New Vegas: Sheason's Story - Chapter 163: Mended Steel

The fucking Sierra Madre: about as close to Hell as you can get on Earth without passing through The Divide first. And now that I’ve returned, breathing in the poison that stung my skin and was burning my lungs from the inside out, it’s probably time to pro/con my decision not to wear my helmet with the built in gas mask and air filter.

Pro: without a face-obscuring gas mask, Christine was more likely to recognize me, and less likely to shoot me on sight. That was kind of important, because she was the whole reason I was even back in this pisshole.

Con: I hadn’t even been here five minutes, and it already felt like hot coals were dropping down my windpipe. Okay, yes, that is obviously an exaggeration, because I’m standing in a concentrated pocket of Cloud, watching as my skin melts off. But this air is disgusting and thoroughly unpleasant, and I’m seriously hankering for something between myself and it.

Then again, it’s possible a gas mask won’t do shit, anyway. Elijah said as much the last time I was here, and all the Ghost People were wearing chemical suits, which didn’t seem to help any of them.

“Yeah, didn’t do you much good, did it?” I said aloud to the Ghost Person I was holding at arms length. It stared at me with those glowing green eyes, growling and clicking through the gas mask. I couldn’t really say for sure (as it had no face), but it seemed almost perplexed. Then again, it had probably expected the bear trap fist to cut through my arm, and not come to a dead stop around the metal limb.

“That’s what I thought,” I was holding the beast up by its neck, and it struggled to grab me with the twitching fingers of its free hand… but I was just out of reach. “This probably won’t help, either.” I shoved the barrel of the Jury Rigger under its chin and pulled the trigger. With a clunk and a flash of blue holographic cubes, the Ghost Person was immediately relieved of its head.

All it took was a casual toss, and the headless, lifeless body sailed through the air like a ragdoll, smashing into a second floor window of a nearby building. For as hard as these guys could hit, they were surprisingly light. Then again, the lack of any perceived weight could possibly be explained away by my cybernetic arm.

Alright, time to go to work. Put simply, I have absolutely no idea where Christine actually is in this poisonous hellhole. But I can make an educated guess: the casino. Elijah used it as his base of operations for who knows how long, and she probably appropriated it after I left. The place was practically a fortress, and it was unquestionably the best place to survive while keeping the secrets inside safe from the outside world.

Of course, the other problem: the casino was quite large. Enormous, even. I could probably spend days wandering around the interior, searching fruitlessly for her. And I didn’t want to spend days in this fucking loony bin. I’d had enough the first time around, thank you. I wanted to find Christine, grab her, get her out, and explode the fuck out of this place before dinner. The best way to do this would be to draw her out in the open, and get her to come to me.

To that end, the best plan here was to cause a little chaos. A few well placed massive explosions and a pile of Ghost People corpses was sure to get her attention. Knowing Christine (and how justifiably paranoid she was), she was probably already monitoring the villa through the extensive network of security cameras to keep a lookout for any wayward wastelanders and/or opportunistic scavengers.

“What do you guys think? Good plan?” I asked aloud. There was no response, as I was currently surrounded by piles of Ghost People corpses. I smacked my forehead. “Oh, right! You can’t answer because you’re all dead, and killed by me! Hah! What a scatter-brain I am.” I chuckled to myself, pulling out a pair of plasma grenades. “Guess it’s too late to stop now. Let’s keep going!” Very casually, I tossed the primed grenades to either side of me and walked away calmly. The two buildings exploded behind me, their façades consumed utterly by green plasma fire.

I paused, wondering if perhaps Christopher was rubbing off on me.

“Heh…” I said aloud, coming to the end of the staircase connecting the villa to the casino. “Well, that makes sense.”

A large section of the staircase had been completely destroyed: exploded with shaped demolition charges, if I had to guess. There was a good fifteen or twenty foot gap between where the stairs abruptly ended and where the cliff face began, beyond which was the casino. Unless the Ghost People were particularly adept at climbing sheer vertical surfaces, they probably couldn’t get across that gap. They certainly couldn’t jump it. And they definitely couldn’t get across the fortified wall made of jagged metal and razor wire ringing the edge.

