Chapter 9
PRESIDENTIAL ADDRESS ON THE SUBJECT OF UNCOMPENSATED FOOD REQUISITION IN REINTEGRATED US TERRITORY
GIVEN ON ENCLAVE RADIO 7/8/2286
My fellow Americans, it falls to me to once again listen to your troubles. Apparently, the requisition of food supplies by US military forces in areas under temporary military government has caused your farms financial hardship over the past year. You have been made to sell excess produce at what you consider to be an unfair price. You have spoken to local government and military officials and received no answer. There have been numerous cases of small farmers and other agricultural workers point-blank refusing to sell our quartermasters the food that is needed for the US Armed Forces. We are a nation in ruins, and what government has been restored is still at risk at falling into chaos. In such a situation, the behaviour that has been exhibited begins to border on treason.
Imagine, farmers and fishers, a man whose organs argue amongst themselves. The stomach, selfish and short-sighted, refuses to supply sustenance to the rest of the body – and as a result he withers and dies, taking the stomach itself with him. Would you argue that the stomach's actions were wise or good in their ultimate effect? And the United States, too is a body of a sort – made out of countless men, women and children united in a common purpose, bound together by a common citizenship linking them to our Constitution. If you refuse to supply food to soldiers of the United States Armed Forces, the military will not be able to feed itself and America will wither and die just as the man died when the stomach refused to share nutrients with the other parts of the body. And so will you die like the stomach did, when the Raiders and other savages removed from these territories by our hard-fought efforts return and take their toll.
There are worse people in the wasteland than the lawful government. Did the raiders ask politely to buy your food, or did they just take it as they pleased? Did the petty warlords take any care towards the self-government of your towns, city-states, and local communities as we have? What makes us different from the barbarians of all types that continue to afflict the nation is that we bring with us the law, the order on which all civilised life depends, and the eventual restoration of full Constitutional governance. A restoration which the wholesale denial of food to the US military threatens to stop in its tracks.
Should we not expect a little gratitude, a little reward, a little loyalty, for our innumerable efforts helping and defending the American people? You indeed have a point concerning the unreasonably low prices, and from now on we will pay for your food at its market price. but be warned – any civilian who attacks the United States Armed Forces will be prosecuted as a traitor, and any who kills a US soldier will face a summary hanging for murder in the first degree and insurrection.
==*==
Jack Akely entered the mine again, the familiar chill crawling up his spine. The place was creepy as Hell, never mind the weird green pieces of paper these people used as money. Used to be tons of raiders and ferals down in here, but nevermind – even with them gone Dunwich Borers was nightmarish. There were shadows where they shouldn't be, half-heard voices on the edge of his hearing – and worse. One of the miners had gone psycho with a pickaxe screaming about rats in the walls and had killed a bunch of fellow workers before being shot, while another had carved religious symbols all over his body and thrown himself into a deep pool near the bottom of the mine, and yet another had simply gone catatonic, constantly repeating words that human tongues weren't meant to pronounce. Only single digits among the hundreds now working here, but it gave him a bad feeling for sure.
And the US troops didn't care – all the man in charge cared about, Akely was sure, was keeping the mine's productivity up and damn the consequences to the civilians. But it paid well enough, and those green pieces of paper were keeping his wife and children fed through the winter, so working in the mine was all he had. He only hoped it didn't get to him like it had to the others.
==*==
Arcade Gannon looked at Dr. Henry with more than a touch of surprise, sipping some coffee from the Lexington base's bar. He'd known the man was coming, but to actually see him arrive was something else.
“How'd your trip to Philadelphia go?” he asked. The last he'd heard was that the old Devil's Brigade had been invited to a big celebration in Delaware and were staying there until it happened. All but Henry and himself had come along – he'd wanted to see more of – Enclave? American? - territory for himself. Then he'd been sent over, apparently to help set up the NGO.
“It was fine,” Henry said. “We saw all the sites and I talked to some of the troops gathering there.”
“Troops gathering?”
“They're sending an armoured company in mid-December, along with a battalion of engineers. The idea is to clear out the land route to Boston, allow for supplies, reinforcements, and such. Vertibirds can only carry so much food and ammo, there's a constant stream of them just for the basic supplies."
“Anything you saw or heard?”
“Nothing much, just some tanks and artillery pieces. One of the soldiers was very interested in what I did after leaving Navarro though. When I told him about Jacobstown he said I must've been hallucinating the whole time.”
“I'm not surprised. From what I hear, none of the super mutants on the east coast are anything near civilised or even remotely sane. They're all psychotically violent and mentally retarded, so to speak. Quite different physiologically too.”
