New Vegas: Sheason's Story

Good morning, listeners. It looks like it's going to be a beautiful Monday out there in the Mojave wasteland, folks. The sandstorms from the Divide have finally died down, and the temperatures are hovering around the low 70's, so it looks like we'll be seeing nothing but blue skies for the next few days. And what better way to kick it off than with "Blue Skies," sung by the great Bing Crosby himself - coming up next, only on Radio New Vegas. This is your host, Mr. New Vegas, saying: I'm just no good without you.

"Hey, uh... V?" I pulled Veronica aside, close to my car. "You got a minute?" I hoped that we'd be given a moment to talk in private. Cass was sitting by a campfire near the manhole cover with a big jug and a fusion battery making more of her moonshine; Raul was carrying the myriad of tools he'd brought back to his motorcycle. I wasn't really sure where Boone and ED-E were. According to Cass, they were on patrol, keeping watch over the perimeter.

"What's up?" She asked. I looked around again, to make sure we wouldn't be disturbed, and let out a heavy sigh; it had been a rough couple of days, and all I really wanted to do was sleep, but... there was still work to be done.

"I'm sure you're... probably wondering what I've been doing the last few days, right?" Veronica looked sheepish for a minute, and nodded.

"Well, yeah. I didn't want to say anything, but... I mean, the two of us first got here round about noon on Saturday, and it's Monday morning now."

"That's... a bit of a gap, I admit," I said, trying to work out the time in my head. It hadn't felt like I'd been gone that long... had it? "I'm sure you have plenty of questions about where I was, and... I'll tell you right now, I didn't spend two days just sitting in that bunker."

"Judging by the state of you, that much was obvious," She said with a half-hearted chuckle, her eyes falling onto the two rifles slung across my back. "So... where did you go?"

"Mexico," I said simply. I had so many things I wanted to tell her - about the Sierra Madre, about Elijah, about Christine, and everything that would have been relevant to her... Let's start small, and see where it goes from there.

"Mexico?" She deadpanned. She looked at me like I'd lost my mind - which, let's be honest, didn't feel all that far fetched. I just nodded, and she continued. "What were you doing in Mexico of all places? How did you even get down there?"

"That... is going to take some explaining. Hell, I'm not sure I believe it myself. The whole thing felt a bit too... it was like something out of science fiction..." I said, trailing off. I shook it off, and continued, ignoring Veronica's odd look. "The important thing isn't how I got there, or anything like that, it's..." I hesitated, debating on what I should say next.

"What?" Veronica looked up at me, confusion etched over every one of her features. I sighed again.

"I found Elijah."

"You did?!" Veronica's eyes widened to the size of saucers, and I could tell she was having trouble keeping her voice down; off in the distance, I saw Cass look up from her moonshine, wondering what all the fuss was about. "Where? You mean he was... Oh my God, I mean... I thought... I don't even know what I thought might have happened to him. But..." She finally stopped babbling long enough to realize... "You don't have a 'this is good news' expression on your face." I slowly nodded, wondering how I was going to phrase this.

"Yeah, he... uh..." I cleared my throat, trying to buy myself some time. "He's dead." Veronica's expression fell instantly; fuck me, it felt like I'd just kicked a puppy! She closed her eyes, and started slowly nodding.

"It... it doesn't matter. He died when the Brotherhood retreated to Hidden Valley. I didn't expect to see him again. No one did." She opened her eyes and looked up at me with an expression of almost infinite sadness - and with a question. "Did he say anything when you met him? Anything... anything at all?"

Oh, he said a whole hell of a lot, I thought to myself. Did you know your mentor was a genocidal madman who wanted to wipe out all life in the wasteland so he could rule over a dead world in silence? Oh, and I met your old girlfriend, Christine, but she didn't come with me because she's sworn an oath to protect the technology of the Old World, so she's going to live out the rest of her days in a poisonous hell where everything is trying to kill her just so she can protect the technology inside from anyone who might abuse it. Just thought you should know.

"He..." I shook away the thoughts in my head. There's no way I could tell her. Not that. Not now... maybe... someday, I might be able to tell her - but only if I could make good on the promise I made to Christine one day. But telling Veronica I'd found Christine, only to turn around and tell her she'd likely never see her one-time lover again? That would just... it'd be too painful for her to bear. I couldn't do that to her. I just... I just couldn't.

