New Vegas: Sheason's Story - Chapter 165: Hope

Helloooooo, children! It’s me, Three Dog, BOW WOW! You’re listening to Galaxy News Radio, your one stop shop for all your auditory satisfaction! Coming up later in the hour is some News To Make You Feel Better About Yourself, but now it’s time for some new music! We’ve got the Rolling Stones lined up, who see a red door… and want you to “Paint It Black.” Only on GNR!

“Is it bad that I’m more scared for what I have to do today?” I asked aloud. “I don’t remember being this scared when we went to the Moon.” Cass shrugged.

“Well, c’mon, that was violence,” she said. “We’re good at violence… but this?” Cass gestured to the enormous conference room we were sitting in, all clean and shiny with chairs and nametags; everything was ready for the sudden influx of incoming visitors. “This is gonna be talkin’ an’ politics an’ diplomacy… an’ shit. We’re kinda out’ve our element, here.”

“True, true…” I nodded my agreement, trying to mull over my emotions. “Maybe scared isn’t the right word. Nervous? Apprehensive, perhaps?” Cass leaned back in her chair and tipped her hat back.

“Fucked if I know. But look on the bright side!” Cass reached across me to point at the gigantic table of food dominating one of the longer far walls. “That is quite the spread you’ve laid out. Even if the meeting is a flop, I’m sure yer gonna get points fer all that food.”

“Y’think people are going to like it?” I asked. Cass nodded with a smile.

“Of course!” she said, slapping me on the shoulder. “It’s free food. People love free food. But, I do have to ask… why a buffet?”

I thought about my answer for a second, looking back at the enormous buffet table – which was staffed by about a dozen Lucky 38-branded protectrons, each one wearing a chef’s hat.

“Well, if my hunch is right, this… meeting, congress, conference, whatever the fuck you wanna call it, it’s gonna last a while. People are going to get hungry. You can’t figure out shit on an empty stomach, and you definitely can’t build a nation on one, either.” Cass scrunched up her face, obviously still confused.

“Yeah, but… why a buffet?”

“Tell me honestly,” I said, draping an arm around her shoulder. “Can you think of anything more Vegas than a buffet? Because I can’t.” Cass tapped her chin, apparently taking my challenge seriously. And then:

“…uhhh… A buffet served to hookers at a blackjack table?” she offered with a shrug. The two of us started giggling, and we almost missed the tiny voice at our feet.

“I think we’re going to need some more coffee,” Muggy said.

“No surprise there,” I muttered leaning down and extending my hand; the mini securitron hopped up and rolled into my metal palm. “You love it when we drink coffee.”

“I’m serious!” he practically shouted, flailing his arms for effect. “None of these people you’ve invited have ever had real coffee before, right?”

“Uh… no, I don’t think so,” I said. “You know, considering that Barry is the only one who can even make real coffee beans. At the moment, at least.”

“Exactly! And do you remember what you were like when you had real coffee for the first time?”

Images of sweeping mountain vistas flooded my head, awash with color from a stunning sunset; the awe-inspiring majesty of The Infinite swirled through my minds eye, replete with vivid color from stars, supernovas, and interstellar dust clouds stretched across light years.

“I… seem to recall that moment, yes,” I nodded, doing my best to keep a straight face.

“It’s probably a good idea if we have too much, rather than not enough, is all I’m saying…” Muggy let out a nervous, quavering laugh. He started fiddling with his tiny little claw hands. Clearly, the thought of not enough coffee – and consequently, fewer mugs to clean – was making him anxious.

“Well, we already have five pots ready t’go…” Cass shrugged. I started nodding, and Muggy’s expression sank for the briefest of moments.

“We’re gonna need more,” I said with a smile. Immediately, Muggy straightened up, and laughed, hopping off my hand.

“GREAT!” he yelled, laughing again as he rolled away and out of sight. “I’ll go fetch more mugs!” I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. At least he was easy to cheer up.

“Oh, hey, by the way…” I turned to Cass, draping my arm across her shoulders again. “Thanks for helping me set this up today. I really appreciate it.” Cass smiled, leaning against me.

“Ah, don’t mention it,” she gave me a soft peck on the cheek. “Glad t’help. So… what d’we do now?”

