6VLOilMR6eAmIc35qY9vdk3EMw2zSxxGgO7quFKvoetDNAeKGCvgFshppjoKGsV1MK18tCRDvek8zb2bPUo/s1600/188_forecaster.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Goddamn kids. I should know better than to listen to them any more.<br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We left him wrapped in the blanket and digging into some canned beans, and I did my best to unload the remainder of my bulky salvage from REPCONN and Nipton on the other traders in exchange for caps, chems, and ammunition for Boone and me. Made out pretty well, too, and my back thanks me for the reduced load. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The best find was a rude son of a <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> named Alexander, who turned out to be with that Gun Runners organization the Cassidy woman had mentioned back at the Mojave Outpost. Usually, his stock was just for the local NCR reps and supply sergeants, but I talked gun maintenance with him for a bit and showed him some of my more unusual salvage and ammunition, and he eventually opened up his stock, laying out some useful calibers and a few replacement parts for my revolver, including a cylinder in pristine shape.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_V1wNo4P-Bj_TXG48z1IoxaPRYHRDABvuFQl4UswIgocqEdgvxj-izq2e8H02eTXt2pcJOgI2C9Mndkl0F_bt3YzKpMSlLsYDW7u8mBqEnOFOQPIf5zBFZwvQPCmw_p022Z1E49xKve0/s1600/188_post.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_V1wNo4P-Bj_TXG48z1IoxaPRYHRDABvuFQl4UswIgocqEdgvxj-izq2e8H02eTXt2pcJOgI2C9Mndkl0F_bt3YzKpMSlLsYDW7u8mBqEnOFOQPIf5zBFZwvQPCmw_p022Z1E49xKve0/s1600/188_post.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Boone and I eventually made our way to the little shack that passes for a tavern, which had some decent kebabs and even better whiskey on offer. Not the pre-war stuff, of course, but not rad-laden rotgut, either. I bought some for Boone and myself, as well as a round for an arms trader sharing the bar who had apparently gotten drummed out of the NCR for refusing to flog deserters.<br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">While we were eating, I chatted with the owners, a father and daughter named Samuel and Michelle Kerr who had left Primm for brighter pastures before things had gotten especially bad down there. They confirmed that business had been pretty good recently, thanks to the problems on the Long 15 funneling more traffic to Route 95, but they mentioned concerns about Legion activity to the east, especially around a town called Nelson. Boone got very quiet at that -- more so than usual, even.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I asked the Kerrs, and anyone else who seemed in a talkative mood, about Checkers or his Khan goons, but no one had seen anyone like that come through. Maybe they’d stayed off the main roads -- Boulder City still seems like the best bet. With any luck, we should reach it, and them, tomorrow, and see an end to this whole sorry business.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As we were finishing up, a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties and wearing a hooded robe, slid onto the bench beside me and said she’d overhead me talking about heading towards Boulder City. I allowed that was the case, and she introduced herself as Veronica Santangelo -- the “Veronica” mentioned by the Forecaster, I suppose -- and started in with a barrage of questions, peppering them with information about herself.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbvtgRHKDQsjFtR7b4NSAM41ENlBslLcCOqUirg1pKQdcIRF1d3rkYrsmxuFarBv8o9C3Iu6H_j7-R7XDWkCytafmEYjXde9Vld6ioTNBqxP3joTAudJ8oLU3GUcvUdumTl61qIRmF4yc/s1600/188_Veronica.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbvtgRHKDQsjFtR7b4NSAM41ENlBslLcCOqUirg1pKQdcIRF1d3rkYrsmxuFarBv8o9C3Iu6H_j7-R7XDWkCytafmEYjXde9Vld6ioTNBqxP3joTAudJ8oLU3GUcvUdumTl61qIRmF4yc/s1600/188_Veronica.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">While asking about my time in the Mojave -- my answers were truthful but spare, I suppose I’d say in retrospect -- she also shared the fact that she hailed from a bunker or a vault, calling it a “hole in the ground”, but she’d had some sort of falling out with her family. That probably should have gotten my hackles up right there, but she had a good sense of humor and was just so damned cheerful that I must have put my cautions aside.<br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It may just be that I’ve spent so long on my own -- or with Boone and the eyeball, and they barely count, conversationally -- that it was something of a shock to have someone actively engaged in intelligent conversation with me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And whatever else she may be, she IS intelligent. Most of her questions focused on the problems facing folks living in the Mojave, how they find clean food and water, how they protect themselves, and so on. When she found out I had medical training, she immediately pounced on that, asking detailed and informed questions about the injuries and diseases I’d seen and how the isolated towns made provisions to deal with them -- if they dealt with them at all.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I got rather caught up in the discussion, I’ll admit. ED-E bobbed nearby, apparently listening as well, but Boone soon wandered off and began custom-packing ammunition for his .307 rifle at a workbench behind the Kerrs’ booth.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Eventually, Santangelo steered the conversation towards the other issues facing the wasters in the Mojave, and she asked if I was familiar with the Brotherhood of Steel at all.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I stared at her for a moment, then allowed that I’d heard they’d been raiding some caravans locally, taking anything shiny. I figured there wasn’t any sense digging up the past with this poor girl. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Maybe if I had, I’d be sleeping soundly back in camp right now, rather than poking around in the dark for firewood that we don’t need.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She nodded, paused a moment -- the first hesitation I’d seen from her since she sat down and started talking a mile a minute -- then blurted out that she’d like to come along with us, to Boulder City and wherever we went next. She claimed she wanted to see more of the Mojave and learn about day-to-day life there first hand, and it was certainly safer to travel about with company these days.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Most of all, she said she wanted to lend a hand where she could, and she figured traveling with a doctor would be a good way to do that.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Might be that I neglected to underline the fact that I was currently hunting down someone for what basically amounts to bloody-minded revenge. Ah well. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To be fair, she also mentioned that she wanted to find a dress.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I couldn’t imagine Boone would object -- “hmmph” doesn’t count as a real objection, does it? -- and ED-E seems to enjoy additional targets for his smug beeping, so I said she was welcome to tag along, at least for a while, but I did have to ask if she could handle herself when things inevitably got rough.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She gave me a look that spoke volumes -- most of them probably titled something like “Get Over Yourself, Grandpa” -- and pulled aside her robe enough to reveal a Colt 6520 in a low-slung crossdraw holster, as well as something that gave me chills: an armored glove with a pneumatic ram over the knuckles, something known colloquially as a “power fist”.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh60NxOdsfgfeWydrn9gEywdBWxoOg4sWsX8r19EYHIniCSARtPdA83jZOPXvSrRJA9pgmPUBpeAHHDAmMVIElsHwo0pCoZBueNuv2AE1KMjTlgn0xxxqOPGhwZoNQbIJ6dgrRTDYozfcY/s1600/PowerFist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh60NxOdsfgfeWydrn9gEywdBWxoOg4sWsX8r19EYHIniCSARtPdA83jZOPXvSrRJA9pgmPUBpeAHHDAmMVIElsHwo0pCoZBueNuv2AE1KMjTlgn0xxxqOPGhwZoNQbIJ6dgrRTDYozfcY/s1600/PowerFist.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That’s serious hardware, not something I expected to see on a kid on walkabout in the Mojave, even if she did come from a hole in the ground.<br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I looked at her, and she must have seen the unspoken question in my face. She smiled, looking almost embarrassed, and said that she was happy I’d agreed to let her come along, but there was one other thing she had to tell me first.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That “hole in the ground” she’d grown up in? That family she’d mentioned?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They were the Brotherhood of Steel.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Of course. Of <i>*Lengthy String of Expletives Deleted*</i> course. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It caught me by surprise -- hell, it almost literally knocked me on my ass. It MUST have been the surprise, or maybe it was the whiskey from lunch, or maybe me remembering what the Forecaster had said, or maybe I just like the feeling of someone twisting that knife deeper into my gut, but before I could stop myself, I said “welcome aboard” and told her to get her things.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She beamed brighter than the goddamn sun and went scurrying off to collect her kit. I sat there for another moment, still stunned, then pushed a fistful of caps onto the bar to pay for lunch and the drinks and went to let Boone know we were leaving.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I think that may be the last thing I’ve said today, at least until I told everyone I was going out to get firewood.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We set out east on Route 93, and Santangelo spent the whole afternoon talking away, telling stories, jokes, and asking about settlements we’d already seen. When she realized she wasn’t getting much in the way of replies, she switched her focus to ED-E without any sign of disappointment, examining him with great interest, discussing other robots she’d seen and how he wasn’t quite like any of them.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I mostly tuned it out. For the remaining hours of daylight as we walked, my thoughts were back in Modoc, with my girls and the day I’d come home to find them and everything else burnt to ashes.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Just as the sun hit the western mountains, we came around a curve in the road and spotted Lake Mead. Even with my head in the past, it was a beautiful thing, with the light from behind us dancing across the surface. The whole thing is full of cool, clear water, almost completely radiation-free. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaUcRUMiFljxb7AQCktP8PNKoHwpdwYaq0oLyqRPzlZy8NN-Zxe0_IYdqNC8viLG8QISnIj9AMymLfPks_nvN4s3FFo95mer3iMc_FHjI8shEm6sB70q2VLvrq9jHYvbN573oBWzWWP0/s1600/Lake_Mead_Sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioaUcRUMiFljxb7AQCktP8PNKoHwpdwYaq0oLyqRPzlZy8NN-Zxe0_IYdqNC8viLG8QISnIj9AMymLfPks_nvN4s3FFo95mer3iMc_FHjI8shEm6sB70q2VLvrq9jHYvbN573oBWzWWP0/s1600/Lake_Mead_Sunset.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This wouldn’t be a bad place to settle down, honestly, if a body had a mind to.<br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We stopped for the night at an old pre-war campsite just up the hill from the shore. We spotted a few creatures -- not sure what kind -- moving around near the shore and out in the water as we were making camp at sunset, but thus far they’ve stayed where they were, and I have no desire to go investigate further now that it’s gotten dark.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After kicking together a fire with some mesquite and driftwood that was strewn about the campsite, I left Boone and Santangelo with the food supplies to get started on supper, telling them I was going to get more wood. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And that’s where I am now. I’ve been wandering around aimlessly uphill from the campsite for at least half an hour, gathering limbs and talking to myself. I’m just not sure what I’m going to do about this Veronica Santangelo.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Why did I tell her she could come along? WAS it just surprise? Was I actually putting faith in the predictions of a malnourished orphan? Or am I subconsciously trying to make myself look this issue in the face?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Come on, Webb, you know you could barely get through those psychology textbooks without falling asleep. Don’t try to self-diagnose. But the fact remains, now that I know where she’s from, I can’t look at her without thinking of Jess and Callie. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s not what she looks like. It’s what she is. What she represents.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Even so, I just can’t shake the feeling that she’s not a bad kid, plain a simple. But if that’s the case...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">...what the hell is she doing with a den of vipers like the Brotherhood?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*Another sigh.*</span></i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Enough of this. Long past time you got this wood back to the camp and got some shut-eye. You can always tell her to get lost tomorrow.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*Footsteps resume, along with quiet, slow singing.*</span></i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-49842402325817003392012-01-06T13:38:00.000-05:002012-01-06T13:38:13.228-05:00//Log Date: 2281-11-05 21:06//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*Sounds of a crackling fire and a guitar being played softly.*</span></i></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> That’s nice. I haven’t heard a guitar played that well in years.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Awful kind of ya to say.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh655NBRTJslokz0Atni69C6CdYaaMob0DGSDGq6jSUhSnEedy0AnwcfV2FTVfRayrAJOJm11VNhwGRqxjlKCqsiOuJ0i9-z_XBd336JGhEwcb58AfynjQ6iOd_8s-IDICQSzjj2K516fM/s1600/lonesome_drifter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh655NBRTJslokz0Atni69C6CdYaaMob0DGSDGq6jSUhSnEedy0AnwcfV2FTVfRayrAJOJm11VNhwGRqxjlKCqsiOuJ0i9-z_XBd336JGhEwcb58AfynjQ6iOd_8s-IDICQSzjj2K516fM/s1600/lonesome_drifter.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> You’ve got a real talent, kid. You ever give up on trying to find that dad of yours, you oughta join a band.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*Laughter.*</span></i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> You find one lookin’ fer a six-string player, you be sure to point ‘em my way. Yer pal there don’t seem too taken with it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Who, Boone? Nah, that’s just a serviceman’s habit -- you get your sleep as soon as you can get it, whenever you can get it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Didn’t he say you used to be one of them bear soldiers too?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Sound of a finger tapping against a tin cup.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> I’m also a doctor. I prescribe myself a sizable dosage of caffeine. Chases off the dreams.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Yawning.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Still, it can only do so much. Been a hell of a day.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Sounded like it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> ‘Preciate your not shooting us when we came up on you.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Likewise. Figured I didn’t have much chance of taking out two fellers loaded fer bear plus a robot anyhow. ‘Sides, nice ta have company. I weren’t gonna finish that whole bighorner roast anyway.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If’n ya want ta pay me back, tell me more about them ghouls you was talkin’ about before.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Heh. You really ARE bored, aren’t you?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fine. Never seen anything quite like it anyway.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We told you about what they were up to, yeah? With the rockets?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Yep.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Well, the parts we brought back did the trick. Their technician -- fellow named Haversam, pretty handy with a wrench and a soldering iron -- fixed up their controls and talked the ghouls through the installation. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The whole launch area was glowing with radiation, so non-ghouls like us and Haversam couldn’t get anywhere near it safely, but he called out instructions and so forth all night until things were fixed up and ready to go by dawn.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDX6XgefVpbjatD093TIpbGXKKy4p11oYTgtPRfQp2zbtUdyjD5ivshFRS0q8mvuNzbDjF_idRIBoxsmyYZAE017PFWDo7qdihaDLcGXZR6Wdhl-xTfTeTRq-6xVu2ye8W_Jm0WUmxEk/s1600/REPCONN_ghoul_rockets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDX6XgefVpbjatD093TIpbGXKKy4p11oYTgtPRfQp2zbtUdyjD5ivshFRS0q8mvuNzbDjF_idRIBoxsmyYZAE017PFWDo7qdihaDLcGXZR6Wdhl-xTfTeTRq-6xVu2ye8W_Jm0WUmxEk/s1600/REPCONN_ghoul_rockets.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At that point, Haversam came and got us. The ghouls were in the process of herding the last of their pet ferals into the rockets and shutting the doors behind them. From the cockpit of the center rocket, I could see Bright, wearing one of those ridiculous fishbowl space helmets and giving us a thumbs-up. He and Haversam had exchanged some parting words before the final loading -- I’m not sure what was said, exactly, but Haversam seemed at peace with the whole situation now. Maybe it had just been “thank you”.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We went back up through the building, which had previously been crawling with ferals and was now blissfully empty, and followed Haversam through the flock’s former base of operations, out onto a platform overlooking the bowl-shaped valley. Across from us sat the dome-topped hill I’d seen when we’d first arrived at the test site. Haversam hit a few switches on a console there, and the dome rumbled to life, sliding back into itself like a giant metal eyelid opening over an empty socket.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After a few minutes of deafening clanking and rattling, the platform with the rockets appeared from up the chute that had been covered by the dome, and I realized that the subterranean area on which the ghouls had been fixing their ships was actually part of an enormous elevator. I pulled out my binoculars and glassed the rockets; within, I could see the ghouls suited up and waiting patiently, occasionally turning to settle the ferals writhing in the lower sections of the rockets. Bright, at the head seat in the central rocket, gave us a regal wave and a small bow of thanks.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Wouldn’t like ta be trapped in one o’ them tin cans with those zombies rollin’ around under my ass, I can tell ya that.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> You and me both, kid. Still, those ferals seem meek as brahmin calves when the other ghouls are around them. Calming influence, I guess.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, I looked over what Haversam was setting up on the command console, and he and I played around with the launch coordinates a bit, skimming off some of the fat and, hopefully, giving the ghouls a smoother, safer ride on their “grand journey”. I thought ED-E might be of some help, too, but the eyeball seemed a bit preoccupied after being so chatty the night before.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Yeah, you mentioned somethin’ about that. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> I’ll fill you in on it in a bit. Let me finish up this part about the ghouls first.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> It don’t make me no never mind, Doc. I got all night.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> YOU might, but I’m getting tired. I’ll try to wrap it up.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When the calculations and pre-launch prep was done, the only thing left to do was throw the final switch. Haversam heaved a deep sigh, then gave the final launch command. The rocket engines growled to life, echoing back and forth across the valley and spitting huge clouds of smoke. At last, they leapt skyward, but the rightmost rocket clipped the edge of the dome as it launched. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7WWIGNvs00RjUQPrVDBJV36JKRERpWU5_Nn9gCxBB6hLEa4JRHHBzoBkhEY2_J6Xowjd8XnmZTLKF6MVU33MmXvaACsoFrqv68YYdGXUViQnWDwHP6R5gxr8U9HjYDxybvDngnIwwo28/s1600/REPCONN_launch.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7WWIGNvs00RjUQPrVDBJV36JKRERpWU5_Nn9gCxBB6hLEa4JRHHBzoBkhEY2_J6Xowjd8XnmZTLKF6MVU33MmXvaACsoFrqv68YYdGXUViQnWDwHP6R5gxr8U9HjYDxybvDngnIwwo28/s1600/REPCONN_launch.png" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m not sure if the dome hadn’t opened all the way, or if the rocket had just been misplaced on the platform, but, either way, it bucked out of control, fishtailing directly for our platform. Boone and I tossed ourselves to the floor, and ED-E bobbed far back into the cover of the facility, but Haversam just stood there, mouth gaping. I grabbed him and pulled him down, too -- as if lying prone was going to do us any good if a rocket full of explosive radioactive fuel crashed into us.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Still, the rocket managed to right itself, shooting straight up into the air about three yards from the side of the building and blackening the walls around us with its billowing smoke. I rolled over to peer after it and was just in time to see it angling back onto its programmed path, trailing slightly after its two siblings.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We stood up, brushing ourselves off, and Boone and I pretended not to notice Haversam wiping the tears out of his eyes as he stared at the empty launch platform.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Since we still had the travois we’d used to haul the fuel, we made use of it one last time and loaded up on every single bit of useful salvage left in the facility before heading back to Novac, taking our time and letting the overloaded ED-E set the pace back down the hills. Haversam was quiet, so I spent the time filling him in on the inhabitants of the town.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">By the time we were back in sight of the dinosaur, he was in a slightly more talkative mood. Once we reached Briscoe’s shop and started offloading our cargo, he was already discussing what bits of salvage could be used to perk up the town’s well and sewage pipes, and what sort of wiring he’d need to optimize their generator. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Cliff Briscoe, the fellow who owns the store there -- and the motel now too, I suppose, after the... disappearance of the former owner -- bought almost everything we’d brought down, paying mostly in ammunition, primer powder, casings, and caps, along with some more preserved foodstuffs and the remainder of his medical supplies. The Strauss woman still had enough of a stock to see to the needs of the town -- provided she didn’t make anything worse while attempting to treat it -- but I promised Briscoe I’d stop back through again whenever I could to see if there were any ills she couldn’t handle.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When we’d finished our transaction, Briscoe headed over to the motel to help Haversam pick out a room for himself, and the two of them were animatedly discussing whether the town’s generator would have enough juice, after being fixed up, to run some perimeter lights to help with night-time guard duty. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Next, I paid a call on Manny Vargas, told him the good news about the ghouls, and let him know that payment was past due.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> This the feller who’d seen the man who shot ya?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> That’s the one. Boone made a point to be absent, instead stopping at the hotel to refill our water jugs and then heading to the gas station’s workshop to repack ammo casings.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Vargas looked relieved that the ghouls were gone, and he finally shared the information he’d been holding onto so stingily. Checkers and the Khans had come through the town about a week back, staying for a night and then heading out the next day for Boulder City.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUPtM6r26yqkGnQUwS4Qg6r6BuKS8QOWdBPSI7IIl_MUXQsimm1O7G-BUj1LnKdaWOR1ORloFLjtF6wVlwJPNUIqiWhYf8zvrBYR93ei25hr3EY-ZD56q-FYYTvdQIM-joSUuNZauRgvY/s1600/map.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUPtM6r26yqkGnQUwS4Qg6r6BuKS8QOWdBPSI7IIl_MUXQsimm1O7G-BUj1LnKdaWOR1ORloFLjtF6wVlwJPNUIqiWhYf8zvrBYR93ei25hr3EY-ZD56q-FYYTvdQIM-joSUuNZauRgvY/s1600/map.png" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I pushed him further, and he eventually admitted that he’d been a Great Khan himself, years back, but it didn’t last. Still, he had some lingering loyalty, and he’d let the Khans stay in his room, chatting with them a bit. Checkers apparently hadn’t slept, instead pacing restlessly outside all night. The Khans had said he’d been nervous ever since he’d stolen that package from his boss. Call me crazy, but I don’t think he was talking about me or Victor.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Who?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> The... person who hired me originally. But, from what I can tell, he was working for Mr. House.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Whistling.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Heard of HIM, sure enough. This Checkers has got some balls on him, messing with House.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Won’t make much difference after I catch the little weasel and cut them off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Also, I learned his name: Benny.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> “Benny”?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Yeah. Little anticlimactic, isn’t it? At least it ought to help track him down, though. Might be able to catch him alone, too -- Vargas said Boulder City was where the Khans were supposed to get their payoff for the job, so they’d probably be parting ways there.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, with a name and a destination in hand, I gathered up Boone and we got back on the road, heading north up Route 95.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After a few hours, we spotted the odd, dish-shaped tower of the HELIOS One solar power station and the sea of mirrors that surround it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> I seen that. Place looked like a military base.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Yeah, it’s occupied by NCR troops. Probably worth a look at some point, but I’m already at least a week behind the fellow that shot me, and I didn’t fancy losing any more time to NCR red tape. As we walked past, I could see the mirrors slowly moving back and forth, trying to catch the sun, but they were all out of sync, whirling around aimlessly while troopers and guard dogs patrolled between them. The whole place looks to be a highly regimented mess -- just what you’d expect when the NCR is in charge.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> I ain’t had that much to do with them so far. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Do yourself a favor and keep it that way.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Continuing north, we spotted what looked like an old windfarm off to the east, but ED-E’s sensors picked up a lot of movement, way too fast to be human, so we steered clear. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Farther on, there was a big dry lake right beside the road, but it was pockmarked with holes, and we spotted some of those huge ants like the ones near the Mojave Outpost, so we stuck to the road and gave them a wide birth too. Not enough eating on them to make them worth the hassle.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Not long after passing the dry lake, it was getting dark, and we spotted your campfire. There was only one of you, and I’ve never know many raiders to play guitar, so we came over to say howdy. That just about brings us up to speed.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Well, much obliged for sharin’ your tale. Makes the night go by faster, that’s for sure. What about that robot of yours?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Still something of a conundrum. Last night, something about hearing me describe HELIOS One triggered a playback from the person who had built him. Some engineer at a military base out on the west coast, near some city called Deesea.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Military base? Couldn’t be NCR out that far east, could it?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> No, that’s the weirdest part. From what I could piece together from the limited playback, it sounded like he was talking about an Enclave base.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Enclave?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Before your time. Before mine, really. When I was just a kid, not even ten, there were stories about men in black power armor wiping out whole villages, either killing everyone or carting them off across the water to some base off the coast. I heard they called themselves the Enclave, some sort of holdover from before the war. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0t5_FqUOjXCsZu9fvDkCGpLZJ6ClkiViY5rvWY0HyO1qzRaLlgJNHnqDyXj_ZpfknxSy3dWNQSbywTp1E3QK5-Un4-zK0MjP1TTdoaZceMzUBqIPkYwZaGwSpdEDrH8K_QLTTCKgZo28/s1600/enclave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0t5_FqUOjXCsZu9fvDkCGpLZJ6ClkiViY5rvWY0HyO1qzRaLlgJNHnqDyXj_ZpfknxSy3dWNQSbywTp1E3QK5-Un4-zK0MjP1TTdoaZceMzUBqIPkYwZaGwSpdEDrH8K_QLTTCKgZo28/s1600/enclave.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Supposedly, a tribal blew up their whole operation.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> A TRIBAL?</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> I know. Must have been one hell of a spear throw, eh?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Laughter.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Must have been some truth to some parts of the story, though, because the NCR did recover quite a bit of tech from a training facility on shore, all stamped with a big “E”. That’s where they got most of their working vertibirds. I thought that had been the end of them, though -- hadn’t heard a whisper about them in forty years, not until that recording from ED-E, and the datestamp on that was only four years old.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> They must have had more than one base, maybe spread out over the country like them vaults?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Must have. Supposedly he’d been sent across country to some place called Navarro. Not sure how he wound up in Primm -- the recording cut off before I could get any more out of it. I tried half the night last night to get him to play another part, but no luck. Seems he’s keeping his secrets to himself, for now. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Not sure how I feel about having Enclave tech floating around after me, really. Still... he’s a good little eyeball. Never gave me reason to mistrust him, and he’s certainly more than pulled his weight.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Not afraid he’s gonna carry you off in the night?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> He’s had more than enough opportunity to do it up ‘til now, if he was going to. Besides, ever since that recording, he’s seemed so...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Quiet?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Yeah. And sad, somehow. Can’t just kick the little guy out when he’s feeling low. What about you, eyeball? You want to stick around with this old coot a little longer?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 011110010110010101110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> What’d it say?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> I don’t know. I never know.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Still, it’s good to have him around, Enclave or no.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010101000110100001100001011011100110101100100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">011110010110111101110101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Well, I’m beat. Thanks again for the fire, the food, and the company, kid. You gonna get some sleep?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Might be I’ll stay up and play for a bit, yet.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Knock yourself out. Hope my snoring doesn’t throw off your rhythm.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-34428967631708076422011-12-18T23:16:00.000-05:002011-12-18T23:16:59.187-05:00//Log Date: 2281-11-04 20:41//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Jess always used to say there was an art to breaking bad news to people gently, a way to broach the subject carefully enough so that the person getting the news would be able to comprehend it and process it without being overwhelmed by it.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She also used to say I was terrible at it, and that it was a good thing I was a combat medic and not some sort of “bedside manner” doctor.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Good lord, but that woman knew me perfectly.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After I recovered from the shock of seeing the rockets -- honest to God rockets, that the ghouls are planning on riding off to their promised land -- Bright pulled me politely aside and asked if I might be willing to work with Haversam to finish the last minute preparations off the landing pad, as actually being closer to the rockets would probably give any non-ghoul lethal doses of radiation.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I took the opportunity to broach the subject of Haversam with Bright, asking exactly what the situation was there. Bright explained sadly that the man had somehow gotten convinced that working on his vault’s reactor had dosed him sufficiently with radiation to ghoulify him, and he’d fallen in with Bright’s flock, resisting all of their efforts to convince him of his humanity. Eventually, they stopped trying, and his technical expertise had proved so helpful that Bright actually said they felt lucky they’d had him.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_sr_3e-vTKOGIn7MoqliP9Ohx4hT7dCGRUtlIuh1aQ1NmzplbXsz_8U-m2oT26Q44PP6cY6MjDQOHCGeOWix69rsSXRYVORuuEY42FXP4emUQwwTBoH-jpzavavKLKXjzktWkMCj_Bo/s1600/REPCONN_bright_rocket.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_sr_3e-vTKOGIn7MoqliP9Ohx4hT7dCGRUtlIuh1aQ1NmzplbXsz_8U-m2oT26Q44PP6cY6MjDQOHCGeOWix69rsSXRYVORuuEY42FXP4emUQwwTBoH-jpzavavKLKXjzktWkMCj_Bo/s1600/REPCONN_bright_rocket.png" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I asked what they had planned to do with Haversam when the rest of them loaded up into their radioactive rockets, Bright had the good grace to look somewhat ashamed. He admitted that there was no possible way they could take him with them, given the radiation in the rockets, and the only remaining plan was to ensure that he stayed behind. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I asked Bright if he realized that ostracizing the only member of their group capable of getting their rockets in the air seemed like a perfect recipe for sabotage, and he again admitted that it was a problem they had no idea how to address. He stared at me sadly for a moment, then asked if I might be willing to talk some sense into Haversam, break the news to him gently so he’d still be able to help with the launch but not harm himself trying to enter the irradiated areas. I confessed I’d had some leanings in that direction already, but reminded Bright that I was trained as a medic, not a psychiatrist. He thanked me graciously and climbed down into the launch chamber to join his flock in suiting up for their journey and preparing the rockets.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’ve never been one to linger at pulling a bandage off a wound, so I marched over to where Haversam was checking some gauges on the observation deck and cornered him, shoving Boone’s shaving mirror in his face. I made him take a good long look at himself, grabbing his jowly cheeks and twisting him back towards the mirror every time he tried to turn away and talking him through the fact that being bald and pimply does not make one a ghoul.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Eventually, radiation-free light dawned, and his eyes widened. He snatched the mirror out of my hand and started to scream, hurling the mirror into a corner where it shattered, earning a particularly disgruntled “hmmph” from Boone. When the scream died out, Haversam slid down to the floor, sobbing and yanking at the his last remaining wisps of hair. I stepped back uncertainly, waiting for him to calm down.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">See? Jess was right. No bedside manner.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Eventually, Haversam dragged the sleeves of his labcoat across his watery eyes, gave a wracking sob, and stood to stare down at the ghouls toiling around the rockets. There was so much hatred in his face when he turned back to me that I reached for my revolver, but he jabbed a shaking finger in the direction of the ghouls and, in a phlegmy voice, he raged at how they had used him, lead him along, and how he was going to fix them for how they’d treated him.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sure, I’d gotten him to accept his humanity, but pushing him into homicidal anger may have been a bit TOO much humanity.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Haversam was going on about sabotage, the methods he’d use to make sure the rockets crashed and took the ghouls up with them. I let him continue ranting, but when he turned back to the gauges and actually started adjusting the settings there, I stepped in the way and grabbed his arms by the wrists. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">While he tried to pull away, I held on tightly and told him that Bright and the flock honestly did appreciate him -- they just didn’t know how to convince him he was anything other than a ghoul in the face of his dedicated delusion, and they’d eventually given up in favor of letting him be happy with who he thought he was.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He calmed down slowly and turned back towards the ghouls, looking more lost than angry now. I tentatively let go, and he slumped against the console behind him. He asked me... or maybe just himself... what he was supposed to do now? I told him he could finish his work. The ghouls already respect him -- if he gets them where they want to go, they’ll make him a saint in their goofy religion, whether he’s a ghoul or not. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He looked at me, considering, and then asked where he was supposed to go after they left him behind. I told him about Novac, and pointed out that the town had plenty of prospectors and merchants but no one with the actual know-how to fix up any of that pre-war tech or keep it running.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He considered, and I held my breath. It seemed like being accepted and needed was Haversam’s biggest drive, and, in the end, it won out, because he agreed -- he’d send Bright’s flock on their way, then come back to Novac to give it a try.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I patted him on the shoulder and was getting ready to turn away to pick through the various salvage lying around the observation deck when Haversam turned back to his console and mentioned in an offhand fashion that they just needed a few supplies to get the rockets on their way.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I swear to god, I half suspect he staged the whole meltdown just to put me in a position where I couldn’t say “no” to helping him out.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The rockets had plenty of fuel, thankfully, but they needed a special igniting agent formulated chiefly from a radioactive isotope to give them their initial lift. They also needed custom-built thruster control modules, or they’d crash immediately after takeoff -- just like that pre-war crash I’d read about on the terminals upstairs.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Like I said, I couldn’t very well say no, but now here I was heading back out into the wastes with a goddamn shopping list, AFTER I’d already fought my way through a mob of ferals, bargained with a schizophrenic invisible giant, and talked down a paranoid ghoul sniper. And all of this for the whereabouts of a mugger in a checkered coat? I must be the one who’s insane.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Take a note, eyeball: from now on, we’re just going to start beating information out of people and saving ourselves the trouble.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 0100111001101111011101000110010101100100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Hmmph.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> I’m serious. You watch me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, I didn’t have a clue where to start looking for the thruster modules, but that little tidbit about the isotope in the igniting agent made me remember something Cliff Briscoe had said offhandedly while we were playing Caravan a few evenings back, the night we had our little chupacabra incident.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Chupawhat?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Nothing. Ask No-Bark.