PKCHOONT!

When I landed on the other side of the barricade, I cast one last look down at the villa. The Red Cloud was far too thick for me to make out too many details. But I could definitely see some of the fires still burning through the haze, and the thick, black smoke was mixing with the redness quite nicely.

I calmly walked over to the front door. The gigantic, gaping hole that I remembered was… technically still there. It had been repaired with several thick sheets of scrap metal bolted and welded securely over the hole, but it was still a hole. And there was just enough space around the edges for me to work my cybernetic fingers into the gap and grab hold. The metal wrenched and twisted with a shriek, and I tossed the metal blockade aside, stepping into the lobby…

PTANG!

“That’s far enough, scavver…” a rough female voice echoed through the darkness, and I stopped, right in front of the bullet hole in the floor. “The next one goes through your skull.” The voice was familiar, certainly, but it sounded like the tone you get from not saying anything aloud in weeks.

“Guess I should’ve knocked,” I said, holding up my hands and looking up with a smile. A figure was standing on the balcony, wrapped in a brown cloak and a gas mask, with a rifle trained on my head. “Hello, Christine.”

“Y… wh…” she lowered the rifle, and seemed a bit tongue tied, as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. I could hardly blame her for that now, could I?

“Hello, Sheason!” I said, continuing a mock conversation with myself. “How are you doing?’ ‘I’m doing fine, thanks for asking. How are you?’ ‘I’m doing brilliantly, as I’m still alive.’ ‘Are you? That’s fantastic!”

“What are you doing here?” Christine asked, finally finding her voice. She cautiously made her way to the stairs, and I lowered my arms.

“Let me explain,” I said, before pausing to think. “Actually, no, there’s way too much. Let me sum up: I’m here to get you out,” I said simply. She halted in her tracks, halfway down the stairs, before continuing. The closer she came, the more details of her outfit I started to recognize. Underneath the brown burlap cape and hood, I could see her assassin suit. It was a little worse for wear, but still in one piece. And the gas mask looked like it had been cobbled together from… pieces of Ghost People, I think.

“Get… me…” she continued walking down the stairs, but seemed confused. She pulled back her hood, and… Okay, yeah, that was definitely made from Ghost People. Thankfully, she reached up and pulled it off, tucking it under the arm holding her rifle. She looked remarkably unchanged from when I’d left her behind. There was a little more fuzz on her head, and she had heavier bags under her eyes, but… whatever had happened, she was still Christine. At least the scars around her mouth had started to heal up. “What do you mean, get me out?”

“C’mon, Christine,” I held out my arms with open palms on either side of me. “You know me. When I make a promise…”

She stared at me for a few seconds, her mouth agape and her eyes darting back and forth. The grinding of her mental gears was practically audible.

“… you… keep it.” The edges of her mouth almost twitched into a smile. I reached out, grasping her by the shoulder firmly. I honestly couldn’t tell if she noticed my arm was metal.

“Yes, I do,” I said with a nod, and then I snapped my fingers, as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh, by the way… I’ve got a present for you.” With a single motion, I grabbed the leather strap around my shoulder and pulled the suppressed sniper rifle off my back, presenting it to her. “I think you left this in the Big Empty.”

“Left…” She looked at the rifle, momentarily confused, and then her eyes went wide. The rifle in her hands and the gas mask under her arm clattered to the floor, and with a pair of trembling hands, she gingerly took hold of her rifle, turning it over and over again, inspecting it. She paid especially close attention to a spot right above the trigger assembly. “…30112ba… oh my G… the serial number…” She looked up at me in disbelief. “It matches! This is my rifle! How did you even get this?!”

“I told you. You left it in the Big Empty,” I folded my arms across my chest and gave her another subtle nod. “I just picked it up while I was there.”

“But… that means… you…” she muttered.