“Different physiology?”
“You see, they just keep growing. So the longer they avoid death, the more they grow bigger, tougher and stronger. I've even heard of specimens as tall as houses!”
“Amazing. So, onto the NGO?”
“Yes, it's working as planned. I've secured the funding, I have doctors coming in – all we need is a name for the organisation, then we can move to start setting up clinics where the people need it. Diamond City's the biggest settlement here, we can start moving in there and spread out. They only have one clinic for 5,000 people, and it's nothing but a rusty shack, or so the ambassador there says.”
“What about the Eastern Star?”
“Hmm, very clever – the five-pointed star is a symbol of the US, and we're on the East Coast. I say it's good.”
“Exactly,” Henry replied.
That was it decided then.
==*==
Jack Powers grinned savagely as he jumped down from the vertibird, firing his M-500 “Patriot” laser rifle into the raiders below. One or two were hit and died screaming as the energy-bolts struck them, then he hit the ground amidst a squad of them perched on an old fast-food restaurant. The explosive vents in his suit activated instantly after landing, pasting the group and covering his armour with their hot blood.
What a figure of dread he looked! His dark grey armour covered in the blood of his enemies, his eyelights burning red as he fired laser-shots into their midst – he looked like an angel of death. Not bad for a 15-year-old from Philly who'd joined the Service only this summer!
The rest of the battle went quick. After the drop, it took ten minutes for most of the raiders to die, and thirty for the purge team to finish tracking down and doing away with those who retreated or tried to surrender. Then they gathered in the main street of the abandoned theme park – with a view to the ruined fairytale castle that had once been the centrepiece – and prepared to head back to Canaveral.
”Men of the Black Devils,” Lieutenant Walker – the man who allegedly had raided and destroyed an alien mothership during a period when he had, though the details were still highly classified – said. “You did well today. This goodwill gesture, expertly executed, will get the people of Orlando on our side, and on the track to peaceful reintegration. As a reward for exemplary conduct I'm giving all of you who participated in the operation an extra two days of leave for tomorrow and the day after.”
As they flew over the Floridian landscape Powers talked out loud to himself.
“Man, I wish I was in Boston,” he muttered. “It must be far more exciting there than down here. I hear they even have super mutants like they used to have in DC.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” one of the soldiers next to him said. “Ten years ago the 'excitement' in DC cost me my eye. Replacing it cost like hell.”
“I hear there's fighting up in Virginia too, round Roanoke.”
“You wouldn't wanna see it, rookie. Jabsco's men are the most brutal in the Service, and you don't wanna ever get in their way – I hear they used to be mercs we hired to help fight the muties in D.C. Shame the Mayor of the place had to bring them down on him, but what do you expect, putting a United States ambassador in a lock-up like a common criminal? They coulda joined peacefully and kept their leader, but they had to go and do it. VA governor will be sending an aide to put them under military rule for the next five years at least.”
“I suppose. With what I heard they did to the Rattlesnake Gang, I''d be sure as Hell weary of getting on their bad side.”
“Exactly, boy. Still, these new ‘Patriots’ are pieces of shit. R&D eggheads tried to make a gun that could do anything, does everything about half as well as an AER9 ...”
He kept on rambling the rest of the journey back to the Canaveral outpost.
==*==
Nate looked at the power armour sitting in its dock at the Red Rocket station just south of the Old North Bridge. No damage, not even superficial, from the mirelurks. An incredible piece of tech, but he had his misgivings. The Federa; Government seemed to have offered it in good faith, but he had no clue what half the electronics inside did. Could there be a transmitter listening in on him at every moment? A self-destruct that could detonate with him inside if they decided he'd gone rogue?
He'd no clue, to be honest. As he continued trying to work the mechanisms of the alien gun (he'd figured what the problem was, it was a flaw in the circuits he was using. He'd have to get some military-grade stuff to make it work by fusion cells) he focussed on what he was going to do today. Kellogg was out there, waiting at the C.I.T. Ruins. And he was going to die by his hand.
“Piper?” he asked, seeing the brunette reporter out of the corner of his eye.
“Nate, going alone against Kellogg is too dangerous. I was at University Point just after the Institute killed everyone there, and … they're not to be trifled with.”
“What happened to University Point?”
“It was my biggest news story of 2285 - “Institute Synths Slaughter Settlement”, you remember?” she teased.
“I wasn't exactly up to date on the news then."
Piper chuckled at that.
“Anyway,” he said. “Do you want to go with me? I'm just … not sure I can keep you safe with him around.”