Now I knew how Cass felt.

"I found this." I reached into one of the satchels on my side, and pulled out the holotape. "It was labeled for you." I handed her the holotape.

"Where did you get this?" She asked. I was about to answer when she shook her head and continued. "Guess I was right about the bad news, huh? Same look Elder McNamara always gave me when I was up for promotion..."

"I don't know what's inside. I didn't look," I said. "I didn't want to pry. All I know is... it's a message for you, from Elijah. The news is up to you."

"Thanks," Veronica said, nodding and clutching the holotape tightly against her chest. "I'll watch it. Thanks."

"So, what have you guys been doing the last few days?" I asked, sitting near the fire, across from Cass and Raul. Veronica was sitting on my car still staring at the holodisk in her hands, and both Boone and ED-E still weren't back yet. The three of us passed around the moonshine - and the booze I'd snatched from Vera's room. Meanwhile, Raul was cooking about half a dozen meat kebabs over the fire.

"Shouldn't we be asking you that?" Cass said with a smirk. I shrugged.

"Not much to tell. Went to Mexico; found a casino of the Old World surrounded by a blood-red Cloud; almost died more times than I can count; took a dip in a vat of toxic waste, and grabbed a whole load of booze." I took a drink of whiskey to illustrate my point.

"See, boss?" Raul spoke up, setting down his bottle of tequila, and turning over several of the meat kebabs. "I told you the Sierra Madre was bad news. Maybe next time I warn you, you'll listen."

"Yeah," I nodded. "You were right Raul. I should've left well enough alone. But hey, it wasn't a total loss." I reached into my satchel and pulled out something that made the two of them stare at me in slack-jawed amazement.

"Madre de dios, boss... Is that..." Raul was at a loss for words. Cass tipped her hat back and let out a long low whistle.

"Hot damn, Shea... that's... s'that what I think it is?"

"Yep," I said, holding it up so it would catch the light of the morning sun better. "What that is, is a gold bar stamped with the seal of the Sierra Madre. I would've grabbed more, but I was... kind of in a hurry. Any more would have slowed me down."

"Hell, boss," Raul started laughing. "If that's what you're gonna bring back every time you ignore my advice, feel free to ignore it as much as you want."

"Okay," I put the gold bar away, and grabbed the bottle of whiskey again. "So, I've told you what I've been up to. What have you guys been doing?"

"Not much to tell, really," Cass said with a shrug. "When V came to fetch us, we all came down here, an' have been tryin' t'get into that damn bunker. Only real hiccup was when Raul left t'go get his tools."

"Don't forget the Legion attack yesterday," Raul said, taking a hit of tequila.

"Oh, right."

"Legion attack?" I asked, leaning forward. Cass nodded.

"Oh yeah. We're really close t'Nelson, remember, an' I guess one've their scouts must've seen yer car. A couple've Legionaries came in, guns blazin'. Took all've us workin' t'gether to take'm all down." I looked over to my car while she was talking, counting...

"Well, that explains the new bullet holes, at least," Part of me wanted to get angry, but I couldn't really blame them for Legion. At least they were able to use it as cover.

"Don't worry, don't think anybody hit anythin' too vital," Cass said with a smirk.

"How many of them were there?" I asked.

"Bout four, I think," Cass took another drink of moonshine and passed the bottle my way. Raul shook his head.

"No, it was five. Remember the big guy with the super sledge?" He took one of the kebabs off the fire, examined it, and offered it to Cass.

"Oh yeah, forgot about him," She said, grabbing the kebab stick and taking a bite.

"Sounds like Vulpes isn't going to let up anytime soon..." Two groups of Legion assassins after my head in the span of a week... this is going to get messy before it's over, no doubt about that. "So, I'm guessing that's where Boone and ED-E are? Out hunting for more Legionaries?" I asked. Raul nodded, offering me one of the kebabs he'd been cooking; it looked like he was about to say something else, but he was interrupted by the sound of tinny, patriotic marching music blaring through the air and getting closer by the second.