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Briscoe was bemoaning the fact that, along with the huge stock of little toy dinosaurs, he also had a storage room packed full of small pre-war model rockets that he didn’t know what to do with. He didn’t feel comfortable selling them -- they were full of some sort of radioactive glowing liquid that had apparently made a bunch of kids sick before the war, leading to a recall of the rockets.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Putting two and two together, I figured it was a safe bet that the rockets had been REPCONN memorabilia, and who knows? If we were lucky, that liquid might even be radioactive to do the trick for Haversam.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Well, it turns out that I WAS lucky, which made a nice change. After leaving the launch chamber by means of a concealed ladder directly to the surface and taking an uneventful hike back down the hills to Novac, I asked Briscoe for a look at the rockets. He cheerfully obliged, and, as it turns out, they were actually full to the brim with the same damn igniting agent Haversam needed!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">No wonder those poor kids had gotten sick. It was a wonder none of them had managed to blow themselves into orbit.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I told Briscoe I’d take the lot, and he damn near fell out of his chair. When he learned that they were going to be used to resolve the ghoul problem, he handed me the key and told me to take all that I needed.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I’d unlocked the door to his storage closet and peeked inside, the PIP-Boy’s Geiger counter started crackling like machinegun fire. There were shelves upon shelves of small rockets lining the room, each a foot-long replica of the ships which Bright and his flock are currently loading for their “great journey”, and each glowing softly with their deadly cargo.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Faced with the question of how to transport a room-full of radioactive fluid that would be sure to have my body crawling with tumors should I simply shove it in my satchel and heave it over my back, I think I did what any reasonable person would have: let the robot carry it. We made a makeshift travois out of several lengths of pipe and a barrel and loaded it up with all the model rockets, strapping the travois to ED-E.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">While cleaning out the room, I also spotted an odd-looking revolver on the shelves. It had been hidden behind the rockets, and, when I asked Briscoe about it, he said he’d bought it off a traveling merchants years ago, stashed it in the back room, then completely forgotten about it. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZi0V1kTSI1QxyfvSkO4ZYcg8Rpk4EEBWVeygtin0fbgOjmMr2FTqUDjupfWl-7kJhw710F__HnIu1twuIo671HZuduESEqBTuJk6jKghQAqN3O_PjA-xFKeOrlIU8ODeyjxWHsvPSjAg/s1600/REPCONN_that_gun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZi0V1kTSI1QxyfvSkO4ZYcg8Rpk4EEBWVeygtin0fbgOjmMr2FTqUDjupfWl-7kJhw710F__HnIu1twuIo671HZuduESEqBTuJk6jKghQAqN3O_PjA-xFKeOrlIU8ODeyjxWHsvPSjAg/s1600/REPCONN_that_gun.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I looked the gun over, and I’d never seen anything quite like it. It was clearly heavily modified from whatever it had originally been, maybe even cut down from a rifle, and it was chambered for .223 hunting rounds -- with a little filing, I’m sure it will take 5.56mm rounds too. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Even more intriguing was the fact that it had a motorized, automated cylinder and pivot for smooth, faster reloading. I played with the action a few times and was hooked. I don’t currently have too many 5.56mm rounds, but they’re not terribly uncommon in the Mojave, from what I’ve seen, and the revolver seems to have a hell of a lot of kick to it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Besides, that motorized cylinder is just so damn neat.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I traded the bits of salvage I’d brought back from REPCONN to Briscoe in exchange for that gun and walked out of his store to finish securing the travois, happy as a kid who’s just found a packet of Fancy Lad snack cakes.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As ED-E was moving fairly slowly with the extra baggage, we sent him straight back to the REPCONN site and headed north up the road from Novac. Briscoe hadn’t had any thruster control modules hidden away, but he did suggest we talk to a woman named Gibson who ran a salvage yard just a little ways up the road, and, according to him, she often had scavenged the REPCONN site itself back when she was younger.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It seemed as likely a tip as any, and my luck continued to hold. When we found “Old Lady” Gibson -- her name for herself, not mine -- she was actually sitting outside her small workshop in a chair made from the “O” in the “REPCONN” sign on the facility. The scrapyard surrounding the workshop was filled with pieces of pre-war tech in all sizes and states of repair. It was also prowled by a pack of rangy dogs, but they settled down happily and greeted us with wagging tails when Gibson greeted us warmly, waving from her chair.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwK59aGXS7dbaaEPkMJE2Hg1g80KA6Ull6YCNO7rmQqURs0WyjSEWBPwN_MEt9nyk7-e07sJ4Rn50chmfROY4jUZGimA90B7EqOEhJ5phJou37HdWmazf1ptL45e1g5KunzHiNpbvcSwI/s1600/REPCONN_gibson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwK59aGXS7dbaaEPkMJE2Hg1g80KA6Ull6YCNO7rmQqURs0WyjSEWBPwN_MEt9nyk7-e07sJ4Rn50chmfROY4jUZGimA90B7EqOEhJ5phJou37HdWmazf1ptL45e1g5KunzHiNpbvcSwI/s1600/REPCONN_gibson.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I liked her almost immediately. She’s been roaming around and scavving almost her entire life, finally settling down after her husband passed away several years back, and she clearly knows her pre-war tech, but she still had a friendly mien to her, which is something the wastes tend to grind out of people after so many years. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She listened to the description of the modules attentively and then cheerfully said she thought she might have something matching that description left over from her old scavving runs to REPCONN -- and if she had it, she said with a chuckle, it was for sale.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Before going to search through her stock, she invited us inside out of the sun and actually gave Boone and me each a glass of prickly pear tea. She chatted with us while she searched, eventually unearthing three of the modules from beneath a skeletonized Corvega. We haggled over the price, eventually settling on two hundred and fifty caps for all three. I thanked her, she wished us well, and we set back off into the afternoon Mojave, arriving back at REPCONN just after sunset with our cargo.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">ED-E had arrived before us, and the ghouls were already decanting the igniting agent into the rockets, seemingly thrilled to be basking in its glow. Haversam looked on from the observation patform with a melancholy intensity, but, when I presented him with the modules, he immediately went to work cleaning and fixing them up, getting them ready to be installed.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">According to him and Bright, they’ll be ready to launch in the morning. Boone, ED-E, and I are camping down here in the hallway outside the observation room, just out of reach of the radiation spilling from the launch chamber, and settling in for the evening. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m glad this nonsense is wrapping up. Once Bright and his flock are on their way, we can get the information from Vargas and get back on track. I’m guessing we’ll be headed somewhere north -- I’m just hoping to catch them before they make it back to New Vegas, if that’s where Checkers was headed. Who knows how I’ll ever find him if he made it to that rats’ nest?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Another reason it’ll be interesting to go north: Gipson mentioned there was some sort of pre-war solar power facility just a ways up the road from her scrapyard. A FUNCTIONAL facility, too, or at least nearly so -- it had apparently been a site of contention between NCR forces and the goddamn Brotherhood of Steel recently.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Supposedly, the Brotherhood had occupied the place and been working to get it online when the NCR came into the region. After a raging and prolonged battle, the NCR evicted the Brotherhood -- sent the bastards packing with their metal tails between their legs, it sounds like -- and took it over.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Unsurprisingly, of course, the NCR has apparently been there for the past five years now without making a damn bit of progress, at least as far as Gibson had heard.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Still, it sounds like a sight to see. Gibson said the place was called “HELIOS One”, and that it was off-limits t-</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> Subject E: diagnosis complete. Begin recording.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Eyeball? Is that coming out of you?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> My name is Whitley. I’m a researcher at Adams Air Force Base. Until recently I was in charge of...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> What is it? What’s it doing? It can talk now?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> No. No, I think it’s some sort of pre-recorded log. Something must have triggered a playback.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> ...model Eyebots. Eyebot Duraframe Subject E is both the prototype and last functional model in this test group. I was...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Well, <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> me. And here I thought this was going to be a boring evening of waiting around...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-70073690341225292192011-11-25T23:06:00.002-05:002011-11-25T23:16:05.641-05:00//Log Date: 2281-11-04 13:02//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> It figures: spend all morning in a basement, and then end up spending your afternoon in a sub-basement. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We’re headed with Bright and his people towards their “sacred site”... or maybe “sacred SIGHT”, I’m not sure. Whatever it is, it’s all very hush hush -- no one will tell us what it is before we get there. We’ve been walking through this underground corridor for what feels like ages, so I figured I’d go ahead and log the morning’s events in the meantime.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Not a fan of silence, are you?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Depends on who’s being silent.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Hmmph.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Whatever it is, it had better be worth it after this morning, that’s all I’m saying.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Quit complaining, smoothskin. Sounds like everything went much better than it might have.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Easy for you to say, Haversam. You weren’t the one running up and down flights of stairs all morning.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> At least you have working tendons and ligaments. Do you have any idea how hard it is for us ghouls to--</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> I keep telling you, Haversam. You’re not a ghoul. You didn’t lose your hair to radiation. Male pattern baldness is a perfectly ordinary--</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> You smoothskins, you’re all bigots.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> ...Excuse me?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> So assured of your “normality”, your superiority, that you can’t even acknowledge when someone else is different.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Riiiiight... Well, to avoid further offense, I’m just going to go back to talking to my PIP-Boy. Fair enough?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Whatever.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Boone, you have a shaving mirror?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Why?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Because you’ve barely got stubble and you don’t seem the alopecia sort.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> What?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Never mind. If you’ve got one, fish it out when we stop. I want Haversam here to have a good look.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Ah. Roger.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Thanks.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, after waking up and breaking fast on another plateful of preservatives, the three of us headed for the basement, managing to sneak past the wayward feral members of Bright’s flock on the way. The sealed basement door opened to the keycard Bright gave me before we left, and it led us down ANOTHER flight of stairs.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Once we finally reached the bottom -- or what I thought at that point was the bottom, at any rate -- ED-E’s sensors were going crazy, picking up heat and movement all over the area, though we couldn’t see anything. Remembering how he had somehow scrambled the cloaking field on the brahmin-killing mutant, which had sent the blue-skinned goon into a roaring charge, I wanted to avoid a repeat of that here.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As such, Boone and ED-E waited in the small chamber at the foot of the stairs while I pulled the StealthBoy unit I’d found from my pack, fastened it around my right wrist, and flipped it on.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Immediately, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as an electric field washed over me. The world looked slightly out of focus and wavering, almost like I was staring through the heat shimmer above a fire. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And, of course, I was invisible. I could make out vague movements when I waved my arms in front of my face, but that was about it. But I had no idea how much charge the StealthBoy had left, so I stopped trying out parlor tricks and eased open the door into the rest of the facility.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Navigating through that maze of corridors was surreal. I could tell there were mutants around -- I could hear their breathing and their footsteps and, every once in a while, catch the distortion of their stealth field out of the corner of my eye. But other than that, the place seemed completely deserted to all other senses. I think I probably took about three breaths the whole time I was down there.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At first, I must have gone the wrong way, as I found myself in something approaching a holding pen, or at least the best the mutants could do. There was no one there apart from a dead female ghoul, however, so I circled back and tried the other hallways.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Eventually, I found my way into a storage room with an uncloaked mutant, also bearing that odd indigo skin. As I entered, he sniffed the air, then glared in my direction and started to speak in that nearly-shouting tone that passes for conversational among mutants. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMyga2OQ2qWxl7qQvbCV94wUTZwjqYvTPWBLrk_b-l5NGSkWCRrIz4d1T5hhgyTiZG2kU74vVThaMTxDtMshX5e6rWMYB6KfDrssxg8mNUxPhVtCP-dtsTnTwZTGj1bt0HXRUQUPmZTo/s1600/REPCONN_davison.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQMyga2OQ2qWxl7qQvbCV94wUTZwjqYvTPWBLrk_b-l5NGSkWCRrIz4d1T5hhgyTiZG2kU74vVThaMTxDtMshX5e6rWMYB6KfDrssxg8mNUxPhVtCP-dtsTnTwZTGj1bt0HXRUQUPmZTo/s1600/REPCONN_davison.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I was sure he’d seen me, so I dove for cover behind a filing cabinet, but instead he was talking to someone named “Antler”. Peeking out from behind the cabinet, I realized that “Antler” was actually the bleached brahmin skull on the desk next to him. He was carrying on one half of a lively argument having something to do with a crate and shipping manifests, the other half of the conversation clearly being supplied internally by whatever psychosis had led him to name a skull.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Soon, however, he broke off mid-sentence and started looking around. Apparently, “Antler” had told him someone was in the room. Still, he looked more irritated than angry, and he wasn’t holding a weapon -- the closest thing I could see was some sort of blade made from the bumper of a pre-war car. The thing was taller than I am, but it was propped against a desk on the other side of the room. I decided to take my chances.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I propped up my repeater against the back of the cabinet, unbuttoned the clasp on my revolver holster, turned off the StealthBoy, tucked it back into my pocket, and stepped out into view with my hands raised, clearing my throat politely.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The first few seconds of the following exchange were somewhat tense, but I managed to get across that I’d been sent by the ghouls to see if any compromise or peace could be brokered, and the mutant seemed to see the sense in that. I introduced myself, and he did the same. He also insisted I introduce myself to Antler, which I did, though I felt a bit silly. Like my ma always said, though: sometimes you have to swallow your pride, or an insane blue giant will beat you to death with a car.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Well, no, she never said that. But she would have, if she’d ever met Antler.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The ensuing conversation was surprisingly enlightening. The mutant’s name was Davison, and he and all the other blue skins are a special sort of super mutant called “nightkin”, created especially for scouting, spying, and infiltration by someone called “the Master”. From what I could gather, this “Master” is the one behind the super mutant army that rampaged across California way back before the NCR was founded. Davison was some sort of officer in the Master’s army, and he and these nightkin have been drifting for the past century or so since the Master was killed in what sounds like an explosion.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lucky for the rest of us, I suppose.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Apparently, Davison and the other nightkin all worship Antler now as some sort of replacement for this “Master”. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Lowers his voice.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We’ve got Bright’s little church upstairs, and Antler’s zealots downstairs. This whole building is a magnet for religious loonies.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Continues at regular volume.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And since Antler is simply an extension of Davison’s psyche, he’s the one actually leading this bunch, so, as long as I could get him moving along, I figured the others would follow. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It turns out what had brought them to REPCONN was the same bit of communication I’d found on the terminal yesterday: reports of a huge shipment of StealthBoys coming here. Though the nightkin were made for covert ops, they still apparently need StealthBoys for their cloaking fields.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Need” may be putting it mildly, at that. Given Davison’s desperation when speaking about the ‘Boys, it sounds like they’ve developed something almost like a chemical dependence on the cloaking effect. All things considered, I’m glad I tucked the one I’d been wearing into my pocket. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I wonder if that also has anything to do with the schizophrenia I’ve noticed in Davison and the brahmin-killer, or if that’s a side effect of all mutations. Or maybe it’s just a coincidence -- I haven’t met enough nightkin or regular mutants to make an educated guess.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Heh. “Regular mutants”. The wasteland’s a funny place sometimes. Whatever the case, it was enough to convince me to go easy on StealthBoy usage.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010010010111001001110010011001010110110001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111011001100001011011100111010000101100001000000110000101110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001110100011010000110000101110100001000000111010101101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110100101110100001001110111001100100000011100000110111101110111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110010101110010001000000111001101110101011100000111000001101100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111100100100000011010010111001100100000011000010110110001101101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111101110011011101000010000001100100011001010111000001101100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01100101011101000110010101100100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Was that a crack about my mental health, eyeball? You better watch it, or I’m going to put that party hat back on and LEAVE it on you this time.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, if I could get the nightkin the StealthBoys, they’d leave peacefully. The problem was -- and there’s ALWAYS another problem -- the ‘Boys were supposedly in yet ANOTHER section of the basement, but guarded by a ghoul who had trapped the place from here to Dayglow with mines and tripwires, and was shooting at any mutants who tried to push their way past.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I told Davison -- and Antler, I suppose -- that I’d do what I could, and headed for the warehouse-styled chamber in which the ghoul had garrisoned himself. Sure enough, the place was trapped thoroughly, but I took my time, disarming some tripwires and avoiding others, and eventually repeatedly my little surrender game, walking out into the open, hands raised and appearing unarmed. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I called out, identifying myself and saying that I was here on behalf of Bright to help clear up the “demon” issue, and a rugged-looking ghoul peeked over the railing high above me, staring down the barrel of a .308 rifle and puffing on a cigarette.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0GFdArSZ1R5ILt7DIPZL-wecNSRN7XwMf6fVqfspeTyUeHiH5bhJAfIt8eON2TBIQJYkx2TBtK_0oTUtWpIoGkw3DY6i-nToQZSrs51XcuB9JTlstOn4L0gltVD3Bhh8c-VGGaDPgwA0/s1600/REPCONN_Harland.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0GFdArSZ1R5ILt7DIPZL-wecNSRN7XwMf6fVqfspeTyUeHiH5bhJAfIt8eON2TBIQJYkx2TBtK_0oTUtWpIoGkw3DY6i-nToQZSrs51XcuB9JTlstOn4L0gltVD3Bhh8c-VGGaDPgwA0/s1600/REPCONN_Harland.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He remained silent at first, assessing me, so I slowly lowered my hands and gestured around at the surprisingly expansive room, telling him he’d set himself up one hell of a killzone for a religious type.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That actually got a bark of a laugh from him, and he raised the rifle a bit -- not setting it aside, but at least taking me out of the sights. He introduced himself as Harland and said he wasn’t a religious type -- he’d signed on with Bright for the caps and the female companionship.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Well, there’s one question about ghoul physiology answered that I don’t think anyone had ever wanted to ask.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I hurried him along before he could wax too poetic about the leathery charms of ghoul women, and he confided that he’d come down this way during the mutant attack, attempting to protect one “ghoulette” of whom he was especially fond when the Bright followers had scattered.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A lump in my gut, I asked him for her description, then sadly filled him in on the dead female ghoul I’d found in the holding area. He was silent for a long moment, then cursed and stood up, tossing his rifle aside carelessly. He paced about, muttering, then grabbed the rifle up from where it had fallen and told me I could come on up if I wanted to dig through the old shipping records up there with him -- he’d disable the rest of the traps.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I thanked him, then told him about Boone and ED-E, suggesting he join them and wait for me to come back, and we’d all go rejoin Bright and the others together. He agreed listlessly, heading off in that direction. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When he’d gone, I climbed the stairs to the little nest he’d made for himself, trying not to think too deeply about the half-eaten radroaches I could see scattered about. A little poking about on the shipping terminals up there revealed that the crate of StealthBoys HAD arrived at this facility... only to be returned to its senders at RobCo the next day. Over two centuries ago.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I sighed and managed to spool up some paper to print out an invoice for the return, then brought the receipt to Davison to give him the bad news. He did not take it gracefully. For a second, I thought he was going to snap me in half, but “Antler” apparently put in a good word for me, because Davison visibly calmed himself, then stomped off to inform the nightkin that they were moving out to continue their search elsewhere.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I hurried back to the antechamber at the base of the stairs to get Boone and ED-E moving before a whole troop of nightkin started marching their way and was happy to see Harland there, sharing a silent cigarette with Boone and examining ED-E critically. The four of us hustled -- well, huffed and panted, in my case -- back upstairs and filled Bright in on the newly exorcised basement.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He and his ghouls were overjoyed, both at the news and at the return of Harland, who was greeted like some sort of crusader riding home after a successful campaign. I think the joyous hugs from the female members of Bright’s flock did wonders to ease the pain of his recent loss.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After that, Boone and I shared some lunch -- a can of beans roasted on a hotplate in Bright’s quarters -- while the ghouls packed up their supplies and gear and prepared to head down through the basement to the “sacred site”. They invited us to join them, and, call me crazy, but I’d put enough into this already not to see just what they’ve been so fired up about.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And that’s where we are now, traipsing down these endless corridors towards this “site”, whatever it is. I’m starting to get slightly higher radiation readings on the PIP-Boy’s counter, and there is a little bit of a glow coming from up ahead.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yes, we’re finally reaching some sort of observation chamber, it looks like. Definitely higher rad levels. Here, Boone, take another Rad-X, just to be safe. Haversam, I don’t suppose I could talk you into--</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Don’t waste those on me, smoothskin. Radiation is like the warm sun for us ghouls.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Can’t say I didn’t try. Down the hatch!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Sounds of pills being shaken from a container, a cork being pulled, and swallowing.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ahh. Anyway, let’s take a look at this “sacred site”. What do you want to bet, after all this time, that it actually turns out just to be a big pool of radioactive waste after al -- HOLY JESUS, THEY HAVE SPACE ROCKETS!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWeDz-MZVLo2OI13bHBfo0-N1VfFULdz0jmMiLTG5hqPk0aFJhL5htWg-l65VnO_v4hZg1LCRjT7O71iDgf6YDoEVE0pl8GLRwVOvEZ8Fk-ck4BebvPPZLOUxd5oaABSWWcNrKpCy6S0g/s1600/REPCONN_rockets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWeDz-MZVLo2OI13bHBfo0-N1VfFULdz0jmMiLTG5hqPk0aFJhL5htWg-l65VnO_v4hZg1LCRjT7O71iDgf6YDoEVE0pl8GLRwVOvEZ8Fk-ck4BebvPPZLOUxd5oaABSWWcNrKpCy6S0g/s1600/REPCONN_rockets.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-54517567041240163332011-11-14T23:35:00.000-05:002011-11-14T23:35:52.110-05:00//Log Date: 2281-11-03 20:29//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> I read somewhere that politics make strange bedfellows. Well, we must have gotten involved in politics, because we are camped for the evening with some extremely strange folks.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Boone’s already out for the evening, so I should be able to get through this entry with minimal “hmmph”ing.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010100000110110001100101011000010111001101100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001110010011001010110110101101111011101100110010100100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010101101110011000010111010101110100011010000110111101110010</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110100101111010011001010110010000100000011001000110010101100011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01101111011100100110000101110100011010010110111101101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> That counts as a “hmmph”, eyeball. Keep it down.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The morning began just about the way we’d expected, picking off more ferals at range while we followed the access road the rest of the way in to the REPCONN test site. The closer we got, the more of them there were -- mostly just milling around aimlessly, as far as I could tell, at least until they caught wind of us. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Or heard us. Or saw us. I have no idea how ferals sense the world around them. Some of them are so far gone that most of their face, eyes included, has rotted right off. Doesn’t stop them for making a beeline for your entrails, though.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">By the time we reached the facility itself, we must have put down at least a dozen, with at least that number milling about the giant rocket statue in front of the REPCONN building.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwDcP-GKLhyM3vV2mjHWAKOovFLyTObFz3q09QPofnIGL2ibvNSNThU0kFMrvNzLJ6fJp691_clRqMxTtNh3-0p-9rHKlZTLOXvAAka4DrCilbkTrqkM19DDXuK8lWeFfTywNjr0rmqr4/s1600/REPCONN_rocket_statue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwDcP-GKLhyM3vV2mjHWAKOovFLyTObFz3q09QPofnIGL2ibvNSNThU0kFMrvNzLJ6fJp691_clRqMxTtNh3-0p-9rHKlZTLOXvAAka4DrCilbkTrqkM19DDXuK8lWeFfTywNjr0rmqr4/s1600/REPCONN_rocket_statue.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They were far enough from us that we were able to do for them before they reached us, but it was a near thing with the last few. My hip still aches enough to make me never want to let one get within clawing range again.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Once ED-E confirmed that there was nothing else moving around outside the building, we were able to take stock of the site. The road, which had lead us through a shallow canyon, opened into a little valley, almost like a bowl scooped out of the rock. Right in the center is a pre-war metal sculpture of a REPCONN rocket -- which cleared up the purpose of this place in a hurry. REPCONN was an aerospace company, apparently focused on getting people up into the skies and into outer space. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Amazing... those folks before the bombs were living in a goddamn paradise, and they were trying so hard to escape it. No wonder it all went to hell.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Behind the statue is a blocky drab building, mostly intact, hunkered down into the rock, with a few radio towers and an odd dome perched on the rim of the valley across from it. Still have no idea what the dome is, but we’ve spent the day getting all too acquainted with the building.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaq7zCQPC0BId_eoK6wflocpFR6eD_hSfD05wDEjm5y4Xzk_tAycSH3OkizAo_HDeFDwKA6mG2KCe-j4B_D7wH1k18hIzrjLYbn-Xpv7GclWwXoOROnSdtJg7FZPNxOde5sQ-igQWtBmg/s1600/REPCONN+test+site.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaq7zCQPC0BId_eoK6wflocpFR6eD_hSfD05wDEjm5y4Xzk_tAycSH3OkizAo_HDeFDwKA6mG2KCe-j4B_D7wH1k18hIzrjLYbn-Xpv7GclWwXoOROnSdtJg7FZPNxOde5sQ-igQWtBmg/s1600/REPCONN+test+site.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Finishing up our sweep of the exterior, we found a few dead ghouls among the ferals who were in significantly better shape -- well, before they died, at least. Functional, sentient ghouls, wearing those brown robes I’d seen a few times in the wastes. From the half-built makeshift barricades they were slumped over, it looked like they’d been trying to fortify the building.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The robed ghouls, along with some of the ferals that had predeceased our arrival, had been shot with automatic weaponry. The ghouls themselves were armed with energy weapons -- two carrying AER9 laser rifles and the other some sort of self-charging blaster pistol I’ve never seen before -- so the wounds clearly weren’t friendly fire. Definitely not the ferals, either.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The pistol was light and easy to carry, so I stuffed that into my pack and stacked the rifles by the statue to claim on our way back to Novac. The PIP-Boy’s counter was still reading just slightly over generic background radiation, but I dosed Boone and myself with Rad-X pills as a precaution anyway before we went inside the mangled front doors.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And inside... well, outside was a mess, but inside was a charnel house. Dead ferals, robed ghouls, and more of those blue super-mutants were everywhere, and the interior of the building was wrecked, but not in that comfortably familiar ruined-when-the-bombs-fell way. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The injuries on the bodies began to paint a picture. The robed ghouls and the ferals had all been killed by conventional ammunition or blunt trauma, consistent with the miniguns and concrete mauls the mutants were carrying, and the dead mutants had been exclusively seared with laser or plasma fire. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The super mutants must have forced their way in through the main doors, fighting through the robed ghouls, but there was no sign of either group still living on the first floor -- the whole place was eerily quite, at least at first.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Old habits die hard, and I started scavving for salvage while Boone began sorting out the weapons. I was sorting through a promisingly full toolbox when the building’s intercom system crackled to life, nearly giving me an infarction.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The rough, gravely voice barked at us to identify ourselves. I did so, naming Boone and ED-E as well, and told the speaker that we were here on behalf of Novac. I tactfully neglected to mention the looting.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mr. Intercom muttered something about “smoothskins” -- a ghoul epithet for unradiated folks that I’ve had tossed my way in the past -- and told us that we should hurry to the building’s east staircase, unless we wanted “the demons” to get us.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Boone raised an eyebrow at the mention of “demons”, and I shrugged, kicking a super-mutant corpse by way of my best bet. Out loud, I asked Mr. Intercom to identify himself, but he just responded that if we wanted to wait around for the demons to come kill us, that was our choice, and then broke the connection.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We made our way in the direction he’d indicated, picking through the rooms as we went. I found a powered terminal and managed to bypass its security programming with the aid of the PIP-Boy, hoping for a map of the facility. Instead, I got a bit of background on REPCONN -- definitely focused on space exploration, the company had been bought out by RobCo before the war. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m a little surprised they didn’t start calling the rockets “REP-Boys”. RobCo definitely has an if-it-ain’t-broke-don’t-fix-it approach to naming their products.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Apparently, it had all ended in disaster, with a rushed production schedule that left a handful of employees dead in explosions. There was also a memo that a crateful of those StealthBoy cloaking units had been erroneously delivered to this facility. I’ll have to keep my eyes skinned -- having a satchelful of StealthBoys would make life in the Mojave much easier.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Another room had a collapsed ceiling, which enabled us to clamber up to the second floor. A good thing, too -- the staircase Mr. Intercom had mentioned was built out over an open space storage area, the ground floor of which was full of shambling ferals. Coming into the staircase from the second floor, we were able to creep past and over them without drawing any attention, climbing the stairs to a sealed door.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When we hit the intercom button, the man who opened the door was decidedly un-ghoulified, a rather average-looking balding sort, running a little to fat, who identified himself as Chris Haversam. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXa8gM2GHZkEGU7oMC-zyrIJY7nmx8QgLQseM1grWw2qIePU8MTFd9KjbnyS4hXHZhwzeLH_fw_LniGTePnszzi6UN1HKSVCBrGvzt_JsG_Uncb5kVNFd_ImgvJCDi4DK6cIdb4VM3nGs/s1600/haversam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXa8gM2GHZkEGU7oMC-zyrIJY7nmx8QgLQseM1grWw2qIePU8MTFd9KjbnyS4hXHZhwzeLH_fw_LniGTePnszzi6UN1HKSVCBrGvzt_JsG_Uncb5kVNFd_ImgvJCDi4DK6cIdb4VM3nGs/s1600/haversam.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When Boone delicately broached the issue of him not being a ghoul by blurting out “He’s human!”, Haversam just shook his head, muttered something else about smoothskins, and refused to answer any further questions, instead telling us to follow him, after which he sealed the door behind us and then headed off down the hallway, not looking to see if we were following.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Haversam, thankfully, seemed to be the only one with unresolved transradiation issues. Everyone else in this sealed section of the building was fully ghoulified, and all were wearing the brown robes. Most were looking through various diagrams or sorting electronics at workbenches, and they looked at us with something halfway between curiosity and suspicion as we walked by.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Haversam lead us up another staircase to a smaller office, and things suddenly began to come clear. Haversam cleared his throat and left us with a little bow to the occupant of the room, a man wearing a neatly maintained pre-war suit and lighting up the office with a sickly green luminescence.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He turned, and I braced myself for a Geiger counter cacophony that never came. He was one of the hyper-radiated ghouls that folks call “glowing ones”, but I’ve never heard of one that isn’t feral... or putting out enough rads to microwave an iguana-kebab.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This one was neither. His face, while bearing all the standard gauntness and leathery skin common to ghouls, was remarkably unburnt or decayed, and his voice, when he greeted us, lacked the usual gravel and instead had an odd reverb to it, as if coming through speakers.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiiiWkbX6Zp8c8_5viCFjvtQV0VPgj9v-8rj5eoCucYq9RGeDHUWm4wrQJryJQZBWosfk0Lu6m5kJY6lwbGmvWY5Vnb-XEsXwBWfWnTWBafBZqHbLbecWi6gcK5eiFcWCxo9JdIEErToU/s1600/Jason_Bright.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiiiWkbX6Zp8c8_5viCFjvtQV0VPgj9v-8rj5eoCucYq9RGeDHUWm4wrQJryJQZBWosfk0Lu6m5kJY6lwbGmvWY5Vnb-XEsXwBWfWnTWBafBZqHbLbecWi6gcK5eiFcWCxo9JdIEErToU/s1600/Jason_Bright.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His name is Jason Bright -- he claims it always has been, even before the bombs -- and he and his followers are here to prepare for a “great journey” to seek their holy land and escape the persecution ghouls face in the wastes.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As if that wasn’t enough, he’s convinced that Boone, ED-E, and I are here as a form of divine aid in their time of need. In ED-E’s case, I suppose it’s a real case of “machina ex deo”.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Chuckling.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Not bad, eh?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010100000110110001100101011000010111001101100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001110010011001010110110101101111011101100110010100100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010101101110011000010111010101110100011010000110111101110010</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110100101111010011001010110010000100000011001000110010101100011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01101111011100100110000101110100011010010110111101101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Philistine.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, Bright elaborated that he and his followers had gathered here to pursue their journey, and, in doing so, they had shepherded all the ferals they could find along with them. Bright calls ferals “lost ones” and, while he acknowledges that they are beyond help, he and his group still hoped to contain them, keeping them safe and, by extension, keeping everyone else safe from them.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Everything had apparently been going well until invisible demons showed up and stormed the facility. Putting two and two together, Bright’s invisible demons are the stealthed blue mutants that have been cropping up all over the area. They forced their way in, killing a handful of Bright’s followers, and a running gun battle broke out inside, which resulted in the ghouls falling back to this sealed upper area and the mutants breaking off and heading into the facility’s basement, where they still are, attacking any ghouls who venture down there.