Tiberius67

War Never Changes

Palace of Caesar

Martin listened intently as Gladstone outlined his plans, and waited patiently for the High Elder to finish so he could brief him on the situation as it currently stood.

“So, what say you?", Gladstone asked, in conclusion. "Am I instead to command a march towards Indianapolis? Should I bring more or less soldiers? I would hear the input of my allies, you are both far more acquainted with the needs of this war than I.”

"A force of eleven thousand men will be a most welcome addition to the Allied effort", Martin replied. "Cheyenne is tied into our rail net, from there your entire force can be swiftly deployed East in a matter of days....the timetables are already being worked out. If I may, High Elder, I'd like to begin by going over the current state of the campaign."

"In the North", Martin said, "A major Cult offensive is currently under way. Two seperate Cult Hosts, each led by one of their more well known Warleaders, as their commanders style themselves, are currently active in Michigan. the first, Warmaster Hagur, is advancing down Interstate 75. Cult propaganda claims he is marching on Chicago, but our analysts believe that is a feint intended to aid the other Host, led by Warleader Dosh-Novan, that is currently fighting in Detroit. A defensive line has been formed along I96 from Muskegon on the coast of Lake Michigan to Lansing. From there they will keep I-69 into Republic territory open. We've also occupied Mackinaw City, cutting off Hagur's path of retreat. Central Michigan is only sparsely populated, active measures are underway to evacuate civilians and destroy any supplies that may be of use.....soon Hagur will be traveling over scorched earth wherever he goes."

"Detroit itself", Martin continued, "Is a strategic point of critical importance that must be held at all costs. While the Cult has overrun about two thirds of Detroit proper, the Republic has established a relatively stable defensive line along Ten Mile Road, and so far every attempt by Dosh-Novan to cross the Detroit River into Windsor has been bloodily repulsed. We currently have four brigades, a force of 6,000 men, en route to aid in Detroit's defense, they are transiting Lake Huron now and are expected to reach Windsor and begin landing operations tonight.

Our goal is to liberate Detroit, and keep the Republic in the war. Also, this presents the opportunity of cutting off and destroying two entire Cult Armies."

"In the Center", Martin said, moving on to the next axis of advance, "things are largely going according to plan at the moment. Legate Aurelius initiated the final assault on Indianapolis this morning...while a Cult counter-attack is currently underway, it was not well timed and is, in the Paladin-General's assessment, too little and too late to do more than delay the inevitable. We expect the city will be secure in the next 24-48 hours barring unexpected developments. Work on extending the rail net into Indiana has been underway around the clock, there is now a working rail link between the liberated section of Indianapolis and our core territories. Also, flight operations at the old Indianapolis Airport were restored two days ago...there is plenty of room if you want to deploy your air assets closer to the Front. We can host your forces in other bases, as you require."

"In the South", Martin said, "We have encountered little Cult activity, mostly Raiders of various types. Louisville has been secured, and the main body of the force committed to that theater has reached Cincinnati. Governor Jones has proven more able than his peers and the Central government. While under heavy pressure from the Cult, he's actively contesting the advance of the main Cult Host, which has overrun Columbus, and starting to move West along I-70. their next objective appears to be Dayton.

"With Indianapolis taken", Martin continued, "The next phase will be liberating Columbus from the Cult. From there, we can stage attacks into the Cult's heartland from multiple directions. One complication is the Cult force in Ft Wayne. It's ruler, a Mutant that calls itself Rog-Resh, commands a sizeable force. While it is apparently in a dispute with the Cult Leadership in Pittsburgh, and so far has ignored calls to join the conflict, nevertheless Ft Wayne needs to be taken or besieged before the advance into the Cult's core territories can begin."

"If I may suggest", Martin concluded, "The Northern and Southern Fronts are, to me, the Fronts in which your forces could make the greatest impact. To the north, advancing along I-90 and taking Ft Wayne, then advancing in the direction of Cleveland, cutting off the Enemy in Michigan from aid or retreat, would cause grave injury to the Enemy. If you chose the South, the Enemy's main force would have to face offensives along both I-70 and I-71 from strong forces. Which Front do you think would be most suitable for the forces you are deploying?"

Wardroom, USS Little Rock, Buffalo, IRD

"As you were", Administrator O'Hara said firmly as she strode into the Wardroom of the old museum ship. The dozen tired and dirty men who had been siting around the Wardroom table...strewn with blueprints, and sketches and reports...and had been in various stages of hauling themselves to their feet when her arrival had been announced, gratefully settled back into their chairs. She walked to the empty chair at the head of the table, and after her aide pulled it out for her, she took her seat and looked about at the disheveled and grim-faced men now all looking at her. "What's the verdict?"

"Administrator...", Carter, lead engineer, began to say.

"Maureen", she interjected, "There are no reporters here...no need for formality."

"Maureen", Carter said, "I've got good news, and bad news."

"Start with the bad", Maureen replied. "May as well get that over with."

"We can't repair Little Rock's propulsion plant", Carter said, "We don't have the means to make the parts we need, and quite a few components were scavved and sent to Hamilton to get Haida operational again. The only factory that might have been able to fabricate what we need was in Detroit."

"Damn", Maureen said, "She would have been a game-changer."

"On the bright side,", Carter said, "We've got the 5" turret working, and we believe we can have the 6" turret operational in a week. We need shells, though. Even though she cannot sail, she can serve as a floating battery."

"You'll get them", Maureen said grimly, "If I have to nationalize a factory to have them made. come to think of it, maybe the Commonwealth can help us with ordnance." She then added, "What about the others?"

"Croaker requires a rebuild from the keel up, and without torpedoes repairing her is a waste of resources....better to just strip her for parts. As for The Sullivans, she is operational, we just need fuel oil and shells", Carter answered. "Didn't Administrator Marcus tell you?"

"No", Maureen replied primly, "He did not. I've learned he did not report a great many things to Detroit in the past two weeks since I took office."

"And it's a damn good thing he didn't, too", Carter said, "Or we'd be defenseless right now."

"No need to get defensive", Maureen said, "I understand completely....believe me, it's worse back home than you think. Traowski can't get anywhere with the Bureaucracy, The Legislature is paralyzed, and Abernathy Jones down in Cincinnati isn't even pretending to take orders from Detroit anymore. Rumor has it they sent people to arrest him and he had them all shot, and they are suppressing it because they don't want anyone getting ideas."

"So we're on our own, then", one of the other engineers said bleakly.

"That's about the size of it", Maureen replied wearily, "If they don't get their act together soon in Detroit, we'll have to turn to the Commonwealth....or, God forbid, Barnaky, just to survive."

War Never Changes

Indianapolis International Airport - Operations Room

“This is Legate Aurelius,” a familiar voice from the headset said, “What is the situation?”

"We believe a counter-attack is imminent", Wilson replied, getting right to the point, "We've got reliable intel that the Cult forces in the city abandoned the Raiders to their fate and have rallied in the sewers to wait for the lines to cross over them and attack our troops in the rear. I've taken the liberty of informing your staff, and ordered the implementation of the plans for securing the pre-war sewer system...but we're out of position to deal with what the scurry-bots flush out, and it looks like they may be making their move sooner than we would like.

"Sir!", a ground controller held his hand up, "Fourth Brigade is reporting multiple contacts across Downtown!" He then hurriedly added, "19th Battalion HQ in the Indiana State Library is reporting it is under attack from below!"

"It looks like it's beginning", Wilson said calmly, "Lancer-Sergeant Kyle will take you where you wish to go, I am vectoring in another Vertibird with a squad of Knights to provide your Praetorians cover...I can also patch you through to your Headquarters if you wish."

19th Battalion 4th Infantry Brigade Field HQ- Indiana State Library

"Shit!", the machine gunner exclaimed as the chambered round in his LMG cooked off and fired due to the dully red-hot barrel, forcing him to open the feed tray and pull the belt out. "Change!" he hissed at his assistant, who was already pulling open the barrel latch to change it out.

A sudden squealing and skittering in the dark below turned his guts to water, he suspected his worst fears had come to pass and they had noticed. "Faster, goddamn it!", he hissed again at his assistant, who had plucked out the red-hot barrel and was just beginning to slide the replacement into place when a deep bassy voice shouted "PH´NGLUI SOTH!" and a wave of hideously deformed creatures emerged from the dark and swarmed up the stairs. Instinctively realizing they would never get the LMG back into action in time, he snatched up the laser pistol sitting on a sandbag next to him and joined his comrades firing into the swarm, claiming two of them before the swarm reached his MG nest and swarmed over the defenders, the hungry creatures making short work of them, but not before the word had been passed on the radio that the East Stairs had fallen. Behind the bizarrely mutated mole rats came Cult warriors, charging up the stairs to secure the precarious bridgehead their creatures had won for them. There had been more of the Enemy at this place than they had expected, but it mattered not.