“Wait for everyone to arrive, I suppose.” At that moment, my Pip Boy started beeping, and I reluctantly removed my arm from around Cass. “Aha! Speak of the devil. Hello, Yes Man. Have our guests started to arrive yet?”

“Nope!” Yes Man’s voice blurted from the speaker when I opened the channel. Cass and I looked to each other curiously. “You have a package waiting for you!”

“A… what?” I asked. Cass raised an eyebrow.

“A package just arrived!” Yes Man replied. “A courier just dropped it off. It’s waiting for you on the front steps!” And with that, the transmission clicked off. A sinking feeling took hold in the pit of my stomach. Cass and I looked at each other curiously for a few seconds.

In a flash, the two of us were on our feet and rushing for the front door.

There was a very large box, sitting several feet away from the Lucky 38’s front doors. It was long and rectangular, almost like a coffin, but not quite big enough for that. It appeared to have been made from wood, and most of the dark green paint was either faded or flaked off entirely.

“What is it?” Cass asked from behind me. Neither of us moved from our spot to get closer just yet. I was worried that it might be a bomb… It was certainly big enough for that, if nothing else.

“I’m not sure…” I began, blinking several times. The different vision modes in my cybernetic eyes started cycling. “I’m not picking up any unusual heat signatures, and there doesn’t appear to be any electromagnetic signatures… so it’s… probably not a bomb… But there’s definitely something in there.”

“What about th’ note?” Cass asked, pointing around me at the box. I switched my eyes back to normal, and looked where she was pointing: a small yellow envelope was stapled to the box. It had no markings. I held out a hand to stop Cass, and slowly approached the box. Without a word, I grabbed the envelope, ripped it open and began to read the simple words scrawled on the scrap of paper:

Six

Good luck

Create your symbol

But tell your allies of the real threat

You will need proof

Here it is

It wasn’t signed, but I knew immediately who had sent it. I tossed the letter aside, and grabbed the edge of the box with my cybernetic hand; one by one, the nails popped out from the sudden force.

“So… what is it?” Cass asked, approaching me from behind slowly. I finished ripping the lid off, and tossed the wood aside. When I got a good look at the contents, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Cass, meanwhile, recoiled in horror. “Wh-what the fuck is that?!”

“Ulysses, you son of a bitch…” I muttered softly, standing up. I turned to Cass and pointed in the box. “That is a dead tunneler.”

It wasn’t too long after that little distraction that people actually started to arrive. And thanks to Yes Man keeping an eye on the cameras, I was able to know who was arriving when, and personally meet them at the door. This had the added benefit of helping me maintain an accurate headcount.

First to arrive was Julie, driven to the meet by April behind the wheel of her pickup truck. No surprise that they were first, honestly. However, the fact that The King and several of his boys had decided to hitch a lift in the back of the truck bed? That was a surprise. It did give me a chance to ask how his arm was healing up after the Los Zorroz attack, which he seemed to appreciate.

Shortly after, two more Follower pickup trucks arrived: one carrying Trudy from Goodsprings, and one with Cliff from Novac. I honestly had no idea how they timed their arrival so perfectly, considering they had come from opposite ends of the Mojave, but there you go. When I’d talked to them the other day, both Trudy and Cliff had wondered why I’d come to them with this offer; I had to explain that I didn’t want their communities left out of this wacky scheme of mine, and the two of them were the closest things those little towns had to any sort of leadership at all.

If I’m being completely honest, I’m just glad the trucks got here in one piece without crashing: Julie had told me earlier that they only had the two (three, if you counted April’s truck), and they didn’t get much use since there weren’t that many Followers at the Mormon Fort who even knew how to drive.

Next to arrive was Cachino, flanked by a couple of Omerta wise guys. Before they got a chance to enter, I stopped their boss, and pulled him aside for a… quiet word. I wanted to make sure that he still remembered our agreement, especially after all the trouble I’d gone through because of Los Zorroz. All the bullets he started sweating when I held onto his shoulder lightly (but firmly) with my cybernetic hand seemed to confirm that, yes, he was, in fact, still pissing terrified of me. So that was good.