"Well, speak of the devil," I smiled, standing up in time to see ED-E zoom through the air over the nearby ridge and practically slam himself into my chest. He let off a trio of happy sounding beeps, and started... was he trying to nuzzle himself into my chest? Did he think he was a dog or something? I patted his chassis, and just chuckled to myself. "Yeah, I missed you too buddy."

"I've finished checking the perimeter. Don't see any crimson." I heard Boone's voice before I saw him; he appeared over the ridge, wearing the Desert Ranger armor without the helmet, and holding that desert camo patterned sniper rifle. He paused when he reached the top, looked directly at me, and slid down the ridge. "I see you're back." He said with a nod; his gaze fell almost immediately to my shoulder. "Have you been stabbed?"

"Uh..." I let go of ED-E, and scratched the back of my head. "A couple of times, I think. In the shoulder, definitely."

"What?!" Cass dropped her meat kebab and stood up, looking genuinely worried. "You serious? Somebody stabbed you?"

"Somethings, maybe," I shrugged. Cass just looked confused. "Look, I'll tell you all about the Ghost People on the way back. Since everyone seems to be here, I say we get out of here and go back to the 38, because I am tired as fuck after the last few days."

"Whatever you say, boss," Raul smiled at me from his seat, taking a bite from his last meat kebab... or was it the one Cass had dropped? I couldn't tell. After that, it only took a few minutes for all of us to gather up everything and get rid of any traces that camp had been made. ED-E was hovering around, beeping happily as Cass, Boone, Veronica and I all piled into my car, and Raul got on his motorcycle.

I was really looking forward to leaving... and then my car wouldn't start. I turned the key and pumped the accelerator. I could tell from the whining that the startup motor was trying to start the engine, but all I got for my efforts was a massive grinding noise of metal on metal that was most certainly not the engine starting. I half sighed, half growled, and turned to look at Cass in the passenger seat.

"Nothing vital, huh?"

"So... you two have been poking under the hood for a while," I said to Raul and Veronica; both of them were leaning over the engine. "Any idea why my car isn't starting?" Normally, I'd check under the hood myself, but since Veronica and Raul were here, and the two of them combined were much better at this sort of thing than I am...

"Well, I think we should start with the good news first," Veronica said, wiping the grease off her hands. "The problems with the engine have nothing to do with the firefight from the other day."

"Hah!" I heard Cass speak up. "I told'ja nobody hit nothin' vital!"

"So what's the bad news?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

"The bad news, boss," Raul pulled himself away from the engine; unlike Veronica, I couldn't tell if he was covered in grease or not. "Is that this car was gonna break sooner or later."

"What's wrong with it?" I asked, walking toward my car and standing between Veronica and Raul to get a look at my engine. One look, and I felt the color run out of my face - there were brown splotches of some kind of fluid splattered on the underside of the hood, and several parts of the engine looked like they'd been forcibly dislodged. It looked like my engine had suffered an awful case of diarrhea. Raul sighed, and started listing off everything wrong with my car.

"Well, for one thing, the seals around the cylinder head gaskets have been practically eaten away, so there's no compression around the microfusion cells in the combustion chambers. I mean, on the one hand, we're sort of lucky the car didn't start - if it did, it would be leaking nuclear waste, and even a lead-lined engine bay wouldn't save you smoothskins from the rads for long. Er, no offense, boss."

"None taken," I said, simple as I could. "Please tell me that's all that's wrong with my car?" Raul shook his head.

"Wish I could, boss. Several of the spark plugs look like the terminals have been melted off. The crankshaft is held together by a thread; what I could find of the fan belt looks like it was held together with duct tape which finally gave out. The flywheel bearing looks like it's been knocked out of alignment by something sharp and heavy - and covered in something I couldn't readily identify. And finally, there's the gearbox."

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but what about the gearbox?" The longer and longer he went on with this laundry list of calamities, the paler and paler I'm sure I got.

"Well, when I took a look under the car... Boss, I gotta ask - did you run over a mine or some kind of explosive recently?"

"Uh..." Immediately, my mind flashed back to when I first got to the Mojave. Hazy memories of Benny and the Great Khans that were working with him ambushing me, my car veering wildly off course and crashing into a ditch after hitting a mine. "Yeah? On the... uh, the 10th or 11th of last month. I think. It was when I got shot in the head, so I'm a little fuzzy on that point." Raul just started nodding slowly.