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bright couldn’t explain what drew the mutants or what was keeping them here, but he could explain the feral attacks on Novac. When they’d broken down the facility’s doors, the mutants inadvertently released all the ferals Bright had managed to sequester here.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Normally, Bright and his people would be fine to just leave the mutants in the basement, but the next step in their “Great Journey” is apparently directly through the areas currently being patrolled by the invisible mutants.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bright said he and the others would gladly round up the ferals and take them along on the journey if I could somehow “exorcise the demons” from the facility’s basement.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I was tempted to just walk right back on down to Novac, confident that the ghouls and the mutants would eventually take care of each other, but there was just something about Bright’s earnestness... Besides, I can certainly understand that desire to seek a better place, and isn’t care in the hands of other ghouls a kinder fate for the ferals a kinder fate?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I keep saying it, Webb -- that goddamn conscience is going to get you killed.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Then again, would that such a bad thing? Not like there’s much keeping me around at this point, other than good, old-fashioned stubbornness. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I turned to Boone, who merely shrugged, and told Bright we’d see about that exorcism for him. Of course, if all those blue mutants are as crazy as the one who was killing the brahmin, I think I’ll be doing most of my exorcising with my repeater, but we’ll see.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bright was thrilled at the news, thanking us graciously, and he offered us the use of his followers’ rooms and chambers. As it had already been a long day, and as I think I’d more than exceeded my quota for shooting hideously deformed lunatics, we decided to stay the night with Bright and his people.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Word spread quickly that we had agreed to help, and those suspicious glances were quickly replaced with friendly -- if rotten -- smiles and offers to share meals and supplies. We partook of their food, mostly pre-war packaged goods like YumYum eggs and Salisbury Steak that had been scavenged from the building’s cafeteria before the mutant attack.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As always, they taste more like preservatives than actual food, but they fill your belly well enough. We stuck to our own bottled water, however; a quick PIP-Boy scan of the ghouls’ water supplies revealed enough rads to give me contact nausea. Must give it an extra kick if you’re a ghoul, though.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After we ate, I spent a few hours looking over the ghouls who had been injured in the fight with the mutants. Many had gunshot wounds, some with the bullets still lodged within, others had broken bones from the mutants’ clubs, and all were model patients, as I have come to expect from ghouls.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The same condition that keeps them alive for so long also seems to deaden many of their nerves -- I didn’t even have to use Med-X while stitching up the wounds, and they would each just sit their, either calmly chatting or just silently watching as I worked, with no sign of discomfort or unease. If only everyone I tended to was so accommodating...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The other benefit of the condition is remarkably fast healing. I’d wager most of these folks will be good as new within a day or two. I’ve never put it to the test myself, but I’ve heard that you can even amputate and reattach a ghoul’s arm, with no ill effects in the long run if you get it sewed back on fast enough.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After my surgeries, my back was killing me, so I stretched it out by pacing around the ghouls’ quarters, picking through the supplies they weren’t currently using.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Among scrap and tidbits of various usefulness, I found, against all expectations, a box of brightly-colored conical hats, made of some sort of waxed paper, with little plastic ribbons coming out of the tops. I pulled one out and popped it on to ED-E’s shell at a jaunty angle.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjipHRfSG62FMxnZoiuB9Q-OX4mrP-MC7Kc-RfxVvv9cQyVx6UtVxPjXELZiN-iFEFjwre6dlflLBUKW0j43l3CE77pRuNl7K_5xnojg0ni030l8vjpxX2BdA6LlfGPpWzkOWk86mjmqz4/s1600/ED-E_hat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjipHRfSG62FMxnZoiuB9Q-OX4mrP-MC7Kc-RfxVvv9cQyVx6UtVxPjXELZiN-iFEFjwre6dlflLBUKW0j43l3CE77pRuNl7K_5xnojg0ni030l8vjpxX2BdA6LlfGPpWzkOWk86mjmqz4/s1600/ED-E_hat.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Boone just grunted and wandered off to get some sleep, but I can only imagine how much Callie would have laughed to see it.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010100000110110001100101011000010111001101100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001110010011001010110110101101111011101100110010100100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010101101110011000010111010101110100011010000110111101110010</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110100101111010011001010110010000100000011001000110010101100011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01101111011100100110000101110100011010010110111101101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> I’ll take it off you in the morning, I promise. Tonight, though... just let me keep it there and remember my little girl giggling, okay?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010000010110001101100011011001010111000001110100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01100001011000100110110001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Thanks, eyeball.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Guess I better get some rack time myself. Settling down to sleep, surrounded by ghoul pilgrims and preparing to venture down into a basement full of invisible supermutants.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Well, as my pa would have said, it beats being bored.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Signing off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-77749629895693584222011-11-05T22:39:00.001-04:002011-11-06T19:50:23.370-05:00//Log Date: 2281-11-02 21:40//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Been an odd afternoon. Boone, ED-E, and I are camped on an overpass on the access road to the REPCONN site, not too far east of the building itself. Figured it would be better to wait out the dark here, get some rest, rather than pushing on in after hiking all day.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Vargas was certainly right about the ghouls, though.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Hmmph.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Ferals have been all over this road. They slowed us down considerably, having to advance and pick them off one by one, rather than bring them down on us all at once. The Geiger counter on the PIP-Boy isn’t picking up any more than standard wasteland radiation levels, though, so I’m still not sure what’s drawing them to the place or keeping them here.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3qtO5lJGXucdcsGmCjNM2TPqb8gEwp37sVCgoqLX0FJM9RYGjjS9AhBjr4WlfOU6R-0A2T11jbDkImCLuVwo4bdyhkdLR5R5iZP0A6Hn5kB173w3_QCJ0ZPNMfyuQfyMVY_0Ts5GEAiQ/s1600/checkpoint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3qtO5lJGXucdcsGmCjNM2TPqb8gEwp37sVCgoqLX0FJM9RYGjjS9AhBjr4WlfOU6R-0A2T11jbDkImCLuVwo4bdyhkdLR5R5iZP0A6Hn5kB173w3_QCJ0ZPNMfyuQfyMVY_0Ts5GEAiQ/s1600/checkpoint.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The overpass itself hints at a completely different story. It’s been fortified, at least to some degree, and we found two more of those odd blue-skinned supermutants, lying dead and torn apart by ferals. At least these ones weren’t trying to kill cattle, but it is looking like the presence of mutants and the ghouls are related... and not in a friendly way. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Maybe there’s something both of them want at REPCONN. Again, I keep thinking radiation, but...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hmm...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Maybe the PIP-Boy isn’t getting accurate readings. We’ll have to monitor ourselves for rad posioning, just to be safe. Boone, let me know if you start feeling nauseous or losing any hair.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Tough for me to tell. You’re the one with the beard.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Fine, then tell me if my beard falls off, just in case I don’t notice the sudden breeze.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Not much more we can tell from here, I suppose, so no real sense in losing sleep over it. I’m sure we’ll find out more tomorrow if we don’t get eaten in our sleep. ED-E, got your sensors tuned for movement in both directions?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010101000110100001101001011100110010000001110101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111001101001011101000010000001100001011011000111011101100001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111100101110011001000000111010001110010011000010110001101101011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001100100000011011010110111101110110011001010110110101100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111001110100001000000110100101101110001000000100000101001100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0100110000100000011001000110100101110010011001010110001101110100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01101001011011110110111001110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> That a yes?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Probably. I never know for sure.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, may as well get some rest. Signing o--</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> You do this every night?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> What, leave the eyeball on watch? It’s not like he needs sleep.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> No. Record what you did that day.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Oh. Yeah, most days.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Why?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Started it to make sure my cognition wasn’t impaired after the fellow in the checkered suit shot me in the head. Now... I just keep it up, mostly for myself, I suppose. Something to leave behind, maybe as a warning to whomever finds it and listens to it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Speaking of which... let me register your voice, so you stop showing up as unidentified on the logs.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> What’s the point of that?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Makes reviewing the logs easier. Besides, it’ll be a cheat sheet for when I forget your name. Just sit tight, won’t take a second. Just have to hook up this little keyboard, and...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Typing.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There. Auto-detect is on. Say your name.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> This is stupid.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*A dinging noise.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Uh-oh.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Stupid>> What?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Heh. Nothing. Hold on...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*More typing.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There we go, did it manually. Say something else.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Still think this is a waste of time.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Yeah? Maybe I shouldn’t have changed it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Changed what?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Nothing.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Hmmph.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Several minutes of silence.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> You said you were a corporal while you were in?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Eventually, yeah. Enlisted in ’52, when I was still just a kid. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jesus, seventeen. You think you know everything then, right?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Sighing.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Served as a grunt for three years before someone picked me out for combat medic training. Got pulled from my unit and sent to Vault City, studied there for two years before I got my certification and got reassigned. One of the units doing raider sweeps in the backcountry, you remember them?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> They still send out some now, but all this was before my time.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Holy hell, I keep forgetting how old I am. What are you, twenty-five?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Twenty-six.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Stop making me feel like an antique. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, the war with the Brotherhood was in one of its little cold spells, so the upper brass figured they’d do some tidying in their own backyards while it lasted. My unit was mainly patrolling in the eastern territories. I got my corporal’s chevrons along with my medical degree, went where they told me, and fell in love with my sergeant. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDyyplQ6QBipIln4SBREHJjpnRF1n9NXIIn1NhVIRR7Ga8Egt92XrPxPOuYEmf3s72OftKason8du9gbpYNnZWLNXRYq8GFCzgyjxe3bBOfWtmW8Pr7B6ZrK7Xd6jwMgaJ7TcQ6BYYcZI/s1600/Jess_sgt.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDyyplQ6QBipIln4SBREHJjpnRF1n9NXIIn1NhVIRR7Ga8Egt92XrPxPOuYEmf3s72OftKason8du9gbpYNnZWLNXRYq8GFCzgyjxe3bBOfWtmW8Pr7B6ZrK7Xd6jwMgaJ7TcQ6BYYcZI/s1600/Jess_sgt.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Watching you shoot, I think you would have loved her a little bit yourself. Something about a woman who can put a round between your eyes from half a mile away, eh?</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Heh.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Anyway, that was my Jess. We patrolled together with the rest of our unit for years, clearing out raiders until ’63, when we got some bad intel about a camp near Broken Hills. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_d1U2a0o5djwHAjYPYXt58uoUFkk7-5W52oQq8eoJjGFZMrDJhTqRjw_4fkJry3Qazu1xYXiDI1oKoVlAmGsLHRPhLGoqOyKDNMbXXZC7l5KaN4oKJR0_Is1dxf79XbrJ9b-1imQrmSs/s1600/broken_hills.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_d1U2a0o5djwHAjYPYXt58uoUFkk7-5W52oQq8eoJjGFZMrDJhTqRjw_4fkJry3Qazu1xYXiDI1oKoVlAmGsLHRPhLGoqOyKDNMbXXZC7l5KaN4oKJR0_Is1dxf79XbrJ9b-1imQrmSs/s1600/broken_hills.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jess took a shot in the leg from a Viper. I grabbed her and ran like hell for safe cover, stopped the bleeding as best I could, but I ended up having to amputate just below the knee. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Never could find her a correctly-sized prosthetic replacement, though lord knows we looked through half the abandoned hospitals between here and Baja until she got pregnant.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> They drummed her out for the injury?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Honorable discharge. Medals and trumpets playing and everything. Sold the medals first chance we got for a stake in some decent salvage equipment.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> No medals for you?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> I don’t think they have a medal for punching your CO in the face when he tells you to leave your injured woman behind and get back in the field. Best they could do was a dishonorable discharge. Lucky I didn’t get court-martialed, all things considered. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> You said she got pregnant?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> In ’65, yeah. We settled down on a farm outside of Modoc.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzn6ffQT4MRXDCK-ZXjp-ZGgJF5_5GTomcuDi8yPlyh1W-J9YhTKHUU8noQkK-mzlPSduodFOPAsrtjtJJ2kPPrLjPnQI7pcf5vcGaBE3X1vgXTtBF0hNpagI9ew4FpzM3-IGEZRME4E/s1600/Jess_after.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXzn6ffQT4MRXDCK-ZXjp-ZGgJF5_5GTomcuDi8yPlyh1W-J9YhTKHUU8noQkK-mzlPSduodFOPAsrtjtJJ2kPPrLjPnQI7pcf5vcGaBE3X1vgXTtBF0hNpagI9ew4FpzM3-IGEZRME4E/s1600/Jess_after.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Your kid still there? In Modoc?</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> She’s dead. Jess too.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*A few minutes of silence.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> How’d it happen?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Why don’t you tell me about your wife first?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Boone>> Hmmph.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> “Hmmph” it is, then. Get some sleep, I’m sure we’ve got plenty of ferals to shoot in the morning.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Signing off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-60173744120065518422011-11-03T23:12:00.002-04:002011-11-04T10:13:11.618-04:00//Log Date: 2281-11-02 16:11//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Finally got some sleep last night. It’s amazing -- killing an insane giant bent on murdering cattle kept me up, but facilitating the murder of an old lady made me sleep like a little...</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Long sigh.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">...like a log, I mean.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After Boone shot Crawford, I let myself into the dinosaur, climbed the stairs, and showed him the invoice I’d found in her records. He stared at it for a long moment, then crumpled it up and tossed it out into the night air in the general direction of Crawford’s sprawled body. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We both just stood there for a moment, him not saying anything, and me letting him not say anything.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzRW9NOl8SvmEnED8-vLze3nTBFqyppWSTMyOB-Tb_V7SFOI7GHiD-WYmoRPKGex6h7ypjNTMpbUV9_TqNwozb9XhDwow2x_vv0hS8WdifTRrforADwgvGiBVZGBjI0qCabgUZfKxTYs/s1600/boone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzRW9NOl8SvmEnED8-vLze3nTBFqyppWSTMyOB-Tb_V7SFOI7GHiD-WYmoRPKGex6h7ypjNTMpbUV9_TqNwozb9XhDwow2x_vv0hS8WdifTRrforADwgvGiBVZGBjI0qCabgUZfKxTYs/s1600/boone.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I tried to imagine how I’d feel, if it was me standing there, looking down at the corpse of the one who had killed my girls, knowing I’d spilled the blood of the one who had done for Jess and Callie.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In the end, I decided I had no idea how it must feel... other than I’d probably sucker-punch any mouthy son of a <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> who insisted on jabbering on while I was trying to drink it in. Taking that to heart, I stood there quietly, staring down at the dead body of a woman I’d helped kill and thinking of my own ghosts until Boone finally turned and nodded to me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He offered to let me keep the beret by way of thanks, but I declined. No way I had a steady enough trigger finger to qualify as 1st Recon, and, besides, accepting payment for killing someone is a road I don’t want to go down. No matter if it’s a hat or a pile of caps, it’s all just haggling after the fact. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sure, I’ve killed plenty of people in the wastes, but it was always out of necessity, or defense, or even mercy. I’m a doctor, damn it, not an assassin.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For lack of anything better to say, I asked him what he planned to do next. He shrugged non-committally, saying that he wasn’t sure, other than that he was definitely done with Novac and everyone in it. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I drummed my fingers against one of the dino’s teeth for a moment, considering, then asked if he wanted to come with me, as I’d be leaving soon anyway. Plenty of threats out there, including Legionnaires, and one is safer than two.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010101000110100001110010011001010110010100100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110100101110011001000000110111101110000011101000110100101101101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110000101101100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Yes, of course, I didn’t forget you, eyeball. Three is safer still.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The point is, it’s rough out there alone, and I had vengeance of my own to pursue. I briefly told him about Checkers again, with a bit more detail than in my initial questioning. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Boone took it all in quietly, then asked if we’d be seeing any Legion troops on the way. I smiled wanly and told him we could happily spare some ammunition for any slavers we came across. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He responded thoughtfully, still without committing, that he’d seen some troop movements to the southeast, out of range of his rifle, and he was fairly sure they were Legion. I told him we could swing by and wipe them out before checking out the REPCONN site, and he nodded decisively, saying he was in. He’d leave with me at noon, after we’d both gotten some sleep.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I asked about Crawford, and he told me he’d been on break, but he was sure he’d notice something amiss after coming back on duty and alert the town. By then, it would probably be best if all out-of-towners were snug in their beds, sleeping the sleep of the just... or at least the sleep of the only-mildly-suspicious.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I took him at his word and headed with ED-E back to my room. All stimulents must have cleared my system by then -- like I said earlier, I passed out and slept through the commotion entirely, only waking up at eleven hundred hours with Vargas knocking on my door, asking if I’d seen or heard anything odd the night before. I said no, asked why, and feigned surprise when he told me about Crawford being found dead.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m not sure if he bought it, but, after all, Boone hadn’t seen me out and about, and he certainly would have if I’d had anything to do with it, right? Right.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was late enough by that point, so I made my morning ablutions in the room’s bathroom, changed the bandages on my hip and calf with generous contributions from the bed’s sheets, and had a quick breakfast of Cram heated on the room’s hotplate.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I left the room, I found Boone leaning against the railing outside, staring at the horizon. He nodded to me again -- a real miser of words, that one -- and we headed out towards the camp he’d seen.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Vargas called out to Boone as we walked passed the dino, but Boone didn’t even look back.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We hiked overland until we hit Route 95, then followed that south into the hills for a few hours until Boone indicated we were near the camp. Creeping quietly up the hillside, we saw them. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgct22xlPIiTbm24ASqh1IQUIg80o9yT2xsp34bPAc3vcaj5V92OGQE1NfqIKWZumc4iq6I59B5q0pPZVGlQ2XU2LhyphenhyphenXqQgikazXyUmpmTAdvk7xaE5TWOGmjhCDgn-eNTpD2zjuVt0GCY/s1600/legion_raid_camp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgct22xlPIiTbm24ASqh1IQUIg80o9yT2xsp34bPAc3vcaj5V92OGQE1NfqIKWZumc4iq6I59B5q0pPZVGlQ2XU2LhyphenhyphenXqQgikazXyUmpmTAdvk7xaE5TWOGmjhCDgn-eNTpD2zjuVt0GCY/s1600/legion_raid_camp.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Boone was right. It was a small Legion camp, with tents pitched and several red banners bearing the Legion’s bull insignia snapping in the wind. Men wearing that mismatched red-painted amalgam of metal and plastic armor wandered about, tending their weapons and supplies, and several people with their hands tied knelt despondently around the camp’s firepit, huddling close against the chill November wind. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pulling out my binoculars for a closer look, I saw that two of the captives were wearing NCRCF coveralls. I turned to tell Boone that these must be the remaining slaves taken from Nipton, but he was already lining up his first shot, and, before I could say anything, he pulled the trigger on his .308 rifle and put a round right through the forehead of a Legionnaire wearing a small flag strapped to his back. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Nothing could ever make me admit that someone is a better shot than Jess was, but this guy comes damn close.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">By the time I’d safely stashed my binoculars -- time-intensive, yes, but a functional pair of lenses are rare enough to make them worth the trouble -- and pulled my repeater from its shoulder sling, he’d dropped three more Legionnaires. ED-E had his laser array warmed up by then, too, and he joined in.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I fired off a few rounds, just so I didn’t look completely like dead weight, but the fight was already over by the first time I worked the lever action. Boone was already stalking forward to finish off any survivors with his machete before the gunsmoke had dissipated.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He moved on to search through the camp’s meager munitions cache -- these brutes seemed to favor tribal weapons like spears and hacking blades -- while I went to the captives and cut through their bonds with my bootknife. The ‘Gangers bolted for freedom as soon as they were free, looking at me over their shoulders like I’d only cut the ropes because I’d missed their throats. I guess my reputation from Goodsprings and Primm proceeds me again.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The others -- two NCR troopers and woman who must have been a Nipton local -- stayed put long enough for me to check them over for wounds and rub some feeling back into their limbs. Nothing more severe than some bruising and minor cuts and scrapes from being dragged across the Mojave. I gave them some water from the camp’s stock and pointed them towards Novac.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now that they’re gone, I’ve been going through the camp’s medical supplies... what few there are. For such an aggressive, militaristic group, they certainly pack little in the way of field dressing and meds. Mostly just herbal powders and poultices... more tribal garbage. I’d trade five pounds of this voodoo for a single stimpak.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwiFEAz_UUPxC8d3N-lQ3Is0kB3JBXnvCksudIRB-CNXBaI7HNfrtUa-zqM7kZVbv1zWF4cjqTn_vTh00YzoWwGQ3_p5awQEzYbltGl_wnPHGA3EirofwKxW7nUjk8gYaGH6K1p7qgRSY/s1600/herbal+medicine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwiFEAz_UUPxC8d3N-lQ3Is0kB3JBXnvCksudIRB-CNXBaI7HNfrtUa-zqM7kZVbv1zWF4cjqTn_vTh00YzoWwGQ3_p5awQEzYbltGl_wnPHGA3EirofwKxW7nUjk8gYaGH6K1p7qgRSY/s1600/herbal+medicine.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010100110110001101100001011011100010000001101001</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111001100100011010010110001101100001011101000110010101110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001110100011010000110010101110011011001010010000001100011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111101101101011100000110111101110101011011100110010001110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001110011011010000110000101110010011001010010000001101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010101101101011001010111001001101111011101010111001100100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110000101100011011101000110100101110110011001010010000001101001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111001100111011100100110010101100100011010010110010101101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010001110011001000000111011101101001011101000110100000100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001101110100011010010110110101110000011000010110101101110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> It’s disgusting. We don’t need an army to wipe out these animals -- we just need a little cholera in their drinking water, and they’re done for.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hell, we just need to hope Caesar cuts himself shaving. Tetanus would take him out faster than--</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Finished the sweep. Got what there was to get. Ready to move out for REPCONN?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Sure thing, Boone. Nothing here worth saving anyway.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> What are you doing?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> What, the recording? Just... therapy.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Hmmph. Heard lots of vets go a little nuts. Are you?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Aren’t you?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> Hmmph.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Fair enough. Come on, then. Let’s shake some dust.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Signing off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-9657756516108765542011-10-26T19:14:00.001-04:002011-11-15T19:16:35.125-05:00//Log Date: 2281-11-02 03:23//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Female>> --still not sure what was so very important that you had to get me up out of my nice warm bed in the middle of the night.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Again, sorry about the hour. But I think you’ll agree, this is something that just couldn’t wait for the light of day.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Female>> Well, if you say so, young man. I must say, you scared the stuffing out of me, pounding on my door like that. Woke me from a sound sleep -- I thought it was raiders for sure! Or maybe those ghouls from the REPCONN site, finally making their filthy move.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDD7yx0jHPdnSibgY_HfgI9cduvIkR-wNrv745KXKo4JOz2WPxPlxMHOBgz2kTmt1Lnc5dBIQAXWh8MFliEcra28FVFSZ2Agxkjvsqb2E7eTlkvTYET2it2bSwzJgKHsCOEN1MHA6q1IM/s1600/crawford.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDD7yx0jHPdnSibgY_HfgI9cduvIkR-wNrv745KXKo4JOz2WPxPlxMHOBgz2kTmt1Lnc5dBIQAXWh8MFliEcra28FVFSZ2Agxkjvsqb2E7eTlkvTYET2it2bSwzJgKHsCOEN1MHA6q1IM/s1600/crawford.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Yes, all sorts of monsters get up to mischief at night. You’d know better than most.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Female>> And just what is that supposed to mean?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Oh, I’m sure it’ll hit you in a moment.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Female>> Now listen here, Doctor, I don’t appreciate your tone. I’ve opened the doors of my establishment to you, gave you a place to stay when you came wandering in out of the wastes, and you’re pulling me out of my bed and making insinuations that I don’t appreciate from anyone, especially a <i>stranger</i>. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Novac is better off without that sort of behavior. Just show me what’s so important, and we can both get back to our beds, where decent respectable sorts <i>should</i> be at this hour.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Don’t worry, I’ll have you where you ought to be before you know it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">See? Here we are.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Female>> In front of Dinky? I can’t see anything in this dark, and I don’t like being outside the town walls. What on earth did you bring me out here for?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> To show you something. Here...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Canvas rustling.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Carla Boone wanted me to show you my new hat.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Female>> New hat? What’s this about the Boone woman? What sort of nonsen-</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizYd3YTsTI72eeWdwU_aZ_rxKCys-Rwod910JD6WfBW0e8rZqiwduWqA6SNfTFMkW1s1f9cyZo8qsUQVUFPZHWe7bA5hmhWk5NZjShFbWTZE0-_iVhre9Q986irjyqNC2THiFO6K7-vug/s1600/headshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizYd3YTsTI72eeWdwU_aZ_rxKCys-Rwod910JD6WfBW0e8rZqiwduWqA6SNfTFMkW1s1f9cyZo8qsUQVUFPZHWe7bA5hmhWk5NZjShFbWTZE0-_iVhre9Q986irjyqNC2THiFO6K7-vug/s1600/headshot.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*A rifle shot, followed by the soft brief pattering of liquid falling on rocks and then a weight hitting the ground.*</i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> All for a thousand caps...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jesus <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> Christ.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-6926462233750693952011-10-25T15:03:00.000-04:002011-10-25T15:03:37.724-04:00//Log Date: 2281-11-02 02:35//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> ...Okay, Webb, that’s IT. You have definitely got to lay off the Mentats.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Since I’m lying here in the room unable to sleep, also thanks to the aftereffects of the Mentats -- or maybe the Cateye -- I reviewed the last entry. I can’t believe there’s actually a record of me saying “chupacabra” without irony.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was, of course, NOT a chupacabra, but that doesn’t make it any less strange. The brahmin killer turned out to be an honest-to-god super mutant. I didn’t realize the fact until I’d already shot him six ways from Sunday, but, in my defense, an enormous screaming man-thing had just appeared out of thin air less than five yards in front of me, carrying a goddamn mini-gun.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT_cL4uA4lk0BS_RaqtzgS9bwyH_HXjEt3mHZ6B9tprpaZn8SWGenhAqIpOOM7_f9uAhd71vI2pmP0NQh-QKBYU-PLEEJtXw3zJwxbVJDdm8VYms-e_u2t5peEvzAuosTe7mqdrXTxXvE/s1600/novac_brahmin_attack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT_cL4uA4lk0BS_RaqtzgS9bwyH_HXjEt3mHZ6B9tprpaZn8SWGenhAqIpOOM7_f9uAhd71vI2pmP0NQh-QKBYU-PLEEJtXw3zJwxbVJDdm8VYms-e_u2t5peEvzAuosTe7mqdrXTxXvE/s1600/novac_brahmin_attack.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In those circumstances, I think I can justify myself a little of the old “shoot first, ask questions later”.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">ED-E opened fire when I did, and his lasers slagged the rotator on the minigun before the mutant could spin the thing up to fire. He hefted the ruined gun like a club, roaring, but, when our combined shots felled the mutant, he fell forward, smashing the gun beneath his incredible bulk. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So Noonan was actually correct about the machine gun, though it’s well beyond my capacity to repair. Too heavy and indiscriminate for my tastes anyway, but it probably would have been worth a nice pile of caps. As it was, I just stripped it for scrap.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Noonan had been right about something else, too -- the culprit HAD been invisible.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The mutant had been wearing one of those wrist-mounted RobCo cloaking units -- that’s why no one had been able to see him during the attacks, at least until ED-E somehow interfered with the cloaking field.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The device, called a StealthBoy -- apparently, whoever was in charge of naming products at RobCo wasn’t terribly big on creativity or variety -- still appears to be functioning, though it appears to have a limited battery life. I’ve placed it in a handy pocket for emergencies. I’ll have to use it sparingly, but, still, a nice little bonus out of the whole affair.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQqp2duaITj6vuKPbbvCEEa0hLRg0yUBTYIGY21nsDQcJ90o1w1-t1V_KfhlyY9rUs4dn78N09EUE_8Nqrq_flhPixB9YkU_CKbrBt6swzWDZ7Blbt6EE4lw8nLjBoHB6H5xzWt5hSfkc/s1600/nightkin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQqp2duaITj6vuKPbbvCEEa0hLRg0yUBTYIGY21nsDQcJ90o1w1-t1V_KfhlyY9rUs4dn78N09EUE_8Nqrq_flhPixB9YkU_CKbrBt6swzWDZ7Blbt6EE4lw8nLjBoHB6H5xzWt5hSfkc/s1600/nightkin.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He also had a holotape stuffed into his tattered robes, which, upon review, contained a great deal of muttering and nonsense from the supermutant, who apparently blamed the McBrides’ brahmin for his insomnia. Well, he’s resting now, at least, poor mad thing.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Something else was odd about the supermutant, though, besides his cattle-killing proclivities. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s not like my experience with supermutants has been vast -- we saw a few on isolated farms and homesteads around the vicinity of Broken Hills while patrolling there, and I even met one serving in a Ranger troop that helped us clear a large raider base west of New Reno, but that’s been pretty much it. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But all of the ones I’ve met or seen in vids had skin that was some shade of green or gray. This one had an odd cobalt blue pigment, almost indigo, that would have made him difficult to spot in the dark even without the StealthBoy. Very curious -- I’ll have to ask around when I get to someplace with folks who might know something about mutants, see if there’s anything to the blue skin, or if this one was just a little more mutated than most.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I knocked at the McBrides’ door, as I figured all the shooting and hollering must have woken them, and told them briefly that they could sleep safely -- the brahmin killer was dead. They asked me in, Alice offering to put on a pot of coffee, but I declined, heading back to the motel room to try and get some sleep.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You see how well that’s worked out.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Reviewing that last entry, though, I realized that the mutant interrupted me before I could record the results of my meeting with Novac’s other sniper, Craig Boone. He didn’t have anything to add about Checkers, unfortunately, but that’s not to say he didn’t have some interesting things to say about the town.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWaGCO61vxSpOroFEK9xRocFEggD3m2kVqsr2nojXj5W6w5nJP0WswFYOpHxYe-khjer8Kk_FJ9La6q0OAvPakFy1RxBRtCpcSYrr7H08SltYKxumvS-ONOHGtkVzasSyDXt-MrD82MM/s1600/novac_boone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWaGCO61vxSpOroFEK9xRocFEggD3m2kVqsr2nojXj5W6w5nJP0WswFYOpHxYe-khjer8Kk_FJ9La6q0OAvPakFy1RxBRtCpcSYrr7H08SltYKxumvS-ONOHGtkVzasSyDXt-MrD82MM/s1600/novac_boone.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Like I’d been starting to say, Boone’s another retired sniper like Vargas -- though we didn’t get around to discussing how “official” that retirement had actually been. Unlike Vargas, however, Boone doesn’t have a tremendous amount of love for the town -- in fact, he’s pretty sure that someone in Novac is responsible for the disappearance of his wife.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now, call it narcissism if you will, but I seem to have a soft spot for the plight of veterans who have lost their wives, so I pushed him to find out more. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He’s not what you’d call gregarious, but he did eventually share that he’d met his wife, Carla, in New Vegas, and they’d settled here. After some time, she disappeared -- he says he has reason to believe she was sold to slavers, and he wants to know who did it. He thinks that, since I’m new to town and wouldn’t seem to have any interest in her fate, I might be able to find out more from people than he can.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Boone concluded by asking me, if I DO find out who was responsible, to bring them around in front of the dinosaur, outside the town, while he’s on shift, and give him a signal. For the signal, he gave me his beret, and said just to put it on when I was sure I had the guilty party. He’d take care of the rest.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Some folks might say that snooping around to help someone else take revenge is probably not the best or most moral use of time. But my ma always used to say that people who live in glass vaults shouldn’t throw stones, and, seeing as I’m on the road hunting down a man that shot me in the head, I suppose I’m standing the entry tunnel of the glassiest vault ever built.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Besides, thinking about Jess and Callie, if I had the chance to...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Well. Suffice it to say, I told him I’d ask around.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I got some unsolicited advise right out of the gate, as it happened. When I left Boone’s perch, heading back down through the dinosaur, I came out on the small staircase in the side and was immediately waylaid by Noonan, who put a conspiratorial -- and reeking -- arm around my shoulders as soon as I came down the steps and pulled me into the shadows by the dinosaur’s tail.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSUMIa8TQwVChexCGBAX75WbLUhTUI7q4PsFYJXiDmQcudghPHA8f-bV2hN25MuDMF_2_4QyY0bpsHrNMUovOgy4tlCP0d2F9i5njKyU5fL2yDFtRkLDd5WGREqIVkOl5sEan8ClNvB8/s1600/novac_dino_side.