The heavy footsteps of men in power armor was quickly heard, and a Knight strode into view, the barrels of the Gatling laser in his hands already spinning up, sending a torrent of laser beams tearing into the creatures feasting on the slain defenders of the position, then began to sweep the other way, cutting down two of the Cultists before a third was able to twirl a improvised MFC limpet mine up to speed and hurled it at the Knight. Spotting the threat just in time, the Knight raised up his Gatling Laser in an attempt to deflect it. The charge stuck to the Gatling Laser and exploded a mere four inches from his chestplate with a loud bang. The Knight staggered back, still holding the shattered Gatling laser, his chestplate and helmet wrecked and emitting sparks, until he tripped over some rubble and fell on his back.

Smelling blood, the Cultists sprang towards the downed Knight, intent on finishing him before he could get back to his feet, but they never made it. Three more armored shapes loomed up out of the dust, and the Cultists barely had time to realize that one of them had a flamer before the stream of liquid, burning death engulfed them.

Moments later

The Knights stepped over the charred corpses, the leader peering cautiously down the stairs, LMG at the ready, as another used a cryo grenade to deal with the fire the flamer had started, and a third helped their injured comrade out of his wrecked suit. Satisfied the Enemy had had enough for the moment, the leader spoke into his radio.

"East Stairwell re-captured", he reported, "The squad stationed here was wiped out, and I have one wounded. Requesting reinforcements ASAP."

"I'm sending two squads down to you", the Major, in the CP upstairs, replied, "Be advised, the scurry bots are en route, ETA five minutes. Once we have them we need to clear the basement ASAP, the Legion unit holding the Historical Society is under heavy pressure, they're holding but we need to get shit sorted here so I can send Charlie Company to help them out."

House of the Rising Sun - New Orleans

"You look confused, Brian", Amanda said teasingly, then dainty lifted the china teacup from the saucer she held in front of her and took a sip. "Not what you expected?"

"He's watched too many movies", Charlotte, his new partner, stopped blowing on her own cup of tea to say, "In the movies, they always make it like Brahmin auction, just lewder with weeping women paraded nude on the block before being auctioned off to slavering perverts." She shrugged, and added, "Now in Raider country that would be putting it lightly, but N'awlins is civilized, we do things like civilized people."

"Guilty as charged", Brian said self-deprecatingly as he looked around. Amanda's sitting room was, like the rest of the Pre-War mansion turned brothel, immaculately maintained, and furnished and decorated in the archaic Victorian style....something he had only seen in period piece movies. Both women were impeccably dressed in tailor made dresses in the same style, like upper class women in the late 1800s. Not that they would have passed as that, with Amanda, in a black dress, being a ghoul though Charlotte, in a burgundy red dress, could stand a bit more scrutiny by wearing gloves to cover the tattoos on her hands that went down her fingers to the first knuckle. The style of this place, one of the most popular brothels in New Orleans...which is saying something in a city with the decadent reputation New Orleans has enjoyed for centuries...was incredibly archaic, the infamous Bourbon Street district was probably the only place in the Post-War world where such a style would fit in. "I expected a slave auction to be.....seedier."

"The auction isn't here, darling", Amanda replied with a chuckle, "That's at the Auction House at three o'clock. What we're doing here is choosing your instructor. You'll literally be living with your decision, so pick carefully. Questions, modeling clothes, showing the goods, or even a tryout if you're up for it. Everything is on the table, so don't be shy...any chemistry the two of you can create will make this a lot easier for you."

"Before we start", Brian said, "I have a question. I thought Sault had brought Abolition to her lands, yet here we are. Could you explain?"

"The Consul has not abolished slavery entirely", Amanda explained, "But her changes to the Slave Code go a long way towards Abolition over time. New contracts for 'slaves for life' can only be imposed by a Judge as a sentence for a Felony conviction, which also means children of slaves are born free. You can be enslaved for debt, or basically put yourself up as collateral for a loan...but such contracts are for a fixed term not exceeding seven years. The cover story for your instructor is that she sold herself to a broker as collateral for a loan. By purchasing the note from them, you get possession of the collateral."

"Whoever you pick, this won't be her first rodeo", Amanda continued, "Her cover will be that's she's your housekeeper...with benefits. Such arrangements are common here, Sault's reforms haven't changed that. While her emphasis will be on breaking down your inhibitions regarding women like me, she's also available for seducing others if the mission requires it. In the circles you'll be running in, they offer up women to guests and clients the way you'd offer a visitor a Nuka-Cola back in Omaha. Between your housekeeper and Charlotte...Raider girls are the in-fetish this year...you'll have all bases covered. She'll play the role in public and private...but one thing you need to remember is that she's not a slave, she's your comrade, and a nearly irreplaceable asset. Abuse will not be tolerated. And if things go wrong, maintaining her cover is higher priority than yours."

"In short", Charlotte interjected, "If you become a threat to your instructor's safety or cover....you will become the mission." She then arched her eyebrows and added, "I've been to that particular rodeo before...didn't like it...I'd rather not go through that again, especially with a cute one like you."

A couple hours later

"I must say", Amanda said as she watched Brian eat, "your process for choosing has been quite a suprise to me."

"How so?", Brian asked between bites of a breakfast sausage on the end of his fork, "The others weren't leg men? Even with her condition, Jennifer has some mighty fine legs."

"Not that", Amanda answered patiently, "Being a Knight before she changed, she was far more fit than the average woman and fitness helps a lot when it comes to keeping a figure in our situation. What I mean was having the girls cook for you."

"Going 512 isn't going to be easy, that was explained to me at length when I volunteered", Brian said, popping the last of his sausage into his mouth and eating it. "Nobody said I had to put up with bad cooking at the same time."

"Men!", Charlotte said, rolling her eyes.

"I think you'll fit in nicely", Amanda said, chuckling, as she pulled a packet out of a drawer of a cabinet and handed it to him. "Take Charlotte to lunch, if you still have room, and be at the auction house at 3. Jen will be lot 32, I've made arrangements, her auction will be competing with the bail bondsmen default auctions...with the auctioneer in my pocket and some shill bidders that I'll have planted, you should be able to pick her up for $2500 or so without any trouble. Don't forget you meet with the lawyers at seven to start the process of transferring the ownership of Pan-American Import/Exports to you. It's best to get that done before the Avondale Shipyard deal goes public...Saults is not going to be happy when she learns she was outbid. She'll make a killing on the shares she holds, but that might not be consolation enough. And we have to wrap up these last few deals before the Texans make their move."

"When will that be?", Brian asked. "I didn't get briefed on that."

"Not long", Amanda replied, "My friends in Austin tell me the Authorization passed handily, I expect the troop movements to begin in a matter of days."

"Meanwhile, we do what we've been doing", Charlotte said, "Help Bartholomew from behind the scenes...not that he'd thank us if he knew where most of his intel on doings here was coming from."

War Never Changes

Windsor - Statehouse - Office of the Speaker of the IRD House

"You understand your orders?", Speaker Herring-Warren barked at the two nervous men standing before her desk. "do you understand how important it is to our plans that you don't fuck this up?"

"Yes, Madam Speaker", Chuck Wendig, her Chief of Staff, replied, nervously tugging at his beard as he received his third tongue-lashing from his volatile and sadistic Boss today. "Agent Mueller has been fully briefed, he'll take care of this...um, matter, discreetly."

"For fuck's sake, Charles", Herring-Warren replied irritably, stressing the syllables of his name, "Can you at least talk like you have a pair of balls for once?". She then turned to the other man, a tall, gaunt figure with flint-cold eyes. His icy indifference to her tirade at her aide, whom she frankly enjoyed tormenting, calmed her down somewhat. Mueller was a sociopathic killer, his position in the Federal Political Police had served the Church well over the years...unlike her gormless aide, she had full faith in his ability. "How about you, Henry?", she added, almost affably.

"General Stone ordered that Pendergast be eliminated immediately, Madam Speaker", Mueller replied. "To better do your Will....may I ask why we are changing the plan?"

"Because he's a fool...", the Speaker said, "...Pendergast gives us the perfect opportunity to lay Traowski's and Bouley's "tragic" deaths at the feet of the Brotherhood. You'll see to it he's found dead at the scene with the murder weapon. It doesn't have to stand up to forensic examination....with them dead, I'll be President and the investigation will say what I need it to say." She then added, "He wanted to sacrifice that opportunity to his martyr complex...by the time the Brotherhood arrives I'll have the streets ablaze to greet them."

"I see now, Madame Speaker", Mueller replied, his normally grim features breaking out into a mirthless smile, "You can count on me. I will need assistance bringing him in without being seen, however."

