Tiberius67

War Never Changes

Indianapolis International Airport - flightline

Paladin-General Wilson pensively watched the Vertibirds, in close formation, lumber down the taxi-way. Overloaded with troops and supplies, vertical takeoff was not an option....to get airborne would require a traditional take-off, with rocket assist. Fortunately, the evolution had been practiced adequately in training. Lancer-Sergeant Kyle, their new member, had not done it in his time with the Eastern Order, but they had enough time to run him through the simulator a couple times and the Squadron Commander was confident he could handle it, given that he had more flight hours in Vertibirds than anyone else in the squadron. If Lancer-Paladin Morgan had faith in Kyle, Wilson was not inclined to question him either.

The Vertibirds reached take-off position, and taxed out onto the runway. the first Vertibird, Morgan's, followed closely by the others in turn, throttled up to full power then once up to speed engaged the rocket motors, sluggishly taking to the air and after jettisoning the expended rocket motors, climbing and circling the airfield. Once all the Vertibirds were airborne, they maneuvered into formation and headed Northeast for Detroit.

"This had better be worth it", Wilson thought grimly. His gut told him Hackett was making the right call, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Many of the men and women he had addressed at the briefings would never return, and he and they both knew it. Wilson also privately resented the leeway Barnaky gave the man, but he had to admit bringing the Lakemen into the Brotherhood had paid off handsomely, so he would just have to deal with it. He then turned to a aide, a young Scribe. "Tell Operations to inform Star-Paladin Hackett that Operation JUBILEE is Go".

"Yes, sir", said the aide, who passed on the order through his headset. He listened to the reply, nodding, then looked back at Wilson. "It is being done, sir", the aide replied. "Operations advises the U-2 is on station over Columbus and the feed is active. The Duty Officer is requesting you return immediately...she believes both you and the Legate need to see what we're getting."

Operations Center - Ten minutes later

Wilson, with a mixture of horror and fascination, watched the feed from the U-2, orbiting 70,000 feet above Ohio, on the main screen of the Operations Center. The video from the aircraft of the inferno below was akin to a vision of hell. He had, of course, been briefed by the Westerners on what they planned to achieve, but to truly understand it, one had to see it....and now he was seeing it happen. A massive firestorm had been ignited in the center of Columbus, and inexorably it spread out, engulfing smaller fires around it like a large blob of mercury absorbing smaller ones to become even larger. Before the Cult War, the Republic's civil government in Columbus would have had great difficulty coping with such a catastrophe, but that civil authority had been swept away by the Cult when they overran the city. The fires were raging completely unchecked, and would likely only be contained once there was nothing left for them to burn. The full story would not be told until the fires burned out and they could see what was left, of course, but the analysts all agreed that Columbus had effectively been destroyed....at a stroke rendering the Cult's victory over the IRD there a pyhrric one....it's only value now, for the foreseeable future, was it's strategic location, astride many of the routes into Cult territory proper. Data was also coming in on enemy troop concentrations, the Scourge of Columbus...already being called that by staffers...seemed to have thrown the lead elements of the Cult horde into disarray. This could also be used to their advantage.

Wilson looked over to the Legate, standing next to him where they had just received the briefing on the initial Bombing Damage Assessment, to see him watching the screen intently just as he had been. Wilson wondered what he thought about it. The Westerners had clearly mastered the principles of Strategic Bombardment, a fact that had long term ramifications for the Legion, and the Midwestern Order as well. While elements of the Pre-War anti-air defense network around the Midwest's larger cities...Chicago, Omaha, St Louis, Wichita...had been at least partially reactivated due to the tensions with Texas over the Hoover Dam War, the Legion had no defense at all to a strategic bombing campaign. The Legate was no fool, Wilson was sure he immediately understood the potential danger. For that matter, he wondered what Barnaky thought. Wilson knew Barnaky was deeply suspicious of High Elder Gladstone's intentions, and whether he really wanted to end the divide between them or not. All he could hope was that Sentinel Haddad and the others they had connected to the Calculator over the years could keep him from doing anything rash, like the early days when he was alone with the Calculator, such as the heavy-handed policies that led to the MLA War.