“Yeah,” I nodded at her with a shrug and a chuckle. “Look, there’s… a lot I’m gonna have to bring you up to speed on. And I know I’m springing this on you, but there was no way to get in touch with you before I arrived. If there’s anything you want to take with you on your trip back to The World, I suggest you grab it now. It won’t be here in about fifteen minutes.” She looked at me curiously, back down at her rifle, and then back up at me.

“I still… don’t… I told you when I sent you back: I can’t leave. Not while the Sierra Madre is –”

“And I told you,” I grabbed her by the shoulder, looking her straight in the eyes. “I’d come back for youwhen I found a way to wipe the Madre off the map. I have. Now, seriously: is there anything you want to grab before we go?”

She looked over her shoulder, back at the Madre’s lobby, and clutched her sniper rifle tightly to her chest. After a few seconds, she shook her head slowly and turned to face me again.

“I’m… carrying everything I own,” she rasped out. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and gently urged her to follow me as I led us out the door.

“Good, then you’re packed already! Now c’mon, we’ve gotta go.” At first, she seemed a bit too dazed to resist, but by the time we got about halfway to the cliffs edge, she pulled away from me.

“Hang on! Wait, just… just hang on a second.” She kept hold of her sniper rifle, and appraised me through narrow eyes. “What do you mean… how… how can you destroy this place? Even the bombs couldn’t destroy this place!”

I didn’t answer her at first. I just tapped my earpiece, making sure it was on.

“Hey, Christopher? You reading me?” Christine furrowed her brow, and I held up a finger, letting her know I’d be a minute.

“Loud and clear, buddy!” his voice buzzed in my ear. “What do you need?”

“Think you can bring her in for a flyby?” I said, peering out from under the canopy in front of the entrance and looking up at the red-tinged sky. “I need something to clear the air.”

“Sure thing,” he said. “Be down in a minute.”

“It’s gonna get windy soon,” I said, turning to Christine (who still looked confused). “You may want to hold on to something.”

As it turns out, that was a bit of an understatement.

It started as a low rumble at first. A barely perceptible quake, except the sound was coming from above, rather than below. The red clouds swirling overhead started churning and boiling even more violently… and then they got darker as a shadow grew from up above. The shadow grew larger and larger as the sound got louder and louder. Shifting, multicolored lights flashed and flickered from within the swirling mass of poison blanketing the Madre, like spurts of lightning, complete with constant booming thunder.

And then a hurricane blast of wind hit us both in the face, nearly knocking us off our feet.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Christine shouted, shielding her face and desperately trying to keep standing. Even I was struggling.

For the first time in 200 years, the sun shone down on the Sierra Madre, unmolested by Red Cloud… and then it was blocked by something completely solid. The massive curved outline of Mothership Zeta, impossibly gargantuan and utterly outrageous in its complete defiance of the laws of physics, hung in the air above the Sierra Madre in the same way that a brick didn’t. The wind caused by whatever alien technology kept it in the air was blowing away the Cloud like smoke in a wind tunnel. Lights along the edge of the craft flickered and flashed, providing a multi-colored light show, the likes of which had never been seen before on this planet, complete with spotlights shining down. The gigantic saucer was so immense, that it was messing with my sense of perspective; I was somehow reminded of the mushroom cloud over The Divide. A cacophonous roar, like a Norse god of thunder gargling his own hammer, drowned out all sound and threatened to blow out our eardrums… and then it was replaced by a series of bellowing musical notes, like the entire spaceship had turned into a gigantic trombone.

B flat. C. A flat. Another A flat, but an octave lower. And finally, an E flat. And if Christopher hadn’t told me what he was going to do before we set off, I wouldn’t have known what any of those notes were called.

“Wh… what…” Christine finally managed to squeak out as the noise started to die down into a low, dull roar. The Mothership spun gently in midair, while lights of all sizes and colors danced along the edges of the rounded hull. She stared at the alien craft in stunned disbelief. And, to be honest, I was more than a little awestruck myself at how utterly absurd this afternoon had become.

“Lock onto our signal,” I said, tapping my earpiece again. “We’re ready to go whenever.”

“Wait – what? Ready to – what?!” Christine asked, still holding her ears. “Where are we going?!”