"Take Charles with you", the Speaker said with a dismissive gesture at her aide, "Even for him, it's a simple matter to get you access to the tunnels under the Statehouse, from there you can get wherever you need to go." She then added in conclusion, "Now go...I have a meeting with the Minority Leader, I can't wait to see the look on that insufferable prick's face when they come for him."


Near the Stonecroft Inn, Central Windsor

"Mueller, Federal Political Police", Mueller said icily as he flashed his ID at the sentry, "We have a Warrant for the arrest of the Brotherhood official at the Stonecroft."

"I'll have to clear that with my commander", the corporal in command of the checkpoint said, "Wait here, please."

Taking his ID, the corporal went to a nearby emplacement and placed a call from a field telephone. After a brief conversation, the corporal waved Mueller over, and handed him his ID card and the receiver.

"Inspector Mueller, Federal Political Police", Mueller said, "whom do I have the honor of addressing."

"Captain Kowalski, Fifth Infantry Battalion", said a exhausted voice, "I was directed to seal off the area, nothing was said about an arrest."

"I apologize, Captain", Mueller said soothingly, "But this is a delicate political matter. We have evidence Pendergast has been passing information to the Enemy....President Traowski has ordered his arrest."

"What?", Kowalski scoffed, "That's nuts! The Brotherhood hates the Cult, why would they help them defeat us?"

"It's above my paygrade to speculate on that", Mueller replied, "But it would explain a lot of things, wouldn't it?" After a pause, he added, "I find it hard to believe as well....but if you contact General Stone, he can confirm the warrant has been issued."

"Very well", Kowalski said, "Wait, please". Mueller waited, receiver to his ear, regarding the nervous behavior of his companion, Wendig, with increasing irritation. It was little wonder Wendig had never made it past the Outer Circle in the Church...try as he might...at heart the man was a rank coward. He had begun to idly wonder if the Speaker would be that upset if he had a "accident" when Kowalski came back on the line. "I've confirmed it with General Stone", Kowalski said, "I was authorized to detail a squad to assist if you need."

Mueller looked at the police detail, six uniformed Federal Police, and another Plainclothes officer like himself, and smiled slightly. More than enough to deal with one man.

"I appreciate your cooperation, Captain", Mueller said, "But I have things under control here, and you have more important concerns than one suspected spy."


Wardroom - Monitor Relentless- off Stag Island, St Clair River

"What happened?", Commodore Hackett asked. "Where is Pendergast?"

"The Cult has overrun most of Detroit, Commodore", said Scribe Whitby, leader of the group the flotilla had picked up heading up the St Clair as they descended it. "After they burned the Embassy to the ground, Pendergast took the Mendez's with him to the Windsor side to try to get in to see Traowski after they got us passage out of the city." Noticing his confusion, Whitby added, "Ernesto and Julia Mendez, the Knight detachment. They're married."

"Right", Hackett said, checking the chart on the table before them. "We won't be in range of their suit radios for a couple hours yet...unless...." He looked at Barrett, "Signal LST-20 and tall them to prep a drone, we need to get in touch with Pendergast and find out what kind of welcome we're going to get when we arrive."

"Aye, sir", Barrett replied.


Stonecroft Inn - Room 304

Pendergast paced the foor, as he listened to the radio. The reports were not good...apparently Detroit south of Ten Mile Rd was overrun, and yet another headlong assault across the Ambassador bridge was currently underway. It was shocking to him how things had come to this....the IRD was on the brink of being swept away, in spite of all it's latent strength. It was almost as if they wanted to die. How Traowski would turn this around was beyond him, he was pessimistic that the IRD could even be saved at this point. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud pounding at the door.

"Who is it?", Pendergast asked, "I didn't request room service."

"Inspector Mueller, Federal Political Police", came a voice through the door. "I need to speak with you at once!"

Pendergast looked through the peephole in the door, seeing what appeared to be two plainclothes Detectives. He unlocked the door and opened it, and stepped back as the pair walked in, followed by a third man, a bestectacled man with a full beard, who he remembered from the Statehouse....Weinnig?

"What can I do for you gentlemen?", Pendergast asked, as Mueller and his companion displayed their badges. "I was not expecting you."

"Ambassador", Mueller said, "We have been sent by the President. We have received credible intelligence that an attempt is planned on your life...we are here to escort you to a secure location."

"Very well", Pendergast said as he reached for the radio to turn it off, which he hoped would get the attention of the Knights in the room next door. But before he could flip the switch, the usual broadcast was interrupted.

"We interrupt this program for Breaking News!", the announcer said excitedly, "We are receiving reports from the statehouse that the President has been assassinated!" As the broadcaster continued, Pendergrast looked over at the two policemen in horror. For a long moment, they looked at each other, then without a word, both Mueller and his companion began to reach under their coats for their pistols. Reflexively, Pendergast reached for his laser rifle, leaning against the side of the dresser the radio sat on, fotunately out of their sight. Grabbing the rifle by it's collimator tube, he pulled it up, grabbing the pistol grip and smashing the butt of the rifle with all the force he could muster into the face of the policeman standing next to Mueller, causing him to stumble into Mueller, spoiling the draw of both men. Quickly reversing the rifle, he shot both men through the chest, then turned his rifle towards the open door. The bearded man just stood there, his mouth agape, until he was violently shoved out of the way by a uniformed policeman, his pistol drawn. Pendergast shot him before he could line up a shot, the policeman shouting out with pain and firing a round as he fell. From the hall, Pendergast heard voices.

"He's armed", a voice shouted, "He got Mueller and Brunner....get the others up here!"

He could hear people running up the stairs. As he was thinking of what to do next, the door to the next room flew open, and a Armored Knight burst into the room. The Knight glanced at the two plainclothesmen on the floor, casually shooting Mueller in the head as he attempted to level his pistol at Pendegast.

"Julie's suiting up now, sir", Mendez said, "Go in our room with her, I've got this."

Obeying, Pendergast entered the room, finding Mrs Mendez, stark naked and soaking wet, apparantly she had been in the shower, stepping into her suit. Outside, he heard more shots, and panicked shouting as the remaining assassins realized they had bitten off a lot more than they could chew.

"What happened?", she asked Pendergast.

"Traowsky has been Assassinated", he said, "They sent people after me....I don't think they knew about you and Ernesto."

"Just when you think these people couldn't be anymore fucked up", Julie grumbled, "they have to go and surprise you. We need to get the hell out of here....now"

"Agreed", Pendergast said, as he followed her out into the hall. The bearded man was cowering next to the wounded uniformed policeman sprawled on the floor. Pendergast grabbed him by his necktie and pulled him to his feet, shoving him against the wall....terrified of Julie, imposing in her power armor, he didn't resist. Noticing the lanyard around his neck and ID card, he flipped it around and glanced at it.

"This guy is a Congressional Staffer", Pendergast said with a mixture of shock and disgust, "We're keeping this one...the others, not so much."

"Sounds good to me", Julie said, putting a shot through the head of the policeman with her laser rifle. "Hold on a minute, Ernesto says that someone on the ground floor is lighting up those mooks from behind....."


Second floor stairwell

Ernesto, chasing the remaining cops down the stairs, stopped as the remaining two cops were cut down with automatic weapons fire coming from the foyer as they tried to bolt out the door.

"Hold your goddamn fire!", a voice shouted. A moment later, a white towel taped onto a cane was thrust through the open door and wiggled for good measure. "Hey Brotherhood! We know you're in the stairwell...we just want to talk!"

"Come on in", Ernesto said, "I won't shoot so long as you don't try any bullshit."

War Never Changes

Indianapolis International Airport - Brotherhood HQ - Interrogation Room 2

Icepick watched impassively as she watched the drone footage. On the roof of a huge building Downtown, about 5-6 blocks from the Hotel she had been captured at by the look of it, a group of Raiders and Cult warriors stood about facing each other tensely, as thier leaders appeared to be having an argument. The camera zoomed in, and Icepick recognized it was Overboss Lee, and the Cult leader, Iron Jaw. After a brief argument, that consisted mostly of Lee ranting the way he always did when he was pissed, Iron Jaw gestured at him contemptuously and two of his men sprang forward, grabbing Lee and tossing him off the roof into the street below. Her lips curled with contempt as she saw Lee's bodyguard just stood there and watched their Overboss tossed over the side like trash. After watching Lee bounce off the pavement like a dead cat, Iron Jaw turned and walked away, his men herding Lee's men through a door to what was probably the stairwell, passing out of view.

"Pussies", she thought bitterly. "You only had one job..."

Her train of though was interrupted by a click as Stahl, sitting behind the desk across from her, pushed the pause button on the holo-recorder and rewound it until both men were back in view, then paused it again....now Lee was frozen in time, screaming at the clearly unimpressed Iron Jaw, clearly unaware he only had about a minute to live.

"What do you think this was about, Icepick?", Stahl asked, "Do you recognize these men?"