Then the Boomers arrived, and I heard them long before I saw them. This was because Mother Pearl, Loyal and Raquel were arriving (with what could only be described as an honor guard) in a convoy of big military jeeps. These weren’t like the dinky little Willys Jeep I drove when I went to pick up the solar panels; these were huge up-armored military affairs with lifted chassis and guns mounted in the roof.

The thing that really surprised me was that they were followed by the thunderous bellow of a naturally aspirated V14 engine. And when I saw the Cobra again, all shiny and chrome with the snake coiled around the racing stripes… that made me feel all manner of fuzzy inside. Honestly, I didn’t think that Shelby was even going to accept my invitation, but I’m glad he did. After all, if the Boomers were going to be represented here, then I thought it only fair that the Gearheads should be, too. And when we shook hands, he seemed very appreciative that I was still wearing his old Stetson.

Once all the cars had been parked underneath the casino, another group of men wearing suits started walking up the Strip from the south. It was Swank, flanked on either side by at least half a dozen Chairmen. Apart from when I’d given him the invite yesterday, this was the first time I’d seen him since our chat in Bazooko’s Circus a little over a month ago. It was nice to see him again – and that was honestly something I never thought I’d say about Swank.

The biggest surprise of the day was when a very familiar looking redhead in a leather duster rocked up; by her side was a de-fanged nightstalker on a leash she appeared to be taking for a walk.

“Well, well. Hello Jessica – er, sorry, ‘Lucy.’ Nice to see you again,” I said with a smile, trying to ignore the nightstalker sniffing my shoes. “So, you’re the one Westside decided to send over for this little shindig?” She nodded with a shrug.

“Well, the Westside Militia would never admit this… but The Thorn is pretty much their only source of income.” I chuckled and nodded, finally understanding why my meeting with them had been so strange.

“Well, I’m glad that it’s you. It’s nice to see you again.” I paused for a few seconds. “Do you think you can detach your pet nightstalker from my leg now?” I looked down and, sure enough, the coyote-rattlesnake hybrid’s mouth was clamped down on my leg, gumming it furiously.

“Thulsa! Bad dog! Down boy!” Jess tugged on the leash, and the nighstalker let go of me. At least now I knew why it had been de-fanged, and I was quite glad about that fact.

We talked for a bit more, catching up and (thankfully) avoiding any arguments before she went inside. And then, the last of the Three Families showed up: Marjorie, wearing an elegant dress to compliment her pearls, and flanked by several White Glove members in tuxedo’s and masks. I checked the time: sure enough, it was almost exactly half an hour after I’d told her that people were going to start arriving. Clearly, she wanted to make an entrance.

There was only one group left to show up. And when Yes Man told me he’d spotted the Deuce arriving in Freeside, I’d made sure that at least four securitrons were dispatched to escort them in. Within moments, the big truck arrived and came to a stop just outside the steps. The securitrons moved into a defensive posture, surrounding the truck to block the public’s view.

“Marcus!” I laughed, greeting him as he dropped out of the back, followed by two more super mutants. “I’m glad you guys made it…” I popped my head into the Deuce, and saw that it was just the three of them. “What, no Keene? No nightkin representation?” Marcus shrugged and shook his head.

“I offered, but he said he didn’t want to deal with… you know, the crowds,” he snorted. “Probably for the best. Keene isn’t exactly the nicest person in the world.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it,” I chuckled, remembering when Keene busted into Doc Henry’s office by breaking the door. “Still, you guys are the last ones to arrive. With you here, we can actually get started, and –”

“Mr. Fisher!” an unwelcome voice called out from the south. Son of a bitch. That was Ambassador Crocker’s voice and I just knew that he was bringing some trigger-happy MP’s along with him. That was bad news.

“You guys better head on inside,” I said, trying to keep from grimacing. “But… wait for me by the door. I’ll deal with this idiot.” Uncertainly, Marcus and the two other super mutants made their way up the stairs, and I turned on my heel trying to intercept Crocker.

“Mr. Fisher!” he yelled again, and sure enough he was surrounded by a lot more NCR soldiers than had accompanied him the last time he tried this. “You and I still need to talk, and I will not take no for an –” he paused, finally noticing the “SUPER MUTANTS!”