“Alright, hold on to something,” Christopher’s voice buzzed in my ear. “Sally is going to teleport the two of you directly onto the Observation Deck.”

An electric buzz filled the air around us, and a shaft of bright blue light emerged from the Mothership, surrounding us. Everything around us started to tingle and it was like gravity had suddenly reversed itself. The light grew brighter and brighter until…

Suddenly, the two of us were no longer in the Sierra Madre. We were standing on a large circular glass window, looking down at the Madre from above. The air around us was crisp and cool, while the chromed metal walls surrounding us hummed and vibrated gently. I sighed gratefully, breathing deeply of the non-poison air conditioning all around me.

Christine immediately dropped to the floor, falling on her hands and knees, and started hyperventilating.

“Oh God… what… what is happening… what is going on…”

I knelt down next to her, a bit uncertainly, and placed a hand on her shoulder. I wanted to say something to try and calm her down, but I couldn’t find the words. She just kept staring out the window below us, in wide-eyed horror, unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

“Culture shock,” I heard Christopher say through the ship’s intercom. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Happens to the best of us.”

“It’s…” Christine started to shake her head, and two tiny droplets of moisture fell on the glass. “It’s just… too much.”

“Hold on to something,” Christopher said, and suddenly the view beyond the window swiftly grew distant. “I’m taking us up to firing range.” There was no motion around us beyond the gentle vibrations, but the Sierra Madre got smaller and smaller. The Madre and the villa and the tiny village nestled in the mountains seemed to disappear behind the haze of the Red Cloud and smog; it flooded the space in the wake of Mothership Zeta going up… but it was still recognizable by the diminishing red smear.

There was a long pause, as Zeta halted its ascent and hovered several miles above the red smear blemishing the surface.

The image beyond the window was consumed by a bright flash, threatening to blind us. The ship shook violently. A low frequency bellow echoed off every surface. And then, just as suddenly as it began, the green light dimmed, and eventually disappeared. Everything seemed to calm down.

The red smear had been wiped away. In its place was a perfectly round, swiftly cooling crater, several miles wide.

The Sierra Madre was no more.

The lightning of our arrival by teleport died down, and Christine and I appeared on Vegas Boulevard – thankfully, on it rather than above it this time. The two of us were standing at the foot of the stairs leading into the Lucky 38. I looked around, and couldn’t help but laugh: apparently, the inhabitants of Vegas had become so jaded to this nonsense that no one was even giving us a second glance.

Christine was standing like a statue, a few steps away from me, holding her arms like she was afraid they were going to fall off. I’d tried to explain everything on the trip over, but it was like I said before: there was just too much. But I did my best to hit the pertinent highlights, and she seemed to have rallied herself quite well. Just like I knew she would.

“You know… the Brotherhood probably thinks you’re dead by now,” I said, standing next to her. She slowly nodded, but her expression didn’t change.

“You’re probably right,” she growled out in a hoarse whisper.

“And now that the Sierra Madre is destroyed, it’ll never hurt anyone again. No one can weaponize it if it’s not there. If you ask me, I’d say you’ve fulfilled your oath multiple times over.” She grunted in the affirmative, but was still rooted in place. So I decided to keep going. “You’ve got a chance at a fresh start. A clean slate. Not many people get that. It would be a shame if you didn’t make the most of it…” I grabbed her by the shoulder and leaned in close, pointing up at the 38’s tower. “…and I know for a fact that there’s a girl up there who would love to see you again.”

“Are you sure…” she whispered, staring at the stairs. She wasn’t moving, and her eyes were looking ahead, completely unfocused. She started babbling. “It’s… I haven’t… She hasn’t seen me in years. I’ve… I mean, I’ve… changed. How… how do you know she… I just… after all this time, I don’t think… ”

I walked up the first few steps past her, and turned on my heel, offering her my hand.

“Don’t think. And don’t worry! After all, there’s only one way to find out for sure.” She looked up at me uncertainly, and I nodded. “Trust me.”