"The guy tossed off the roof was the Overboss", Icepick said wearily, sure Stahl already knew that much, at least. "The other guy is Iron Jaw....he's the leader of the Crew Rog'Reg sent from Ft Wayne to 'help' us. What they were arguing about I have no fucking idea, though I'm sure it had something to do with trying to cope with you people."

"Fair enough", Stahl replied. "It caught my interest because resistance began to collapse within a hour of this event. Do you think this had anything to do with that? New orders, perhaps?"

"Oh, there were orders, alright", Icepick said with a bitter chuckle, "They just weren't for us though. One of those Cult fuckers came and told our 'Pack Master' to cut us loose and link back up with the main group." She laughed mirthlessly and continued. "They didn't get far though...we were on the sixth floor at the time, they headed down the stairs and walked right into the guns of your people and the Legion coming up. Wish I could have seen the look on that shithead's face when they slotted him."

"Where do you think they were going?", Stahl asked.

"Underground", Icepick answered with a shrug, "In the sewers under Downtown somewhere, I guess.....where exactly I don't know. They spent a lot of time down there, doing fuck knows what..nobody they took down there ever came back up again."

Operations Room - a short time later

Paladin-General Wilson watched distastefully as drone footage showed Legion troops already at work crucifying prisoners. The executions didn't bother him.....most of them would have needed to be shot or hanged by his troops anyway...it was the method of execution, he felt it to be needlessly cruel. He was getting complaints from commanders in the field already, but they would have to live with it just as he was. Barnaky knew full well what he was doing when he put the Legate in charge of this Front of the advance, it was out of his hands. With the enemy deep in Ohio and the increasingly dire situation in Michigan, they didn't really have the time or manpower to spare to properly sort them out anyway.

"Sir", Inquisitor Stahl said from behind him, "If I may...."

"Certainly, Jessica", Wilson said as he turned to face him. "If it's about the crucifixions...."

"It's not for me to question the Will of the Lord-Paladin", Stahl replied, "In any case our Allies have been satisfactorily cooperative when it comes to providing subjects for interrogation." She handed the Paladin-General a folder and as he perused it, she continued, "We've got credible Intel that the Cult is preparing a counter-attack from the sewers under the city. My confidence in this assessment is high."

"Very well", Wilson replied, "I'll order redeployment immediately, and acceleration of the preparations for the scurry-bots." He then turned to the Duty Officer, "Execute plan Sierra immediately. And get me the Legate's field HQ....."

A cry of alarm came from one of the drone operators, and one of the large view-screens changed from a map of the city to a drone feed, by the look of it near the crumbling edifice that had once housed Indiana's Legislature. A Mutant at least ten feet tall and a pair of enormous mutant dogs was charging a group of Legion horsemen.

"Focus on the horsemen for a moment", Wilson barked. After a moment the uniforms of the men could be made out. "Those men are Praetorians....Aurelius himself is probably with them!" He turned to the senior controller and spoke again. "That area was declared secure nearly two hours ago....who do we have near there now?"

"Vertibird 1-3", the controller replied after checking his displays, "Sergeant-Lancer Kyle."

"Vector him in stat!"

"He's already engaging", the controller said. "switching to 1-3's feed". Another screen changed, now showing the view of 1-3's gun-sight camera. The mutant glared at the Vertibird facing it, seeming to finally realize it's danger right before the Vertibird's guns opened up at nearly point blank range and tore it to pieces. The Vertibird then immediately vectored into landing mode, settling down on the pavement.

"Get me in contact with that pilot", Wilson said, "we have to warn them."

"We're not getting through", the controller said, "Something's been interfering with the radio signal ever since they landed."

Momentarily, the pilot appeared in the feed, approaching the Praetorians. From this distance Wilson could see that the first man he reached was Vulpes Inculta. Kyle took off his helmet, and after a brief conversation, Aurelius approached them, at which point Kyle stood to attention and saluted him.

"The camera feed is still working, try the alternate frequencies", Wilson said, leaning over the controller.

"1-3 this is Command, over", the controller said several times as she tried the various frequencies. After several tries she got a reply. She then pushed a button and a light next to a yellow handset on her console lit up. "It's the Co-Pilot, Lancer-Sergeant Jordan, sir."

Wilson snatched up the headset and immediately began speaking.

"1-3, this is Actual speaking", Wilson said, "It's vitally important that you get Sergeant Kyle's attention and tell him you're all in danger, and that I need to speak to the Legate immediately. Send one of your gunners, hurry!"

"Yes sir!", Jordan replied, then switched to the intercom and ordered Lancer Henning out to bring Kyle and the Legate to the aircraft, and Lancer-Corporal Smith to man the gun on that side. Jordan then also started going through the pre-flight checklist....if the Paladin-General goes to the trouble of calling you personally to warn you that you're in danger, it's unlikely to be bullshit, after all.

War Never Changes

Palace of Caesar

“Then we are agreed", Lucius said as he and General Garcia stood and shook hands, "And there will be the peace. I will have my scribes draft the official agreement immediately, which we might sign here today.”

“General Hsu has given me the authority to sign today. It will last past tomorrow and the next, Caesar”, Garcia replied with a nod. After both men took their seats again he added, “What part of the wasteland should we talk about next? Perhaps the war in Florida?”

“Yes, that is probably wise", said President Harris. "First, I give thanks to you Caesar for allowing this process with the NCR to go smoothly. Thank you for disconnecting the irrational actions of Kimball from the soldiers who had to follow his absurd strategies. In regards to the Keynesian Civil War, I plan to soon announce my support for His Serenity Bartholomew Hemingway III and his loyalist faction against the rogue slave states. The direct intervention of the Free Confederation of Texan States should likely follow. Peace and freedom must be brought to the region, and His Serenity is the most likely to bring it." He looked towards Barnaky and Lucius "What are your assessments of the situation?”

"The state of affairs in the Key Republic is quite alarming to me", said Barnaky, "Especially as it appears to have been instigated by the Cult....it's my understanding that Suttbray is a open worshiper of the Cult's so-called "God". That, of course, means I am at war with him already, whether he is aware of that or not. I think you should know that a faction in this Insurrection, the 'Southern Liberal Concordat', is currently attempting to open diplomatic channels with me." Barnaky turned and gestured at Martin, who handed him a document from his briefcase. He then turned back to President Harris and handed it to him (OOC it is the text of Sault's offer), then continued. "They are offering me access to New Orleans and the Gulf, as well as a trade agreement, in exchange for weapons and support."

"While these are long standing strategic goals of mine", Barnaky continued, "I don't consider them worth the price of helping the Cult tear apart the Key Republic. It has also occurred to me that accepting this offer would contribute to the disintegration of a member of the 'Co-Prosperity Sphere', which would rightly earn the enmity of the other Nations in that Pact, as well as neutral powers such as the NCR." He nodded at General Garcia then continued, "That again would only benefit the Cult."

"As this communication reached me on my way here, I have not had the opportunity to consult with Caesar about this matter yet," Barnaky said, "But my assessment is this. The Cult cannot be allowed to conquer or destroy the Key Republic, or to divide us on this issue. If the Key Republic falls into their hands, it's a direct threat to both my people and yours. To that end, I believe that all parties involved should decide on a joint course of action to put down this Insurrection and excise Cult influence from the Key Republic while it can still be saved."

"To that end", Barnaky continued, "I am prepared to assist in this endeavor. We've been monitoring the situation and I have a small but powerful force upriver at Vicksburg that is in position to lend direct aid, there are also other ways we can assist....I'm sure His Serenity still has loyal subjects in New Orleans willing to fight for him if provided with arms and leadership. The Concordat wants to purchase weapons and ammunition...but the River south of Memphis is a dangerous place and in spite of the unceasing efforts of my Fleet piracy does still happen in the lower River from time to time.

"With that said", Barnaky said, "I want to make one thing perfectly clear. The only outcome of this Intervention acceptable to my Government is that the territory held by the rebels calling themselves the 'Southern Liberal Concordat' is returned to the jurisdiction of His Serenity as soon as practicable, once the rebellion is put down, of course."

"I would also like to request at this time, Mr President", Barnaky said, "Your aid in securing a audience between Brother Martin or I and His Serenity, to discuss how we might be of assistance to him in this dark hour, and the future of our relations as well. While we may disagree on several issues, many of which admittedly stem from the form of Government events forced me to Institute in my lands, there is no reason we cannot live in peace with each other."

“If it would please your eminences Caesar and Barnaky", Gladstone said, "Might I have permission to withdraw with your aides for deliberations over when and where the Western Brotherhood’s military forces will enter the fray against the cult?”

"Of course, High Elder", Barnaky said. Gladstone sounded bored, which surprised Barnaky a bit. "Brother Martin here is fully briefed on these issues, and if necessary a teleconference can be set up with the Paladin-General and, if it pleases Caesar, Legatus Aurelius in Indianapolis can be convened."