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqSUMIa8TQwVChexCGBAX75WbLUhTUI7q4PsFYJXiDmQcudghPHA8f-bV2hN25MuDMF_2_4QyY0bpsHrNMUovOgy4tlCP0d2F9i5njKyU5fL2yDFtRkLDd5WGREqIVkOl5sEan8ClNvB8/s1600/novac_dino_side.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Once we were safe -- from “Them”, I suppose -- he hissed into my ear that he’d listened in on the conversation between Boone and me, and he had some information for a trustworthy sort like myself.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Apparently, he’d seen a slaving deal go down in the lobby of the motel the night before Carla Boone had disappeared -- a slaving deal involving mole people, of course. I thanked him politely, gave him a little water from my canteen for his troubles -- poured into a tin cup, of course; I’m not letting those gums anywhere near my actual canteen -- and headed over to the McBrides’ place to wait on the cattle killer.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Huh. Which, as I said earlier, DID turn out to be an invisible monster with a machine gun.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Damn it. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but maybe I shouldn’t just ignore Noonan’s advice out of hand. Maybe there is some information in Crawford’s lobby.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Besides, it’s not like I’m getting any sleep anyway...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Come on, ED-E, we’re going for a little stroll. Stay quiet, but sound an alert if you see anyone coming, okay?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Sounds of a door opening and shutting, then footsteps.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> <i>*Whispering*</i> Hmmm, door’s locked. Shouldn’t be too much of a problem.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Muted sounds of metal scrapping, followed by a click.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Aha! Thank god for bobby pins. ED-E, stay put, keep your sensors humming. I’ll be inside.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Another door opening and closing, followed by several minutes of intermittent paper rustling and drawers opening and closing.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Huh. Nothing. Well, I don’t know what I was expecting. Poor Noonan -- after all, even a stopped clock is right twice a--</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wait. Looks like a...</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejyrtZtBBOFx3TlPszbgRht0xfFsv6MrUzImFU89-DkYIwAUZF71X9lFur8r8La_Mfnejl0XVeYMnLWfAmg2NbaTgoBs6OHP4KfWxtafuPNA5zE-3xua1Ht5pmirjSgFQt05sM4IclvY/s1600/novac_floor_safe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejyrtZtBBOFx3TlPszbgRht0xfFsv6MrUzImFU89-DkYIwAUZF71X9lFur8r8La_Mfnejl0XVeYMnLWfAmg2NbaTgoBs6OHP4KfWxtafuPNA5zE-3xua1Ht5pmirjSgFQt05sM4IclvY/s1600/novac_floor_safe.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yep. Floor safe. Almost missed it. Probably nothing, but... Let’s give the old stethoscope an airing, just in case.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Muted sounds of tumblers moving, followed by a click.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There we are. Okay, let’s see... receipts for food... invoices for guests... bills of sale for--</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Sharp intake of breath.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Consul Officiorum”? Is this a Legion document? “Bargained and purchased from Jeannie May Crawford”...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 6.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Teeth grinding.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">...”ownership and sale of the slave Carla Boone for the sum of one thousand bottle cap, and those of her...”</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oh sweet god... </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“Unborn child”? Carla was pregnant?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jesus. Jesus <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> Christ have mercy.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Paper crumpling, followed by a lengthy silence and then a slow breath.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Looks like I need to go have a few words with Miss Crawford.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">See if she wants to take a walk, maybe.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Signing off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-54173068279909630932011-10-11T23:56:00.000-04:002011-10-11T23:56:59.380-04:00//Log Date: 2281-11-01 23:48//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> <i>*whispering*</i> Good gravy, it’s getting cold in the evenings. Glad I grabbed this coat back in Primm.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010000110110111101101111011011000110010101110010</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001110100011001010110110101110000011001010111001001100001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010001110101011100100110010101110011001000000110010101110001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010101100001011011000010000001101111011100000111010001101001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110110101100001011011000010000001110000011100100110111101100011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">011001010111001101110011011010010110111001100111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Hey, keep it down, Eyeball! Haven’t you ever been on surveillance detail before?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010101000110100001101001011100110010000001110101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111001101001011101000010000001110111011000010111001100100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110010001100101011100110110100101100111011011100110010101100100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001100110011011110111001000100000011101000110100001100001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010000100000011100110111000001100101011000110110100101100110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110100101100011001000000110001101100001011100000110000101100011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">011010010111010001111001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Look, just... maintain radio silence, okay?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Okay?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">...Smartass.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Just in case we DO get ripped to shreds by roaming ghouls... or eaten by Noonan’s chupathingy... I wanted to make a record of it as a warning to the town, so I’m going to keep this thing running. May as well fill up the silence with an entry while I’m at it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Going to keep whispering, though. Got to keep the sound down. Can’t STOP whispering, actually. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken more Mentats tonight. Still, better than sitting blind in the dark. Also popped some Cateye -- the combo is making the night much clearer, but DEAR GOD those Mentats make my knuckles itch.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Shhhh. Sorry. Sorry sorry sorry. Gotta keep it down.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Sound of scratching.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ahh, much better. Cateye’s good stuff, too, a hyper-concentrated synthetic compound of retinol that really kicks your night vision up a notch. Probably some other active ingredients, I’m not sure -- always seemed to me like the drug regulation industry of the Old World really went to hell in the last years before the bombs.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Maybe I should just stick to the Cateye in the future. Got a nice little stock of it this afternoon, along with a tidy pile of other chems. When I headed back out into the more rambling areas of Nova outside the motel, I ran into a young woman with two bodyguards who identified herself as Ada Straus.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJsLIPLl1F87CMJh6IsPyaZlOmlSZgRM8arzP7TKV23kNNT0o7JxjHJTMSWdiX4IJrsHv4ZwURyvbl0r9nlAHzRgOPJiyEVNDCx1ilwCo7-LU3pK4T4BgdDaro-MvmEft54nnYL2k8OIw/s1600/novac_straus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJsLIPLl1F87CMJh6IsPyaZlOmlSZgRM8arzP7TKV23kNNT0o7JxjHJTMSWdiX4IJrsHv4ZwURyvbl0r9nlAHzRgOPJiyEVNDCx1ilwCo7-LU3pK4T4BgdDaro-MvmEft54nnYL2k8OIw/s1600/novac_straus.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Also called herself a doctor. If she’s a doctor, then I’m the <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> Surgeon General of Shady Sands.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Don’t get me wrong, always happy to see other sources of medical attention in the wastes. And yeah, I’m just a glorified combat medic, but at least I had real training from real doctors in Vault City.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Got a fancy certificate and everything, too. All ash now, but still.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But the way it is out here, anyone with a pair of forceps and a scavved stethoscope calls themselves a doctor. Wouldn’t trust this one to suture a cadaver. Probably why she needs those mercs -- to fend off malpractice complaints.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">God, Webb, you sound like an ass. Reign it in.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Still, what she DID have was a decent supply of meds and other chems. Since I’m already sounding like an ass, I’ll just come out and say it: I figured they’d be better off with me than with her. I swapped her the patched-up laser rifle I’d found on that robed ghoul in exchange for a huge chunk of her store of chems, including several bottles of Cateye pills, some stims, a decent supply of Med-X to replenish my dwindling stock, more anti-septics, and -- in anticipation of what might be waiting for me at the REPCONN site -- all of her Rad-X tablets and bags of RadAway solution.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Like I said, right now, I’m just glad for the Cateye. Glad glad glad.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Sound of teeth grinding.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Spent some time after that asking the other residents of Novac about Checkers and the REPCONN situation, but didn’t turn up anything new.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Did find a decent communal workshop area in an old filling station near the motel. Didn’t want to swipe anything belonging to the town, but there was a bench with a loading press and a vice, along with a little crucible and a burner hooked to a gas tank with tubing, duct tape, and a fair amount of prayers and good intentions.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpyOjmD6yF13z1uj1rcHoMb8AUbcO3GOJgnX3bPZ9UCdREIouBNOC1n-nmTSF6OQGSUm1dR-DiAGNRflPBeUN_QMKe-710_4Gcvt2kDbgijrhQyEUl0oBOMVxCDoLC4R5iXU47UbP3fWM/s1600/novac_bench.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpyOjmD6yF13z1uj1rcHoMb8AUbcO3GOJgnX3bPZ9UCdREIouBNOC1n-nmTSF6OQGSUm1dR-DiAGNRflPBeUN_QMKe-710_4Gcvt2kDbgijrhQyEUl0oBOMVxCDoLC4R5iXU47UbP3fWM/s1600/novac_bench.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now that I had slimmed down my kit to just the revolver and rifle, both chambered for .357 rounds, I figured I’d take a bit of time to slim down my ammo reserves as well. I broke down all the ammunition I had, separated out the casings, powder, primer, and bullets, and spent half an hour or so recasting the lead and copper into .357 jacketed flat points, packing each one with a little extra powder besides, as I had some left over.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Never hurts to have a little extra punch when you’re facing down a pack of charging ghouls, right?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My pockets and ammo belts newly weighed down with custom lead, I went back to exploring the rest of the down. I eventually found my way to the brahmin ranch which had been the subject of the recent attacks. I knocked at the door and was greeted by a very pleasant couple, both probably between ten and twenty years my senior, who welcomed me inside. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I quickly learned, over the glass of good cold well water that was pressed into my hand, that they were Dusty and Alice McBride, and the rumors were true -- every night for the last several nights, something had been killing one of their brahmin right around midnight. If it kept up, they’d be out of brahmin, Novac would be out of meat, and the McBrides would be out of a living.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMbpTO5FvN20d6VjMnYP7gaL7AKdo8jczDq_Y-8Axv-1RBCbl6m1CZKcFEfjq64IU0HDUGP0Sxych3rz-Qwr_jsr6-Se1OneI2mBrS4oMYUeUZUUNFjm6P4pSXsyF8Fr9llthRZ16V2n4/s1600/novac_dusty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMbpTO5FvN20d6VjMnYP7gaL7AKdo8jczDq_Y-8Axv-1RBCbl6m1CZKcFEfjq64IU0HDUGP0Sxych3rz-Qwr_jsr6-Se1OneI2mBrS4oMYUeUZUUNFjm6P4pSXsyF8Fr9llthRZ16V2n4/s1600/novac_dusty.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I asked if what they had done with the last brahmin killed, hoping I might be able to do a necropsy and confirm that it was the work of ghouls, but Alice simply pointed towards the kitchen.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Waste not, want not, I suppose.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The McBrides then insisted I join them for dinner. I put up a token protest, but the smells drifting from the stove just reminded me how long it had been since I’d had anything other than gecko meat, pre-war tins of processed garbage, or mess hall stew -- I caved in almost immediately.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Alice cooked the steaks just the way I remember my ma making them -- dusted with a little flour and fried in a pan with tallow -- and they were delicious. The majority of the brahmin had been cut into strips and was hanging over a smoking fire in the McBride’s side yard.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Over dinner, I asked them for more details about the town. Neither had seen Checkers or his gang, and neither knew much about the REPCONN facility other than it had been a prime scavving site before the ghouls invaded.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They had a little more of interest to tell me about the attacks on their brahmin. They’d heard noises during the attacks, possibly gunfire, which complicates matters. I still refuse to believe it’s a machine-gun-wielding chupacabra. Never seen any far-gone ghoulies using firearms, though.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Could still be related to what’s going on up at REPCONN, though. Might be some regular ghouls in with the ferals, who come down at night to do a little poaching.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I finished up my steak and told the McBrides I’d swing back by around midnight to see if I could spot anything suspicious -- least I could do in exchange for the meal.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That’s where I am now, out back of the McBride’s place keeping an eye on the brahmin pens. Nothing so far.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYszcwWG1LtwDzqie7usvVfrHWecPRijBAGu06rPj9ddcISfNlngUWGEdg_wEmlDLfmIA4Md8xvNxfOJkaiG9fFaM9KYBmle9341znKIK-I7hVF3Ahx72lRAQdfiCVKDtHYhmnaoobkYk/s1600/Novac_mcbrides.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYszcwWG1LtwDzqie7usvVfrHWecPRijBAGu06rPj9ddcISfNlngUWGEdg_wEmlDLfmIA4Md8xvNxfOJkaiG9fFaM9KYBmle9341znKIK-I7hVF3Ahx72lRAQdfiCVKDtHYhmnaoobkYk/s1600/Novac_mcbrides.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After I exchanged “good evening”s with the McBrides, I still had some time to kill before the poacher showed up, so I drifted back over to the dinosaur to wait for the guards to change shifts. Briscoe was closing up as I got there, but he waived cheerfully and asked if I wanted to play a hand or two of caravan after he locked up the till. I agreed, and we whiled away some time building trade routes and swapping caps. Briscoe tossed me a bottle of sarsaparilla as we played, pulling one out for himself. Nice guy. I’ll be sure to send some business his way, if I meet some likely looking folks on the road.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Around twenty-one hundred hours, a dour-looking man in a red beret entered the store, nodded to Briscoe, gave me a brief once-over, and went up the stairs to the sniper’s nest. A few minutes later, Vargas came down, said a brief goodnight to Briscoe and me, and headed off to his room.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I finished up my game with Briscoe, slugged back the last of my sarsaparilla, collected my winnings, and thanked him for the hospitality, then headed up the stairs to talk with the second sniper.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Definitely less chatty than Vargas. Name is Craig Boone, and, as it turns out, he has a rather different point of view on this town than his buddy. In fact, he--</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wait a minute. What was that?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Silence.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There! Did you see that? By that boulder!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010011010110111101110100011010010110111101101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001000100011001010111010001100101011000110111010001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110010000101110001000000100111001101111001000000111011001101001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001101110101011000010110110000100000011000110110111101101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110011001101001011100100110110101100001011101000110100101101111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> I’d swear it was... Wait. There. Footsteps! That’s definitely footsteps.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010000110110110001101111011000010110101101101001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111001100111001000000110011001101001011001010110110001100100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001100100011001010111010001100101011000110111010001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110010000101110001000000100100101101110011010010111010001101001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110000101110100011010010110111001100111001000000110100101101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010001100101011100100110011001100101011100100110010101101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110001101100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Almost positive there’s something over there. I’m going to get a little closer, see what I can--</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Hissing static of a stealth field deactivating.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified>> HEAD VOICES SAY BLINKY ROBOT MAKE TROUBLE! </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> HOLY <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> IT <i>IS</i> A CHUPACABRA! SHOOT IT! SHOOT IT! SHOOT IT!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Sounds of gunfire commence just as the recording ends abruptly.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-50588564226793233122011-10-08T22:51:00.000-04:002011-10-08T22:51:58.306-04:00//Log Date: 2281-11-01 16:17//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> When Jess got pregnant, we spent some time deciding where we were going to settle down. One of the first arguments was over whether we should settle in a city, or out on a ranch or farm.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Towns like Novac are the reason we settled on a farm.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I finally hauled myself out of the bath, got dressed, and opened the door of my room, there was an old man crouched immediately outside. He scuttled backwards quickly, but he had clearly been listening at the door. Before I could ask him anything, he blurted that he’d heard me coming out of the pipes and accused me of being a lakelurk in disguise. I tried to protest -- or, let’s be honest, say <i>anything</i> coherent after being accused of being a lake monster by a septuagenarian eavesdropper -- but he snarled and went for what he called his sticking knife.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At that moment, ED-E floated out behind me, trilling its little battle cry as its laser array warmed up, and the old man stared at it, then relaxed almost immediately. The knife disappeared again into his food-stained clothes, and a broad smile spread across his face. He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially that he could see now that I wasn’t one of “them”.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I never did manage to figure out who “they” were -- something worse than lakelurks, apparently. What I COULD discern was that this man, who I eventually learned was named Noonan and apparently nicknamed “No Bark” by the other residents of Novac, had some serious psychological issues, likely stemming from physical trauma. Broad scars on his head were visible through his tangled mass of gray hair, there was a noticeable indent in his left temple, and one of his eyes was slightly lazy, drifting in and out of alignment with its twin. His beard was tangled and stained yellow from tobacco juice.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">God, at least I hope it was tobacco.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I had calmed ED-E down and delicately inquired further about Noonan’s rapid change of opinion, he told me -- with a wink that would give small children nightmares -- that he always knew he could trust someone who wasn’t afraid of looking crazy, and, since I had a floating robot wearing socks on its head, I must be all right. According to Noonan, it’s the normal people you have to worry about.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">All things considered, I’m glad I’d decided to do laundry.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFp9vwfqO_LzcECRq3eoWJL_qy6eYJuj77RPLhLlxQyvoQ9jdIyXom22O1vgwhyTpsm6ZaWzH9iDsh1UB8E_oxqsUwQQCVhFtp29YPdKgmc27yIIwN6_uqksdJyPeTFg6jUrWGBEb9YHc/s1600/nobark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFp9vwfqO_LzcECRq3eoWJL_qy6eYJuj77RPLhLlxQyvoQ9jdIyXom22O1vgwhyTpsm6ZaWzH9iDsh1UB8E_oxqsUwQQCVhFtp29YPdKgmc27yIIwN6_uqksdJyPeTFg6jUrWGBEb9YHc/s1600/nobark.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now that he had decided to bring me into his confidence, Noonan became a gushing spring of information, delivered scant inches from my face in a harsh whisper that reeked of tooth decay and spattered my cheeks with a fine spray of spittle.</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Aside from the nebulous and apparently omnipresent threat of “them”, Noonan proceeded to warn me about every other threat that he knew, which, poor man, seem to be omnipresent in his mind. Even the real threats, like the ghouls at the REPCONN facility Crawford had mentioned, became fantastical threats through the lens of Noonan’s delusion. There weren’t ghouls at the facility -- there were Communist specters, intent on launching themselves into space to vandalize the moon in the image of Lenin, painting it pink besides. The ghouls that had been killing the local cattle were something else entirely, some sort of monstrous livestock vampire he called a “chupacabra”.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Even better, this enormous, two-headed vampire thing was invisible, because he hadn’t seen it when he’d seen it. Riiiiiiiiiight. </span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Also, it had a machine gun.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In the midst of the rambling, I did manage to get some words out of him to explain what had happened to the poor man. Apparently, he’d been attacked by radscorpions and took several stings to the head. Even without the venom, that sort of injury can scramble a man’s brains. WITH radscorpion venom, especially introduced so close to the spine, he’s lucky not to be paralyzed or dead. I suppose, compared to that, Commie ghosts and gun-toting vampires are a blessing.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I also turned up one other interesting fact: Noonan had seen Checkers and his crew come through town, and he even remembered them specifically talking to one of the town guards, the one with the mustache. Of course, he also told me that the checkered coat was intended as camouflage in defense against aliens, and that they had eventually been chased out of town BY aliens, but at least it was a start.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I thanked Noonan for the information, and pressed some tins of Cram on him, despite his objections. Maybe he’ll just throw them away -- hell, maybe he’ll become convinced they’re out to eat his spleen -- but I worry about folks in his condition. I hope he’ll eat them.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010101000110100001101001011100110010000001110101</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111001101001011101000010000001101111011000100111001101100101</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001001110110011001010110010000100000011100110111010101100010</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110101001100101011000110111010000100000011100110110100101101110</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110011101101001011011100110011100100000011101000110111100100000</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010001101000011001010010000001100011011000010110111001110011</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001100001011101000010000000110001001101010011000100110011</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">001000000110100001101111011101010111001001110011</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Thanks, Eyeball. Helpful as always. You know I don’t speak “beep”, right?</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010011100110111101110100001000000111010001101000</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110100101110011001000000111010101101110011010010111010000100111</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001100100000011001100110000101110101011011000111010000100000</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111101110000011001010111001001100001011101000110111101110010</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001101100011000010110001101101011011100110010000001110000</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001001101111011100000110010101110010001000000110010101110001</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01110101011010010111000001101101011001010110111001110100</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> If I find out you’ve been making fun of me, I’m going to leave the socks on you for good.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After parting ways with Noonan, I walked across the courtyard of the motel to the dinosaur statue, heading up the stairs to the door tucked into the side of its belly. The door was propped open by a small rubber replica of the dinosaur, allowing the cool November afternoon breeze to blow into the dusky interior of the building.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Stepping inside, I was immediately greeted by a cheerful bald man who introduced himself as Cliff Briscoe and quickly informed me that I was “just in time” to snap up the last of the Dinky souvenirs. Seeing my blank look, he continued to explain that the dinosaur we were standing in was apparently named “Dinky”, and he had just a few of the tiny model dinosaurs left for lucky customers like me.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I peered around the interior of the shop, seeing miniature dinosaurs peeking out from behind items on almost every shelf, and then asked him if he meant the same “limited stock” he had pressed into use as a doorstop. He deflated a bit, still smiling, and shrugged, admitting that he had thousands of the damn things -- they’d been here along with the dinosaur pre-war, and he’d inherited them along with the rest of the shop from the previous owner, who had also been unable to unload them.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Still, the things were only one cap, and the poor guy was so haplessly likable that I told him I’d take one. Besides, Callie would have loved it. I tucked it into the side pocket of my satchel with the other bits of my non-trading gear, and then took a look at the rest of his stick, which was surprisingly decent and varied.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I opened up my own bags of salvage, and we set to haggling and trading. After a good forty minutes or so, I was several hundred caps richer, and my bags were a good deal lighter. I had also traded the various calibers of ammunition I wasn’t using for a nice pile of .357 rounds that would fit both my revolver and my rifle, and I swapped for more non-perishable foodstuffs and some fairly impressive new parts for both weapons as well, including a custom lever-action for the rifle, a beautiful polished maple stock to replace the old splintered one -- I swear, Jackals chew on their weapons when they’re not eating poor wasters -- and a longer barrel for the revolver.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I always look at my weapons as my insurance policy, and, in my experience, it’s a worthwhile investment to increase your coverage.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Briscoe seemed fairly pleased himself with the new stock he’d acquired. He began sorting it and reorganizing it on his shelves, humming happily, and he pointed me up the stairs to the sniper’s nest when I asked. I repacked my own kit into a blissfully lighter load, hefted it onto my back and into ED-E’s storage module, and climbed the narrow interior staircase to another door.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgllFX169zj4SEt8yN6AuDWsFJl4Nf4R2wajOzBj4RH8uw2FIbZLQGvykWlLCqnRlt6dwTspLmcfF2jeUoM1vq6MvhfVqQqh-xK9kezAQs2ejO2D_6njJKbvyfnP2HBAal5lh85SmpyMFo/s1600/novac_mouth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgllFX169zj4SEt8yN6AuDWsFJl4Nf4R2wajOzBj4RH8uw2FIbZLQGvykWlLCqnRlt6dwTspLmcfF2jeUoM1vq6MvhfVqQqh-xK9kezAQs2ejO2D_6njJKbvyfnP2HBAal5lh85SmpyMFo/s1600/novac_mouth.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I opened it, I blinked against the sunlight after my time in the dim shop. I could see why the guards used this spot as a sniper’s nest -- the view of the town and the surrounding roads was impressive. Of course, there was an enormous blindspot to the back of the dinosaur’s mouth, looking west. I suppose it’s mostly hills and mountains that way.</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Still, if any forces sweep into Novac from the west, these people are screwed.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The man on the platform glanced at me over his shoulder as I came through the door, then coughed and spat off the side of the dinosaur. He turned back to the road, saying he’d spotted me when I first came around the south bend in the road, and that it was a rare thing to see a lone trader with a robot and no brahmin. </span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I told him I was a doctor and not a trader, so that probably explained it. That drew a begrudging chuckle, and he turned back to me, introducing himself as Manny Vargas. He had a red beret with an NCR badge, of the type worn by recon and sniper units, and a mustache, just as Noonan had described.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bingo.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The good news was that he had seen Checkers and his entourage. The bad news was, of course, that he wanted a favor first.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I swear, if anyone in the Mojave ever offers to just answer my questions or point me in the right direction without asking for something first, I’m going to kiss them right on the goddamn mouth.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Vargas said that he and the other sniper, who takes the night shift, used to be in 1st Recon -- a hell of a sniper unit -- but they’d left after some incident here in the Mojave and settled here. Vargas had grown fond of the town, and he stated that the ghouls -- NOT Communist ghosts -- drifting into town were an even bigger threat in his mind than Crawford, especially since they’re coming from the snipers’ blindspot.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I knew that was going to be a problem.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He wants me to check out the facility, and see if there’s any way to stop the ghouls from coming this way. He says that he and the other sniper can’t leave their post long enough to check out the REPCONN facility, and there isn’t anyone else in town he’d consider capable of the trip.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqz2kdoilshNAQDJODXvteOHk8dyhEbFkkoA0a-kDewtdIGxlVfEBFGwmC7WQPdj88u-Hc7KZ0oI6z2j9ps-vyAK25NQce3qFsFceWMkUy3WlqoY95croZRRAtl75K_McayQQMC4jCFpY/s1600/novac_vargas.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqz2kdoilshNAQDJODXvteOHk8dyhEbFkkoA0a-kDewtdIGxlVfEBFGwmC7WQPdj88u-Hc7KZ0oI6z2j9ps-vyAK25NQce3qFsFceWMkUy3WlqoY95croZRRAtl75K_McayQQMC4jCFpY/s1600/novac_vargas.png" /></a></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So, in other words, in exchange for a minor piece of information, all I need to do is travel to a possibly irradiated pre-war test site that is crawling with feral ghouls, investigate it without being torn to pieces, and return to fill in the highly trained sniper with the .308 rifle who has remained safely behind in town.</span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sounds like a fair deal.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Sighing.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Christ, I hate the Mojave.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ah well. No sense setting off to get eaten by ghouls this late in the afternoon. I may as well stay the night and poke around town a little more in the meantime, maybe see if anyone else saw Checkers and would be less miserly with the information. Possibly the night-shift sniper?</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Heh. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even catch a glimpse of Noonan’s invisible chupacabra.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Signing off.</span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Courier; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-29864919503967172192011-10-02T01:06:00.000-04:002011-10-02T01:06:14.152-04:00//Log Date: 2281-11-01 13:56//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Ah, old world pleasures...</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Clanking pipes and spurting, unsteady sounds of running water.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A bath. An honest-to-God bath, with running water. Almost clean water, too.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Of course, it’s only room temperature without a fire to heat the water, and my sutures from the ghoul attack prevent me from going whole hog and just soaking in the tub, but at least I can get myself some semblance of clean and give all my clothes a good washing as well.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’ll have to string up a drying line on the balcony outside.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010100100110010101101110011001010111011101100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110010000100000011011110110001001101010011001010110001101110100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110100101101111011011100010000001110100011011110010000001100010</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110010101101001011011100110011100100000011101010111001101100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110010000100000011000010111001100100000011000010010000001100100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001001111001011010010110111001100111001000000111001001100001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110001101101011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> I told you already, I ran out of other places to hang my socks. I’ll get them off you as soon as they’re dry. Besides, your exhaust vents are speeding up the job.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oh, mercy, just soaking my feet is a little bit of heaven after all this walking. I <i>really</i> ought to buy a brahmin.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sooner rather than later, I need to get back out there and finish asking around town after Checkers, but I think I can take another few minutes to let things dry.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Not a bad day so far at all. I slept well enough last night in that shack, though it’s getting a bit chilly, and those corrugated steel walls did absolutely nothing to keep out the cold. I can’t believe it’s already November -- glad I grabbed those extra blankets in Nipton.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Just after sunrise, I woke up to hear gunshots coming from outside. I pulled on my boots, grabbed my repeater, and crept cautiously out into the dawn light. By the time I was outside, the gunshots had stopped. There was one brief, horrible scream from the south, then silence.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I couldn’t see much in that direction from the door of the shack, as there was a rise between me and whatever awful fate had just befallen the screamer, so I climbed the small hill very slowly and peered into the shallow valley below. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I could see railroad tracks running into what once must have been a tunnel before either the bombs or the centuries of neglect since then collapsed it. Around the mouth of the tunnel was a makeshift camp, with the scattered remnants of a fire still burning. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Industriously feasting on the camps former occupants -- they’d been armed, probably raiders given the lack of pack animals -- were three enormous geckos. Their scales were a startling golden color that would have been pretty if they hadn’t been actively tearing gobbets of flesh and strips of intestine out of their kills.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9e-mF9oshrZsUfCKddCGvmOG2bqdD0lvFj8VB9E35Vw5JibypSQlR0FDbYvIPZj_obuEbCaz3vg8B4275Os0ucin1pcRj7f0y00025CF0gB4dlqNa8GUOA7HIOK45Jn517pZXfRbtzg/s1600/novac_geckos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9e-mF9oshrZsUfCKddCGvmOG2bqdD0lvFj8VB9E35Vw5JibypSQlR0FDbYvIPZj_obuEbCaz3vg8B4275Os0ucin1pcRj7f0y00025CF0gB4dlqNa8GUOA7HIOK45Jn517pZXfRbtzg/s1600/novac_geckos.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I lay flat on the ridge, lining up a shot with the repeater’s peep sight. I’ve never actually seen a live golden gecko before today, though I remember the head of one stuffed and mounted on the wall of a bar in Klamath. I understand their hides fetch a pile of caps, and probably for good reason -- they’re tough, attractive, and rare. The later quality comes from both the scarcity of the animals themselves AND how dangerous they are to hunt.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The damn things live on radiation, almost like ghouls, and, in addition to lovely skin, it also gives them a bite that’ll spike your rad levels quicker than a uranium enema.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Still, you don’t pass up a good drop like that one, so I pulled the trigger. The shot pinwheeled the gecko forward, catching it just behind the ear frills. The other two bolted away from their meals at the sound of the shot, scattering for cover. I fired at them as they ran, catching a second gecko in the leg and torso. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The third gecko turned towards the sound of the shots, racing uphill on its hind legs, jaws wide. I slammed more rounds into the repeater’s sideloading gate, sighted again at the charging gecko’s exposed belly, and fired again as it closed the distance up the hill. It stumbled, squealing in an almost birdlike manner, then fell.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I was certain all three were dead, I reloaded again, tucked the repeater back into its sling, then went down the hill to haul the geckos back to the shack, where I set about skinning and butchering them -- a process made much easier thanks to the sharpness of my new meat cleaver. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My gut-shots had blown out the third gecko’s spine and lower back, leaving the hide tattered and useless, but the other two were mostly whole. I stretched them over some motorcycle wheel rims I found beside the shack, rubbed them down with turpentine and horsenettle, and got a fire going, propping them nearby to begin curing while I made some breakfast.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It all turned out rather well, if I do say so myself. I cubed some of the gecko meat, then used wheel spokes from the motorcycle to skewer the chunks along with some fruit that had been growing near the garden. I roasted up the skewers, popped open a bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla I’d found in the shed, and tucked in. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That reminds me -- I actually couldn’t finish all of them, so I wrapped and saved them for later. Better finish them off this afternoon -- I can’t even imagine how ghastly it would be to have roast gecko meat sitting around forgotten in my pack for days.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After eating, I rolled up the semi-tanned hides, gathered the rest of my kit, and ED-E and I picked our way back down to the road. The ranger station looked far less imposing in the morning light, and the ranger on guard duty gave me only a cursory glance before nodding me on past and going back to surveying the road.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I suppose the stations are the NCR’s way of trying to make themselves felt even in the more remote parts of the Mojave. What’s the point in over-reaching your bounds if you can’t show off about it, right? Lord knows it’s not like they don’t have enough problems back home to contend with...