“I can handle it,” she said. “Just like we've handled so many things together, as a team.”
“Okay, let's get to work.”
They headed then to Cambridge.
==*==
ENCLAVE RADIO TRANSCRIPT OF ORION MORENO INTERVIEW
GIVEN 12/3/2287
[0:01] Announcer: In related news, Atomicist militants – suspected to be supplied by the illegal “New California Republic” – attacked US troops engaged in New York City, but were beaten back with no loss of life. Now, we have an exclusive interview coming right up live from our studio in Raven Rock – you won't hear this on a privately-owned channel! Americans, tonight we are interviewing Orion Moreno, veteran of the unprovoked NCR attack on Navarro Military Base – itself just nine years after the treasonous, cowardly, and terroristic assassinations of President Richardson and Vice President Daniel Bird by atomic bomb more than forty years ago. Moreno, what can you tell us about the attack on Navarro?
[0:15] Moreno: It was bloody, that's for sure. The NCR threw a lot of troops at the base, and a lot of them died.
[0:20] Announcer: Could you describe the quality of the troops – how they were armed and armoured?
[0:25] Moreno: They were conscripts, a lot still in their teens. No power armour, but they had Brotherhood of Steel support with them. Nasty snipers too. And they had a whole fucking lot of soldiers to throw at us.
[0:33] Announcer: Conscripts – can you imagine that, America? The leaders of “New California” don't even trust their own citizens to voluntarily fight for their secessionist cause, so they send them into battle herded forwards by political officers – just like Communist China two centuries ago! Every man and woman in the United States Armed Forces, by contrast, is a volunteer – he fights because he chooses to! Now, Moreno, just how did we lose Navarro?
[0:45] Moreno: We had no resources, no resupply, no reinforcements. We were, so far as we knew, the last Americans left. But we still gave them quite a good licking 'fore we lost. It took them twenty days to breach the minefield and the fence, and they were climbing over piles of their own dead before they took the airfield.
[1:10] Announcer: And after they took the airfield?
[1:15] Moreno: They took it pretty much intact, planes still on the ground . My immediate superior realised the battle was lost then and we retreated by vertibird, thinking we could regroup and start a guerilla war with other survivors. But there weren't any. Most of them fought to the last and the rest were captured. The last I saw of Navarro was the armoury blowing – whether we or they did it I never knew.
[1:30] Announcer: Can you please comment on the rumours now circulating that female United States citizens were violated en masse by NCR soldiers at Navarro, as well as the claims that infants and children were rounded up and murdered by the secessionists in the aftermath of their victory?
[1:40] Moreno: I can't say those things didn't happen – I didn't see any of the aftermath.
[1:45] Announcer: Only God knows the depths of the atrocities the degenerate secessionists committed. We ourselves may never learn the full measure. So, Moreno, what did you do after the Battle?
[2:00] Moreno: We split up and tried to move into civilian life in our own ways. But I could never let go of of what had happened. I never forgot Navarro and what I thought then was the end of America.
[2:10] Announcer: Truly sobering. Moreno, how did you come back here?
[2:30] Moreno: I joined up with my old squad six years ago and … allied with the NCR in Nevada against a raider “empire” called Caesar's Legion. We licked those savages hard, but the NCR found out our previous role as Enclave soldiers and sent bounty hunters after us. So we fled East from them until we linked up with Enclave forces in Chicago.
[2:45] Announcer: Can these secessionist scum sink any lower? When a former American soldier joins with them to aid them in battle, out of the pure goodness of his heart, they try to arrest him on false charges of war crimes! War crimes allegedly committed more than forty years ago! War crimes which they have not the slightest shred of evidence actually happened! War crimes invented out of whole cloth by their lying, secessionist government to justify vile acts of treason, sedition and terrorism against America and her citizens! I wish I was in Shady Sands right now so I could apply my God-given, Constitutional Second Amendment right on every last “New Californian” traitor I see!-
[Audio cuts off for thirty seconds]
[3:40] Announcer: I'm … in no fit state to continue with the interview. But a last message before I sign off. If any leader in the NCR is listening to this, be warned. America has risen like a phoenix from the ashes, and eventually we will stretch our wings once more from sea to shining sea. We will avenge the five thousand men, women and children you murdered at Control Station Enclave. We will take retribution for the dead and wrongly imprisoned of Navarro. America will be reunified, and the New California Republic will be done away with just like the Confederate States, just like Socialist Germany, and just like Red China. Glenn Coulter, signing off for the night.