War Never Changes

[u][b]Indianapolis International Airport - Prisoner In-Processing[/u][/i]

Despair. The air reeked of it. She could see it on the face of the other prisoners...only a few days ago masters of all they surveyed.

When you first joined a Crew and went a' Raiding, it seemed like being a King. You could go where you want, and do what you want as you had your Crew watching your back. The Squares just gave you what you wanted, food, chems, sex, whatever, because you had power and they didn't. Of course, you learned quick that there were limits...jumping the claim of a stronger Crew had consequences. And then there were Squares who had the power to fight back. Working her way up to the top of her Crew, the older Raiders had told her stories of Ill-Annoy, to the West...a magical land where the even the poorest Squares were rich by Wasteland standards and didn't even lock their doors at night. When she, or later, a noob, asked them why they didn't go Raiding there and glom onto their stuff....they would look at each other knowingly and then laugh at you like you were retarded.

"Ya want to end up like the Otters, fucktard?", they'd say. Eventually, she got the story out of Eddie....a Underboss she'd slept with for a while to gain support for her move to take over her Set during her climb up the ladder...about the Otters, and why they stayed far away from Ill-Annoy. The Otters were a large Crew that controlled E-ville, down South, at the time, thirty years ago or so. They liked boats, and would raid on the River. They had a good thing going, but their Boss decided to try and Raid West, all the way to the Big Muddy, to a town called Kay-row. River trade ran right though it, the haul of booty would be enormous. Their Boss, Razor, thought it would be the biggest Raid of his career. He had over seven hundred soldiers, his own and smaller Crews that paid him Tribute, how could he fail? So he collected his fleet, and headed West with half his Crew...never to return. Not alive anyway.....about a week later, a fleet of iron ships came up the river and pounded the shit out of E-Town with artillery, then landed troops in fucking power armor who wiped out any of Razor's Crew that didn't run....except for a few they spared to send a message. They say that they were taken on-board the Boss ship, to find Razor and his Underbosses swinging from it's yardarms. Then they let them go and told them anyone else who fucked with the Brotherhood would get more of the same. After that, the Crews in Indiana stayed the hell out of Ill-Annoy.

So from then on, the old hands at Raiding knew they were living on borrowed time...and for the Colts, that time had finally run out. Last week, she had ran a Crew of fifty, plus their slaves and noobs looking for a shot at being soldiers. Now, her soldiers were dead or up on crosses, her slaves gone....and she was reduced to being the bitch of a some brat in her late teens who probably didn't weigh 100 pounds soaking wet, just the kind of Square she'd dragged off a farm for the auction block a dozen times or more.

Icepick scratched at the skin around her neck under her shock collar as she obediently shuffled past the line of other prisoners, waiting their turn, as the guard behind her prodded her along with the end of her baton into the room.

"See those footprints by the table there?", the guard said firmly, "stand on them and await instructions." She then prodded her again with the baton. As Icepick did what she was told, the guard went to the desk and handed a folder to the guard there.

"This one is Priority, Stahl wants to question her stat", the guard said, "We need to process her now."

"Right, the desk clerk responded, "Angie! We got one for you!"

A hatchet-faced woman in her forties came out and approached Icepick, dropping a plastic box on the table in front of her.

"Strip", she barked, "everything into the box."

Icepick numbly complied, stripping completely naked as ordered, and putting everything in the box. When it came to the last item, a locket around her neck that was her last tie to the family she'd run away from at fifteen, she hesitated. The younger guard moved to wield her baton, but Angie bade her stop.

"From your mom?", Angie asked, her tone softening slightly. Icepick nodded sadly. Angle pulled out a small envelope and held it open for Icepick to remove the locket and put it inside. "I'll attach it to your file, I can't promise what the Inquisitor will do, but if you cooperate you may get it back. Rest of your shit's forfeit, though."

"Thanks", Icepick said.

"Don't mention it", Angie said as she pulled out a pair of rubber gloves and put them on. "you can pay me back by not giving me any trouble with the cavity search." She then reached out and put her thumb on Icepick's chin. "open your mouth, please."

Icepick tamely complied as Angie conducted a full cavity search...partially out of gratitude, and partially because she'd seen them shock a prisoner from a different Set until he shit and pissed himself for taking a poke at a guard. At this point, she just wanted to get things over with. Once satisfied, Angie waved her in the direction of the showers, and the two guards followed her in and watched her bathe. The fire hose on one wall was a mute reminder of the price of noncompliance so once again, she did as she was told. Once bathed, a towel was tossed at her and she dried off, and placed the town into a basket. Then she was stood up against a wall, where Angie photographed her ink, front, back, and side. Then she was led down the opposite hall to a new room, where a woman measured her, and she was issued a pair of shoes, three pairs of underwear and three orange jumpsuits as well as a wool army blanket. Once dressed, she was photographed again, then taken to the holding block, where the brat turned her over to the guards there and left. Icepick was taken to a cell, and after a brief explanation of the sparse furnishings, locked inside.

The cell was small, with a cot, a steel toilet and sink, with a polished piece of steel for a mirror, and a small cabinet for her spare clothes. There was also a small television, behind a pane of some kind of thick glass. Next to it were some buttons. Experimenting with them, she found she could turn on the set, adjust the volume, and change the channel. There were four channels, one had news, the Brotherhood's version of it, anyway, one just had words and what looked like times scrolling across the screen slowly...she didn't read so good but it appeared that it was showing some sort of schedule. One had a movie, not a Pre-War movie, but a new one....apparently it was about the Legion. She watched as a huge Crew of Legion soldiers, by the look of it many thousands of them, marched in perfect step down a old highway in what looked like the middle of nowhere, towards a small settlement. But there was no fighting, the people of the town just stood alongside the road and cheered as they marched by. According to the man on TV, they had been expected, they were coming to help the Brotherhood fight the Cult, yet another diplomatic triumph of the 'great and wise' Lord-Paladin Barnaky. Just watching the endless steam of what they called Legionaries pass by the camera made her ill....they had never stood a chance against those kind of numbers....how in hell did Lee think they would be able to fight the Legion and the Brotherhood? He must have been huffing the shit the Cult soldiers were all hooked on if he thought they could win against a Crew that big. All the Cult had sent them to "help" was a bunch of asshole 'advisors' who fucked off into the sewers once the assault came, and left them to be butchered.....by fucking kids! Except for thier leader, a scary Legion fucker named Tullius, none of the group that tore her Crew to shreds could have been older than twenty.

Fuck, she had been so stupid. She had listened to Lee and his bullshit, and because of it she had lost everything. Her raiding days were done...if she was lucky the Brotherhood would shoot her themselves rather than hand her over to the Legion to die on a cross, like Jesus did in the barely remembered stories mom had told her when she was a little girl. She hadn't thought of Mom in years...if only she could go home and tell her she was sorry for how things had worked out. She had run away to join a Crew because she was tired of being a nobody at the mercy of people with the numbers and guns to take what they wanted. only to find that it had all been for nothing....she was right back where she was when she was fifteen. She wasn't even thirty yet and her life was over.

If only she'd listened to her mother.....

War Never Changes

Indianapolis - Indianapolis Mariott Downtown

Sergeant 1/c Missey, from his hard won vantage point on the 18th floor of the dilapidated Pre-War hotel, looked out to the North, towards the old Indiana Statehouse, with his binoculars, looking for targets for the guns of his battery, far to his rear. Devastated by counter-battery fire, the Enemy's guns had been silent for at least twenty minutes, so he was now free to devote his attention to helping the boys and girls...and their Legion allies...advance. Ten floors below him, tracers from the LMGs of the Platoon he had attached himself to reached out and raked the windows of the old State government buildings across Washington Street, the current front line. They, and a Century of Legionaries, had only been too happy to storm the building to give him a good place to work his magic from. For his part, he was gratified to not be alone as usual, his dick hanging out in the breeze as he had to do his job while watching out for enemy troops...now all he had to worry about was the muzzle-fuckers back at the Battery aiming short and dropping one on his head.

"There you are, sergeant", came a voice behind him speaking Latin. Turning to look, he saw it was Centurion Tullius, the de facto on-scene commander as Lt Harding had bought it in the fighting in the Convention Center and the Platoon was now commanded by it's First Sergeant. He looked at the armor on the imposing and tough looking man's left arm, fashioned from a T-45 suit by the look of it. Missey wondered if it was true that he had to kill the original owner to win the right to wear it as part of his uniform as they said in the training class. "I need to speak to you before I go downstairs."

"What can I do for you, Centurion?", Missey replied in Latin...the Exam prep classes he had taken in the Barnaky Youth had certainly turned out useful even earlier than he had expected. He'd been recommended to sit the next Brotherhood exam by his Battery commander, and was confident he'd do well.