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Snorts.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, a few miles past the station, I got my first glimpse of Novac in the form of a giant reptile clutching a thermometer. I initially thought it was a huge statue of a gecko, but, as I got closer, I realized it must be intended to look like one of those prehistoric monsters from a book I’d salvaged for Callie once -- dinosaurs.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqYooBZdai2C0g9HPC9yVylChg4gYBwfZ-GvDk0kGjWz9bqlJxjd0UJoQGhk9bHnb_ijBZZTJd7v6xBD-H9xVEpC4cX5uNZfgTLhx1GwbCHrfKkl0o5msj-vKUYYNu4Sa1KGjGZXM4I5w/s1600/novac_dinky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqYooBZdai2C0g9HPC9yVylChg4gYBwfZ-GvDk0kGjWz9bqlJxjd0UJoQGhk9bHnb_ijBZZTJd7v6xBD-H9xVEpC4cX5uNZfgTLhx1GwbCHrfKkl0o5msj-vKUYYNu4Sa1KGjGZXM4I5w/s1600/novac_dinky.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A few minutes later, I saw the glint of a scope in the mouth of the dinosaur and realized there was a sniper up there, tracking my approach. I stopped, raised my hands to show they were empty, then pointed to my pack, hoping to convey “merchant”. After a beat, the sniper shifted, then waved me on. I waved back and continued into town.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Good idea, posting a sniper like that. These little trading communities are so vulnerable to raiders, and something like a sniper, picking off threats and sounding a warning early, will go a long way towards making sure that there are still people around with whom to trade when the caravans come through.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It seems that the dinosaur statue had been built as an advertisement for the town’s motel before the war. I chuckled to myself when I got close enough to see the motel’s sign, which had once spelled out “NO VACANCY” in neon tubing, had lost all but the first five letters.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Whatever the place was called before the bombs fell, it looks like good old entropy has rechristened it as “Novac”.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdonj2wlqTLq91FUNybGMGKRwiB2nQqZmUz7rFp2KmNzcD9NDbQk3-twZyI7o-ajX5skss3oTP14LpjZ32MwDH9kCYROTb4KY6rvWNcrcIuOlY7XJImViD2XLO6xpt6gxV1bJ1qnaVhcc/s1600/novac_sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdonj2wlqTLq91FUNybGMGKRwiB2nQqZmUz7rFp2KmNzcD9NDbQk3-twZyI7o-ajX5skss3oTP14LpjZ32MwDH9kCYROTb4KY6rvWNcrcIuOlY7XJImViD2XLO6xpt6gxV1bJ1qnaVhcc/s1600/novac_sign.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As it turned out, I had something of a welcoming committee waiting for me here, and not at all the sort I’d expected. When I reached the motel, I heard a familiar wheel squeaking, and who should roll out from behind the dinosaur’s leg to greet me but Victor, the Securitron who had dug me up in Goodsprings!</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He put on the same old “howdy partner” act, feigning surprise at bumping into me and claiming that he’d just suddenly had the urge to head to New Vegas and had been stopping over at Novac on the way. Sure. Just like he “happened” to find me when those cazadores tried to eat me on the Goodsprings road. Not that I’m complaining about the rescue, mind you, but Ma Webb didn’t raise any fools. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He’s following me, that’s for certain. The only thing I can’t figure out is -- why? Is it House, who supposedly owns him? Something in his own programming? Or has someone else hijacked him for their own purposes? He seems helpful enough, but it still gets my hackles up.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Old Victor was looking a little the worse for his travels, though. Several new bullet holes pocked the metal of his frame, and a hairline crack seemed to be making its way across the bottom corner of his face screen.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I said as much and told him he should be looking out for himself instead of me. He told me that both of us should be careful out here, and, in response to my next question, said he hadn’t seen Checkers or any Khans in town, but admitted he hadn’t been here long. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hoping to get him to lay the charade aside, I came right out and just asked him if he wanted to come along with me when I left. He declined, saying he needed to rest up here for a bit, but he hoped we’d cross paths again some time.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Call me crazy, but I wouldn’t bet my caps against it. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After catching up with the cowboy clunker, I walked into the motel’s lobby and met the owner, a middle-aged woman by the name of Jeannie May Crawford. She seemed pleasant enough, if a bit nosy, but I got the idea that she wasn’t all that crazy about out-of-towners -- an odd trait for someone running a motel.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Still, she was happy enough to answer my questions. She didn’t remember anyone matching Checkers’ description, but she said I should check with the town guards, one of whom I’d already seen up in the dinosaur’s mouth. Apparently, there are two of them, and they alternate shifts. One of them might have seen something. I’ll be looking them up first thing after I dry off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She went on to say that most of the town has been distracted by increasing feral ghoul attacks stemming from a facility off to the west, some sort of testing site that had been called REPCONN before the war. It apparently had been a popular site for prospectors before being taken over by ghouls. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Odd -- usually, they’re drawn to high radiation spots, and Crawford said the place had never been particularly afflicted by the glow. Maybe that’s changed, and the ghouls are moving in. She said they’d been attacking travellers, prospectors, and even some brahmin in town had been killed the past few nights. With all that going on, she had even less attention to spare than usual for outsiders.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mentioning outsiders seemed to jog her memory, and she asked if I wanted a room -- a hundred caps and I was welcome to use one of the motel rooms as long as I wanted.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I hadn’t particularly planned on staying here for long, but her description of a room with running water certainly had some appeal, especially since I still hadn’t been able to really wash myself or my gear since my soak in those irradiated pools southwest of Primm, so I counted out the caps and she passed over a key, pointing me to the room.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As I walked up the steps and let myself into this room, she called after me, telling me that I should also stop into the shop in the dinosaur statue, where I could get a discount if I mentioned her name.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Certainly couldn’t hurt to unload the rest of my salvage from Nipton -- I’ll have to head there next, especially since it looks like I need to pass through the shop to reach the sniper’s nest in the mouth.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Sighing.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Okay, Webb, enough lolling about in the tub, no matter how good it feels. Everything ought to be dry by now. Let’s go see what a that sniper can tell me about Checkers.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Signing -- and drying -- off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-40211898038071303172011-09-27T22:17:00.000-04:002011-09-27T22:17:05.890-04:00//Log Date: 2281-10-31 19:07//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> I should learn to stop complaining about things being boring. It seems that, if I just give it time, something exciting -- usually lethally so -- is bound to happen.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> Vipers...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They’re scum, just as much as any other raider trash, but they’re more dangerous than most. They used to adhere to some sort of cult religion, or at least that’s what our briefing sessions used to tell us. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">By the time they had my unit out hunting raiders, the core of whatever cult it had been -- somewhere near Junktown, supposedly -- had broken up, but the scattered followers were still everywhere, and they managed to hold on to the training and discipline of their snake god or worm priests or whatever nonsense they’d worshiped.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Their weapons are well-maintained, and they’re decent shots. It was one of their snipers that cost Jess her leg. We were investigating reports of a raider camp southeast of Broken Hills in the spring of 2263. I’d been in the service eleven years by then, hunting raiders with Jess as my sergeant for about half of it, and we probably should have known better.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The problem was bad intel. We’d heard they were Khans, dangerous enough, but not overly fond of firearms, at least in those days. From my run in with Checkers, they seem to have... diversified their portfolio these days. Back then, though, Khans would almost always run at you with hatchets, knives, clubs, or whatever else they’re carrying. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As such, we were cautious reconnoitering the hills there, but not overly so. The first sign we had that something was amiss was when the better part of Snares-Wind’s head spattered over the rest of us.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Poor Snares-Wind. He was a tribal that had enlisted about a year previous. Not much of a tracker, but he could made a hell of a stew out of almost anything we could catch on the trail.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The next shot caught Jess in the shin while she was ordering everyone back into cover. The bullet was hollow point, large caliber, and it bounced off her tibia and blew through the fibula, shattering the former and completely pulping the latter.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I didn’t find that out until later, of course, when we’d gotten to safety and I’d been able to operate. At the time, I just saw her go down. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">God, Jess. I suppose it doesn’t make any difference now, but I’m still so sorry I couldn’t save your leg.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Didn’t come to amputation this morning, though, at least on our side.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010001010111100001110000011011000110000101101001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111000100000011101000110100001101001011100110010000001110101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111001101001011101000010011101110011001000000110110101101001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001101110011011010010110111001100111001000000110000101101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010001100101011011100110111001100001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Oh, quit your whining. I taped that antenna back on, right as rain.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With ED-E laying down some very unexpected laser cover, I was able to advance to the next car in the wreckage, plugging the last Viper on the northern ridge as I did so. The shot knocked him off balance, and he tumbled down the hill onto the main road. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His fall dislodged one of those orange traffic cones, and, as he attempted to crawl back to his feet, I heard the beeping of a proximity mine.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Honestly, where are all these lowlifes getting proximity mines out here? Is there a discount mine supplier somewhere in the Mojave?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I threw myself flat, and the mine exploded, scything the fallen Viper with shrapnel and flipping the nearest car clean over.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfmwGRxkTwp5G_OYS8eOtIRTI8eeiMzE_goKB2ifrLYZvApn8p72npeV8Rte0r6HPZWKHtf3vJfTVk6pRe1MUra0Ky9Mz1riIfTcqIYELwuwzquG68KDCSeUFgdzr6YD2xjWEyu8R7mo/s1600/164_explosion.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfmwGRxkTwp5G_OYS8eOtIRTI8eeiMzE_goKB2ifrLYZvApn8p72npeV8Rte0r6HPZWKHtf3vJfTVk6pRe1MUra0Ky9Mz1riIfTcqIYELwuwzquG68KDCSeUFgdzr6YD2xjWEyu8R7mo/s1600/164_explosion.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I heard the hissing, saw the flames starting to lick around the hulk from the punctured reactor, and pulled myself to my feet, then ran as fast as I could back down the road, shouting for ED-E to follow. Shots pelted after us, and we had just reached the turn in the road when the car’s reactor exploded, taking the other wrecks up with it. An entire door whistled over my head, embedding itself in the rocks.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We stopped our flight once we were well down the road. I listened to the rest of the wrecks go up one by one and watched the mushroom cloud form over the hills.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After that, there was nothing for it but to climb the cliff face to the north and hike overland around it. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lord, but I hate rock-climbing.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Circling around the ambush site, well outside the range of the radiation, I pulled out my binoculars and glassed the far hillside. I could see a large chunk of one car, born aloft in the blast, that had apparently smashed down on top of a third unlucky Viper. I didn’t find out what had happened to the fourth one until late this afternoon.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was 1430 by the time I found my way back to the 164, well north of the curve where the ambush had taken place and just as the road was turning east again. Pre-war signposts pointed the way east to Searchlight, and a hand-painted addition directed me north to Novac, the next stop on my hunt if Beagle could be believed.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdl89kvNaUn4S-Ll2xid8HflP97T6zTfNfNKq7cRKfBsiCcc0NI_W95qDLJOyuvqdrumxm29VqFTdzP_GdgPRfUgouiAx9QiMtSjr5dK4wudQ_vBWmtUM5-bFKYMMehA5nL7YVjkMpoqE/s1600/164_signs.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdl89kvNaUn4S-Ll2xid8HflP97T6zTfNfNKq7cRKfBsiCcc0NI_W95qDLJOyuvqdrumxm29VqFTdzP_GdgPRfUgouiAx9QiMtSjr5dK4wudQ_vBWmtUM5-bFKYMMehA5nL7YVjkMpoqE/s1600/164_signs.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There was an abandoned ranch on the slope just south of the junction, and I paused to pick through the weedy beds, turning up a few decent banana yuccas, some crow-picked corn, and some tobacco among the other plants run to seed. I also drew some water from the irrigation system’s holding tank, which was lightly irradiated but good enough for boiling the corn.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I stayed long enough to eat a late lunch, but the place had an odd vibe to it -- sad, like most abandoned places in the wastes, but also somehow familiar. I quickly ate the corn and dumped the water, took a last look around -- turning up a fairly decent meat cleaver in the small shack, which ought to make quartering game a little easier -- and then got back on the road headed north.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mostly, it was uneventful. I passed a small patrol of NCR troopers headed south, but we simply traded nods and each continued on our way. Around seventeen hundred hours, though, I spotted a billboard ahead on a low hill to the right of the road.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice, and shame on me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">ED-E’s scanners confirmed a heat signature behind the sign -- should have had him scan the hills this morning, not just the truck -- and, having no desire to be shot at again today, I stopped, dug through my bag until I found the grenades I’d taken from the Jackals on the Nipton Road, pulled the pin, and lofted one up and over the billboard.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sure, it was a little risky, but, to be fair, there aren’t a lot of honest folks who go around hiding behind billboard signs.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A yell burst out from behind the sign, followed shortly by the majority of the fourth Viper from the truck ambush.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now, I’m not <i>completely</i> certain that it was the same Viper, because I hadn’t gotten a look at her earlier, but the radiation burns and high rad count on the corpse gave me something of a clue.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After poking through her gear, I figured it was about time to call it a day. Call me old-fashioned, but two explosions per day is enough for me. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFHw_DrDRmnwp0eZBIA82Sr9py6LR1mSYzpLedDbyNzvtDwSrH3ZEkWFPzcGURfXhkMa2XiA8XZml7dJJ65XnPZLo1IR6wDHQKX_NzdI3Ev5pIhMS2TYCgUDlE-Gk18Wq15ZRomof4Clw/s1600/164_station.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFHw_DrDRmnwp0eZBIA82Sr9py6LR1mSYzpLedDbyNzvtDwSrH3ZEkWFPzcGURfXhkMa2XiA8XZml7dJJ65XnPZLo1IR6wDHQKX_NzdI3Ev5pIhMS2TYCgUDlE-Gk18Wq15ZRomof4Clw/s1600/164_station.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Besides, I spotted what looked like an NCR Ranger station to the north, and I didn’t particularly feel like explaining sound of the billboard grenade to a posse of rangers. Instead, I pulled out the binoculars again and spotted a shack up in the hills to the west. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A weedy path twisted up towards it, and I followed it up to the shack, which had a small garden and, most importantly, a cool, shady interior with a few beds and no cranky inhabitants. I’ve got a fire going outside now, and I’ll cook up a little dinner in a moment, then get some rest in here. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgakmIWL8bhkl_tXBFMPkRhIHzDD6ncPMhGfA97YJcnbNeh0plNhTD_-XkdlbwJwIUd-kNJLyfImnB2F7h1vsM4JYdKOlUaV-gGkUefOFfXCjLk-UF6hyphenhyphenOeSpIpqw2RQP-dPrpSQDxHcl4/s1600/164_shack.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgakmIWL8bhkl_tXBFMPkRhIHzDD6ncPMhGfA97YJcnbNeh0plNhTD_-XkdlbwJwIUd-kNJLyfImnB2F7h1vsM4JYdKOlUaV-gGkUefOFfXCjLk-UF6hyphenhyphenOeSpIpqw2RQP-dPrpSQDxHcl4/s1600/164_shack.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Then, in the morning, I can roll into Novac, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and utterly free of suspicion from any pyrotechnics.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Signing off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-44041727738234364992011-09-25T00:40:00.001-04:002011-09-25T01:22:14.071-04:00//Log Date: 2281-10-31 10:34//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Well, today started off on a high note. In my scavving yesterday, I turned up a percolator in decent shape in one of the houses’ kitchens. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’ll be honest, I was actually fairly excited. I’d lost my old percolator with everything else when Checkers and his Khan thugs jumped me, and I’d had that thing for years. Not that you can get actual coffee out here, but if you grind up some dried mesquite seedpods and tobacco, you can get something roughly approximating the taste... or, well, at least approximating the stimulants.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHKhRqasFZIQyiRCCUOlEz3daVvw2y5Ms1Z7Oh48CukSgmNol23ulRJnk5X0Cgs7yCXGwiavW8boD2FuVKV4gg3XzE6unhAhw9mbLlfqxJTHkxXpPLZN5D_VH4mSv4mVWbu2toPbZLUk/s1600/Campfire.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHKhRqasFZIQyiRCCUOlEz3daVvw2y5Ms1Z7Oh48CukSgmNol23ulRJnk5X0Cgs7yCXGwiavW8boD2FuVKV4gg3XzE6unhAhw9mbLlfqxJTHkxXpPLZN5D_VH4mSv4mVWbu2toPbZLUk/s1600/Campfire.gif" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s been a long time since I’ve had ACTUAL coffee. God, I remember that spring when Jess was pregnant that I went to the Vault City branch of OSI to buy seeds, and they actually had some viable beans. Cost us a cartful of salvage, including a barely damaged Mr. Gutsy I’d scavved outside Benicia, but we came home with seeds for corn, tomatoes, potatoes, oats, barley, winter wheat... and four green coffee beans.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">One of the beans never sprouted, and one died before it ever grew into a producing bush, but, two years later, when Callie was running and babbling up a storm, we actually started getting coffee cherries. That must have been... what? ’67? No, it must have been ’68 by then. Those last two bushes kept trying to die on us, but for the next three years, we nursed them along, picking and hoarding the beans whenever the cherries would ripen, and, once a week, Jess and I would sit down to a cup of actual, honest-to-God coffee in the morning.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was bitter, often burnt, and tasted like the tin cups we had in our rust-walled shack outside of Modoc, but, for those fifteen minutes each week, sitting and talking with Jess while Callie fingerpainted her way through whatever we were feeding her for breakfast, I swear I felt like something right out of a Vault-Tec ad.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Sighing.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Of course, those bushes are ash now, just like everything else. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Still, nice to have something approaching coffee again.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After breaking camp, I headed east again on the 164, crossing over the old California/Nevada state line again and then some railroad tracks -- maybe the same tracks I’d been following when I left the NCRCF? -- after which the road started to curve up and lead through some rocky hills, with cliffs on both sides.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiDGTHQ7Nium8Rb4RZ1D4NE1ZgSRx__yCur0DXh7w-YpSshcYxWs1UpCk1ZSvBsZZQcQ9Bojbq8aDAM8RQDEqWWZmgz2tKV3tTCpRpAv0TRsnsd-FvSUhQg9IM8XVZjHo4txS5goIPbOE/s1600/ambush2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiDGTHQ7Nium8Rb4RZ1D4NE1ZgSRx__yCur0DXh7w-YpSshcYxWs1UpCk1ZSvBsZZQcQ9Bojbq8aDAM8RQDEqWWZmgz2tKV3tTCpRpAv0TRsnsd-FvSUhQg9IM8XVZjHo4txS5goIPbOE/s1600/ambush2.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I always get nervous when I’m surrounded by high ground; I start to feel like the proverbial fish in a barrel.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For the last half hour or so, the road’s been cut deeply enough into the rock that curves basically create blindspots on all sides. It’s getting a little close in here -- I’ll be glad when it opens up again.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Huh. Look at that. There’s a jackknifed truck spread across the road, along with some other wrecked cars and... that’s odd... orange traffic cones? Who set those up?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There might still be some salvage in the truck -- you’d guess everything on main roads would have been picked clean decades ago, but sometimes you’ll still find caches left by caravaners or raiders in truck cabs.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Of course, sometimes the owners are still there. ED-E, are you picking up any movement or heat signatures in the truck?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010011100110010101100111011000010111010001101001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111011001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Good. Still, doesn’t mean that the coast is clear. Let’s go get a closer look, see if there’s anything decent inside. Be carefu-</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Sound of impact, echoing gunshots, and sparks hissing.*</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJXhPsIrAhmpQmK8J9SyTwoJKCxniRYwmmN7w11JM3X2EdRXAD-B3XSkFZM2BA-6Y-kYAKHFKEl4_O2P4TQqxcj97e3vDUpJpeCYTqvq7MGNzTZIKQNuth7jiRzK-33TpYF3gDrACtqMQ/s1600/ambush1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJXhPsIrAhmpQmK8J9SyTwoJKCxniRYwmmN7w11JM3X2EdRXAD-B3XSkFZM2BA-6Y-kYAKHFKEl4_O2P4TQqxcj97e3vDUpJpeCYTqvq7MGNzTZIKQNuth7jiRzK-33TpYF3gDrACtqMQ/s1600/ambush1.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010011110111010101110100011001010111001000100000</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110001101100001011100110110100101101110011001110010000001100011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111101101101011100000111001001101111011011010110100101110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110010101100100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Get in the trailer! Go!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Gunshots continue. Sounds of running footsteps, followed by a grunt and glass tinkling.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ugh, think I landed on some bottles... ED-E! Move it!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Gunshots continue.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jesus, that was close. Damn damn damn damn. They’re on both ridges.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Must be Vipers. Jackals couldn’t hit anything from that distance... or come up with a decent ambush like this.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> Vipers... Okay, Webb, think. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Better cover from the south than the north, so let’s see if we can at least clear the north ridge before they get into position to pour fire right down onto us.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Two loud shots, followed by the whistle of a ricochet.*</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiuI05v_yWnBKBjJZKnkU57sFBzwIlOyWMZVxtWNnPesCi1hUDweqOgSz-3rEO6SYHxML0tsutFlu9H0XiJYi1PlFIdPmwS5PXqBUJ0uep7MXlYpS5pa7LcKw9A4e6__MGv-B1nXHT1oY/s1600/ambush5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiuI05v_yWnBKBjJZKnkU57sFBzwIlOyWMZVxtWNnPesCi1hUDweqOgSz-3rEO6SYHxML0tsutFlu9H0XiJYi1PlFIdPmwS5PXqBUJ0uep7MXlYpS5pa7LcKw9A4e6__MGv-B1nXHT1oY/s1600/ambush5.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Gah! Why the hell can’t I hit anything?</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010011000110000101100011011010110010000001101111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01100110001000000111001101101011011010010110110001101100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> THAT WAS RHETORICAL, YOU <i>*Expletives Deleted*</i> EYEBALL!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Gunshots.*</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDqMIrgH_YTF3uVkk0iIh4QCllar1DrvMkWhoGegdqQ5TrQq64mU0vAh-IgfzVwXsQOlXbV-GboMOY2ekKpqyF4MasaC0er2UUD0KvNlB68mU43SoVIpu-XR677Mo-i-KJH9Ge5_0BH_0/s1600/ambush4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDqMIrgH_YTF3uVkk0iIh4QCllar1DrvMkWhoGegdqQ5TrQq64mU0vAh-IgfzVwXsQOlXbV-GboMOY2ekKpqyF4MasaC0er2UUD0KvNlB68mU43SoVIpu-XR677Mo-i-KJH9Ge5_0BH_0/s1600/ambush4.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hah! Got him! That’s right, tumble on down, you bastard!</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Okay, ED-E, I need covering fire while I move up to that next car. Your lasers still online?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010000010110011001100110011010010111001001101101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110000101110100011010010111011001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Right. I want to see those cliffs on fire, okay? Now!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Running footsteps, gunshots, and laser fire until the recording ends abruptly.*</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTB5PRFE7QHKRec2FPfJIOrSta-pE6pF5O-WG-s2lxWhZGh4XFNohF4qhgSaATpG6lQSm1q76zuZzdZakz2AiN80up1jRIl3ax5ScqNGRMxO98oYTxlGtNnaM79V4MEy9JjwdcKF460hs/s1600/ambush3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTB5PRFE7QHKRec2FPfJIOrSta-pE6pF5O-WG-s2lxWhZGh4XFNohF4qhgSaATpG6lQSm1q76zuZzdZakz2AiN80up1jRIl3ax5ScqNGRMxO98oYTxlGtNnaM79V4MEy9JjwdcKF460hs/s1600/ambush3.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-53864840874733563552011-09-18T21:25:00.001-04:002011-09-18T21:36:21.425-04:00//Log Date: 2281-10-30 20:34//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Have you ever had a day where, despite ending up utterly exhausted, you wound up back where you started, feeling like you made no progress whatsoever?</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010010010110111001100011011100100110010101100001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001101101001011011100110011101101100011110010010000001101111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01100110011101000110010101101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Right.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As expected, I didn’t get much in the way of sleep. By the time light was cresting the mountains to the west, just before seven hundred hours, I finally gave it up as a bad game and broke camp. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That reminds me: the rubberized mat I’ve been using as a base for my sleeping bag is cracked to the point where it’s pretty much useless. I’ll have to see if I can trade for a new one at the next barter town up the road... which would be that Novac place Beagle mentioned, I’m fairly sure. It’s amazing, out of all the detritus I turn up scavving, how few items of basic day-to-day convenience I find.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Speaking of which, I need a new toothbrush, too.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At least I had some appetite back. My self-disgust hasn’t lessened at all, but those pesky self-preservation instincts just won’t do the decent thing and leave me alone. Should have learned that lesson a decade ago, when I spent a year and a half trying to drown them in increasingly cheaper varieties of rotgut in Junktown and New Reno.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I fried up the last of the unsmoked gecko meat along with a couple eggs I’d found while gutting the female, ate quickly, then scrubbed my pans clean with sand and stashed my most of my gear -- except my revolver, some emergency medical supplies, and my canteen -- in one of the campers in the trailer park between the theater and Nipton. I wanted to check the rest of the town before getting back on the road. There might have been survivors hiding somewhere... and, if not, there definitely was salvage to be had. I wanted an empty bag so I could haul back everything and sort the wheat from the chaff.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hey, carrion’s carrion, and even coyotes have to make a living. Maybe I can trade some of it for ammunition to pay back the Legion for Nipton.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaVzEFCpvTTy4lnE_VArcNw2IpKyG4aP97OIP0DN4RawC5Ai2ZsRFPB1slSIHA3HcdZCtMVkPtJMN54H796WPn5MdgEB3UFGkN88n-PY8nxml_s8Cb3pPZg4_l-0RWc9CjKl8KvaD_qt0/s1600/nipton+store.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaVzEFCpvTTy4lnE_VArcNw2IpKyG4aP97OIP0DN4RawC5Ai2ZsRFPB1slSIHA3HcdZCtMVkPtJMN54H796WPn5MdgEB3UFGkN88n-PY8nxml_s8Cb3pPZg4_l-0RWc9CjKl8KvaD_qt0/s1600/nipton+store.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In the end, it was a worthwhile morning. My first stop, the General Store, turned up something in the way of both options -- salvage AND a survivor. The exterior was charred but still standing, so I pushed through the doors. The dawn light slanting in through the windows revealed the wreck of a man curled into himself and propped up against the counter.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His legs, even across the room and covered by his clothes, had obviously been fractured multiple times. I was honestly stunned that he was conscious, or even alive -- that much trauma should have put anyone into shock or killed them outright. The angles in his legs were unnatural and far too numerous -- I shuddered to think of the thoroughness of the assault that had left him like this.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He was unarmed, but he still pulled himself into something approaching a defensive posture. At first, I just assumed he thought I was a Legionary coming back to finish him off, but he actually tensed MORE once he could see my face, and swore with creativity and conviction.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At this point, I realized that he was wearing an NCRCF jumpsuit. I suppose, since they had already sent a hit squad after me, that I shouldn’t be surprised that he might have recognized me, but I’m still finding any sort of infamy rather novel.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I told him to shut up about it, did a quick pat-down to make sure he definitely wasn’t armed -- a paraplegic can pull a trigger just as easily as a healthy person, and has the benefit of increased stability -- and then took a look at his legs. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He tried to pull away, honestly panicked -- and really, I know I don’t look my best when I haven’t had a good night’s sleep, but that seemed a bit ridiculous -- and I told him again to settle the <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> down and tell me what happened while I looked him over.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He just stared after that, apparently in disbelief, and swore constantly under his breath while I slit the sides of his pants and grimaced at the ruins of his legs. He was beyond anything I could do for him. Maybe, after several orthopedic surgeries, extensive pinning, braces, and aggressive physical therapy, he might be able to walk again with the assistance of crutches or a walker. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As it was, he’d be needing a cart.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I filled him in on the news and told him there was nothing I could do for him. He blew out another long breath, swore again, and told me if I was really crazy enough to be trying to help him, I could get him high enough that he’d stop caring.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I looked at his legs again, back at his pain-lined face, and sighed. I had brought one of my last bottles of Med-X with me in my emergency supplies along with a syringe and a few stimpaks, and I filled the syringe to the hilt through the bottle’s rubber cap.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I put the bottle away, tapped the air bubbles out of the needle, then looked at the broken man significantly, holding it partly out towards him. I told him that the whole thing, enough to either ease his pain or end it permanently depending on how much he chose to use, was his if he’d fill me in on the town, the Legion, and what had happened.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was less that he stopped swearing than than his swearing became more informative after that point, but he agreed, greedily accepting the syringe and beginning to tie off his arm with his belt with practiced ease.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His name, or “handle” maybe, was Boxcars -- in reference to dice or trains, I’m still not sure -- and he pretty well confirmed the story I’d gotten from Swanick and Dog Hat. The Mayor had come to the ‘Gangers with the plan to capture the NCR soldiers on leave in the town, and then they had been double-crossed by the Legion and everyone submitted to the lottery.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Boxcars had won second place, free to go as far as his broken legs could carry him.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He did mention one bit of new information, however -- some of the Legion’s captives were still alive. The group of Legionaries I’d seen with Dog Hat was apparently only part of the force that had initially invaded the town; Boxcars had seen the majority of the Legion force leading a string of captives off to the northeast.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’ve heard the Legion takes slaves. Apparently, that’s another aspect of Caesar’s take on civilization.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I thanked him for the information, but he was preparing to dose himself and just waved me away. I turned and did a sweep of the store, not wanting to watch while he selected how much to give himself. My search turned up a decent amount of caps and some tradable sundries, but nothing remarkable. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I glanced at Boxcars one last time before I left. His eyes were glazed, his breathing slow and shallow, the pained lines on his face were gone, and the syringe was hanging loosely from his fingers.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I wouldn’t swear to it, but it looked empty from where I stood. I shut the door firmly behind me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After leaving the store, I began poking through the residential buildings along the main street. The town hadn’t been a large one by pre-war standards, at least as far as I could tell, and most of the homes were single story, with a simple layout of a living area, a bedroom or two, a kitchen, and a bathroom. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHueTcFSI8hL6AmD0WpAV-z7ZFCzoYGXyRVh4orjaqs2JOCWZXlYJJKoZYSTSN5QlXmwWB_EGPZzddIojU8S30oE86cmCHpJxVBhnR_1rYzD0zRr6bNBnn3b3wzJuCnYZbcz6bq9H-aIo/s1600/Nipton+house.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHueTcFSI8hL6AmD0WpAV-z7ZFCzoYGXyRVh4orjaqs2JOCWZXlYJJKoZYSTSN5QlXmwWB_EGPZzddIojU8S30oE86cmCHpJxVBhnR_1rYzD0zRr6bNBnn3b3wzJuCnYZbcz6bq9H-aIo/s1600/Nipton+house.gif" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They’re palatial by wasteland standards, though, and had been fairly well stocked by their residents before the Legion attack -- which must have come suddenly, as I found several meals on tables, either untouched or half eaten. These were flyblown and inedible -- or at least, I wasn’t so desperate as to try -- but plenty of the cupboards and cabinets still had preserved or sealed foodstuff, including enough water to replenish my stores. Not all of it was radiation-free, of course, but I was still relatively clean after my Rad-Away purge the day before yesterday, and, besides, a little glow is always better than dehydration.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Most of the houses were depressingly quiet and uneventful, but there were a few surprises nonetheless. Aren’t there always? One enterprising Nipton resident had apparently mounted a last-ditch defense in his home with the aid of a repaired Mr. Handy robot. Both he and the Mr. Handy had been smashed to pieces by the Legion, but not without taking two of them down.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I stripped the Mr. Handy for parts that might be useful should ED-E get himself into anymore scrapes.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010101010110111001100011011001010111001001110100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110000101101001011011100010000001101001011001100010000001100011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111101101101011000100110000101110100001000000110111101110010</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001101111011100000110010101110010011000010111010001101111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001000100000011100100110010101110000011000010110100101110010</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001101001011100110010000001101101011011110111001001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001101000011000010111101001100001011100100110010001101111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010101110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> You’re mouthy today, aren’t you? </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, after some further thought, I also stripped the two Legionaries of their uniforms and, between the two sets, managed to cobble together enough undamaged pieces of padding and protective gear that, if push ever came to shove, I’d probably be able to pass as a Legion recruit, at least from a distance. Wouldn’t be the first time I’d flown false colors to make it through a checkpoint safely. It’s already come in handy today, in fact. More on that in a second.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The biggest surprise came in the last house I checked, which contained another dead Legionary next to a makeshift crate that had been hastily assembled from welded bits of scrap metal. I couldn’t see inside, but I could hear something moving. Thinking of Boxcars’s stories of slaves being taken, I figured this might have been some poor sap left behind and yanked the cage open... leaving me completely unprepared for the three enormous bark scorpions trapped inside.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I yelped -- in a manly, courageous fashion, I’m sure...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010100110110010101101110011100110110111101110010</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001100100000011010010110111001101001011101000110100101100001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110110001101100011110010010000001101001011011100110010001101001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110001101100001011101000110010101100100001000000110000100100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001101101101011000010110110001101100001000000110001101101000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110100101101100011001000010000001101001011011100010000001100100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01101001011100110111010001110010011001010111001101110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> ...and scrambled backwards, dragging ED-E towards and through the door of the house and slamming it shut behind us. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I could hear the scorpions moving around inside, slamming into the walls, and one actually managed to smash a claw through the flimsy pressboard board. I backed up a good distance, drew my revolver, and prepared to open fire when they emerged, but, before the one attacking the door could force a big enough hole, an explosion blew out two windows and part of a wall of the house, taking bits of bark scorpion with it. The house must have been booby-trapped with mines in case the scorpions got free of the cage.