"Yeah, that would explain it, boss. The underside of your car looks like it's been shredded. The casing around the gearbox was probably weakened by the explosion, and only just recently gave out. Frankly, boss? I'm surprised it held out as long as it did."

"Can ya fix it?" Cass was the one to speak up this time; I was too stunned for words. Veronica shrugged.

"Sort of? I'm sure I can jury-rig up some fixes for some of the pieces like the cylinder head gaskets if I had some scrap metal, but... uh..." Veronica grimaced. This wasn't looking promising.

"The gearbox and the sparkplugs are gonna be a problem, boss." Raul said, closing the hood on my car with a slam. "Veronica and I are good, and between the two of us we can get this thing in working order - but only if we can get our hands on some scrap metal, a spare gearbox, and some spark plugs. Until then, this is just a two-ton paperweight."

"Great..." I muttered, rubbing my forehead. This day just wasn't going to end, was it? "Where the fuck are we going to find replacement parts all the way out here?"

"Camp Forlorn Hope," Boone spoke up suddenly. Every single one of us - even ED-E - turned to look at him after this unexpected utterance. He just looked back at us with a raised eyebrow behind his sunglasses. "What?"

"The NCR base just north of here?" I asked, walking toward Boone. He nodded. "What makes you think they're going to have spare parts there?"

"It's an NCR Forward Operating Base." Boone stated simply. "If it was just a Ranger outpost, or a 1st Recon encampment, we'd be out of luck, but a FOB is bound to have a motor pool. A motor pool will have spare parts. We just have to barter for them."

"And if we can't barter for them?" I asked. Boone shrugged his shoulders - barely, but just enough to be noticeable.

"Then I guess we're walking back to the Lucky 38."

"You know, this is the second time you've done this," I said to Boone. He was taking point, and ED-E was flying high above us, keeping watch. Boone looked at me over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" Second what?" he asked.

"Last time we needed to get some replacement parts, you knew where we could find some. Remember when we helped the ghouls at Repconn?"

"Oh. Right," Boone nodded slowly and kept walking. I followed him, looking around; it was important to be on the lookout for more Legion, especially this close to Nelson, but... I dunno. It felt like we were being watched. Maybe I was just still used to the claustrophobic twists and turns of the Madre, and all these wide open spaces with clear sky overhead was just making me feel terribly exposed...

"How much farther to the NCR camp?" I asked, trying to get my mind back on track.

"Not much longer now. Should be just past the next ridge."

When we cleared the top of the next ridge, I realized that asking may have been a bit silly. I mean, it's not like we could have missed it. The base was sitting on top of a small cliff, and the entire perimeter of the base was surrounded by fences - either chain-link fences, or hastily constructed concrete barriers - and topped with razor wire. At every corner, I saw a guard tower with an NCR trooper keeping watch. I couldn't see much of the base beyond the fences, but what I could see looked like row upon row of tents.

There was only one breach in the fence: some kind of gatehouse, with some waist-high concrete Jersey barriers that looked like they'd been stolen from Highway 93, reinforced with sandbags piled on top of sandbags. The whole thing looked incredibly imposing.

"There - the ECP." Boone said, quickening his pace. "We can get in through there."

"EC what now?" I asked, speeding up to march beside him.

"Entry Control Point. It's that gatehouse up ahead."

"You know," I said with a sigh. "I know you don't believe me, but I don't actually know any of this military jargon. I'm not ex-military, and I never was." The two of us started walking up a narrow, winding path cut into the side of the small cliff.

"Hmph," Boone grumbled. "Hopefully the guard won't ask too many questions."

"What do you mean, 'too many questions'?" I asked just as the two of us came to the top of the ramp, right outside the gatepost. As if in response, I heard the unmistakable click of someone pulling back on an assault rifle's charging handle - and saw the guard level his rifle at the two us.

"Alright, halt! That's close enough!" He shouted; the two of us stopped, and I glanced upward. ED-E was still hovering far above us, and hopefully he wouldn't come down guns blazing. I was half tempted to put my hands up, when the guard spoke up again. "Show me your arms!"

"Eh?" I said aloud, turning to Boone. He grabbed the collar of his duster, and pulled it down around his left arm.