"Your comrades were able to re-establish radio contact with their superiors", Tullis said, "and two squads of Knights and ammunition resupply has been dispatched, also Circle Square Mall has been taken, and forces are massing there for an assault on the State House. Once everything is in readiness, we will resume the advance." Missey produced his map case, and followed along as Tullius crouched next to him and showed him his plans on the map, pointing out buildings across the street. "I would like you to direct your fire here, here, and here. With your help, as well as the heavy weapons of your comrades, we will be able to cross to the other side with minimal losses. Our orders are to push all the way to the State Library building...here. Once accomplished, the Profligates holding the State House will be trapped."

"You can count on me, Centurion", Missey said, "We'll warm em up for you."

"Good", Tullius replied warmly, slapping the younger man on the back then standing again. He then prodded the bound prisoner..a Raider...with his foot. She, clearly infuriated, tried to says something in reply, but the rag stuffed in her mouth prevented it from being understood. Tullius chuckled at her impotent rage and continued. "Spirited....your Inquisitors will have some sport with her. The reinforcements and ammunition will be delivered by Vertibird to the roof, they want the body of the Cultist and any prisoners for the return trip, as well as the wounded. Make sure the men I send up to fetch the ammunition take this one and the body with them. She's the only one likely to be of any importance...the next leader after the Cultist...the others will be dealt with summarily, we have too many wounded to waste space for garbage."

Indianapolis International Airport - about thirty minutes later.

As the Vertibird landed, the doors opened and stretcher-bearers approached from both sides and began removing badly wounded soldiers, mostly Legionaries in the uniforms of Recruits, with some Brotherhood soldiers along with them. After the medics had recovered the wounded, Inquisitor Stahl approached to see what they had brought for her. Only two....disappointing. By the sheer number of wounded, most likely the commander in the field had elected to evacuate his own men rather than prisoners, so had sent back only the subjects they considered most likely to be of use. One was dead, the back of his skull blown out and a .308 hole under his left eye, not to mention several shots through the chest. His armor and weapons clearly marked him as a full blown Cult soldier, and probably a unit leader of some kind to boot. Useful, and also confirmed the cult presence in the city. The other was a Raider wearing the blue and white colors of the Colts, Overboss Lee's Gang. The quality of her outfit and remaining equipment, not to mention the extensive and intricate tatoos, suggested a set leader. She climbed into the Vertibird and pulled the rag out of the woman's mouth unceremoniously, then began putting on a set of latex gloves she had acquired from the medics.

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way", said Stahl coldly, "Open your mouth and keep it open."

"Fuck you, bitch!", the Raider spluttered, clearly enraged, "Wanna see what your guts look like? Untie me, and I'll show you!"

"Hard way it is", Stahl said, pushing her thumb into the pressure point in the back of the Raider's ear, "Open your mouth...now. I'm willing to do this all day."

The Raider stood up to the pain for a good minute before finally complying, opening her mouth so Stahl could examine her teeth. She found they were in good condition, at least for someone who didn't have dental care. Most importantly, no sign of the damage that Jet addiction invariably causes. Jet-heads were unreliable informants, to put it mildly.

Next she checked her eyes....pupils were normal, which meant she wasn't strung out on Psycho or Med-X. A bit muscular for a woman, so might be hitting the buffout....but that was manageable. All in all, one of the more promising subjects delivered from the Front so far today.

"You'll do", Stahl said, patting her on the cheek with mock affection. The Raider responded by spitting on her. Stahl laughed mirthlessly. "Don't want to be my bitch? Very well, I'm sure the Legion has a spare cross....would you like me to put in a good word for you?"

For the first time, a trace of fear appeared on the Raider's dirty face. She'd seen what the Legion did with prisoners..they were busy decorating the roof of that old hotel with three of her crew even as she was loaded on the Vertibird.

"If you brought me here just to kill me", she said, "then for fuck's sake at least have the decency to pull down and do it yourself. Otherwise, tell me what the fuck you want from me."

"I'm starting to like you", Stahl replied, toying with the Raider's bedraggled and greasy hair, "Tell you what...we'll get you cleaned up and then we'll have a nice chat. Maybe there's still hope for you yet."

War Never Changes

Palace of Caesar

“The New California Republic has failed the world", Garcia said, "We showed our worst face at New Vegas Conference. And Kimball's invasion was a violation of the peace the world hoped for.” he looked at Lucius, a former enemy he’d never seen before today, and couldn’t help but respect him some for all this. “Both of our nations have been at each others throats for years in a needless conflict. Thousands died for a dam that ultimately neither of us owned when the fighting stopped. Kimball tried to restart that when we ought to have ended our silly conflict. For that, the new leaders of the NCR apologize and hope to make things right in the coming years in whatever way we can. Resentments between our people may continue, but never again another war. The Republic may one day expand into those untouched wastelands at our border, but the people of California have had enough blood. We want to gradually establish peaceful and open economic and diplomatic connections to all nations around us. There is only benefit to be had for Texas, Vegas, the Legion, and both Brotherhoods to discussing open trade agreements with us. To carry out these promises, General Hsu is currently reforming our democratic government and I have been authorized to make binding agreements with you. So by all means, be prepared for some far future conflict with the Republic. But know ‘gluttonous expansion’ and further war is not on the Bears agenda.”

"Nice speech", Barnaky thought to himself, "Even though you looked like you were sucking on a lemon while giving it." As for Gladstone's bellicose talk, he should keep in mind the NCR wasn't much weaker now than they had been when they forced him to abandon the bunkers that made up the cradle of the Order and into exile in Washington State. Barnaky was sympathetic with Garcia's predicament, however....Hsu had truly given the man a hard duty to perform. Personally, he would have rather have seen his old "friend" Cassandra Moore...one of the authors of this whole mess, and the only one to survive it politically...served up that healthy portion of crow pie than Garcia, she richly deserved it. But that woman had more lives than a cat....not only was she still in uniform, the same clowns in Shady Sands that had been moving a bill through the NCR Congress to demand she be cashiered as news reached them of her victory over Thunderbird, last War Leader of the 80s, turned around and made her a Major General instead. Her leading role in the Mojave War, and the disastrous war with the Legion that followed was all but forgotten in the NCR now.

Garcia sat, then spoke again.

“I have one request Caesar", Garcia continued, "Would it be possible for the remains of Kimball and his outfit to be turned over to the NCR? The remains could serve as a powerful symbol of Kimball's defeat to the NCR public. They would also be some consolation for the family relations and friends the man left behind, regardless of his final actions.”

Barnaky was surprised by this, he had thought Lucius had repatriated Kimball's remains. While returning the corpse seemed like a reasonable request to him, that was up to Caesar. he looked over at Caesar to await his reply to Garcia.

Akeisha Moon - SAC HQ - Former Joint Strategic Target Planning Staff Offices - Four Months Ago

"Here it is", the Scribe said to Akeisha as he placed the thick book on the table before her. "This is where it all begins..."

Akeisha regarded the book, a large softbound tome at least three inches thick, and looked at the black letters that still stood out boldly on the blood red cover.

TOP SECRET//SIOP-ESI

SINGLE INTEGRATED OPERATIONAL PLAN, FY 2078 (SIOP-78)
WITH APPENDICES AND ANNEXES

THE JOINT CHIEFS OF STAFF
WASHINGTON, D.C. 20301
1 OCT 2077

CLASSIFIED BY DIRECTOR, J-3
DECLASSIFY ON OADR

TOP SECRET//SIOP-ESI

There it was before her, one of the most closely guarded secrets of the Old World's Government....the document that spelled out, in meticulous detail, the US Military's comprehensive plan for ending the world. Below her, deep underground, was one of the command centers from which the final war of the Old World had been waged. The men and women assigned to it, all but forgotten except for names on duty rosters and logs, had prosecuted the war relentlessly, managing the initial exchange, and then sending out commands for follow-up strikes to units that one by one, had ceased replying until, in the end, supplies had run out, forcing them to venture out into the hellscape of post-exchange Nebraska for more, which exposed them to the radiation that ultimately claimed them. When the Brotherhood had seized Offut AFB from the Calculator, along with their bones, they inherited the largest known repository of records regarding the Great War known to still exist. Everything from the SIOP itself, to the real-time logs of SAC HQ as the war was being waged, to, reports from SAC assets and Battle Damage Assessments and follow up orders that emanated from them. It would take months to scan it all onto holodisk and years for a dedicated team of historians to catalog and analyze it all....so that historians could properly chronicle the madness that had created the world as it was today.

While Akeisha's specialty with the Followers of the Apocalypse was the study of the Societal Protection Program, or Vault Project as most called it, when the Brotherhood had responded to her requests for information about the Vaults in the Midwestern Order's lands with a counter-offer to help them catalog the trove of Great War-era documents, she couldn't help but accept.