She clenched her jaw one final time and gulped loudly. Gingerly, she reached forward to take my hand, and I guided her up the stairs.

Ooh, let me feel your heartbeat

(Grow faster, faster!)

Ooh, ooh, can you feel my love heat?

Come on and sit on my hot-seat of love

And tell me how do you feel right after all!

I’d like for you and I

(To go romancing!)

Say the word:

Your wish is my command…

The mellifluous lyrics of Queen were buzzing through the speakers as I stepped out of the elevator and into the cocktail lounge. Christine had weathered the trip up the elevator rather well, all things considered; it was obvious the enclosed space had made her uncomfortable, but she’d powered through it like a champ.

Still, she was rather quick to leave the elevator.

“Y’okay?” I asked. She nodded quickly, breathing deliberately with her eyes closed. While she was busy collecting herself, I ventured into the revolving restaurant to find Veronica. She was in a nearby booth, sitting with Three Dog; her box of vinyl records was open, and the two of them were surrounded by stacks of holotapes.

“Man, this is great!” Three Dog said, while pouring over the various gatefold LP sleeves. “I’ve never even heard of any of these bands!”

“We’ve made plenty of copies,” Veronica said with a smile and nod. “You’re welcome to it all.” Three Dog laughed, clearly thinking on the possibilities.

“I wonder what my listeners will think of Galaxy News changing formats…”

“Oh!” Veronica looked up, finally noticing me. “I thought I heard the elevator. Hey Sheason! What’s up?”

“Hey, V. I’ve got a surprise for you,” I said, quickly glancing back at the elevator; Christine was waiting just out of sight. “There’s someone who wants to see you.” I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder as I got out of the way, and came to a stop next to Three Dog.

Veronica very briefly looked confused as she got up out of the booth. And then, when Christine slowly emerged from behind the wall, Veronica very nearly fell back down in her seat. Her eyes went wide as saucers. Christine was practically shaking, she looked so anxious… but she kept going, waving nervously at Veronica with a sheepish chuckle.

“H-hey… Vonnie…” Christine said. Her voice was soft, but even the music had gone quiet, as if to let them have this moment.

“…Cri?” Veronica’s mouth was hanging open in shock and disbelief, and it took several seconds for her legs to start moving. “How are… but…”

Within seconds, the two of them rushed forward, and they met in a tearful embrace. There were no questions, because there was no longer a need. It was clear that as soon as they saw each other, everything else in their worlds just fell away, and all that mattered to each of them was each other. To be honest, it was a sweet scene, seeing the two of them overcome with such raw emotion after being separated for so long. I half expected the restaurant to spontaneously turn into a flowery meadow around them, and I was a little disappointed that the world hadn’t gone to slow motion. The only thing really missing was the theme to Doctor Zhivago. In fact, that reminds me…

“Hey, Yes Man? You reading me?” I asked, tapping my earpiece. Static crackled in my ear.

“Hello, sir! What can I do for you today?”

“Did you get that copy of Vera Keyes’ dress I had Jeeves replicate earlier?”

“Yes sir! It was delivered to Veronica’s room alongside those rose petals you told me to scatter!”

“And the champagne?” I asked. Three Dog shot me a curious look.

“On its way!”

“Fantastic!” I said, unable to keep myself from smiling. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Oh, man!” Three Dog chuckled with a cigarette in hand next to me, just as engrossed with the spectacle as I was. “I can’t wait to hear the story behind this!” Before I could tell him, I felt a large hand come to rest on my shoulder.

“That’s a sweet thing you did,” Christopher said, as he unexpectedly appeared next to me.

“HOLY FUCK!” I exclaimed, flailing wildly. “The hell did you come from?!” Chris shrugged with a laugh. “Fuck sake, man! You nearly gave me a heart attack! How can you even move that quiet? You’re, like, 6′ 5″ and 300 pounds!”

“270 pounds, actually. But now I’m just being pedantic.”

“My point stands,” I said, trying to calm my heart back down to normal. Chris shrugged, and pointed at his Pip Boy.