"He's looking for the Mark of the Legion," Boone said. Oh! Right. Very quickly, I followed suit, baring my left shoulder like Boone. The soldier at the gatehouse nodded, and lowered his rifle.

"That's good enough, you can approach," He said. When the two of us got closer, he started chuckling to himself. "Sorry about that, sirs. We've been getting a lot of Legion infiltrators lately. I was wondering when one of you was going to show up. Didn't expect two." Before I got a chance to question, the guard continued, straightening up and putting on his best official voice. "I've been ordered to inform you that Technical Sergeant Reyes in the command tent would like to see you."

"What do you mean? Who's Tech Sergeant Reyes?" I asked, but Boone very surreptitiously batted me in the side; I looked over to him, and he shook his head very subtly. The guard sighed.

"Look, sirs, I know you Rangers operate outside the normal command structure - especially vets like you who've earned the Black Armor - so I can't actually give you any orders. All I know is Reyes asked everyone on guard duty to be on the lookout for any Rangers coming back from patrol, and direct them her way. She has some kind of problem that requires a Ranger's particular skill set. That's all I know, sir."

"Good work, soldier," Boone said, moving in front of me. I think he was trying to keep me from saying anything. "We'll be sure to check in with her after reporting to the base CO. Carry on." Boone walked past the guard and into the base. I didn't know what to say... so I didn't say anything, and just followed him as quick as I could. As soon as we were out of earshot, though...

"So, he thought we were Rangers?" I asked. Boone nodded. "Why?"

"The armor," he said. I looked down - and realized I was wearing that Riot Gear that I'd picked up from the Gun Runners. And since Boone was wearing his Desert Ranger armor... "It's pretty similar to the Black Armor veteran Rangers wear." And then the bottlecap dropped.

"That's why you insisted on only the two of us, isn't it?" Boone nodded - and I thought I caught a glimmer of a smirk start to appear around the corners of his mouth. "So, what about the beret then? I thought it was pretty obvious what the red beret was indicative of." Boone just shrugged.

"1st Recon troops are allowed to wear the beret, even if they transfer into a different unit. 1st Recon transferring to the Ranger wing after serving a tour is actually pretty common."

'Really?" I asked. Boone nodded.

"It's what I was going to do. Before... uh..." Boone coughed, clearing his throat, and tried to play it off like it was nothing. "So, are we going to see the Tech Sergeant?"

"Might as well," I said with a shrug. "If it wasn't for her, whoever she is, we probably wouldn't have gotten on the base. Besides, she might be able to help us with our spare parts problem."

It didn't take long to find Technical Sergeant Reyes. When we asked around, people gave us the same response: look for the girl with red hair in the command tent - followed by: "You can't miss her. Trust me."

"I think that's her," Boone said after the two of us entered the big tent in the center of camp. I looked over his shoulder - and immediately did a double take.

"Damn, they weren't kidding about not being able to miss her, were they?" It was amazing - Boone almost laughed!

Sitting off in one of the corners of the tent, surrounded by electronics and computer terminals and reams upon reams of paper, was a female NCR soldier with absolutely strikingly red hair. And I don't mean orange - I mean red. Her hair was almost the same color as Boone's beret, and cropped into a short bob cut. Aside from that, though, she looked just like every other NCR trooper I've ever seen, with the heavy looking brown fatigues that completely disguised any kind of distinguishing features, and made both the men and women look practically alike.

"Sergeant Reyes?" I said as the two of us got close. She started at the noise, pulled the pen out of her mouth and put it behind her ear, turning in her chair to face us.

"Ah! I was wondering when I -" She stopped mid-sentence, going back and forth staring between the two of us. "You're not Rangers."

Well, that didn't last long.

"What do you-" is all I managed to get out, before Reyes stopped me.

"I've been working with enough Rangers over the last four weeks to know that's not Black Armor. Who are you?" Boone and I looked at each other, and he just shrugged,

"Well, I'm Sheason Fisher, and this is Boone. And, uh... well, we heard you might be having some problems. As it happens, we need some help as well, so maybe we can help each other."

"Well..." She regarded the two of us carefully for a few moments, her gaze lingering on Boone's 1st Recon beret. "I do have work that needs doing - none of it officially sanctioned - and not a single one of the troopers in camp have the time or inclination to help me out..."