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m still assuming the Legion caged them and left them there -- I can’t imagine why a trading town would corral scorpions -- but the whole thing is still a bit of a mystery. Maybe they’d been intending to feed some of the townspeople to them.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After what I’ve seen here, it wouldn’t surprise me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I took a moment to let the dust settle and drank a bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla I’d turned up in one of the other houses while I calmed down, chuckling a bit when I saw it had another of those little stars in the cap. For someone who ISN’T hunting the damn things, I certainly seem to be finding more than my fair share of them.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We checked through the ruins of the house, but there wasn’t much left of use after the blast. Definitely looked like proximity mines. The only two buildings left to check were the town’s hotel and the town hall. As the hotel was smaller, I opted to knock that out of the way first.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmI92XkMdpp_HlMqVGMGvXToKpvCcoSVAZNQK2Mm-8WIe3std-cV7iCva3b9fllAiJj11Av1BNZRzw4wvhkZl_zdST6E5RhhJWkUHr_tX0TSXTtemk2_SUMLgbCQJyvGMKJA48N6J39Q/s1600/nitpon+hotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmI92XkMdpp_HlMqVGMGvXToKpvCcoSVAZNQK2Mm-8WIe3std-cV7iCva3b9fllAiJj11Av1BNZRzw4wvhkZl_zdST6E5RhhJWkUHr_tX0TSXTtemk2_SUMLgbCQJyvGMKJA48N6J39Q/s1600/nitpon+hotel.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Inside the hotel, it was... grim. This was apparently where they chose to dump the bodies of the NCR soldiers that had been killed during the round-up. I could give a molerat’s ass for the NCR in general these days, but these poor kids deserved better than to be dumped unceremoniously in an abandoned hotel to rot. I found sheets and blankets enough to cover them, arranged them as peacefully as I could -- rigor had come and gone, so at least it wasn’t a fight -- and took their dog tags. Like that fellow outside Primm, I’m sure they’ve got family somewhere who shouldn’t be kept wondering.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Nothing else of interest in the hotel besides one of the blankets that I kept for myself, so I moved on to the town hall. As I opened the door, lottery tickets drifted out from inside like dead leaves -- this must have been where they held the damn thing. Further inside, I quickly realized that this must have been used by Dog Hat and his Legionaries as their temporary HQ after they’d taken over, thanks in no small part to the assortment of their attack dogs they had left behind for some reason. I pulled on the pads and helmet I’d taken off the dead Legionaries, and the dogs seems content to leave us alone as I poked around.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I left the door propped open as well -- they may have belonged to the Legion, but no beasts deserve to starve to death trapped in a building.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The dogs weren’t the only welcome the Legion had left behind. The whole place was laced with more proximity mines. ED-E and I swept each room carefully, and I scraped the rust off my explosives training from the service enough to deactivate and collect the mines as we went. The effort was worthwhile -- plenty of food, water, clothing, and a treasure trove of ammunition in a gunsafe in the basement that gave up its secrets with a little gentle attention. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I wish I still had my old stethoscope, though -- Jess always said I saved more lives with the supplies I found picking locks with it than I ever did listening to heart beats and respiration.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">One last item of interest in the office upstairs -- the rest of the journal of the town mayor, Steyn. The son of a <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> was nothing more than a pimp from the Hub with delusions of grandeur. Though I wish they hadn’t been involved at all, I’m glad the Legion gave him what he deserved, rather than what he bargained for.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I dragged my haul back to the rest of my supplies in the camper south of town, sorted through everything, and then divided up the most useful and valuable pieces between ED-E and myself, giving each of us as much as we could comfortably carry. I’ve left some of the rest here to pick up on my way back through.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yeah, I said “back through”. Idiot that I am, I decided to backtrack the entire fourteen miles to the Mojave Outpost to let them know what had happened to Nipton. As much as I hate bearing the word of the Legion, we can’t have caravaners running into an ambush. Even with the road recently cleared by us on the way east, it still took the better part of four hours to make the trip back. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I arrived at those ridiculous statues just before fifteen hundred hours. The sergeant, Kilborn, seemed surprised to see me again so soon, and I told him he’d better grab Ranger Ghost so they could listen to the news I had... which wasn’t good.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ghost didn’t seem tremendously surprised, given the intel and suspicions she’d already had, but Kilborn was visibly shaken. Still, he assured me he’d warn anyone traveling east about possible Legion attacks, and both of them promised to alert their superiors about how far west the Legion was pushing.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I left them to discuss the details between themselves and unloaded a bit of my salvage on Lacey in the barracks in exchange for a late lunch and a stiff drink. No sign of that pretty redhead from the other day -- when I asked, Lacey raised an eyebrow and just said she was “sleeping it off”. Ah well. I didn’t have much time to waste at any rate; after finishing lunch and hitting the latrines, I got back on the road east, retracing my steps yet again.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I only reached Nipton again as dusk was starting to fall, so I’ve made camp in the same spot as last night.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Like I said earlier, it’s been a whole lot of walking to end up in the exact same place.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You need to drop the conscience, Webb. Sooner rather than later, it’s going to get you killed.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On the other hand, though... I don’t think I’ll have any trouble sleeping tonight.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Yawning.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Signing off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-71312290744525535832011-09-10T00:57:00.002-04:002011-09-10T01:11:21.241-04:00//Log Date: 2281-10-29 21:03//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> I don’t...</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*Sighing.*</span></i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I don’t even know where to start. I’m sick straight through to to the bone, and I don’t even know who has disgusted me more -- the <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> Legion... or me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Where did my last recording cut out? With that madman Swanick, I think. Coming up the road into Nipton, he came running straight at me, and I almost shot him before I realized he was unarmed and grinning like a lunatic.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I could barely get any sense out of the man, other than that he had won some sort of lottery and was EXTREMELY excited about it. I remember some little betting pools we used to stir up back in the service, mostly for decent food, trading the less popular duties, or a few caps, but nothing that would make you think the air smelled like wine. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At first, I assumed he must be one of those lucky individuals with whose mental capacity is so limited that they can find joy in nearly anything. I’m sure Swanick’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but, as it turned out, he had reason enough to be acting the way he was.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I didn’t get the reason from him, however. Before I could ask him anything substantial beyond his name -- Oliver Swanick -- he ran past me down the road, still hollering and shouting about his luck. I stared after him, scratching my head as he dwindled into the distance, gradually fading into the heat shimmer on the broken asphalt in the early afternoon sun.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As I got into the town proper, the unease growing in my gut twisted into a full knot. The smoke was coming from far too many places to be tanning fires or bonfires, and the place was empty... completely empty, except for the crows.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9rjpnuYsizNIXKcPB_iI5xBnIo5MBg8rteLB2niq8NEh9FzIFr5m4rbALY-9nG73uy60OQp9y4DjvM-ritVhgkWzikSeysMwJm8ZMaXT32ZtMteT9x9i5qoGZi6u-CoDxuZtbuNKVWpU/s1600/crow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9rjpnuYsizNIXKcPB_iI5xBnIo5MBg8rteLB2niq8NEh9FzIFr5m4rbALY-9nG73uy60OQp9y4DjvM-ritVhgkWzikSeysMwJm8ZMaXT32ZtMteT9x9i5qoGZi6u-CoDxuZtbuNKVWpU/s1600/crow.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Well, that’s not entirely true. There were the crosses.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oh, god. The crosses. I saw them with my own eyes, and I can still barely believe it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’ve seen terrible things. Things, if this world hadn’t gone to hell, that no one should have to see. Things I’d joined the service all those years ago to try and prevent. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’ve seen murder, rape... cannibalism. But, as horrible as those things have been, somehow they speak of lost humanity, of people lowering themselves to animal states in response to the world. That doesn’t excuse anything -- the notches on my old service rifle would attest to that, if those <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> Khans with Checkers hadn’t taken it when they rolled me outside of Goodsprings -- but it somehow makes it easier to understand. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We all have that reptile somewhere back in our brains, just waiting for enough of the cage of society to fall away so it can reach its jaws out into the world. But crucifixion? That IS society.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Establishing and following a tradition that allows for the public humiliation, torture, and eventual death of our fellow man is... well, uniquely human. It takes society to come up with something that depraved. I think that’s what sickens me the most. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If this is what is growing out of the ashes... maybe the bombs should have finished what they started.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lining the streets, hung from lamp posts, telephone poles, anything that would support them, was what was left of the population of Nipton, nailed by the wrists to the wooden beams or skewered on spikes soldered into the metal posts. Some of them were NCR, some were wearing the convict jumpsuits of Powder Gangers, and some were just plain old folks, as best as I could tell.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwT3WWCdxB4gVXL3lfbl9GogRDgogTfHFwCBEfy0ITA40-VwbLz-s0vUHGRZQv1OA3vfamG5FcHARaVeaVlRnRqh-PZHkJV3bLeIQFtODW5HEFiUl2OxOSYYVTNmwh0mO1xow_I9e9fQ/s1600/nipton_cross.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibwT3WWCdxB4gVXL3lfbl9GogRDgogTfHFwCBEfy0ITA40-VwbLz-s0vUHGRZQv1OA3vfamG5FcHARaVeaVlRnRqh-PZHkJV3bLeIQFtODW5HEFiUl2OxOSYYVTNmwh0mO1xow_I9e9fQ/s1600/nipton_cross.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Interspersed between the makeshift crosses were spears, pikes... even fenceposts... topped with severed heads, their tattered necks dripping down the posts. The fires spread through town were pyres, heaped with smoldering decapitated bodies.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Most of the crucified people, thankfully, were also dead, either from blood loss, exposure, embolisms stemming from their broken legs, or, for the really unlucky ones, the none-too-delicate attentions of impatient carrion birds.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s funny -- I remember reading in one of the Vault City medical library’s holotapes that crucifixion actually killed victims via suffocation. That can’t be true, though -- there’s no way that a body with arms angled in that fashion would...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Gah. Stop it, Webb. No sense hiding from reality in textbooks. You’ve got to get this out, just so it’s not festering in your head.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Some of them... hadn’t died. I wouldn’t go so far as to say they were still alive. They just weren’t dead yet. Or maybe I just have to think of them that way. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">One of them, a young man in brown NCR fatigues, had lost both eyes to the crow sitting on his shoulder. He was moaning softly, almost a whisper. I’m sure it would have been a scream if he had still had the energy for it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There was nothing I could still do for him, or any of them. Maybe, if we’d been back in Shady Sands or the Hub, with full facilities and supplies, some of them might have made it. Here, all I could do was hurry them on past the pain.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’d like to say I had enough chems to send them off peacefully to sleep. Unfortunately, I’m a pretty bad liar, even to myself.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The young solider, the one with the missing eyes, heard me cock my revolver. The moaning stopped, and he sagged at the sound. I’d like to say he was sagging in relief. I’d like to say he whispered “thank you” before I pulled the trigger.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Like I said, though, I’m a pretty bad liar.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I walked down the road, stopping before each cross and doing what I could for those left behind. It was methodical work, but far from quiet, and I was so intent on it that I didn’t even notice we were surrounded until ED-E let out a warning series of chirps.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010100000110110001100101011000010111001101100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001100100011011110010000001101110011011110111010000100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110001101101111011011010111000001100001011100100110010100100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010001101000011010010111001100100000011101010110111001101001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010000100111011100110010000001110111011000010111001001101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110100101101110011001110111001100100000011101000110111100100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110001001101001011100100110010000100000011100110110111101110101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">011011100110010001110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Yes, yes, thank you. Just like that.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They must have been behind the doors of the houses along the street, but when I looked away from the last of the crucified, there were men with weapons drawn in a nearly complete circle, with enough distance staggered between them so that they could easily open fire on me in the middle without fear of hitting one another in the crossfire.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They were dressed in sets of armor cobbled together from pre-war sports gear and other miscellany, mostly painted red. Many had helmets, and their weapons ranged from throwing spears to repeater rifles, though all looked well-maintained compared to the standard raider fare.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Legion. I’d only heard stories before today, but this had to be them, bringing Caesar’s vision of a civilized America across the Colorado. The crosses... the corpse of this entire town... it must have been their work.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They had me dead to rights. I could have shot one, maybe two if I was lucky, before being cut down, and whatever delusions of valor I once had died years ago. I dropped my revolver and raised my hands, whispering to ED-E to keep its laser array powered down while I waited to see what they would do. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I figured that, if it looked like I was headed for a cross, I could go for my rifle and just make them shoot me, rather than giving them the satisfaction.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Instead, I’ve kept my life, but at the cost of whatever pride I had left. Once I had disarmed myself, another figure appeared, walking casually out of the doors of the large town hall at the head of the main street, flanked by two enormous dogs and wearing the better part of a third on his head.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJgnAoUhzw9Ep6Gff6cF_Hch4_QMh12fymYLcmV0v4KQGIROO1aIFG4naMuVlcTXT4cMyMxet08FaYS0sSU1-uY4-K-_oe1QY5uKBTlVtnfGFl0jlujpyDLd8OilLOvJnKRvCGziPnTvY/s1600/Vulpes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJgnAoUhzw9Ep6Gff6cF_Hch4_QMh12fymYLcmV0v4KQGIROO1aIFG4naMuVlcTXT4cMyMxet08FaYS0sSU1-uY4-K-_oe1QY5uKBTlVtnfGFl0jlujpyDLd8OilLOvJnKRvCGziPnTvY/s1600/Vulpes.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He walked straight up to me, though not so close as to block his comrades’ lines of fire -- and smiled almost pleasantly. He told me, with great satisfaction and in a voice that was calm and oddly feminine, that my presence was fortuitous, and that they had better uses for me than decorating the local signposts.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He dolled it up in language that would have made even a Hubologist roll their eyes, but the long and short of it is this: he wants me to spread the word about Nipton as an “object lesson” to the Mojave, about what happens to those who follow ideals other than those of Caesar.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What had happened was... well, Swanick hadn’t been crazy, at least about the lottery. The mayor of the town, that Steyn bastard whose journal I found, had sold out the local population to the Legion, getting the Powder Gangers to take out the visiting NCR troops and then allowing the Legion to sweep in on the rest. For his trouble, he’d been burned alive on a pile of tires.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The rest of the town had been forced to draw lots. The “winner” had been Swanick -- he’d been freed, with no physical harm done to him, though the trauma of the event may have broken his mind for good. The “runner-up” was also freed, but had his legs broken. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The poor bastard may still be around. He can’t have gotten far with both legs broken. I’ll have to look for him tomorrow, but tonight... I can’t. I just can’t.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The next group “won” the privilege of quick deaths -- decapitations -- though the process was still one by one, meaning everyone was forced to watch their neighbors, their friends, their family members being killed. The dog-hatted smooth talker was quick to point out that their lack of action while watching others die only cemented their guilt in the eyes of the Legion. I thought about the paralyzing terror they must have felt instead, and it was everything I could do not to go for my rifle after all.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In the end, of course, good old fashioned self-preservation -- or, let’s call a spade a spade, cowardice -- won out, and I bit my tongue, listening to the rest of his venom spew out.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The last group were the ones chosen for crucifixion. This was the civilization Caesar had imposed on Arizona, and what he was trying to spread here.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I told them I’d do as they asked, that I’d spread word. Dog Hat's smile, nearly vulpine already, spread even further, and he and his troops turned and left town without another word or a backwards glance at the carnage in their wake.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It makes me feel so covered with grime that I’ll never be clean to have agreed with anything that bastard said, but the simple fact is that he was right, at least about one thing: people need to be warned. If the Legion is already pushing this far west -- on the California border, for god’s sake -- then people need to know that they need to be on their guard, or Nipton’s lottery will just be the first.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Still won’t make it any easier to look myself in a mirror next time I find one, though.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I made camp for the night in the wreckage of some sort of open air theater south of the town -- I couldn’t bring myself to stay inside it any longer today, though I’ll see if I can force myself back in for a look through the ruins tomorrow.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A few geckos were creeping towards the town, perhaps drawn by the smell of so much ready meat. I shot two with my repeater and chased the others off, then made a fire here in the theater lot, but I couldn’t dredge up much of an appetite and ended up smoking the meat instead.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s late now, and at least I’ve gotten this nightmare of a day out on tape. Past time to put my head down... though I doubt if I’ll actually get any sleep. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I doubt if I deserve any.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Signing off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-39311243106217253362011-08-20T01:14:00.001-04:002011-08-20T01:15:38.044-04:00//Log Date: 2281-10-29 11:50//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> It’s good to finally be off the Long 15. Not that Route 164 is all that different in scenery, but at least I’m heading in a different general direction. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I woke up this morning with a little stiffness, and a good amount of pain from the ghoul’s delicate attentions, but nothing unexpected, and the wounds look pretty clean so far, no signs of radiating discoloration or more than average swelling -- knock on wood. It took another shot of localized Med-X to get me up and moving, but, all things considered, I think we got off fairly light.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">ED-E’s looking more chipper too. I took some time and hammered his frame back into shape, then put in a few new rivets to reinforce the damaged welds. I’d say I did a pretty fair job, right, eyeball?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010100110111010101100010011100110111010001100001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111001100100011000010111001001100100001000000111001001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111000001100001011010010111001001110011001000000110110101100001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111100100100000011101100110111101101001011001000010000001110111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01100001011100100111001001100001011011100111010001111001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> I’ll assume that was a “thank you”.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The trip back down the Long 15 from Primm was an uneventful and quiet trip, aside from chasing off some coyotes picking over the remains of the dead around the patrol station. By the time I hit Route 164 and turned east, the sun was high enough in the sky that it wasn’t shining directly in my eyes, but I was still glad for the sunglasses I picked up back in Goodsprings, as there’s a wicked glare coming off the sand in the dry lake.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Different direction or no, however, Route 164 has proved just about as hospitable as any other road in Nevada so far. Not long after getting onto the 164, I spotted something jutting out of a dune off the road to the south. I hesitated for a moment before leaving the road, with visions of yesterday’s ghouls lurking in my forebrain, but ED-E’s scanners came up clear, and I couldn’t see anything moving out there, so I eventually got my ass in gear and hopped off the road to check it out.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It turned out to be the husk of an old plane, of all things. I’ve seen a few crashed planes back west in the service, and I even watched a pre-war holovid once in Vault City that actually had footage of one flying, but this is the first time I’d really gotten close to one. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIyd2cHFioybxaW4stC7Rz0kHwJ6AzpXAsxYv8-EwYE9-VahUtbdRVmMXtE945o0zdjFDQ3PnDqi0SR-waTyhJnDh5NGSHlkNrLHmYZW7MG9df-rZRmlUcvxTw7SpvI2SqirhKqj8XNdU/s1600/Plane-Crash2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIyd2cHFioybxaW4stC7Rz0kHwJ6AzpXAsxYv8-EwYE9-VahUtbdRVmMXtE945o0zdjFDQ3PnDqi0SR-waTyhJnDh5NGSHlkNrLHmYZW7MG9df-rZRmlUcvxTw7SpvI2SqirhKqj8XNdU/s1600/Plane-Crash2.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was mostly rusted out, and it was smashed into several segments from when it crashed into the desert centuries ago, but it was still incredibly impressive. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like to be able to step onto one of these things and soar off into the sky.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Sighing.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ah well. Back in the present, the skeleton of the plane had been pretty well picked over by other prospectors. I did a bit of digging around in the dune and turned up a few broken munition crates with some salvageable ammo inside, but otherwise it was just a sightseeing tour.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m glad I took the time, however, because it let me easily avoid a rather obvious ambush along Route 164.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As I left the crash site, I angled northeast back towards the road and came back up the dunes just about where some ruins straddled the road -- maybe a pre-war fueling station? Some sort of trading post? The buildings were too far gone to tell.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, I spotted some movement as I crested the hill back to the road and dropped down to watch. The ruins were crawling with -- what else, with a perimeter this sloppy? -- Jackals, who had taken up positions inside the walls. They were watching for traffic headed east or west, clearly, but had given no thought to someone coming in from a direction other than the road itself, because, while their cover was decent protection from anyone on the 164, they were all in plain sight from where I was crouched. None of them were even looking my way.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s almost unsporting. I thought about all the Jackals I’d killed with Jess in our unit back west, and the memory left a bad taste in my mouth. I was almost ready to creep back down the dunes and just leave them to their misery, I think, but then another memory came back, of that thighbone roasting on the spit in the hills east of Primm, and I thought about all the travelers that might still head this way, so I hunkered back down and lined up the repeater’s sights on the Jackal closest to me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The whole firefight lasted less than half a minute. When ED-E burned a hole through the last of them, I think he was still trying to figure out where the shots were coming from.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At least the greasy sons of <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> had a decent cache of ammo squirreled away, even if all of their gear was in terrible shape, so it wasn’t a total loss. I even found some actual honest-to-god grenades in a locked crate that surrendered to a little tickling with a bobby pin and screw-driver. Those little beauties might come in handy.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Heh. If the idiots had actually kept them out rather than under lock and key, that whole scrap might have gone very differently.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Probably not, though. <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> Jackals...</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGXS-Nulz1GJwCvSPpkp4jGolsFB5CcWSDxX1jweHtgifXPmvQ4t1h3YekjTHsEHSrDFtxnwsw9snf3PtcG_dxF1ZxTsBfbqcH1l3plNOw58M53zAoYk1iv99E59uEVmATdDt96BWDtw/s1600/route164.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqGXS-Nulz1GJwCvSPpkp4jGolsFB5CcWSDxX1jweHtgifXPmvQ4t1h3YekjTHsEHSrDFtxnwsw9snf3PtcG_dxF1ZxTsBfbqcH1l3plNOw58M53zAoYk1iv99E59uEVmATdDt96BWDtw/s1600/route164.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A little further down the road, I ran into more of the local color. A young man was sitting in the shade of a cactus just to the month, sobbing softly and doing an absolutely sickening job of trying to bandage a wound on his upper arm. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I approached cautiously, covering him with my revolver, but he was so intent on his arm and trying to tie off the bandage with one hand and his teeth that he didn’t even notice me until I was standing over him and cleared my throat. There was one of those bulky Colt 6520 pistols, the kind chambered for 10mm rounds, lying in the dust near him -- he must have dropped it there before beginning his attempt to embarrass four millennia’s worth of medical science -- but he was so wrung out that he didn’t even go for it. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His eyes rolled up towards me, and, when he saw the revolver in my hand, he just slumped forward with a wail that somehow reminded me of the hopeless sounds little Callie would make when she couldn’t sleep at night. He told me to go ahead and get it over with, and then made some remark about how his lucky necklace was anything but.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I stared at him, nonplussed, for just a minute, and then I holstered my revolver and crouched down next to him, kicking his pistol well out of reach just to be safe. I told him to shut up for a minute and just let me take a look at his arm, and he obliged on both counts.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He’d been shot through the meat of his bicep. It was still bleeding at a good clip, and I’m sure it hurt like hell, but it has missed the bone and major arteries and the bullet had passed clean through. I told him as much, then followed up with the fact that I was a doctor, and I told him I could get him patched up good as new if he could hold still for me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He nodded, then bit down on his knuckles as I poured some more of my dwindling supply of whiskey over and through the wound. I dug around in my bags and came up with what I wanted -- two female sanitary napkins, scavenged out of a dispenser in the restroom in that patrol station on the Long 15. I put one at each end of the wound, and told the boy -- who eventually told me he was named Tomas -- to put pressure on the one he could reach while I shook out the tangle of cloth he’d been using as a bandage and tied it neatly and tightly around the pads and his arm.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He was still wincing from the pain, so I told him I’d trade him a shot of Med-X for some of his ammo. He agreed, and counted me out two dozen 10mm rounds from his vest pockets, after which I gave him the injection in his arm.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As he began to collect himself, I asked him what had happened. His story was rambling but seemed genuine, perhaps more so because of how obviously confused he was about the whole incident. Apparently, he had met a girl a few days ago, and the two of them had been traveling together when suddenly she turned a gun on him and demanded that he turn over his caps.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s not an unfamiliar story, I suppose, predators like that tying on with someone for protection for a few days and then robbing them once their usefulness runs out or they find better prospects. What WAS odd, however, was that she didn’t want his spending caps -- she wanted the ones he wore around his neck on a string, his so-called “lucky necklace”. When he balked at this, she’d opened fire, hitting him in his arm, and he claimed only blind luck had enabled him to pull his pistol and shoot her before she could finish him off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At this point, he pulled the necklace off in disgust and tossed it to me, saying he didn’t even want the thing any more -- I could keep it, if I wanted, for helping him out.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I looked at the necklace curiously and blinked when I saw that the caps on it were more of those Sunset Sarsaparilla caps with the blue stars on them. That crazy old man Holmes had been right -- people apparently WERE willing to kill for the stupid things!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I slipped them off the string and stuffed them into a side pocket of my satchel, then told Tomas to stay sitting where he was for a while longer until his head stopped spinning before getting up to move on. He agreed weakly, thanked me again, and settled back into the shade as best he could, his eyes closing.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I shook my head, staring at him. Poor kid. He’s not going to make it if he stays out here in the Mojave unless he stops being so damn trusting. I went and got his pistol, pulled the clip out of it, and then put both the pistol and the clip nearby so he’d see them when he woke, then got moving again.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">About fifty yards down the road, I spotted the body of the girl laying crookedly among some rocks beside the road, a pistol still clutched in her hand and the left side of her face drooping inward from a gunshot wound. The pistol was a 6520, just like the kid’s. I was happy enough with my revolver, but the Colt looked to be in pretty good shape, so I stashed it in my pack to sell or trade and went through her pockets. In addition to the ammo I was expecting and a scattering of normal caps, I found two more star caps in a separated buttoned pocket on her vest. I guess Tomas was telling the truth after all.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m back on the 164 again now, still heading east, and I can see what has to be Nipton coming up ahead of me. No sign of life that I can see from here, but there sure is an awful lot of smoke. Could be tanning fires if its a trading town, sure, but... after reading that journal and listening to what that ranger said, I don’t have a good feeling about this.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioJmQEmpMxXwSLROv2eN71rB0-mhOZFhydXfdULGWS-ZjUKq9rv0U8h2Z2iJHbMcrBlXfxsiY6XZUX8PscXyDSbCqXdC-jfnSv5ezXqs3QqueB-VgFGi7c-Rvt-CVc-pl-9BHCFFOcheQ/s1600/nipton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioJmQEmpMxXwSLROv2eN71rB0-mhOZFhydXfdULGWS-ZjUKq9rv0U8h2Z2iJHbMcrBlXfxsiY6XZUX8PscXyDSbCqXdC-jfnSv5ezXqs3QqueB-VgFGi7c-Rvt-CVc-pl-9BHCFFOcheQ/s1600/nipton.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wait a minute... something’s moving. It’s a man, coming this way. ED-E, get ready.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010101000110100001101001011100110010000001110101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111001101001011101000010000001101001011100110010000001100001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110110001110111011000010111100101110011001000000111001001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">011000010110010001111001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><UserID:Webb>> What the hell? He’s waving his arms in the air and whooping like a crazy person. Doesn’t look armed, though. What the--</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Male>> YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Who won the lottery? I DID!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Stop right there! Don’t come any cl--</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-43456058473842255922011-08-11T19:51:00.001-04:002011-08-11T19:55:46.041-04:00//Log Date: 2281-10-28 20:07//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*Burning wood crackling.*</span></i></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Okay, I’ve got the water boiling, and I’ve administered enough Med-X that I should be able to get the stitches in place without too much discomfort. Just got to give it a minute to kick in.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZWyDNFWms3-awxUlQ-tNwtDE69o_mDQ1Jp_30SONGxaBk7oMd6kVS_PEJJ5ecMg8616dGxSgamL6-gv1k-fykdCsRTcbM_45cmsYejvB_O0kLHO_-3ZBwz0RXT7ca9QZzMotjuSXddk/s1600/med-x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZWyDNFWms3-awxUlQ-tNwtDE69o_mDQ1Jp_30SONGxaBk7oMd6kVS_PEJJ5ecMg8616dGxSgamL6-gv1k-fykdCsRTcbM_45cmsYejvB_O0kLHO_-3ZBwz0RXT7ca9QZzMotjuSXddk/s1600/med-x.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ooof... my leg and hip are a mess. ED-E and I were in a hell of a spot this afternoon. When I kicked out the door of that little shanty lab in the irradiated crater, there were no fewer than five feral ghouls trying to claw their way in. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I got lucky off the bat, and the door caught one of them full on the chin as it fell outward, snapping its jaw clean off and knocking the ghoul to the ground. Things went downhill from there, however. One of the big ghouls took a round of buckshot to the torso and just kept on coming, swatting me right off my feet and landing me ass-deep in one of those murky pools. I barely had time to register the manic ticking of the PIP-Boy’s Geiger counter, though, because he and one of his buddies were wading in after me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The other two were focused on ED-E, who was doing his best to bob and weave on his repulsors while firing up his laser array. He managed to blow off the leg of one the ghouls below the knee, but the other closed on him and gave him a solid blow that made a horrible crunching noise and sent him spinning out of sight behind the shanty lab. The upright ghoul went stalking after him.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I had to see to the two in front of me before I could worry about ED-E, though. Without time to get all the way back to my feet, I knelt in the foul-smelling water and pulled the lever-action shotgun up just as the ghoul that had swatted me came into arm’s reach again. I fired with the barrel practically resting under its chin, and the ghoul’s throat caved in while a gout of rancid bone and gray matter exploded out of the back of its brainpan.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6GfdB4s1V48jV8p9GUyUL5gma9yWDT-SH0WffPLojK40wNXQ38T426cPPE4c8vzAzBKSnbNzx2bhYw0G6O-_FX9rDbV7nD-Ssc2QfUyTWppoHrqD2srVGs6JNPRZlnNyfPelPnTtqlF0/s1600/crater_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6GfdB4s1V48jV8p9GUyUL5gma9yWDT-SH0WffPLojK40wNXQ38T426cPPE4c8vzAzBKSnbNzx2bhYw0G6O-_FX9rDbV7nD-Ssc2QfUyTWppoHrqD2srVGs6JNPRZlnNyfPelPnTtqlF0/s1600/crater_2.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’ve never had much cause to use scatterguns myself before this little expedition into the Mojave, but I’ve done my share of post-combat autopsy reports on victims of birdshot and buckshot, and I can tell you right off that they’ll leave an exit wound big enough to stick your hand through -- with your fingers spread wide, no less.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The other ghoul, seeing its comrade crumple into the pool, pitched its head back and let out an ear-splitting shriek -- of rage, hunger, pure aggression or, god help me, sadness, I’ll never know. It gave me enough time to push all the way to my feet, work the lever-action, draw a bead, and fire... only to have the hammer make a pitiful clanging noise as it came down crooked, jamming the action without firing a shot.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I stared stupidly at the firearm for a split second, then reacted instinctively as the ghoul finished its scream and leapt forward again, swinging the useless shotgun like a club. The damn thing snapped in two as it connected with the ghoul’s side, and, grimacing, I followed up on my momentum as the ghoul staggered sideways by jabbing the jagged edge of the barrel deep into its torso, just below the ribcage.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The creature howled again, but much lower and more pitifully as it scrabbled ineffectually at the stock of the shotgun protruding from its side, as air and viscous blood hissed and bubbled out of the wound. I pulled the revolver from the makeshift holster on my hip and put a mercy round through the thing’s temple, then bounded back up out of the pool and onto the path in the direction I’d last seen ED-E.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Just before I reached the corner of the shack, I heard another scream, and the ghoul that had chased after ED-E came pinwheeling backwards in my direction, smoldering from numerous laser burns and with portions of its shredded clothing actually on fire.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">ED-E, with a large dent in his side and several of his sensor antennae either bent or snapped clean off, came floating after it, relentlessly firing until the ghoul was down and all sign of movement had ceased.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I let out a long breath, smiled, and was just about to call out to ED-E when searing pain bloomed in my leg. I looked down just in time to see one of the ghouls -- the one that had had its leg blown off by ED-E -- sinking its fingers into the meat of my calf, an instant before it yanked back on its newfound grip and pulled me off balance. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I tumbled to the ground, flailing wildly for some purchase to pull myself away from the wretched thing, but it pulled itself up determinedly and dug its teeth into my left hip, biting clean through my clothes and into the flesh.