“So, while the two lovebirds catch up, I’ve got a favor to ask of you. I’ve got a side-quest that I want to check off the list, but I’m not sure where to start looking. The wiki hasn’t been updated, and I figured I should ask you, since, you know. You live here.”

“What’s up?” I asked, curious enough to gloss over asking what the hell a ‘wiki’ was.

“There’s a Brotherhood of Steel chapter in the Mojave, right? Do you know where they are?”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked, as Chris and I descended into the Hidden Valley bunker. “I mean… I didn’t exactly leave on good terms the last time I came here.”

“Don’t worry,” Chris’ booming voice echoed in the antechamber. “I’ve got this.”

Honestly, that wasn’t really comforting, considering that he was wearing his winterized T-51b. That just made me think he was expecting heavy fire. Things were not helped when we got halfway into the antechamber, and the door at the end opened; five Brotherhood paladins filed out, all armed with gauss weapons. The one in the center came to a halt, flanked by the four others, and carefully removed his helmet.

“I certainly never expected to see you again, Courier,” Ramos said, staring at me with a half-scowl. He then slowly turned his gaze to Christopher. “But you… I don’t know you, wastelander. Where did you find that armor?” In response, Chris started laughing heartily.

“Ad Victoriam, brother!” Christopher said loudly, pounding a fist against his chest with a ringing clang of metal on metal. That immediately got the attention of the paladins, who seemed to be caught completely off guard. “I come to you on behalf of the Capitol Wasteland Brotherhood of Steel. I seek an audience with your Elder, Nolan McNamara.”

“You certainly have interesting friends, Mr. Fisher…” McNamara said from behind his desk as Chris and I walked into his office. I couldn’t help but feel an involuntary clench in my bowels when I realized the dozen paladins in this office were just as heavily armed as everyone else. “I’m actually glad you’re here. You never returned after Veronica left, so I never got the chance to apologize.”

Now, I was the one to be caught off guard.

“Apologize?” I asked. McNamara nodded somberly.

“Cutter’s squad acted without authorization. His breach of quarantine and pursuit of you both was an… unacceptable failure of mine.” At first, I expected him to continue. But no, he just sat there, apparently thinking that was good enough.

I didn’t know what I could say to that. I didn’t know if I should be relieved that he didn’t actually order Cutter’s team to kill me, or insulted that he thought that constituted a decent apology. So I didn’t say anything. I just stepped back, letting Christopher take the floor.

“Hello, Elder McNamara!” Christopher said happily, holding his helmet under his arm. I couldn’t help but shake my head; even though the lighting was so hilariously dim down here, he was still wearing his sunglasses. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!”

“My chief of security, Paladin Ramos, informs me you wish to speak with me?” McNamara asked. Christopher just laughed and shook his head.

“Sort of!” he said, pulling a small metal disk off his belt and tossing it on the ground. “I’m not actually the one who wants to speak with you. I’m just the messenger.”

“Messenger?” McNamara repeated.

The disk on the ground suddenly activated with a tinny electric hum, and a blue shimmer appeared. It wasn’t a teleport signature: it was a hologram. The image of an old man winked into view, flickering slightly as it began bathing the whole room in bright blue light. The man was balding with a huge beard, and he was hunched over, leaning heavily on a cane. What stuck out most, however, were the robes: it was the same sort McNamara was wearing.

“Hello, Nolan,” the old man said, coughing briefly. The hologram must have been distorting his voice, because it had a definite audio flange to the quality. “It’s certainly been a while.”

“Owyn Lyons!?” McNamara exclaimed, and he actually got up out of his seat in surprise. “How is this possible? We haven’t heard news from your expedition in… decades! We all assumed your chapter had been lost!” Owyn chuckled, coughing again.

“Well, as the saying goes, reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” The hologram flickered, and Owyn tapped his cane against the holographic floor several times. “The Brotherhood is consolidating our hold on the East. Trouble is brewing north of the Capitol Wasteland, in a place known as The Commonwealth, and we need your help.”

“Consolidating?” McNarama asked, narrowing his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Things have changed,” Owyn said. “The Codex has changed.” McNamara looked aghast.