In a flash, all the NCR troops had their guns drawn… but none of them fired because I had That Gun pointed squarely at Crocker’s face long before any of them could do anything. They all seemed to hesitate and falter, unsure of what to do.

“Tell your men to back off, Crocker,” I said calmly. He was still as a statue. “Marcus and his friends are my guests. You are not invited, and I will not be intimidated in my own house.” Behind me, I could hear the securitrons moving into position, drawing their own weapons. I hoped that I was giving Marcus and company enough time to get inside with this little Mexican standoff… but I soon realized that I needed something to break the stalemate and get them to back down.

A loud, heavy growl from behind and above me informed me that the stalemate was just about to be broken. There was a heavy thud behind me, and all of the NCR troops seemed to simultaneously back down and shit their pants as Stripe suddenly appeared, growling and snarling at the men with guns and hostile intentions.

“LEAVE…” Stripe bellowed, as Sasha began to spin up above Stripe’s mohawk. Two of the NCR troops in the back immediately took off running back to the NCR embassy, and the rest started backing up in terror. Crocker’s eye twitched and his bald head started to glisten from all the sweat. Cautiously, he started backing up as well… but before he ran back home with his tail between his legs, he pointed a finger at me and scowled.

“This isn’t over, Courier!” he said, as I holstered That Gun. But I just shook my head.

“Yes it is,” I said, turning on my heel to catch up with Marcus. “You’re just too stupid to realize, yet.”

Stripe snorted loudly at the retreating NCR troops, punctuating the encounter quite nicely.

“So, do you really think this zany scheme is going to work?” Marcus asked as we made our way to the conference room. I shrugged.

“I hope so,” I said, patting him on the side of his massive tree-trunk arm. “But we’re never gonna know unless we try, right?”

“I suppose not…” he grunted. We reached the big double doors leading into the conference room, and I paused before opening it. I had no idea how anyone was going to react… but I just hoped that Chris and Fawkes had accepted my invitation, as a means of easing people into the idea of super mutants…

I pushed it open, and was immediately bathed in the noise and commotion of several dozen people all talking and chatting and conversing at once. Our entrance caused the commotion to settle down somewhat… and then it immediately got worse. People started shouting – even though I could see Christopher and Fawkes off in the corner – and a few of the Boomers pulled out rifles.

“HOLD IT, HOLD IT, HOLD IT! EVERYONE, CALM THE FUCK DOWN!” I shouted, putting myself between the group of super mutants and everyone else. I pointed at Loyal and Pearl’s honor guard. “Put those away! You’re acting like fuckin’ savages here! Everyone, listen up!” Thankfully, everyone seemed to be listening, and the sounds dipped down to a dull murmur. “Everyone, this is Marcus! He’s here representing a community of super mutants who only want to live in peace! I have invited him and his friends here to partake in this little experiment, they are my guests, and you will treat them with respect! If you don’t, then so help me, I will KICK your FUCKIN’ ASS! Everyone got that?”

The sounds in the room seemed to mutter a loose collection of acknowledgements.

“Alright, good,” I nodded, lowering my hands. “Once everyone gets settled in, we’ll get started.” I moved away, sighing with relief as things seemed to calm down. Cass, Boone, Arcade, Raul, Veronica and Emily were scattered all around the room, talking to various people… and Christine was the first one to reach me.

“You certainly have a way with people…” she said, patting me on the shoulder. I laughed.

“Well, nobody is shooting anyone yet, so that’s a good start,” I said. “I’m gonna get some coffee, you want any?” Christine shook her head, and I made my way over to the big table of food.

I tried to focus on the noises all around me as I poured myself a cup, to see if I could discern anything of interest. Most of it was just random small talk, people getting to know each other… but there was one conversation I overheard before everything began that stuck with me, if only for how darkly hilarious I thought it was:

“I have to say, I love your outfit,” Veronica said to Marjorie, a few feet away from where I was standing. “The pearls, especially, really work for me. They’re gorgeous! Where did you get them?” Marjorie laughed demurely, putting on a humble air.