With a mixture of deep curiosity, sadness, and a little fear, she opened the cover and began to leaf through the pages of the massive tome before her.

War Never Changes

SAC HQ Bunker - Secure teleconference room

"Unfortunately, the Primus Frumentarius unearthed nothing new", Inquisitor Stahl said over the securecom from Indianapolis. "In his opinion, Lancer-Sergeant Kyle is being truthful. I think we've learned all we can from him here. He's passed his flight physical, I see no reason not to recommend he be released for duty."

"Agreed", Joseph replied, looking up from the copy of Vulpes's report that had been forwarded to him by Stahl. "The Paladin -General has directed he be assigned to Vetibird Squadron Two in Wichita, he should complete Flight Quals and cross-chapter orientation by the time their last four Vertibirds are delivered by the production line and they are ready to deploy."

Protocols existed in the Codex for a Brother or Sister joining the Midwestern Order from another Chapter, Lancer-Sergeant Kyle would be the first Brother they were ever applied to...a learning experience all around, they might find other remnants of the Eastern Order who needed a new home as well.

From there, the subject turned to the War, and the Counterinsurgency effort behind the lines. Cult moles and Stay-behinds were still widespread, but the Inquisition, working with the Missionaries, were arming and organizing politically reliable elements in the countryside and the Field units believed they had turned the corner in the Occupation Zone as cell after cell was found and destroyed. Aurelius's arrival in Indianapolis was imminent, the artillery was already stockpiling shells to back up the inevitable assault. Central Michigan was rapidly emptying out of civilians, denied victims to forage from, the Cult forces would begin to weaken as their supplies ran out. Fortifications in Grand Rapids were continuing at pace...once the Warmaster came south he would find himself fighting very much on the Brotherhood's terms.

Eventually, the conference entered, and Stahl and the other Inquisitions winked off their screens. Joseph turned to the robot that was taking a seat next to him.

"Vulpes also made some very good points about Maxon in his report, sir", Joseph said. "Either Elder Maxon was privy to information that was not shared with the Brethren at large, or he had gone mad....it's imperative we find out which."

"Yes", Barnaky replied, "But how? From what Brother Kyle said, Maxon's actions have made the Brotherhood widely hated in the Commonwealth. A Expedition there would likely be seen as a second attempt at Invasion and opposed by the whole body of the people....the very thing we've gone to lengths to avoid in our own expansion program. No wonder Gladstone recognized his claim to the Elder's chair so quickly once Elder Lyons was assassinated, they were two peas in a pod."

"Speaking of the High Elder", Barnaky added, "How are operations going in the north?"

"We've increased assets in the Khan's Lands, as well as South Dakota, in conjunction with Martin's people", Joseph replied, "we're also exploring option on how to get people into the Western Order's lands, but any kind of broadcast inside of their lands is likely to be dangerous...that mystery flight was practicing comprehensive OPSEC protocols....one can only assume they are looking for the same sort of things they were trying to hide from us."

"Any idea what they were doing in Kentucky?", Barnaky asked.

"Whatever it was, Joseph replied, "They wanted us kept in the dark about it. Their liason could have contacted the Joint Targeting Staff and gotten a hundred suitable targets, or secured clearance to overfly our territory, for the asking. I can only guess they either just did something they believed we would object to, or are trying to independently verify the data on the Cult we gave them....or perhaps both. Not an auspicious beginning for reconciliation between our Chapters."

"No, it's not", Barnaky said wistfully, "I believe we shouldn't get our hopes up on that front. I hope I'm wrong, but Gladstone's actions give me a strong sense of deja vu...Same Shit, Different Decade."

"Back to Maxon", Barnaky continued, "We can't send in an overt force like we did in the Capital Wasteland....they'll be too busy trying to survive to find out what we need to know. Put together a team...i'll instruct Martin to cooperate....to go in and see what they can find. At the same time, I will direct Strasse to redouble the efforts at the Citadel, we need as much of what Maxon knew when he left as we can find. I also find it hard to believe he did not communicate his findings with the Citadel from Boston, either."

"I will begin immediately, sir", Joseph replied.

"Good."

War Never Changes

Ruins of Worland, Wyoming

Under the clear and starry sky, on a small hill well away from the camp, the trio sat alone. One was a man, in the regalia of a Mem-Bar warrior of the Laramie 80s, the other two were women. One, her head resting in the lap of the man, as he caressed her long blonde hair affectionately, wore the leathers common to the 'civilians'...wives, camp followers, and sometimes slaves...who accompanied them wherever they roamed. The third, however, was dressed in a t-shirt and Motorcross style trousers, the jacket spread out on the ground beneath her....not something an 80 would be likely to wear. Nor would the necklace around the neck of the young black woman which bore the rank insignia of a Senior Scribe in the Brotherhood.

"Where did you get a name like 'Whispers-to-robots'?", Sister Tanya asked, "What does that mean?"

"Tell her, Steve!", Ellie, his Ol' Lady, demanded, using his birth name, which was her right as his wife to do, a fact she made a point of driving home to the young woman with them at every opportunity since Tanya had joined the caravan at the Khan's Golden City. She knew her Ol' Man well enough to know she had better put her cards on the table lest he stray...as if the two Mama's he already had in their household weren't enough for him. Like them, Tanya wished to travel to the Followers investigating the secrets of the Buffalo Bill Dam, as the Brotherhood had paid in gasoline to see her delivered safely, it would be done...though it did help that she was pleasant company, full of stories of her travels to far-away places like Oklahoma, and even Nawlins, and was versed in their ways so she was little trouble to the Road-Captain. Ellie liked her, but not enough to share her man with her. "I love that story!"

"Alright", Steve replied, pretending...badly...that he didn't want to tell the story of one of the most important days of his life, for the hundredth time, "It was back in '84. I was still a Prospect then, and had yet to win my war-bike...."

He then launched into the story, how in the Fall of '84 the Chapter's Engine Whisperer had led him and four other Prospects into the Brotherhood lands to disable one of the Brotherhood's giant agri-bots, a rich source of parts and scrap metal. While somewhat hazardous, it was not excessively so...as long as they didn't seriously harm the farmers or other travelers they encountered, or bother the strange hairy Deathclaws Barnaky let roam Western Nebraska because their ancestors had served him against the Mutants and the Great Robot, the most likely penalty if caught was a fine of gasoline, or jail, or one of them having to join Barnaky's Army for a time.

The robots themselves were not a danger unless one was careless, getting in and back out again with the prize of precious metal was where the glory in it was. As many of the Patrol were 80s that had, after an active life, hung up their signs and settled down, taken wives from Barnaky's people, and traded their war-bikes in for Shriekers, they understood their opponents and were a worthy foe. Harvest time was dreaded by Barnaky's Highway Patrol, as the harvest brought 80s looking for glory and metal...and the resultant mandatory overtime. The Great Wheel had turned, and now they were viewing their own youthful exploits from the other side. The favored way of disabling a agri-bot was to dig a trench in a row then conceal it and wait for it to travel down the row and be trapped when one giant wheel fell in the trench and couldn't get out. then the raiding party would swarm aboard and the race would begin...to remove what they could and load it into a truck and retreat before the Patrol arrived. A successful raid would net great amounts of scrap and parts they could use, more than worth the risk.

He had been given the task of counting the rows, locating the targeted robot and determining it's path so they could dig the trench on the right place for it to fall into. Failure to point out the correct row for the trench would merit him a sound thrashing from the rest of the party, who would justifiably be irate at having to dig a new trench and try again. The robot of course, just ran the automated path it was programmed with and only stopped if it detected a man-sized object in it's path and honked at it. That was best avoided as it might attract the local farmer, which meant they would have to abort the attempt if he/she saw them. That, again, would earn the offender a beating. Once the path was determined, and the trench dug, they waited for the machine to fall into the trap then the fun began.

This time, it didn't work that way.

As he approached the agri-bot, from the left, which should have been safe, the great machine suddenly stopped, and one of the cameras swiveled to look at him. And then a voice bellowed from it's loudspeaker. Not a robotic voice, but a man's voice, the voice of a warrior...

"What did it say?", Ellie asked, already knowing. This was her favorite part.

"Well, what do we have here?", the voice said, "You're here to steal parts from me, aren't you?" it then bellowed, "You just fucked with the wrong robot, you little shit!"

"Then it started moving again, it turned and began to chase me", Steve said. "Shouting things that would make a brahmin driver blush all the while, then it started playing this music...", he then hummed a tune that Tayna recognized from old pre-war comedy vids, then continued. "I ran like a rad-rabbit, damn robot chased me all across the field for ten minutes before I managed to lead it over the trench and got it stuck. It fell in, tried to get out, and then one of the cameras swivels back to me and it starts talking again.