“The Codex has… Are you mad? You don’t have the authority to alter the Codex!” he practically shouted. But Owyn just chuckled again.

“I know. That’s why I wasn’t the one to change it.” Owyn looked off to the side with a nod, and disappeared with a shimmer; it was almost like he stepped out of frame – which, on reflection, I suppose he did. The hologram wobbled for a brief moment… and then someone different appeared in view.

Unlike Owyn, the new figure that appeared in the hologram was very clearly a young man. He looked like he was still a teenager, with his clean-shaven face, and close cropped high-and-tight haircut. However, his face was also blemished by an absolutely massive diagonal gash on his right cheek. If the stitches were any indication, the wound was recent. He wasn’t wearing a robe, but instead was clad in a jumpsuit, heavy combat boots, and a bomber jacket which was emblazoned with the Brotherhood cogwheel symbol on the back. Several braided cords were hanging off the metal epaulettes on his shoulders.

“… Who are you?” McNamara asked, curiously. The new figure turned to the Chapter Elder, holding his hands behind his back.

“I am the Lion Heart, whose soul is forged from Eternal Steel, and tempered in the fires of our endless conflicts,” he said in a powerful, commanding voice that practically dripped with authority. Several of the paladins in the room even dropped to one knee as he spoke. “Elder Lyons speaks with my authority, Elder McNamara… for I am Arthur Maxson, last of the Maxson line, and rightful Commander of the Brotherhood. It’s time for us to leave the past behind… and look to the future.”

“Y’know, the last time I was there, McNamara was talking about finding a Maxon,” I said as Christopher and I returned topside, walking to our respective vehicles. “I had no idea where to even start looking. And here you come, practically dropping Maxson in their lap! I’ll be completely honest, I was not expecting that.” Christopher shrugged.

“No one expects the Brotherhood of Steel,” he laughed, like it was a hilarious joke. I didn’t get it. “Still… I hope I did the right thing.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “They’re getting out of the Mojave, they no longer have to get involved in all this nonsense, they’re heading east to join up with the rest of their dudes… seems like enough of a happy ending to me.” Chris shrugged, and kept walking to the Roadkill, hovering in the air next to my Corvega.

“Yeah, well… sometimes I don’t know what these quests are going to do in the long run. I mean, look at what happened when I shot down the Support Mothership! Look at all the problems that caused.”

“Hey, no, c’mon man,” I said, hopping up on my Corvega’s hood. “You couldn’t have predicted the Enclave getting their hands on that. You can’t hold yourself accountable for that kind of shit beyond your control.”

“Maybe,” Chris sighed, leaning against the Roadkill; it didn’t move. “But sometimes… I worry about Maxson. I really do.”

“How do you figure?” I asked. “Seems like a nice enough kid to me. I mean, a little young, but…”

“Well, that’s to be expected, he’s only fifteen. But I can’t really comment about that, I was just nineteen when I left the Vault four years ago.” I did the math in my head quickly and holy shit, this guy was how young? Fucking hell! Chris continued. “No, what I worry about is… I dunno. He’s just… he doesn’t have a strong center, you know?”

There was a long pause.

“No… no, I don’t know what that means,” I said honestly. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“What I mean is…” Chris waved his hands in the air, searching for the words. “He’s easily malleable. He’s never really had his own opinions about anything. He doesn’t really have any strong convictions. He just goes along with what everyone else around him tells him to do.”

“And he’s supposed to be a leader?” I asked, shaking my head. “Yeah, you’re right, that doesn’t seem like a good situation.”

“I’m probably worrying over nothing,” he said. “I mean, he is a teenager, after all. He’s got plenty of years ahead of him to grow and turn into the man he needs to be. And he definitely has good qualities. He has a great head for tactics, and he practically has a photographic memory. Besides…” He shrugged. “As long as Owyn and Sarah Lyons are around to keep him on the straight and narrow, he should do fine.”

Christopher shook his head and started to laugh to himself.

“Ah well. I’m sure it’ll all work out for the best, eventually.”