“Oh, why thank you,” she said, smiling at Veronica sweetly and putting a gloved hand on her necklace. “They’re… my late husband.” Veronica cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh, did… did he give those to you?” she asked. Marjorie smiled again.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” she giggled softly. “These were fashioned from his ribcage. When he died, he put in his will that he wanted his bones turned into jewelry for me to wear. That way, he said, he could always be close to my heart…” she started to fan herself with a free hand and her voice started quavering. “Oh, he always was such a sentimental old fool!”

Veronica didn’t say anything. She just looked at Marjorie with a look of confused horror, her mouth and eyes wide; all she ended up doing was to laugh nervously for several seconds before slowly backing away.

“Thank you all for coming,” I said, once everyone had settled down. It had been an hour since people had started showing up, and absolutely nothing had gotten done. So, it was high time to get down to business. “Now, as I’m sure all of you are aware, the NCR and Legion are on the brink of clashing at Hoover Dam. No matter what happens, the people of Vegas will be caught in the middle. That’s why I’ve brought all of you here: so we can figure out what is to be done.”

“Get on with it!” I heard a voice shout.

“Thank you, Cass,” I said with a smile. “The point is, no matter who wins at Hoover Dam, everyone in the Mojave is going to take a bath – unless we do something. From what I’ve seen in my travels since coming to the Mojave, none of us is strong enough to stand alone against either the Legion or the NCR. But I think that if we work together, and pool our resources to create a new nation for all of the people living in the Mojave, then –”

A murmur settled over the room before I finished. Cachino, surprisingly enough, was the first one to speak up over the crowd:

“Let me guess,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You’d wanna make yourself leader of this new nation, am I right? After all, you’ve already taken over House’s chair as the Overboss…” The room erupted in more mutterings, but I managed to silence them before they got too bad with a single word:

“No.”

The room shut up, and I continued.

“I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, so let me make myself abundantly clear: I’m not looking to rule anybody. That’s not my goal, and I’m not interested. Truth be told, I don’t know the first thing about actually running a nation. That’s not who I am…” I looked out across the room, and vaguely pointed back and forth to everyone. “But I see the potential in all of you. That’s why I brought everyone together for this meeting: so everyone who actually lives here can talk to one another and figure out what we all want for the future. I’m sure that if we work together, then we can build something for everyone we can all agree on – or, at the very least, we can reach a decent compromise. The alternative is having a dictator roll up and say ‘this is the way it’s going to be, and I don’t care what you think’ which is what you’d get if the NCR or Legion took over. And I don’t wanna be that guy.”

“I thought everyone would want to be that guy,” I heard Cliff say, to the sound of scattered chuckles. But I shrugged.

“Hey, you know, at the end of the day I’m just a courier bringing you guys a message,” I said, which prompted a few more chuckles from around the room. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s my job to deliver the message… but it’s up to all of you to figure out what to do with it.”

“So, if you’re not interested in runnin’ this thing… what are you gonna do, then?” I heard The King ask from his spot next to Julie at the far end of the room.

“I’m sure most of you have figured this out by now, but…” I laughed, shaking my head. “All I really know how to do is fight. That’s all I’m really good at. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do: fight.”

“What do you mean, fight?” Jessica asked, with a worried expression on her face that she was doing a bad job of hiding.

“I mean simply this: when the NCR and Legion finally butt heads at Hoover Dam, I’m going to make sure that they both lose. The Boomers and their heavy artillery are going to play a big part in that,” I gestured over to Pearl and Loyal with a nod, and the two of them gave me a pair of thumbs up. “But I’ve got a few other tricks up my sleeve. I’m going to fight, and I’m going to give everyone here – not just in this room, but everyone in the Mojave – the breathing room needed to build something… better. Together, we can turn Vegas into a beacon of light in this dark, depressing wasteland of ours – a refuge from the violence in the world around us that can welcome everyone and anyone who wants to live free…” I glanced at the King, and gave him a subtle nod. “…so that we can all be kings in our own way.”

“Let me see if I’ve got this straight…” Swank stood up at the far end of the room and spoke up; all eyes turned to him. “We all know that more and more Legion troops from the army they used to conquer Arizona are pouring into the Mojave every day. And the NCR is just as bad, bringing in more troops and tanks from Baja. They’re closing in all around us, and you yourself just said that no matter what happens, Vegas is going to be caught in the crossfire. I mean… I hate to point this out, but you’re just one man. You seriously believe you can beat back them both?”