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrZ97E4LL7fAu4Gs8CLSWreLqHCGsww8vNffMGYSZMJnnqHlWZx-wZACXc8dHTkvuuQ6uv5A0MrsxmxpPzKIiQCiARFDhleIl579P8gB_xtNbmRqKvBl98uhSW7NAHq5k4QmJUvRMymJk/s1600/crater_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrZ97E4LL7fAu4Gs8CLSWreLqHCGsww8vNffMGYSZMJnnqHlWZx-wZACXc8dHTkvuuQ6uv5A0MrsxmxpPzKIiQCiARFDhleIl579P8gB_xtNbmRqKvBl98uhSW7NAHq5k4QmJUvRMymJk/s1600/crater_1.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yelping with pain -- I’m not too proud to admit it -- I managed to get my fingers back around the handle of my revolver and fired a round into the thing’s eyesocket before it had time to make too much of a meal of me.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Gritting my teeth against the pain in my calf and hip, I kicked my way out from underneath the dead ghoul. Fortunately, for all their strength they don’t weigh much -- they’re basically corded muscle and leather wrapped around dry bones -- and I was able to extricate myself from the tangle with the corpse without too much trouble.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Favoring my wounded leg heavily, I limped over to ED-E and, leaning on him for support, we made our way back east out of the radiated pools before any more ghouls caught wind of us.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Once my heartbeat slowed and the air smelled clear again, I realized that the nausea I was feeling wasn’t just adrenaline withdrawal. A scan of myself with the PIP-Boy’s diagnostics revealed that I had received such an appalling dose of radiation that I’d be lucky to make it through the day with my hair and teeth intact if I didn’t do something quickly. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">First, I stripped off my soaked clothes and washed myself as best I could with my remaining clean water, then pulled on some dry clothes from the bottom of my pack. I found some shade under a mesquite tree and hooked myself up to a Rad-Away drip, sitting and trying to mop out my wounds at least temporarily while it slowly scrubbed my system of the rads. The stuff goes through me like cheap booze, but I’ll take frequent runs to the latrine over radiation poisoning any day of the week. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU5qeXFdc3nY6bU_mSsg0G-h_FoVciUk48QeZggAZQkpGg4WwmydET-1njVZEdWAOsol9sf0SHQwtbKezgDB8hHc5y7mTmTkx0qKFTYFNIFLvxZWuY7LqeGnWUD8GYD9PWViV691jxYjs/s1600/rad-Away+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU5qeXFdc3nY6bU_mSsg0G-h_FoVciUk48QeZggAZQkpGg4WwmydET-1njVZEdWAOsol9sf0SHQwtbKezgDB8hHc5y7mTmTkx0qKFTYFNIFLvxZWuY7LqeGnWUD8GYD9PWViV691jxYjs/s1600/rad-Away+tree.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With the drip connected, my ability to tend to my cuts and gouges was limited, so I finished swabbing them out, looped bandages around the worst of them to keep them at least partly covered, and promised myself I’d see to them more thoroughly later on.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I may not keep a lot of promises to myself, but at least now I can say I’m keeping that one. Jess would never have believed it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I woke up a few hours later and realized that I must have nodded off while waiting for the drip to finish. Sure enough, my bladder felt like I’d drunk the better part of Lake Mead, so I pinched off the tubing, unhooked the empty Rad-Away bag, pulled the needle out of my arm, and thanked the mesquite tree for its shade by giving it a generous watering.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I yanked my boots back on -- I hate wet boots, especially irradiated wet boots, but it’s better than burning off the soles of your feet on the sand and asphalt -- made sure ED-E was still functional, and started north again back into Primm.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This time, I stayed on the road the whole way.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I reached Primm, I tracked down Meyers and gave him the pardon, then followed him into the casino. I made some half-hearted introductions, then wandered off amidst the cheering to refill my water canteen and bottles and as much clean -- or relatively clean -- linen as there was left in the casino.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Once I was finished, the citizens of Primm were filling Meyers in on recent events or gradually drifting out of the casino and back to their long-neglected homes. I walked out among them, limping out towards the wall around the town, and got a little fire going so I could boil up some water. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">ED-E’s going’s to need some repair work, too, but he’s not at risk of infection, so I’m going to triage myself first in line and look after him in the morning. No offense, eyeball -- you did good work today.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010101010111001101100101011100100010011101110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001110000011100100110100101101111011100100110100101110100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110100101111010011000010111010001101001011011110110111000100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110100101110011001000000110000101100011011000110110010101110000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010001100001011000100110110001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Hmm, leg’s numb enough now that I should be able to suture the worst of the wounds without passing out, but that damn Med-X is making me a little woozy. Let’s see...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*Canvas rustling.*</span></i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There we go. Mentats. These’ll clear the haze.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Crunching and chewing sounds.*</i> </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqmPenFnHH8Rp6MzOVDDJ-hh4tumNc7sW8cKphrGTrwgffAuK748cCrRZYzcZ6fAc7Dyw0hPtJfNHLAieP07qvYrRf7sONBKZrDsBmYmxiQ_98Gb0UPdE-Ivf4eIqtCLMNCegrrmzNNt4/s1600/mentats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqmPenFnHH8Rp6MzOVDDJ-hh4tumNc7sW8cKphrGTrwgffAuK748cCrRZYzcZ6fAc7Dyw0hPtJfNHLAieP07qvYrRf7sONBKZrDsBmYmxiQ_98Gb0UPdE-Ivf4eIqtCLMNCegrrmzNNt4/s1600/mentats.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hate to dose myself like this, but even though Primm now has a sheriff, a populace that has returned to their homes, and a casino that’s gradually being aired of the stench of weeks of seclusion, they still don’t have anyone I’d trust more than myself to stitch me back together.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Okay, good. Good good good. Seems like those mentats are kicking in. No more wooziness. Hell, I feel like I could see in the dark.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Good good good. Needles, clamps, forceps, and hemostats are boiled, and I’ve swabbed all the bite and claw wounds with alcohol. Wish I had some iodine. Could really use some iodine. Wonder if there are any unlooted hospitals in the Mojave? Have to look. Try to find some pre-war maps, maybe, get an edge over the other scavvers. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Something for later, though. For right now, have to get on with surgery. God, I could do this all night. Going to need both hands, though, so I’ll shut off the PIP-Boy for now.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Signing off. Off off off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-19562148124857696932011-08-05T01:11:00.000-04:002011-08-05T01:11:56.852-04:00//Log Date: 2281-10-28 13:26//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Oh god... oh god... okay, I don’t think they...</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Loud metallic banging noises.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jesus! They found us! They must have seen us come in!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Banging continues.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They’re going to come right through the door! There’s no way that thing is going to hold -- what’s it made of? Tinfoil?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010101010110111001101001011101000010011101110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001110011011101000111001001110101011000110111010001110101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001001100001011011000010000001101001011011100111010001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110011101110010011010010111010001111001001000000110100101110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001110011011001010111011001100101011100100110010101101100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111100100100000011000110110111101101101011100000111001001101111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110110101101001011100110110010101100100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Shut up, I’m trying to think.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Banging continues.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Gah! We need to reinforce it! Eyeball, help me drag some of this furnitu- HOLY CHRIST! ANOTHER ONE!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Gunshot.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010011110111000001100101011100100110000101110100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111101110010001000000110100101110011001000000111011101100001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001101110100011010010110111001100111001000000110000101101101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110110101110101011011100110100101110100011010010110111101101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001101111011011100010000001100100011001010110001101100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110000101110011011001010110010000100000011101000110000101110010</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110011101100101011101000010000001101001011011100010000001110110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110100101101111011011000110000101110100011010010110111101101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001101111011001100010000001000101011011100110001101101100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110000101110110011001010010000001000001011100100110110101100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110010000100000010001100110111101110010011000110110010101110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001010100011000010111001001100111011001010111010000100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0101000001110010011011110111010001101111011000110110111101101100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Damn it, okay! Okay! Stop beeping at me! </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Whew... Looks like this one was already dead. Aaaand wearing normal clothes. Must have been a non-feral...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Poor bastard. He’s pretty torn up. I wonder what-</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Whirring and clanking.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<Unidentified Synthetic>> Time for your operations, gentlemen! The doctor is currently indisposed, but I assure you-</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> WHERE THE <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> DID THAT COME FROM?!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010010000110111101110011011101000110100101101100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110010100100000011001000110010101110100011001010110001101110100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110010101100100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Gun shots and laser fire, followed by a loud boom and the sound of falling debris.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Good god, what the hell was going on in this place? There’s a ghoul that’s been hacked to pieces, food and water that are making my PIP-Boy’s Geiger counter tick like mad, and a Mr. Handy that... what... he must have tried to modify to work as a medical assistant? </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That clearly went well...</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieuWiYB1pzXXl3OeD3m2-T3NgJxMbmt0k0gvwAsEmw-4P8ZQbyBiB_F9NhC9bDM0zC-bxWOQCrAaks-BNidgZkdLG_gF9LdzQJXVbxtf3OnEsI-z50cDGDxG74SnVYVzD_afNBZSo6voE/s1600/Hell%2527s+Motel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieuWiYB1pzXXl3OeD3m2-T3NgJxMbmt0k0gvwAsEmw-4P8ZQbyBiB_F9NhC9bDM0zC-bxWOQCrAaks-BNidgZkdLG_gF9LdzQJXVbxtf3OnEsI-z50cDGDxG74SnVYVzD_afNBZSo6voE/s1600/Hell%2527s+Motel.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What on earth could he have been trying to-</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Metallic banging resumes.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Christ! The door!</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Grunting noises and the scraping sound of objects being dragged across a metal floor. The banging continues, but muted.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Okay... okay... good. Let’s take stock.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">First off, Webb, make a note: detours are a BAD idea. So is altruism. You may have gotten those ants wiped out on your way back down the Long 15 from the Outpost... AND cleared out that cave of nightstalkers... but you sure as hell didn’t need to keep ranging off the road to look for other threats.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jesus, the nightstalkers... they were bad enough. I’d only heard horror stories around merchant campfires in the Mojave, but they were as terrifying as I’d been led to believe. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After mopping up those ants -- a fairly simple task, as ED-E and I were able to pick off the ones on the road from range before they’d even gotten close to us -- I spotted a cave up the hill to the south and figured I’d give it a look before heading back north. No sense in killing the ants just to have caravaners dying to something else, right? ED-E’s sensors picked up multiple small objects moving around up there, so I figured it might be a pack of coyotes.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Well, I was half right.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Literally, half right. The damn things look like someone sewed a rattlesnake’s head and tail onto a coyote’s body. We were already almost at the cave entrance when I realized I should have just stayed on the road. Half a dozen of the things came boiling up out of the cave, and the only reason I’ve lived long enough to get stuck in this current death trap is because I was backpedaling while firing my repeater so intently that I actually tripped and fell backwards down the hillside.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuTZzLunWycRRw0gskZn5OwrNw3ur1SQ6wO1jYuAcLb2NV1PBQyLAwq5Vidvl6kMxeKa8Xv1poOYLy3NGWN0SYRd9HVilHIPdQi0Rfm9_tb9_K1xI5sc15GVBpQD8yknH1j6Yx5GUHSJU/s1600/nightstalker_fight.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuTZzLunWycRRw0gskZn5OwrNw3ur1SQ6wO1jYuAcLb2NV1PBQyLAwq5Vidvl6kMxeKa8Xv1poOYLy3NGWN0SYRd9HVilHIPdQi0Rfm9_tb9_K1xI5sc15GVBpQD8yknH1j6Yx5GUHSJU/s1600/nightstalker_fight.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The scrapes and contusions from the fall earned me enough time to keep firing, however, as the nightstalkers had to take a longer path down to me, and ED-E and I were able to lay down enough panicked fire to kill the last of them before they finally reached me.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A good thing, too -- as I looked the corpses over, I noticed their fanged mouths were dripping with venom. THAT would have ruined my day right quick. I pulled out a few empty syringes and drained the venom glands for later study, then, since I’d already gone to the trouble of killing the things, I poked around in the cave a bit and turned up a few bits of salvage on some other folks who hadn’t been fortunate enough to fall down a hill before the nightstalkers reached them, including...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hah! That reminds me! Eyeball, do you still have that lever-action shotgun we found, or did you lose it when-</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010001100110100101110010011001010110000101110010</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110110100100000011100110110010101100011011101010111001001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01100100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Great! Great.. Okay.. let’s get this thing loaded. It’s not in great shape, but it ought to give me a better chance than anything else I’ve got for close-range firefights, and those fellows knocking on the door are going to be as close range as it gets when we make a break for it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ferals... ugh. Like I’ve said before, I’ve got nothing against ghouls, but some of them are just so far gone thanks to their wasting disease that they’re little more than animals. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
Less than, even, as at least animals seek food and shelter. Feral ghouls just want to bash your face in, then move on to the next bashable face.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We were heading north but keeping to the west of the Long 15, just to check for any further threats to caravans, when a pack of ferals reared up between us and the road. Backpedaling had worked against the nightstalkers, but this time it just forced us into a green glowing hellscape of radiated pools. I spotted a shack across a rickety walkway over the pools and made for it, the ghouls right on our heels.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3o6s0HhgDn6wprb9suvFGhyphenhyphenmM9vb-HZwjT8hjXwYCgm8aGZdpCktzvKjybXbYDqGK2OKVxpBPVMi7gEzI31mBQRorSiHzgg3bg5kzgNk4RduGjLCqyupPkb0eTpntsys0_X-bxFQtJgQ/s1600/Mesquite_Mountains_Crater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3o6s0HhgDn6wprb9suvFGhyphenhyphenmM9vb-HZwjT8hjXwYCgm8aGZdpCktzvKjybXbYDqGK2OKVxpBPVMi7gEzI31mBQRorSiHzgg3bg5kzgNk4RduGjLCqyupPkb0eTpntsys0_X-bxFQtJgQ/s1600/Mesquite_Mountains_Crater.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And that’s where we’re trapped now, with the ferals clawing at the walls. I’ve already gotten what’s probably a mutation-inducing dose of rads just from the dash through the pools, but it seems like a waste to hook myself up to a Rad-Away drip now when I’m just going to get ripped to pieces as soon as those ghouls batter through the door, and, as they’re basking in the glow of the rads outside, it’s not as if they’re likely to get bored and toddle off before I lose my hair and keel over in here.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Okay. Okay. No sense putting off the inevitable. ED-E, you ready?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010000010110011001100110011010010111001001101101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110000101110100011010010111011001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> All right.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Click of a lever-action.*</i></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Here goes nothing. Wish me luck, girls...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*More scraping, followed by a loud bang, gunshots, laser discharges, and growling.*</i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9JuhR4uE_I2fIpcE4FRmKuaWk4fs1OWaa_FOu3oeZKxLYk1HhZDoZCqj824U3DG4NzFX4uW0zc90xYYEPktMfeX6cN9mKkflEhgKXeHhoK7Sho0E_dhhboFDnSVnSKg6Ku6-2i29Lct4/s1600/feral_ghoul.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9JuhR4uE_I2fIpcE4FRmKuaWk4fs1OWaa_FOu3oeZKxLYk1HhZDoZCqj824U3DG4NzFX4uW0zc90xYYEPktMfeX6cN9mKkflEhgKXeHhoK7Sho0E_dhhboFDnSVnSKg6Ku6-2i29Lct4/s1600/feral_ghoul.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-64941843307820580572011-07-28T22:33:00.000-04:002011-07-28T22:33:01.434-04:00//Log Date: 2281-10-27 21:41//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> It’s funny how cyclical life seems, sometimes. I’m settling down to get some shut-eye in an NCR G.I. cot, surrounded by the smells and sounds of an NCR barracks that are so familiar, it could be twenty years ago.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Well, except I’m pretty sure my knees didn’t hurt this much twenty years ago.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I managed to make it up that <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> hill without collapsing or resorting to trying to ride ED-E like a hover-brahmin...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010010010110110101110000011100100110111101110000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110010101110010001000000111010101110011011001010010000001110111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110100101101100011011000010000001110110011011110110100101100100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001110111011000010111001001110010011000010110111001110100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01111001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> ...then drank about a gallon of water, and took a closer look at the statues. They’re welded together from rusting scraps of sheet metal, and, according to the sign at their base, they commemorate the merging of the NCR Rangers and the formerly independent Desert Rangers. I may have a harsh word or twenty for the NCR brass, but I’ll certainly admit that the rangers are tough customers who put themselves on the line repeatedly. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Still, you build a forty-foot tall statue to pat yourself on the back, and there’s no way you don’t come across like a bit of an ass.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguPsgPpfupqxIJd1aFYHJ0y_TH4-iYvXFvBXLZrYD6tzsthAtgLnJQMpRXuQesBak7eY95r69O-oSN701qm0YD9x6Vi71JcrfT_UXcQDIZPebb3ddtttD_atxIjX8UELEB4cwao4l57ok/s1600/outpost.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguPsgPpfupqxIJd1aFYHJ0y_TH4-iYvXFvBXLZrYD6tzsthAtgLnJQMpRXuQesBak7eY95r69O-oSN701qm0YD9x6Vi71JcrfT_UXcQDIZPebb3ddtttD_atxIjX8UELEB4cwao4l57ok/s1600/outpost.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A trooper whose shoulder chevrons marked him as a sergeant saw me gasping for breath beside the rusty colossi and walked over, introducing himself as Kilborn and asking in a friendly but professional manner what had brought me to the Outpost. I told him I was looking for the CO, telling him I needed to get some trading papers stamped -- find the biggest pile of paperwork in an NCR outpost, and you’ll find the one in charge -- and he pointed me towards the HQ but told me not to hold my breath.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I asked why, he said that the CO had put a freeze on all trade traffic through the outpost due to a sharp increase in attacks on caravans. I thanked him for the tip and told him to cross his fingers for me, then threaded my way through the milling brahmin and disgruntled caravaners towards the gated NCR buildings.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Even if Kilborn hadn’t told me there was a trade stoppage in place, I could have told from the smell. You pen that many brahmin up in that small of a space, and you’ll need hip waders just to stroll across the street.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Rather than head directly into more brahmin droppings, I headed for the barracks rather than the headquarters, as Kilborn had mentioned there was a canteen in the barracks, and lord knew I could use a drink.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The barracks were dark, crowded, but markedly more fragrant. I’ll take the smell of even grain still alcohol over brahmin <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> any day.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I found an empty stool next to a sullen-looking redhead pretty deep in her cups and flagged down the bartender, a harried woman with short hair named Lacey who has the charming disposition that only extended exposure to low-tipping troopers as your main customers can give a person.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">While Lacey was collecting my caps and serving me a glass of water and a plate of stew, I asked her what was the word around the station. She grunted and said that, mostly, they were babysitting the caravaners that were stuck in the station, which got a disgusted laugh from the redhead. Lacey, ignoring the drunk, went on to say that, if I wanted to find out what was actually going on outside the brahmin pen, I should talk to either of the rangers currently stationed at the outpost. A ranger named Jackson is apparently in charge of the place at the moment, and then there was “that <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i>” -- her word, not mine -- Ghost, on lookout on the roof of the barracks.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She was clearly anxious to get back to her other customers, so I went ahead and tucked into my lunch. It wasn’t going to win any awards, but it’s also far from the worst I’ve had from a mess tent.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuYQdXfChzA1R6HYFkxba8JX8ZGQKMEq_9uceT8Iq6X-JtZch-t_6rzNVqgoTrerrPYvsRUSaZE2LR4gZlTzrzqk2KqqdQaQQhyQrPjzKBqjEXb0a3D8BYYhyphenhyphenjAMD8DK5gAtiLha_dTqY/s1600/cass_and_doc.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuYQdXfChzA1R6HYFkxba8JX8ZGQKMEq_9uceT8Iq6X-JtZch-t_6rzNVqgoTrerrPYvsRUSaZE2LR4gZlTzrzqk2KqqdQaQQhyQrPjzKBqjEXb0a3D8BYYhyphenhyphenjAMD8DK5gAtiLha_dTqY/s1600/cass_and_doc.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As I ate, I tried to strike up a conversation with the redhead. Usually, I’m not much for socializing, but it’s been a long few days on the road with no one other than convicts or smelly casino hermits to talk to, and ED-E’s beeps and squawks hardly fill the void.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 011101000110100001101001011100110010000001110101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111001101001011101000010000001101001011100110010000001101110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111101110100001000000110100001100101011100100110010100100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010001101111001000000110010101101110011101000110010101110010</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010001100001011010010110111000100000011110010110111101110101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Okay, fine. Yes, I admit it: she’s also prettier than most of the folks I’ve been running across. And if a fellow isn’t going to take the time to speak to a good-looking drunk redhead, well, then what the hell ARE you going to take time for?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At first, we didn’t get far, but I bought us both a shot of whiskey from Lacey and after that she warmed up a bit, at least enough to tell me her name, which -- improbably enough -- is Rose of Sharon Cassidy, or just Cass for short. Like most of the other patrons, she’s stuck here thanks to the trade stoppage, but unlike most others, or at least so I’d hope, she doesn’t even have a caravan any more.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">She’s recently gotten word that her caravan was attacked just south of New Vegas. All of her people were apparently killed, and her cargo burned rather than looted. Worst of all, she can’t even leave the outpost to survey the site because of the stoppage. Hence the drinking... well, at least, THIS drinking. I get the impression this woman isn’t exactly new to the hooch.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Her best guess is that it was Legion raiders, which makes sense to me. The focus was clearly on disrupting trade rather than theft, and that has Legion interests written all over it.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I asked her if there was anything I could do for her, once I got back out on the road, and she shrugged noncommittally. She did mention that, if I was so fired up to do some caravan work, I should look into the only company still functioning in the New Vegas area, the Crimson Caravan. That’s the outfit Ringo from Goodsprings had been working for -- with two recommendations to look them up, now, I suppose they would be a definite stop once I finally found my way into Vegas and finished up this business with Checkers.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wishing her the best, I ordered Cassidy another shot of whiskey and got back to my feet, blinking a bit as I emerged into the afternoon sun. I followed the makeshift ramp up to the roof of the barracks, past the pot-shaped ventilation fans, and found the ranger that Lacey had called Ghost.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The source of the nickname was immediately apparent -- the woman was an albino, with nearly translucent skin and pale yellow hair. Sensibly, she was covered head to toe with her ranger gear, complete with large sunglasses and a broad-brimmed hat. She glanced at me dismissively and told me that the caravan waiting area was back on the ground.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I introduced myself and told her that I was here on business, but not trade business, and that I wasn’t opposed to picking up some extra work if it was on my way. She gave me another, longer look, clearly sizing me up again. She said that the troopers and rangers at the outpost were stuck there along with the caravaners, but there had been no word in from Nipton to the east. I grimaced and pulled out the holotape from Steyn, describing his deal with the Legion. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vhbgEoBMF72-Py_KeM_NwBkmeOj_sqST5hRtPCTIMcO_G4gDglJ9W-HUMJWy81d_B-rB2t8HDUB3sDdujndNiOsI_ZG4BM6kvS930DCIWZrxZNsk2Cvtc-tqpH_zvHMiJeSozLKiofA/s1600/Nipton+map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0vhbgEoBMF72-Py_KeM_NwBkmeOj_sqST5hRtPCTIMcO_G4gDglJ9W-HUMJWy81d_B-rB2t8HDUB3sDdujndNiOsI_ZG4BM6kvS930DCIWZrxZNsk2Cvtc-tqpH_zvHMiJeSozLKiofA/s1600/Nipton+map.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Once she’d read it over, it clearly did nothing to ease her concerns for the NCR troops that had been in the town. She asked me to check it out if I could, and I allowed I might be headed that way. She chuckled without humor and said she’d be sure to hold her breath, then went back to scanning the horizon.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I figured I’d put off wading into bureaucracy as long as possible, so I climbed back down off the roof and headed to the other building at the Outpost. Walking in, I was met by a surprisingly pleasant desk jockey major named Knight. He asked me to register with him -- protocol for everyone passing through the Outpost, apparently -- so I fished out my old dog-eared NCR ID and passed it to him.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He fed the info into his terminal, then blinked, then stared at me for a moment before finishing up his entry and passing the ID back, his manner noticeably cooler. I sighed and pocketed the ID. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I should expect this by now, I suppose, at least at military outposts. You see “dishonorable discharge” pop up on your screen, and that’s probably going to raise some flags.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Taking a deep breath and gritting my teeth, I filled him in on the situation in Primm, telling him how the best candidate for the sheriff position was finishing up the last few weeks of his sentence at the NCRCF and needed a pardon before he could fill the role. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Knight had serious concerns about putting a convict into the role of fending off other convicts, but I pointed out the fact that Meyers had willingly stayed behind to serve out his sentence rather than escape when so many of the others did. More importantly, Primm was a vital trade stop on the Long 15, and any law was better than no law.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Begrudgingly, Knight admitted I had a point, and he signed the pardon. I thanked him and turned to leave, but I was stopped by a man with a ranger outfit and a ridiculously huge handlebar mustache who was leaning against the doorframe. He introduced himself as Ranger Jackson, the de facto head of the Outpost and author of the trade stoppage, and said that he’d heard me asking about Primm.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We chatted for a minute, and it came out that Jackson was fed up with needing to keep the Outpost locked down and was glad to hear that at least someone was out there trying to sort out the Mojave. I told him I’d been hearing about the raider and Legion attacks, and he said it was even worse than that -- some of those giant ants I’d seen on the Ivanpah dry lake had apparently been getting more aggressive, and they’d been attacking caravans and eating the pack brahmin. He told me that, as I was headed that way anyway, he’d make it worth my while if I could thin out the ants closest to the road.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy-HuQIpniUNI4h21n3PidQM3CeEtKiZeZTs9pENU3CUZNbzJJbgfT8ya3gD3jGyFy8TDLfKWWIAGVhWGlXeTdLbRT7EBGYvgTK4khUnZl11I70NJ8vXJhG4Ey_JcwSUyVW9GS55OL6HY/s1600/dry+lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy-HuQIpniUNI4h21n3PidQM3CeEtKiZeZTs9pENU3CUZNbzJJbgfT8ya3gD3jGyFy8TDLfKWWIAGVhWGlXeTdLbRT7EBGYvgTK4khUnZl11I70NJ8vXJhG4Ey_JcwSUyVW9GS55OL6HY/s1600/dry+lake.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Seeing as I probably wouldn’t have much choice in the matter if they were actually as aggressive as he feared, I agreed. Jackson seemed pleased, and he said I was welcome to stay the night in the barracks if I liked before getting back on the road.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As it was already getting late and I don’t much like traveling at night when there’s a chance of tripping and falling into giant man-eating anthills, I took him up on it. I spent a bit of time at the small firing range behind the HQ brushing up on my firing drills with my new repeater, then did a bit of trading and medical checkups for the caravaners and outpost personnel in exchange for some caps -- they had no medic stationed here, and any outpost sees its share of accidents and disease.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Flush with trade, I stopped at the barracks bar again, bought some supper, some water, and another round of whiskey for Cassidy and myself, and now I’m just about ready to call it a night. I think I’ll put myself to sleep reading that Guns and Bullets catalogue I found at the patrol station.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Signing off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-47467636240399315902011-07-17T11:06:00.001-04:002011-07-17T11:07:30.258-04:00//Log Date: 2281-10-27 15:43//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Virtue never pays off in the long run.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This morning, I got a reminder why it doesn’t pay to pick sides. The ‘Gangers must have caught wise to the fact that I was the one to kill their gate guard, because a small group of them were laying in wait for me when I left the hills heading towards Primm this morning.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As near as I can figure, they must have put two and two together after finding the body, and the tower sentries remembered the direction I had headed when leaving the NCRCF. I guess my trailblazing isn’t as subtle as I’d hoped, because they knew right where I was.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To give credit where it’s due, I think I owe the fact that I’m here to make this entry -- and not decorating the rocks east of Primm -- is thanks to ED-E.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Its sensors went off in time to allow it and me to scramble for cover, seconds before I heard a voice shout “This is for Cobb and Dawes, you son of a <i>*Expletive Deleted*<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">”</span></i>, and a bundle of dynamite with a lit fuse came tumbling down the hillside towards us.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The boulder we were crouched behind proved up to the task of shielding us from the blast, however, and my new repeater rifle distinguished itself in the ensuing firefight with the three ‘Gangers hiding in the rocks above us. I’m not much of a shot, but, fortunately, neither were these three, and the peep sight is fairly idiot-proof. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Thanks to ED-E’s laser salvos, the ‘Gangers were forced to keep their heads down, and I was slowly able to pick them off one by one. Concerned that they may very well have had back-up on the way, I decided to forego my usual post-scuffle looting and left the ‘Gangers for the crows while I hastily got back on the path to Primm.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Approaching the town from the east, I found that Meyers had beaten me there, having taken a much more direct route past the ‘Ganger sentries and straight down the Long 15. He was warming himself by an oilcan fire in the still-deserted streets and greeted me with a nod. I told him I’d taken a bit of a detour, but I’d still be heading to the Mojave Outpost to grab that pardon. Meyers simply shrugged and allowed that he’d wait for me to get back. He didn’t say it, but I think he was just happy to be out in the free air.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Before leaving Primm, I stopped in to the Vikki & Vance again -- which, by the way, was really starting to smell overly ripe. Too many humans, not enough space... or opportunities for personal hygiene. They’re going to have to air the place out for a week once we finally convince these folks to head back to their homes.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Holding my breath, I refilled my water supply and filled Nash and Beagle in on my progress, then got back on the road. Good old Route 15 again, still headed south.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">God, I hate this <i>*Expletive Deleted*</i> road.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">About an hour out of town, I spotted a single-story structure on the west side of the road, just about the time that the unmistakable pop of distant gunfire began to reach my ears. We halted, and I pulled out my binoculars for a better look before getting closer. The building looked like a pre-war police patrol station, and there was a skirmish taking place between two distinct groups. One group was clearly more ‘Gangers -- those inmate uniforms are rather distinctive -- and the others were raiders of some type. Probably more Jackals, but, frankly, with raiders, I don’t really care about the flavor as long as they’re getting shot.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I settled myself comfortably on the tarmac, made a sandwich out of some smoked gecko meat and Ruby Nash’s hardtack biscuits, and enjoyed the show.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0bPcGsIQhnt0-dwacS1336RXY28iujGdYy2km0NdzZXa5w6fq2V03CusfBRumgVp3NxtO6rvEJu-ejgnG06PeLn3xjSDtcjTneRsRJOCdQR7OqGmw6vzhknGckHH0eobEJ_qPqmoRVDQ/s1600/patrol+station.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0bPcGsIQhnt0-dwacS1336RXY28iujGdYy2km0NdzZXa5w6fq2V03CusfBRumgVp3NxtO6rvEJu-ejgnG06PeLn3xjSDtcjTneRsRJOCdQR7OqGmw6vzhknGckHH0eobEJ_qPqmoRVDQ/s1600/patrol+station.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When the shooting had stopped and the dust had settled, I wiped my hands, got reluctantly back to my feet, and walked close enough to put a bullet in the surviving raiders as they were picking over the dead convicts. A dental inspection of the corpses confirmed my first guess: more Jackals, carrying more junk. The dead Powder Gangers had some salvageable explosives and ammunition, though, and the interior of the patrol station turned up a decent stash of caps, a few gun manuals and shooting magazines, and a minor infestation of mantises. The mantises were nothing a judiciously applied boot couldn’t cure, and I stuffed the books into my satchel for later reading.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Continuing south, the road began to cut through a dry lakebed with creatures scuttling around far out in the middle. At first, I had thought they were coyotes, but, on closer inspection through the binoculars, they turned out to be enormous, dog-sized ants, busily moving about on their own insectoid errands. Fortunately, they were far enough away and didn’t seem remotely interested in me. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Must be my sour disposition.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When the Long 15 intersected Highway 164, however, I ran into some significantly less self-involved creepy-crawlies in the form of a small cluster of radscorpions, skittering around the wreckage of a gas station. I lit and tossed a piece of my newly acquired dynamite into the midst of them, which proved highly effective. The scorpions that weren’t killed outright immediately retreated, and I was able to poke around the remains of the station without fear of being poisoned or hacked to pieces.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Under the cracked and wildly leaning sign post for the gas station, I found the body of another ghoul, dressed identically to the one I’d found in the hills near the railroad tracks northeast of Primm. Stranger and stranger. This one also was clutching a laser rifle though, unlike the last weapon, which had merely been dented and scuffed in the rockslide, this one -- and its owner -- had nearly been cut to pieces by the claws of the radscorpions. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTTNbcyz-bCofK8pO6pljXRNkKW7tFJfhDYMOZOFqxbXet_dopujVBo8CM8q3W5DzQpWfdxuZfg7iHNci1xlYg6MzQx-ZZIsD5ZG2i3DBKbh5T38Os8hO2-E9jiJ85QAiYAQ2chyphenhyphenKDM8Y/s1600/rest+stop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTTNbcyz-bCofK8pO6pljXRNkKW7tFJfhDYMOZOFqxbXet_dopujVBo8CM8q3W5DzQpWfdxuZfg7iHNci1xlYg6MzQx-ZZIsD5ZG2i3DBKbh5T38Os8hO2-E9jiJ85QAiYAQ2chyphenhyphenKDM8Y/s1600/rest+stop.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I didn’t have the time or energy to bury the unfortunate fellow, so I made do by hauling him out of the elements and into the ruins of the station. I then spent a moment salvaging the undamaged parts of his rifle and using them to patch up the other laser rifle, swapping out dented casings for solid parts and replacing frayed wires. People pay more for weapons that don’t look like they’re apt to blow up the first time you fire them. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I tossed the unsalvageable bits into the corner as scrap, then took a quick look around the interior of the building, more out of habit than general interest. The years Jess and I spent scavving after being discharged from the service have left me fairly set in my ways... even with all that happened.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In this case, though, it was definitely worth the time. In the cash register on the counter, I found the drawer jammed full of caps -- always a sign that some has used the place as a home or base after the war, seeing as, to the best of my knowledge, no one used caps as currency before the bombs fell. A little more searching even told me who it had been.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I found a holotape with a journal entry from a man named Joseph B. Steyn, and let me be the first to say I hope I never sound as puffed up and arrogant on my entries as he did on this one. It wasn’t an encouraging story, either. Steyn is apparently mayor of a town called Nipton, which, according to my map, is about fifteen miles east of here on the 164.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The journal makes it clear that Steyn has cut a deal with forward scouts from Caesar’s Legion, selling out visiting NCR troopers and members of the Powder Gangers to them.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I don’t know a hell of a lot about the Legion, having never traveled into Arizona, but if you listen to the NCR propaganda they’re a bunch of depraved, slaving sodomites who want nothing less than the destruction of truth, justice, and mom’s mutfruit pie. I know the boys in brown held Hoover Dam against them four years ago, at a high cost in lives, but if you let the NCR’s military history make your decisions for you, there’s not going to be ANYONE left to trust. The Bear's never been one to shy away from a fight, and that's putting it mildly.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Naturally, I take anything spewing from the NCR think tank with an enormous grain of irradiated salt, but the details of this proposed deal Steyn made have left a bad feeling in my gut. I definitely didn’t think Legion troops had made it this far west, and, if Mojave residents are cutting bargains with them, that’s something to watch out for. I uploaded the holotape to the PIP-Boy’s memory, just in case I should need it later. If nothing else, it might be an interesting opportunity for... ahem... favorable trading, should I ever meet this Steyn.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Right now, I’ve put the gas station behind me, and I’m hiking up the long hill to the outpost. The road is absolutely packed with the burn-out wrecks of cars -- they must have been trying to flee California when the bombs fell. Enough of them have been pushed aside to leave a path wide enough for pack brahmin and caravans, but it’s still somewhat claustrophobic after the wide-open roads in the flat desert.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Besides, I’m always a little paranoid being this close to so many pre-war cars -- there’s always the possibility that one might still have a fission engine with some juice left in it, and one stray round in a firefight could set off a chain reaction that would scythe the whole hillside down to rubble and jagged metal.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>*Wheezing breaths.*</i></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As it is, though, I need to concentrate more on getting air into my lungs during this climb and less on waxing paranoid. Goddamn hills...</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Signing off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-76871662457518109472011-07-10T22:33:00.000-04:002011-07-10T22:33:04.360-04:00//Log Date: 2281-10-26 19:14//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> What a day... I’m getting too old for all this walking. Jess, if you could see me, you’d hardly recognize me. I’m getting all stringy and wiry, like an old bighorner.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On the plus side, it’s been a few days since I’ve had one of those headaches, and the skin around Mitchell’s surgery site isn’t tender anymore, either. Looks like I made it through the head trauma with no lasting effects.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I think I’ll keep going with this journal, though, because... Well, just because. Kind of puts a button on the day, somehow.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The whole prison infiltration was something of an anticlimax, all things considered. Yes, I did end up killing someone -- not something I should be so comfortable dismissing as “anticlimactic”, I suppose -- but I had half convinced myself that they’d see through my disguise and the whole endeavor would devolve into a running gun battle and end with me bleeding out on the floor of some urine-stained cellblock.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Instead, the guards in the tower spotted me on my way in and just waved me towards the front gate. The guard at the front gate was a little bit more on the ball, however -- guess there weren’t many redheads with bushy beards in the general population. It’s more gray than red these days -- Jess was starting to call it “salt and paprika” before the end -- but still. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He asked me who the hell I was, and my answers were apparently not adequate to ease his suspicions, as he made some unkind assertions regarding my parentage and went for his sidearm. Fortunately, being the paranoid old crank I am, I had my service knife out and tucked up my sleeve and managed to jam it through his trachea before he cleared leather. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I got that far on my old training and instinct, but then my brain kicked in and I jumped forward, pressing myself against the doors and bracing myself for getting shot by the guard tower sentries. When no shots came, I realized that the door was actually out of the line of sight of the towers.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">NCR design at its finest.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I pulled the knife back out of the guard’s throat, dragged him up against the building, and pulled the keychain off of his belt. After a moment or two of fumbling, I found the right key and let myself into the facility.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It turns out it was an extremely short search. Meyers was sitting in the lobby area immediately inside the front doors, still wearing his prison blues but with a broadbrimmed hat perched on his head. He stood out -- he looked like the only man there still doing time.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJdcNYq67bLfQkGu0Wf90UM36kyHvxHyuUPQ4EvQYupC9w8cxJ1BDgT4nxSsPepUe1bcuQCXznuR0u7Jd3H_363vWCMgbVlNdjGwJZJRP9n_1aZbcx2zpvJw8IWQ3UjYpuHSDO5BEfyuM/s1600/meyers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJdcNYq67bLfQkGu0Wf90UM36kyHvxHyuUPQ4EvQYupC9w8cxJ1BDgT4nxSsPepUe1bcuQCXznuR0u7Jd3H_363vWCMgbVlNdjGwJZJRP9n_1aZbcx2zpvJw8IWQ3UjYpuHSDO5BEfyuM/s1600/meyers.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I pulled up a chair next to him, kept my eyes on the door, and quietly filled him in on who I was and why I was there. Meyers allowed that he was interested in the job but made no bones about the fact that he wouldn’t take it until he’d been officially pardoned.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He didn’t mince words about the fact that he was in here for taking the law into his own hands when the gears of bureaucracy ground a little too slowly, and he also was extremely up front about the fact that he might very well do it again.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Can’t ask for better than a man who will be honest about doing wrong, I suppose. Besides, at least he can’t be hacked, unlike Slim.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I sighed and asked him where one might get such a pardon, and he said the closest place would be the NCR checkpoint south on the Long 15, the one they call the Mojave Outpost. I knew it, I’d been through on my way east. Skeleton desk crew there, but Meyers was right -- there might be someone with a high enough paygrade to wrangle us a pardon.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I told him I’d see what I could do, but there was no way I was hoofing it all the way BACK up here afterwards -- he’d need to meet me in Primm. After some hemming and hawing about stepping out on his sentence, he agreed and said he’d get his few possessions together and head out later today, giving me a head start as two leaving separately would be of less notice to the sentries than one leaving alone. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I said that was fine, but he’d better be prepared for a bit of a panic whenever the guardshift on the front door changed. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t inquire further, so I headed back out the way I’d come and fought the urge to keep glancing at the towers until I was well away. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Between me and the Long 15, however, was another away camp filled with ‘Gangers. I didn’t want to push my luck any further, so I decided to skip stay away from the 15 for now and instead started following railroad tracks running south from the prison. On my map, they looked as though they’d lead me back into Primm, but that turned out not to be the case. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Goddamn electronic maps.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After a few hours, the tracks began cutting through some rocky hills, which definitely weren’t on the way back to the Long 15. I stopped at the remnants of a small service yard at around 1300 hours and took the opportunity to shuck off the ‘Ganger outfit I’d been wearing. It made me feel dirty just having it on, a grime that had nothing to do with the dust or dried blood coating the jacket, and I was confident I’d gotten outside the ‘Gangers’ radius of operation.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That done, I made a small scrap fire and warmed up some Cram for lunch. The stuff is foul but edible, even after all these decades. The miracle of pre-war preservatives and radiation never ceases to amaze. That reminds me, I should check my own rad levels tonight, maybe hook myself up to a Rad-Away drip before sleep if it’s getting up there.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anyway, while having lunch, I noticed the skeleton of a pre-war radio tower on a rise to the west, so, after washing down the last of the Cram with a bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla -- found another of those star caps, by the way -- and scattering the embers of my fire, I decided to climb the hill towards the tower and get the lay of the land from up there.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Turns out I was way off to the east of the Long 15. I pulled out my binoculars and could just barely see those ridiculous ranger monuments at the Mojave Outpost far off to the southwest. At this rate, I’d probably be smart to stop by Primm again on my way there and top off my water supplies again. It was right on my way now, after all.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj5q4XFDwGjimVNSX-Tdma_GlYAEzvna-s2ObkjFXIv2A_SM1VxBZ-Yoie2r9rSFKqIrOP6j-3SqweX5q9Xc7EXHem3pUTZ3VjYGdNwtp-QLkQFsGaPUwVBviUpOGnWI6Ii_T10GDKiO8/s1600/IMG_3898.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj5q4XFDwGjimVNSX-Tdma_GlYAEzvna-s2ObkjFXIv2A_SM1VxBZ-Yoie2r9rSFKqIrOP6j-3SqweX5q9Xc7EXHem3pUTZ3VjYGdNwtp-QLkQFsGaPUwVBviUpOGnWI6Ii_T10GDKiO8/s1600/IMG_3898.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Starting to climb down the western side of the hill, I found what I first thought was a badly decayed body crumpled next to a rockslide, but, on closer inspection, it turned out to be a recently deceased ghoul, wearing some sort of brown cloth robe. The poor fellow had a goddamn laser rifle on him, no less. From what I could tell, he must have gotten caught in the rockslide while trying to reach the same radio tower from which I was descending. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The laser rifle was in pretty good shape, at any rate. Not my style -- never liked how hot the things get while firing -- but it probably would net me some caps back in Primm, if I hadn’t already cleared Nash out. I tied it onto ED-E and carefully resumed my way down the hill. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was slow going on uneven footing until I finally found my way back to something approaching even ground... what might once have been a river bed running down the hills. It was around then that I noticed a plume of smoke rising to the south. Nearby, mostly white -- looked like a campfire, which is exactly what it turned out to be.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I told ED-E to hang back -- that hum its hover unit makes isn’t exactly subtle, especially when it gets echoing back and forth between the rocks -- and crept forward to the next overlook, where I saw the source of the smoke. Two men and one woman sat around a sloppily built fire, charring some meat and sorting through a pile of scrap. All three were dressed in stained leathers, their hair greasy, matted, and clinging to their heads and necks. I knew without looking closer that their teeth would be filed down to points, too.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jackals. The dregs of the raider community, scavengers who pick off the weak, little better than their namesakes. The vast majority of my tour in the NCR was spent tracking down raider holdouts in California, and, while I was never fond of any of them, Jackals always especially disgusted me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I glanced back towards the meat on the fire, and my stomach twisted. Jackals eat their kills.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I cursed myself for using up the last of my dynamite in that bomb the other evening, then waved ED-E up closer to me. I moved as far down the hillside as I could while staying mostly out of sight and drew my revolver, then picked a decent-sized rock and hefted it, waiting until the Jackals were all looking away. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I threw the rock high and far, then braced the revolver with both hands and pushed out, running forward as soon as the rock landed on the other side of the fire. The Jackals hopped up, snarling in the direction of the rock, and I opened fire on their exposed backs while running. My first two rounds went wide, but the third caught the woman in the lower back. ED-E’s laser lanced out at the same time I started shooting, and his blasts slammed into the leg and shoulder of one of the men.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Seeing his two companions fall, the third Jackal showed the sort of loyalty I’d expected, and turned tail and ran. ED-E burnt off the back of his head with another volley before he’d gone four steps.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Unfortunately, the other two were down but not out. The remaining man seemed unable to do much more than clutch at his burns, but the woman had rolled onto her stomach and was gamely trying to level a rifle and draw a bead on me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I dropped into a firing crouch and emptied the rest of the cylinder at her, which finished the job. I let ED-E finish off the last one, reloaded my revolver, then went for a closer look at the campfire. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I get so tired of being right, sometimes. Roasting on the spit was a human thigh. A more thorough exploration of the area revealed a small shack built into a cave under the crag I’d climbed down, which had once housed a small family and was now being used as a larder by the Jackals... mostly to keep what was left of the family out of the sun. Damn shame.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFGweklpK2hbjBEuPge4QCVu81ckjOtB_1BiyQTyCQMqPBlcAHbW1qUjyKmnxUaH2a-mYQeOLY7hBe8nqtNout1W-WkVMlYThGFgTJgBRQV5IWRmGnYspJnUAaJMVNqBoNQTGTz8RtNs/s1600/prospectors_den.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixFGweklpK2hbjBEuPge4QCVu81ckjOtB_1BiyQTyCQMqPBlcAHbW1qUjyKmnxUaH2a-mYQeOLY7hBe8nqtNout1W-WkVMlYThGFgTJgBRQV5IWRmGnYspJnUAaJMVNqBoNQTGTz8RtNs/s1600/prospectors_den.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I cleared out the shack and buried those poor folks as best I could in the rocky soil. The best I can tell, it was two couples living here. No kids, at least. Not sure I could have handled that.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I dragged the Jackals away into the hills and left them there for the coyotes and the geckoes. It’s better than they deserve.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was getting dark by that point, so I’ve decided to stay the night in the shack here and push on to the Mojave Outpost tomorrow. I don’t have much of an appetite tonight, unsurprisingly, so I’m skipping dinner and seeing what I can do about the Jackals’ gear. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Most of it is garbage -- Jackals don’t take any better care of their weapons than they do of themselves -- but the woman’s rifle is actually worth salvaging. It’s chambered for .357 magnum rounds, like my revolver, and it has a lever action, which are notoriously hard to gum up, even for a Jackal. With a little tender loving care -- and enough duct tape -- I should be able to get it into something approaching working order. Maybe I can even find someone to trade me replacement parts for it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’ve got ED-E watching the outside again, and tonight I’ve left no room for mistakes.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010011100110010101100101011001000110110001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001101110011011011000111100100100000011101100110000101100111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010101100101001000000111010001100001011100100110011101100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010001101001011011100110011100100000011100000110000101110010</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110000101101101011001010111010001100101011100100111001100100000</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">011100110110010101110100</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Right back at you, eyeball. Signing off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-46765325115283163432011-06-29T19:43:00.000-04:002011-06-29T19:43:49.863-04:00//Log Date: 2281-10-26 09:27//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Started the morning with a hell of a shock today, and no mistake. </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Last night, I started south after the sun was down. Crossing the Long 15, almost directly south of the Yangtze Memorial, I found a makeshift camp tucked into a small rock outcropping, manned by two ‘Gangers. Thanks to my scare in the bunker, I crept up slowly and realized the whole place was ringed with makeshift landmines, constructed from dynamite stuffed into tin cans and wired to a proximity sensor. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbboP1B-1pst-EqV9Rf4bXJeJlOuuuQXZgpsORChI4X8dJii6za17x0wYBR_dp-I8K7SxvYUjn3_HDdAD8naSSFEdwv6UoSNP85oWcbtu7S058etCWxkV3Q7wImharE8A2410qEm1u9vI/s1600/camp+north.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbboP1B-1pst-EqV9Rf4bXJeJlOuuuQXZgpsORChI4X8dJii6za17x0wYBR_dp-I8K7SxvYUjn3_HDdAD8naSSFEdwv6UoSNP85oWcbtu7S058etCWxkV3Q7wImharE8A2410qEm1u9vI/s1600/camp+north.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I used my service knife to cut the wires and pocketed the charges, then worked my way partway around the circle, pocketing a half dozen of the rigged charges. Still moving quietly, I rifled through the satchel I had hung off of ED-E until I found a functional egg timer and, using the wiring and parts from the sensors, I taped all the dynamite back together and set the timer, then rolled it down the hill into the camp. I pulled ED-E down to the ground with me and waited for the boom.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I think the ‘Gangers are proving to be a bad influence on me.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When the dust -- and flying gobbets of ‘Ganger -- had settled, I hopped up and slid down the rock to inspect the damage. Against all expectations, one of the two men was actually still alive. The blast had taken off one of his legs just above the knee, but the rest of him was almost completely untouched. He was, thankfully, unconscious, however, and blood loss and shock were neck and neck to see which would kill him first. I decided to break the tie with a .357 round, then stripped his prison jersey, scrubbed out the spattered blood as best I could with handfuls of sand, and pulled it on over my shirt. I took his hat, too, a tattered baseball cap with a crooked bill. Combined with my sunglasses, it might be enough to let me get past the sentries.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And there are definitely sentries. After I was certain the camp was clear, I climbed back up the rocks and glassed the facility with the binoculars I’d found on the Bison Steve’s marquis. It was a clear night and the moon was almost full, so I was at least able to make out forms up in the old guard towers. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUzDIaWNCTv-edaylnwudo9kjFXqeP0y7gxaEFakUjXRzqblmEx29dIiLWrCpORbUopIjmVR-21QYQVu0HQ27A8NgDryE6lYLz7W4zZE7fW13z74IBDYTN-VkKvi5JLg8AJXnrRA5FkSs/s1600/NCRCF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUzDIaWNCTv-edaylnwudo9kjFXqeP0y7gxaEFakUjXRzqblmEx29dIiLWrCpORbUopIjmVR-21QYQVu0HQ27A8NgDryE6lYLz7W4zZE7fW13z74IBDYTN-VkKvi5JLg8AJXnrRA5FkSs/s1600/NCRCF.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Unfortunately, that meant they’d be able to make me out as well, as there was plenty of open ground between me and the prison. That ruled out my plan for a night-time infiltration, as they’d probably shoot anyone approaching at night. Now that I had something approximating a disguise, I figured I’d be better off waiting for daytime and slip in, pretending to be coming back from a raid or supply run or whatever it is escaped convicts do in their spare time.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With my plans for the evening scrapped, I dragged the corpses behind some nearby rocks, tidied up the camp a bit, flipped over one of the mattresses in the camp to reveal a slightly less filthy side, and settled in for the evening. The ‘Gangers had been roasting up some squirrel before their untimely departure, so I helped myself to that and dipped further into my clean water supply. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">While eating and drinking, I played around with the radio receiver on my PIP-Boy and picked up a new signal identifying itself as Black Mountain Radio. According to a news broadcast from Mr. New Vegas, it’s only recently come back on the air, and he described it as “less for outcasts, more for weirdos”. More for supermutants, in fact, if the broadcast is to be believed.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s run by two... women, I suppose? I always heard that the mutation process pretty much took care of any unresolved gender issues, so to speak, but maybe it’s just a matter of perseverance. There’s Rhonda, who sounds like a snake with delusions of culture, and Tabitha, who sounds like she’s in the process of angrily eating a molerat whole every time she speaks. The whole thing is music mixed with propaganda-style broadcasts for the supermutant utopia they’ve supposedly created. If it wasn’t for the constant references to radiation and centaurs, it would be almost exactly like the NCR propaganda stations back home.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">They also mentioned something about a captive ghoul named Raul who is apparently facing execution. I’ve always liked ghouls, generally. A tough bunch, but sad, too. They’re like patients with terminal radiation burns who recovered -- but never quite managed to convince their body of it. Maybe I can help the poor guy out... sometime when I’m feeling up to risking a sledgehammer to the face from a ten-foot-tall monster, that is. One suicidal undertaking at a time.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Eventually, I’d had all I could take of Rhonda and Tabitha, so I switched off the radio, told ED-E to warn me if it spotted any unfriendly critters or anything with a prison uniform, and then turned in for the night.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Apparently, though, I need to be careful about being too specific with ED-E.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010101010110111001101001011101000010000001100110</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010101101110011000110111010001101001011011110110111001100101</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110010000100000011100000110010101110010011001100110010101100011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010001101100011110010010000001100001011000110110001101101111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111001001100100011010010110111001100111001000000111010001101111</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0010000001101001011011100111001101110100011100100111010101100011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0111010001101001011011110110111001110011</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Shut up, eyeball, I’m still mad at you.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:ED-E>> 010100110110100001110101011101000111010001101001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">0110111001100111001000000111010101110000001000000111001101101001</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">01110010</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> Hmmmph. Anyway, I woke up this morning to find an old man sitting on the mattress across the remains of the campfire, staring at me and idly munching on the last of the squirrel. He wasn’t wearing a ‘Ganger uniform, so technically I hadn’t instructed ED-E to warn me about him, but I still hopped up and went for my pistol.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The old man immediately dropped the squirrel and raised his hands to show me he wasn’t armed, all the while smiling in a lopsided fashion that made me think he might be going a little soft in the head.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFDGg7ZC3E5zbnVDDK3hJc4jIdkGJMkHFjpZyD-F_30ErRp4NMxalOh6GQsNtO4PWbaLC_yM0LMCKwOLAn7YiVPSLOwYJgZLPfuKMnZgM_LBOXFgfl2rg0eLWezrOQXMmTP2Nn98rykZg/s1600/malcolm+holmes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFDGg7ZC3E5zbnVDDK3hJc4jIdkGJMkHFjpZyD-F_30ErRp4NMxalOh6GQsNtO4PWbaLC_yM0LMCKwOLAn7YiVPSLOwYJgZLPfuKMnZgM_LBOXFgfl2rg0eLWezrOQXMmTP2Nn98rykZg/s1600/malcolm+holmes.jpg" /></a><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He introduced himself as Malcolm Holmes and said he’d been following me for the last few days, which did absolutely nothing to calm me down. When asked to elaborate, he explained -- at least, I guess it was an explanation in his mind -- that he’d seen me pick up one of those Sunset Sarsaparilla caps with a star on it.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My hand went immediately to my shirt pocket where I’d put the cap that had reminded me of Callie, but it was still there, safe and sound. I questioned him about the caps, still not lowering the gun, and he explained that there was some sort of wasteland legend about an immortal guardian named Festus who will offer a reward to anyone who brings him enough of these star caps.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The whole thing sounds insane, of course. If Holmes is to be believed, this “Festus” has been around since before the Great War... if he’s not just a myth, he must be a ghoul. Some ghouls do go crazy over time, of course -- maybe there IS one out there collecting caps, out of some sort of obsessive-compulsive need. Can’t say it’s something that will keep me up at nights, at any rate.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What WAS cause for more concern, though, was Holmes’ warning that there were people out there who would actually kill for these ridiculous star caps. He said he himself used to hunt these star caps -- never lethally, or so he claimed -- but he was out of the game now. A madman named Allen Marks is supposedly the frontrunner in the cap hunt these days, and he has apparently racked up quite a body count already.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In terms of news to wake up to, this has rated pretty damn high on the weirdness meter.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I thanks Holmes for the information, told him to help himself to the rest of the squirrel, and bid him farewell... but I kept my revolver in my hand the whole time. Once he was out of sight, I took a few minutes to sort through my satchel of caps, and realized I did indeed have a few more of the Sunset Sarsaparilla caps with the little blue stars mixed in with all the others -- over a dozen of them, in fact. I separated them out and put them in a small side pocket on my satchel, just in case. Good lord, I think I caught some of that madness from Holmes. Callie's cap is staying right where it is in my shirt pocket, though, legendary treasure or not.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now that I’ve seen off all the insane old men the morning has to offer, I suppose there’s nothing else for it but to put my faith in a dead man’s clothes and make the final push into the NCRCF.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Wish me luck, girls. Signing off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3613851961324932888.post-31095938639038509532011-06-24T01:17:00.000-04:002011-06-24T01:17:10.738-04:00//Log Date: 2281-10-25 18:29//<div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><<UserID:Webb>> With all the excitement these people face in the Mojave, I’m surprised there’s anyone still left living here.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s been another... interesting day. I slept like a log knowing ED-E was on guard duty, something that hasn’t happened in ages. Maybe I’m placing too much faith in the floating eyeball, but I suppose I’m allowed a mistake or two in favor of comfort in my old age, right?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I finished off the last of the coyote meat for breakfast, along with another bottle of water, and then started east again. It wasn’t long before I crossed the Long 15 again, but I hadn’t been this far north up the 15 and, from here, I could see signs of some sort of a settlement just up the road, so I decided to take a look. It turned out to be Sloan, the mining town Sunny Smiles had mentioned, and, as advertised, they were indeed having more than their fair share of trouble.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A man standing behind a ramshackle roadblock greeted me cautiously but politely, and introduced himself as “Chomps” Lewis. We exchanged pleasantries, and he filled me in on the town, whose main purpose until recently had been to run the limestone quarry to the northwest for the NCR, sending the stone east to Boulder City to be made into cement. That had all changed thanks to -- who else? -- the Powder Gangers, who had raided the quarry and taken all of the dynamite and other blasting equipment. While the miners sat idle, waiting for resupply from the NCR, a pack of deathclaws had settled into the quarry, and now no one was able to get into the quarry, or north up the road to New Vegas, without becoming deathclaw fodder.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was Lewis and the other miners who had been putting up the deathclaw warning signs on the roads and trails around the area. Even with no munitions or equipment, they’re doing what they can to stop other people from wandering into danger, which is more than I can say for the NCR, who still haven’t shown up to lend Sloan a hand.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Just once, I’d like to be surprised by the NCR riding to the rescue, but it looks like it won’t be today.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I asked about directions to the NCR prison, and Lewis kindly pointed out the best way on the map, but he mentioned that the ‘Gangers had been spreading out and establishing away camps in the surrounding hills, so it might not be a bad idea to wait for the cover of darkness to push a little closer.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I wasn’t in any particular hurry to catch a convict’s bullet, so Lewis and I shot the breeze a bit more, talking politics and lamenting the NCR’s inaction. When it came out that I was a doctor, Lewis lit up and mentioned that they had a patient that could use some attention.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That’s my trade, of course, but I stopped short when Lewis said he’d take me straight to “Snuffles”. That wasn’t so unusual -- after all, the man telling me this had introduced himself as “Chomps” -- but then he pointed out an overweight molerat digging through scrap outside the barracks building.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXCRL1vT6w_8za9nyVCvw6pVqbp-1HqrgY19nbd6rq6VtHzHYuR-s0op4vVwTfhf07kChIb3wHCBy-aqQ2XdibJSdXIldqwzAkRFa7uy_zvzl2_uMD-5y-pTB12l81WWIMICZr99o7EeM/s1600/IMG_3880.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXCRL1vT6w_8za9nyVCvw6pVqbp-1HqrgY19nbd6rq6VtHzHYuR-s0op4vVwTfhf07kChIb3wHCBy-aqQ2XdibJSdXIldqwzAkRFa7uy_zvzl2_uMD-5y-pTB12l81WWIMICZr99o7EeM/s1600/IMG_3880.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I quickly pointed out that I was a doctor and not a veterinarian, but Lewis explained that Snuffles was something of a mascot to the camp, and everyone’s spirits, low already due to the lack of work, were sinking steadily watching the little thing struggle with her wounded leg. Apparently, she had actually been tamed and used to help them dig tunnels for blasting, but her left rear leg had received a pretty nasty gash from a baby deathclaw after they’d nested in the quarry.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Looking around at the glum faces, I sighed and agreed to give it a shot. We fed Snuffles some InstaMash I’d laced with Med-X, then waited until she fell asleep. The amount I used was calculated based on the milligrams per kilo ratio you use on humans, so I was flying by the seat of my scrubs here, but her breathing was steady and she seemed unresponsive to stimuli, so I figured it was as good as we were going to get. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Some of the miners moved her onto a tarp while I sterilized my hands and tools in the highest proof alcohol the miners could provide. Taking a look at the wound, I saw that the gash itself wasn’t terribly deep, but the whole area had become badly infected, so I actually need to begin by cutting out all of the necrotic tissue around the wound. Once I’d debrided deeply enough to reveal healthy, bleeding muscle, I did a row of interior sutures, then a loose outer row as well to allow any fluid to drain, then bandaged the area. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I told the miners they’d need to help her keep the leg clean and change the bandages daily, as there would definitely be some steady seepage for the first few days, but Snuffles should be right as rain in a few weeks. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I got a round of cheers, which aren’t exactly legal tender, and then an offer of lunch at their mess hall, which is the next best thing. Over lunch, the cook, a young woman named Jas Wilkins, asked me what the tastiest thing I’d ever eaten was. Eyeing my plate dubiously but not wanting to be impolitic, I told her it was home cooking. She agreed and said she’d been wanting to make a deathclaw egg omelette. I asked where in the world she’d gotten an idea like that and got a shock: she’s the great-grandniece of Rose -- from Modoc, where Jess and I settled after she got pregnant.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We chatted about Modoc for awhile. Jas must have left town just before we bought that farm, but we had plenty of memories to share, some even decent ones. I told her I’d bring her a deathclaw egg for old time’s sake if, by some miracle, I ever came across one without getting disemboweled.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Coming out of the mess hall, I was distracted by the horrific clanking and backfiring of the “town’s” -- and I use that term loosely -- generator, which looked like it had been put together by a blind super mutant using his feet. I pulled a wrench and some tape from my kit and tidied up the connections and piping. Lewis was so grateful he paid me two hundred NCR dollars. PAPER dollars.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hmmph. Well, at least it’s handier for trips to the latrine than bottlecaps.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I still had a few hours to kill before sundown, so I decided to do a bit of exploring. To the east of Sloan, I found a small valley, almost completely fenced in, but with big enough breaks in the fencing that I was able to slip in. When I spotted the bunkers in the valley, I had visions of mounds of pre-war salvage, but the whole area had been pretty well picked over already. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The first two bunkers were almost completely collapsed, but I did find some heavy ordnance poking through the rubble in the second one. Extremely heavy, in fact -- there were two micro-nukes, foot-long tactical nuclear bombs. The PIP-Boy’s geiger counter didn’t spike, so the seals were still intact. I packed up the nukes and headed to the third, which almost ended my scavving career permanently. Only ED-E’s warning music made me pull up short, just before I walked under a cluster of grenades, hanging from a line looped down to a tripwire about three inches in front of my foot when I stopped.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">After my heartbeat slowed back down to something approaching normal, I carefully unhooked the grenades and released the tripwire, then -- even MORE carefully -- searched the rest of the bunker, but it seemed like the grenades were the only surprise in store. The place had been made into a temporary shelter by someone, but, whoever they were, they weren’t here now. I left quickly before they came home with more grenades.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The last bunker was a bit cleaner and in better shape than the other three, but that also meant that I wasn’t able to work my way through the blast doors. Make a note, Webb: head back here if you ever learn any tricks about unsealing military grade blast doors. There’s bound to be a bonanza down there.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I left the fenced valley and headed back towards Sloan, but I hadn’t counted on how close the path I’d chosen would take me to the quarry. The wind was from the west -- fortunate, in retrospect, as I was downwind from most of them -- and blowing stone dust from the quarry into my face, and I didn’t spot the single deathclaw darting towards us until it was almost too late.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY3XZBDGu72gqRUZURaxLuBbnreU8VFo0m1cEt6_G0kkhBXORvuvvf3UgEXsJLreSAAFreTqUXy41tgvHNu42zoE6j7l2sHVhL98IAFfzePp177xxVaBB2Zl53ue4Jw5K966IejLsbytM/s1600/IMG_3888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY3XZBDGu72gqRUZURaxLuBbnreU8VFo0m1cEt6_G0kkhBXORvuvvf3UgEXsJLreSAAFreTqUXy41tgvHNu42zoE6j7l2sHVhL98IAFfzePp177xxVaBB2Zl53ue4Jw5K966IejLsbytM/s1600/IMG_3888.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was wounded and limping, but the thing was still so damn fast that my shotgun fire and ED-E’s laser blasts didn’t kill it until it was actually in mid-pounce. The twenty gauge took it in the throat by nothing more than blind luck, and it flew passed me and slammed into the road like a sack of incredibly vicious meat.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Looking at it more closely, I realized the deathclaw that had come within a foot of killing me probably hadn’t even been full grown. That deathclaw we’d run into outside of Redding had been much larger, and it took the whole squad to put the thing down. We’d been sweeping the hills outside of town, and there was a deathclaw hiding in a culvert. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jess was the one who got the kill shot, of course -- the rest of us firing away with our service rifles only seemed to slow the thing down long enough for Jess to put a .308 round through its eye, and even then it kept on coming for what seemed like yards before finally keeling over. If this one had been that big or fast, I’d be dead.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Hands shaking, I slammed another shell into the shotgun, closed the break action, and tried to catch my breath. With visions of a quarry full of adult deathclaws descending on me, I opted for the better part of valor and raced back to Sloan as fast as I could. No way was I going to go anywhere near the quarry again, at least without packing some heavier fire-power... like a launching apparatus for those micro-nukes, for example.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8NobNRKMaoNmkMx6WRAawP5UqoA8WB7vqM6ySbdA3TJPDSRB6Jpg8ydHSdX-tr8fdmNA3o5zgl7eTqSxqxIAAMZsIGF0uqK56dtjUbP9or90Ss-WXm6U6YQzWevIUBHEB0QzpYAxDVmQ/s1600/IMG_3889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8NobNRKMaoNmkMx6WRAawP5UqoA8WB7vqM6ySbdA3TJPDSRB6Jpg8ydHSdX-tr8fdmNA3o5zgl7eTqSxqxIAAMZsIGF0uqK56dtjUbP9or90Ss-WXm6U6YQzWevIUBHEB0QzpYAxDVmQ/s1600/IMG_3889.JPG" /></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I made it back to Sloan in one piece, at any rate. I’m going to hit Jas up for some supper, then head for the NCRCF as soon as it gets dark. Oddly enough, I’m nowhere near as worried about it as I was this morning. I suppose, compared to deathclaws, ‘Gangers lose something in terms of intimidation.</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Signing off.</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Courier; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">//Recording Ends//</span></span></div>Doc Webbhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16491101307185569105noreply@blogger.com2