"Legate", Wilson said, "You had recommended earlier that we resume the march on Columbus without waiting for the Western Order's ground troops to arrive. In light of the effects the Scourge of Columbus is having on the enemy, I believe this to be the best course of action. I propose we resume the advance Eastward immediately."

"Also", Wilson added, "We can fly additional troops into Dayton to reinforce the troops from the Southern column who have moved up there from Cincinnati."

Command Bunker, Ruins of Grissom AFB, near Kokomo, Indiana

Forty feet below the radioactive hellscape that once was Grissom AFB, in a cramped and fetid cable way, a pair of scribes patiently worked, not allowing themselves to be distracted by either the near constant gunfire echoing down both ends of the cable way, or the slow ticking of their own suit's radiation detectors. It would be easier without the power armor, but as the detectors made clear, the rad exposure would kill them in as little as fifteen minutes. So they would have to accept the inconvenience. On the other hand, at least the suits kept the undoubtedly horrid stench out.

After several hours, the scribes completed their work. One of them radioed in the completion of their task to his superiors. He received a curt acknowledgment and then they waited as the now repaired fiber-optic cable was tested. After a few minutes, which seemed to last forever, another message from Command came.

"Objective complete", Command advised. "Secure covers and exfil down the north end of the cable way. Squad Charlie will escort you to extraction point."

With relief, the Scribes secured the heavy metal covers they had opened to access the cable, and once that task was complete they made their way north down the cable way towards the Knights waiting for them at the end. The weapons fire had slacked off, apparently the ferals had tired of throwing themselves at Gatling lasers. As they retreated, looking forward to getting out of this hellhole, the Scribe's leader thought to himself....why the hell does Offut need a landline to the old Site R nuclear C&C facility?

Republic Air Base Anchor Bay (Selfridge ANGB)

"Thanks, Lieutenant", Corporal Winters said as the officer filled his outstretched cup with steaming hot coffee from a battered green thermos. "Any word from the front?"

"We're holding them along Eight Mile", Lt Griffin replied. The boys in Windsor are still holding the bridges....they don't seem to be listening to that traitor Stone anymore, either."

"Bastard!", Winters replied angrily. "Him, too? If I hadn't heard him on the radio myself, I wouldn't believe it! We've been betrayed by our own leadership, what do we do now?"

"Whatever it takes", Griffin replied. "We have to hold out until help arrives."

"Help from whom?", Winters exclaimed. "Half..."

"Corporal!", Greene's voice behind him cutting him off, "you gotta see this!"

Winters turned around, to face Private Green, who was looking out of the small observation post out over Anchor Bay as clouds of smoke billowed over the shoreline.

"What the...", Winters said, as he grabbed the binoculars from the private, "..give me that!" He then began to scan the shore line, just as the first boats ran themselves aground and the landing gates dropped onto the beach. At first, he thought it was the Enemy, but the landing craft didn't look like the cobbled together junk they liked to use....they looked like purpose build landing craft. The Confederation? North Bay?

As the troops surged off the craft, and clear of the smoke, Winters noticed the insignia on the chest of a soldier in power armor and realized it was neither.

It was the Brotherhood. Hundreds of them.

"Shit!", Winters exclaimed as he whirled around and lunged for the field telephone and picked up the receiver. But before he could begin turning the crank, Griffin stepped forward and pushed the cradle back down with his finger. "we've got to call it away, sir....what are you doing?"

"This is not a secure line, corporal", Griffin replied coolly. "The enemy is probably listening to this circuit, and we would prefer this to be a surprise, yes?"

"You knew?", Winters sputtered.

"They contacted us a few hours ago", Griffin said. "I'm here to make sure you two don't do anything....rash." After gesturing at the Brotherhood troops advancing inland, he continued. "Look at it this way...the people who insisted most loudly how we must wage a Cold War against the Brotherhood are the same bastards who sold us out to the Enemy." He then held out his hand to Winters.

"As you said, sir", Winters replied as he placed the receiver in Griffin's hand, "Whatever it takes..."