“I do,” I said with a nod and not a second’s hesitation. Swank stared at me in disbelief, shaking his head.

“Man, you got guts… but that bet is a long shot. How can you believe something like that?”

“Because I have hope,” I said, simply. “I have hope in my friends. I have hope in my allies. I have hope in myself. I have hope, because I have to believe that freedom will not give way to tyranny and oppression so easily. I have hope because I sincerely believe that we can all work together, to build something better than ourselves, and that together we can become greater than the sum of our parts. I have hope,” I smiled, looking out at all the faces surrounding me. “…because all of you give me hope.”

For what felt like ten years, the room was silent. I clenched my jaw, closed my eyes and prepared for the worst. And then:

“I’ll stand with you,” I heard Julie say. And that was all anyone needed. One by one, everyone voiced their agreement to this idea: The King, Swank, Cachino, Marjorie, Loyal, Pearl, Raquel, Shelby, Trudy, Cliff, Jessica, and Marcus all began to voice their agreement.

For the first time in a long time, I truly believed that we might actually be able to pull off this crazy, hare-brained plan of mine.

“Fantastic!” I said, clapping my hands together. “Now that the hard part is out of the way, there’s one other thing I want to tell you guys before we get to the specifics of hashing out the details of nation building and… all that shit. It’s a bit of a warning, because there is a very specific something that is bound to happen sooner or later. I want everyone to be as prepared as they possibly can be, as soon as they possibly can be.”

Everyone looked confused as I turned away from the table, grabbed the big box behind me, and turned back to plant it in full view of everyone.

“Let me tell you a little something about tunnelers…”

The meeting lasted a little over six hours.

The discussions were long, heated, and thorough. And even after six hours, it was clear that we’d only barely scratched the surface of what we would need to do to make this plan work… but it was a good start, if nothing else.

By the end of it, the buffet spread I’d laid out was very nearly empty, so it was clear that had been a good idea. Same with the coffee, if the dozens upon dozens of used coffee cups were any indication. At least Muggy would be happy.

Once it was clear that we could get no more work done today, I’d offered up the revolving cocktail lounge so that we could all unwind and have some fun. And I have never seen so many people from so many distant, scattered walks of life come together like we did for that party, and have so much fun.

I was sitting in one of the booths on the rotating portion, with a beer in hand and my feet propped on a nearby table, just watching everyone talking and laughing and drinking and joking together.

And then suddenly, I heard a voice behind me: it was Arcade, and it sounded like he was quoting something.

“Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!’ cries she with silent lips. ‘Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

“What’s that?” I asked, as Arcade sat down next to me. I reached down into the cooler by my feet, and offered him a beer, which he took with a nod.

“It’s from a poem,” he said. “It’s called ‘The New Colossus,’ and it’s engraved on the side of the Statue of Liberty…” Arcade paused, thinking about that for a second. “…or, at least, it was before the world ended. No idea if it’s still there, but that’s beside the point.”

“And the point?” I asked. Arcade cracked open the beer and took a drink.

“Those words, engraved on the side of the Statue of Liberty… that is what America stood for, once upon a time,” he said softly. “Before the Enclave ruined everything, that is. It was the idea that we weren’t perfect… but we didn’t have to be. Hatred, bigotry, tyranny, oppression… these were the things people were trying to escape from when they came to America. It was the idea that it didn’t matter what part of the world you came from, or who you were; Lady Liberty would welcome you with open arms, whoever you were, and we would call you family.”

“It’s a nice idea,” I said with a chuckle, taking a swig of my beer. “It’s just too bad that idea died when the bombs dropped.” I felt Arcade’s hand grip me by the shoulder.

“That’s the thing, Sheason: I don’t think it is dead. Not anymore. What I saw today… what you’ve started here today… was the true spirit of America come back from the dead. For the first time in my life, I feel like I can actually believe in the American Dream… without being asleep. And for the first time… I feel like I can be legitimately hopeful for the future.”

I laughed, raising my beer bottle to his; we toasted the glass bottles together with a clink.

“Here’s to hope,” I said with a smile. “An idea that not even the end of the world can kill!” Arcade chuckled, following suit.

“I’ll drink to that!”