"What do you do here?" Boone asked, grabbing a nearby chair and sitting opposite her. I looked around and found a chair of my own.

"I handle communications for Camp Forlorn Hope, compiling reports I've received from the Rangers at Camp Golf as well as the brass at McCarran. Unofficially, I'm also in charge of radio security. No one else here seems to take it as seriously as I do - they just think I'm an incompetent desk jockey trying to glamorize the importance of my job."

"So what do you need help with?" I asked. She held up a finger, and grabbed a few papers from one of the stacks on her desk.

"The last few weeks, I've been getting help from patrolling Rangers going to all the Ranger outposts along the Colorado River, upgrading their radios with new security code protocols. But now they've all got the new security codes, I've started receiving several reports, that just... they don't make sense. Heavy casualties at Alpha, one of the rear-guard stations, Super Mutant Legionaries at Delta..."

"Wait, Super Mutants?" I asked, turning to Boone; he looked just as confused as me. "I didn't think the Legion used Super Mutants."

"That's what I thought," Reyes nodded. "But that's not the strangest one. The report that makes no sense to me at all is the report of Great Khans and trained Deathclaws at Foxtrot."

"What." Boone and I spoke in unison.

"That's what I said. Trained Deathclaws seems a bit... I dunno, it seems way too far-fetched. I've gone over these reports more times than I can count, and... they just can't be accurate. I need someone to do me a solid, and confirm these reports with the Rangers who sent them in."

"That's why you had the guards on the lookout for patrolling Rangers then, is it?" I asked. She nodded.

"Rangers have a lot more autonomy than normal troopers. They don't need to get field clearance to leave the camp like I do, and they can run unsanctioned missions like this one without orders. And besides, I thought a Ranger might have better luck talking to other Rangers. It's been working so far."

"What about someone from 1st Recon?" Boone asked. Reyes looked up at Boone's beret and shrugged.

"It's possible... But what about you two? You said you had a problem of your own?"

"Car trouble," I said simply. "My car broke down about a mile and half away, and I need some spare parts to fix it. New gearbox, some spark plugs... Boone said this place has a motor pool?" Reyes looked slightly confused.

"Well, yeah. It does, but..."

"I want to ask a question," I said before she got any further. "If you got a Ranger to do this job for you, how long do you think it would take before you got any kind of results or feedback?"

"Four or five days maybe?" Reyes shrugged. "That is, if they make a bee-line for all the camps and head straight back. Might take more."

"You help me get the parts I need," I said with a smile. "And I can get this done for you in an afternoon." Her eyes widened, and she looked genuinely surprised.

"Seriously? You'd do that?" She asked. I nodded.

"Hey, people do call me The Courier - delivering messages back and forth is the kind of job I'm built for." When I said 'The Courier,' recognition flashed in her eyes.

"Hang on, you're that guy from the radio, aren't you?" I nodded. "Well... alright. Hell, you might actually be able to help me after all."

"Are we really going to help her?" Boone asked. The two of us were walking away from the base, carrying several sacks worth of spare parts back to my car. ED-E had finally dropped out of the sky, and was now hovering just a few feet above our heads, beeping a tuneless melody. I nodded with a shrug.

"Might as well. I mean, if I'm honest, I don't really want to do anything after the bullshit I've been through the last couple of days, but... this is a milk run. I could do this kind of job with my eyes closed." Boone grumbled something barely audible, before he spoke up again.

"You know, I'm always willing to help out NCR. They need all the help they can get, especially now. But..." Boone shook his head. "Sheason, you need to get some sleep."

"It's that bad, huh?" I asked. Boone nodded.

"You're making me feel tired."

"Wow." I said, chuckling to myself. "Yeah, that's bad. But like I said - I could practically do this in my sleep. I used to do this kind of thing all the time before coming to the Mojave, so I should have no trouble with this. I'll get this done in a couple hours, then I can sleep as long as I want."

"Hmph," Boone grunted, hiking the bag of car parts further up his shoulder. "Well, you're wrong about one thing."

"Am I?" I asked. "About what?"

"We'll get this done in couple hours." Boone smirked. "Fair?" I chuckled to myself and nodded.

"Thanks man. I'm glad you've got my back."

"Anytime."