"You got me, you little bastard", it said, "Well played." It actually sounded amused. "Then it said we had two hours before it called the Patrol on us."

"What did you do then?", Tanya asked.

"We cut the robot up and got out clean with two full truckloads of scrap", Steve said, "Best haul in years. The Engine-Whisperer gave me a strong engine to complete my war-bike in exchange for my share....and the Oil-Shamans gave me my War-name once he told them what had happened. They say Barnaky himself talked to me, but I'm not sure that they are right."

"It's possible", Tanya replied, "He has the ability to take control of the machines that once served the Calculator...or as you know it, the 'Great Robot'. Why he would do that in this case, I honestly do not know."

"My first trophy was one of the cameras from that robot," Steve said, "If you and the Oil-Shamans were right, then it was a good Omen. Won my sign a year later, out Nevada way....and found my Ol' Lady, here."

"Eloping with you was the best decision I ever made", Ellie said sleepily, "If I hadn't, I'd be stuck back in Nevada farming dust and paying House's taxes like Ma and Pa probably still are, with nothing to show for it. Barnaky has too many rules, but at least he provides for those who ride behind him...House doesn't do shit for anyone."

In the distance, far above, the drone of engines could be heard. Tanya bade the others to be quiet, and pulled a pair of binoculars out of the bag sitting by her and scanned the sky. eventually she saw them, three small shapes moving in a Northwesterly direction, well to their south. No running lights. Just like the ones she had seen several hours ago, going the other way.

"Might be ours", Tanya thought, "But why East to West for a return journey? I had better report this."

She pulled out a compass and a notebook, then consulted her wristwatch and wrote the time and a rough heading down. She then watched the flying objects for a while longer then lowered the binoculars and put her things back in the bag, and then stood and stooped to pick up her jacket.

"We're done here", Tanya said, "Time to go back to camp and hit the sack, we have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow."

SAC HQ Bunker, Operations.

The reports had been flowing in for hours, from listening posts, Missionaries in the field, and troops in the Michigan, Indiana, and Kentucky front. Unknown aircraft had flown across Wyoming and Minnesota, over the Lakes then crossed into Republic Airspace and from there south into Kentucky....then back again. Some radio traffic was picked up, but it was encrypted and not nearly enough was intercepted to decipher it. Who...or why...was unknown for certain, though analysts agreed the likely origin of the aircraft was the Western Order. A high altitude drone recon flight was ordered for Eastern Kentucky, the presumed AO of the mysterious aircraft, to see if the target could be identified....

Duluth Docks - Administration Building - Inquisition Offices

Anita pulled the typewritten letter, on Inquisition letterhead, that she had just finished typing out of her typewriter and examined her handiwork. Satisfied the letter was in proper form, she opened the manila folder on her desk, and shuffled it and another letter into the slim stack and placed it back in the folder, then closed it and turned her attention to compiling a digest of the results of last round of interviews of the brothel workers at the Full Moon, the brothel that serviced the dock area, as she waited for her opportunity. After around fifteen minutes, the phone at her desk rang, the inside line for Inquisitor Morton blinking. She picked up the handset and pushed the blinking button.

"Yes, Inquisitor?", Anita asked in the cheerful, professional tone she always used with him...and hid her true feelings quite well, "How may I serve you?"

"Coffee, please", Morton replied, "Milk and sugar".

"Right away, sir", Anita chirped, hanging up after the Inquisitor did.

"Showtime", she thought as she stood up and put her purse on the desk, fishing around until she found her makeup kit, then placed it on her desk and headed over to the coffee maker, where a fresh pot, from coffee smuggled upriver from the Keys was brewing. She grabbed a cup and saucer, then prepared a cup as requested, and took it back to the desk. Pulling a small brown vial and a Q-tip from the makeup kit, she carefully opened the vial, careful not to touch the contents. The trace scent emanating from the vial alone made her flush and she could feel the dampness that signaled arousal beginning to form. While welcome, given what she was about to do, she knew she had to be careful lest she lose control of herself. She barely moistened the end of the q-tip, then put the lid back on. She then ran the q-tip along the inside of the rim of the cup, then wadded up the q-tip inside a used coffee filter and threw it in the garbage. She then pulled out her compact, checking her makeup and applying more lipstick, admiring her swarthy and slightly exotic good looks, then packed up the kit and put it away. Straightening up her dark blue Brotherhood police uniform, bearing no insignia except for an armband with the word "TRUSTY" on it, she then carefully picked up the coffee cup and saucer, and put the folder under her arm and walked down the hall, past the empty offices where the other three Inquisitors..long since sent East..had once been, to the one occupied office. She quietly knocked, entering at the bidding of a gruff voice inside.

In the office, hard at work behind his desk, was Inquisitor Morton, a not unappealing red-headed man in his mid-twenties. Duluth, and the Iron camps, was his first big assignment. Normally, he would be junior Inquisitor, under the guidance of more experienced hands, but the Order had it's hands full in Michigan and Indiana, the experienced hands were needed at the Front or behind the lines waging the endless counter-insurgency war against Cult spies and stay-behind saboteurs....so by default, he became Head Agent, presiding over a office of one, completely overworked and having to rely on the Security Chiefs of the labor camps and even trusted prisoners, such as Anita, to cope with the workload associated with maintaining Barnaky's Regime.

"Thanks, Anita", Morton said gratefully as he accepted the cup and saucer. "Got papers for me?"

"Just routine, Inquisitor", she said, mugging in a way to non-verbally signal that she wanted him to drink what she had prepared for him, "It can wait."

Morton, picking up the cues subconsciously, obliged and took a drink. He paused for a moment, as the coffee tasted just a bit odd....though the puppy dog eyes she threw at him when she noticed the pause coaxed him into drinking more, just to please her....as he suddenly realized how luscious her lips looked.

Anita watched and waited, it wasn't long before the pupils of his eyes showed the pheromones were working. A tiny dose, but then she just wanted to make him more biddable to suggestion, not compel him to bend her over the desk and ravish her until he was completely spent and then dry-hump her until he was exhausted. She then walked around the desk and shot him a lewd look that had worked on many a man in her line of work. She smiled as he immediately became erect in response. Totally distracted, he didn't even notice as she placed the folder on the desk, just that she had kneeled down next to him.

"That cock looks rock-hard, Bob", she said seductively in his ear, "would you like me to suck it for you?"

"I.I.I can't!", Bob stammered, "They'd shoot me if they found out!"

"No they won't, Bob", Anita replied, "We've been through this before. I promise I'll swallow it all and then there will be no evidence...it will be our secret." She then lazily ran a finger and traced a line up his clothed, and fully erect member. "I just need you to do something for me...."

"Do what?", Morton asked impatiently, "I want you now!"

"Just sign these papers for me", she said as she flipped open the folder, "I need these signed so they can go out in today's packet."

"Oh, right", Morton said. glancing at the top paper, it was the weekly discipline report for Camp 11. he signed it and flipped to the next page, to find his report on suspected sabotage of a mining rig at the Keewatin Pit, the investigation had determined it was a hydraulic failure caused by a defective hose. He signed it, but became distracted again as Anita began fiddling with his belt.

"C'mon Bob", Anita said huskily as she succeeded in unfastening his belt, "hurry up so I can suck it!"

At that point, Morton's resistance finally crumbled and he hastily signed...without reading...each succeeding document in turn, in the spot where Anita helpfully indicated with a carefully manicured nail, casting down the pen when he had signed the last one.

"Good boy", said Anita with satisfaction as she stacked the papers and put them back in the folder and closed it. "Get ready....."

Bob struggled to pull down his pants to his ankles and leaned back, his eyes rolling up into the back of his head as Anita moved in and expertly pleasured him. After a time, he groaned in pleasure has he climaxed into her skilled mouth. After finishing up, she looked up at him, and opened her mouth to show that it was empty, then leaned up and made him kiss her. She then stood up, and picked up the folder.

"Thank you, Bob", she said, then turned and went to the door, as he recovered. She then looked back and said, "Inquisitor, I need a car to pick up correspondence from the camps and Brainerd....It will take most of the day. could you call ahead to the motor pool and get one released for me?"

"I'll take care of it", Morton said, picking up the phone and mashing the button for a outside line, "Just make sure you're back before curfew...and be careful. the Brainerd area isn't secure yet."

"I'll go there first", Anita replied, "Raiders won't be out in the morning." Morton grunted in reply, then waved her off then began pulling his pants back up as she closed the door.

Back at her desk, she prepared the morning correspondence to go out, then examined the last letters...the ones she hadn't wanted Morton to read...and smiled predatorily at the signature on them. Susan had told her to just forge the documents....but why take the risk when she had a Inquisitor wrapped around her finger? Now all she had to do is head to Mimi's, report and pick up a helper, then complete the mission.

As for Inquisitor Morton, his time would come soon enough.