[4:10] Announcer (Female): This is Anne Temple, signing on. And now we move onto our archives of patriotic and morally uplifting music, starting with Johnny Horton's The Battle of New Orleans.
[4:15] [Music Begins]
==*==
The sun was sinking in the sky as Nate and Piper entered the C.I.T. ruins. Kellogg stood on the steps, right before them, smirking.
“Heh,” he said. “I gave you fifty-fifty odds of making it to Diamond City. Figured the Commonwealth would eat you up like beef jerky after that. So, what do you want with me? Wouldn't have travelled all that way, so heavily armed and armoured, with your little dog and Ms. Publick Occurrences too, if you weren't planning to kill me. I don’t know why the old man wanted me to camp out here. Guess he wants a confrontation between us for some reason of his own. Maybe he’ll look to replace me with you if he wins.”
“You killed my wife,” Nate spat.
“Didn’t take you long to replace her. And what’s a wife anyway, but a hooker too lazy to go on the prowl? I learned those lessons long ago, pre-War boy scout.”
Anger and sorrow warred in Nate’s mind. He knew the bastard must be trying to rattle him, but still the words stung. He breathed deep, kept himself as cool as he could, and spoke the one question he most desperately wanted answered.
“Where. Is. My. Son!?”
“I'll tell you, Mr. Frozen TV Dinner, since you earned the right to a straight answer. Shaun's in a place where he's loved, respected and taken well care of. The Institute.”
Each taunting word was like a knife to his heart.
“Tell me how to get there, please!”
“You don't find the Institute. The Institute finds you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Doesn't matter. Only one of us is leaving this place, and it isn't you or any of your friends.”
He drew his pistol and fired. The shot grazed Nate's arm, hitting the grass behind him. Blood poured from the wound onto the grass, before he steadied the American plasma pistol, aimed, and fired.
Kellogg lived. His clothing was burnt away where his heart should be – his skin was too. Below that was only a mass of metal, plastic and and wires. Subdermal armour covered an artificial heart and lungs, encased in a ribcage reinforced by titanium alloy. The mercenary was far, far more machine than man. Dogmeat ran over, tried to rip off Kellogg's throat – and the brutal man simply threw the faithful hound off him, followed by a kick for good measure. The dog could only whimper and wheeze on the ground.
Damn. Nate and Piper tried to fire off more shots, but Kellogg simply walked forward, unheeding. The bullets bounced off him like rain, and while the plasma burnt his flesh, what damage it did was simply superficial. He was heading right for them, like he wanted to show off his invincibility.
He was – oh God, he was heading for Piper first. She tried to back away, but he moved faster and then-
Nate threw himself in front of the reporter, trying to shield her, but Kellogg simply backhanded him and knocked him away, blood pouring from his nose. Oh dear God, now he was lifting Piper by the neck, choking her, preparing to twist-
She kneed him in the groin, and Kellogg gave an animal screech of pain, distracted. That part of his anatomy at least had not been replaced with tech. There was just enough time for Nate to fire the plasma pistol, straight at his back, dialling it above all safe limits. The bolt of plasma burnt through his clothes, his skin and the subdermal armour, right at the small of his back. His metal spine melted, underwent molecular destabilisation, failed on him. Kellogg buckled – his legs paralysed – lost his grip on Piper, then screamed in rage and frustration, dropping his gun as he tried to crawl forwards on his hands.
Nate dropped his own weapon himself as the pistol overheated, burning pain stabbing his right hand through his gloves, sparking and smoking as it hit the ground. Piper rose, her hand on Kellogg's own pistol, and shot him right in the eye. The very skeletal reinforcement the Institute had given to Kellogg long ago turned against him, as the bullet ricocheted off and bounced around inside his brain, turning most of it to mush. The grey matter poured out through his ruined eye, until something lodged in the hole.
Piper pulled it out – Nate identified it, from his limited knowledge, as the man's hippocampus. There seemed to be some kind of hard drive attached to it – whatever the Institute meant to keep for itself by doing this, Nate swore he'd find out.
“Well, that's one obituary to put in the newspaper,” Nate joked, though he didn't really feel like it. Piper was still too shocked to laugh.
And then there was Dogmeat (at least as Mama Murphy called him, Nate called him ‘Ace’ after his old golden retriever). The brave hound had a broken leg, and Nate prepared to give him the only mercy he could – until he remembered something. Back before the War the police had used some kind of cyborg dog. Maybe they still knew how to make them – maybe they could save his new dog, preserve him like that.
That was it decided then – he was heading to Lexington with the dog and the piece of Kellogg's brain.