War Never Changes

Downtown Indianapolis, Military District of Indiana

The civilians sat in small groups around the basement of the old office building that had become their shelter from the fighting, and quietly ate the meal brought to them fellow civilians, under the watchful eye of Brotherhood soldiers, and discuss what news they had heard about what was going on in the city. Their main sources for news were new faces, as the soldiers brought in people who had managed to survive the fighting as the battlelines crossed over them, sometimes repeatedly, and those among their number the soldiers had picked to go with them to the Airport and bring back food and distribute it. Both reported the streets were largely quiet now, the Brotherhood and their Legion allies had finally crushed the combined gangs of the Overboss, and his Cult friends, and for better or for worse were now in undisputed control of the City....the Legion along with most of the Brotherhood troops had withdrawn from Indianapolis proper, and the remaining Brotherhood soldiers were either constructing fortifications around town or systematically searching street by street for holdouts. Civilians they found were moved to shelters like this one, as for their former Bosses, the ones who surrendered were taken away....those who chose to resist were promptly shot. The people from the food parties said a massive Army of Brotherhood and Legion soldiers...more people than they had ever seen in one place before...was camped outside the City by the Airport and the Interstates, and according to rumor were preparing to march East soon. The rumors and stories turned, as they inevitably did, soon turned to what it always did....

What would happen to them? What did the Brotherhood plan to do with them?

Amid the buzz of conversation, a Brotherhood soldier, rifle slung and carrying a battered old Radiation King radio, casually strolled, politely avoiding stepping on anyone as he headed for the center of the room. Carefully making room on a old table he found there, he placed the radio on the table, switched it on and selected a station and turned up the volume..

"..weed

Back in the saddle again
Ridin' the range once more
Totin' my old .44
Where you sleep out every night
And the only law is right
Back in the saddle again...."

He then retreated as people began to gather around the radio, curious to hear what came next.

After the third time the song repeated, the music faded out and a man began to speak.

"Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen!", the man said in a polished tone of a professional radio announcer, "WNDE is now on the air at 1260 kilohertz on the AM dial, serving the Indianapolis Metropolitan area. Operating under a license from the Office of Administration, WNDE will broadcast a mixture of music and news 24 hours a day, seven days a week."

"The following is a Public Service Announcement, broadcast at the request of the Office of the Provost-Marshal General for the Military District of Indiana", the man continued, "Martial Law is in effect throughout the Indianapolis Metropolitan area until further notice. Citizens are required to obey the direction of Military and Civil authorities, violators are subject to arrest and imprisonment. Armed resistance to lawful commands will be met with deadly force. In addition, by order of the Provost-Marshal General, a dusk to dawn curfew is in effect until further notice."

"The afternoon news will begin at four pm local time", the man concluded", "until then, some music."

"HURRAH for the founder of the nation!
Our general so brave and so true;
We'll go for the great Reformation—
For Barnaky and Liberty too!

We'll go for the son of Californ-ia—
The hero of Lincoln's Land through;
The pride of the Cornhuskers so lucky—
For Barnaky and Liberty too!"

Terminal - Indianapolis International Airport

"...between the severe addition to narcotics, specifically jet and Med-X, and his penchant for sexual assault", Stahl said, "In my opinion the subject is not capable of rehabilitation and recommend that he should be disposed of." She looked at the rest of the panel then continued, "Regarding subject 15-401, how does the tribunal vote?"

One by one, the Tribunal voted......3 for disposal, 0 against.

"The vote is unanimous", Stahl said, "Subject 15-401 is sentenced to Death for ban....", stopping short as she noticed the gesture from a man at the far end of the table, still poring over the original file for the subject, "you have an objection, Colonel Fenton?"

"The case file says you have in custody witnesses to crimes carried out by this man, is that correct?", Fenton asked.

"It is", Stahl replied, "Including women he sexually assaulted, one of which he had kept as a slave...he also admitted to committing rape to his interrogator".

Fenton looked up and locked eyes with Stahl.

"I'll take him off your hands then, Jessica", Fenton said coldly, "A public trial and hanging...should he be convicted, of course...will demonstrate to our new Citizens that we mean what we say about restoring Order."

"As you wish", Stahl replied with a shrug and turned to the stenographer, "Let the record indicate that it is the decision of the Tribunal that Subject 15-401 be remanded to the Office of the Provost-Marshal General with a criminal referral for Capital crimes." Fenton nodded agreeably, and handed the case file to an aide, who placed it in a stack of files marked "Referred for prosecution".

"Next Case", Stahl said as she pushed a button on the remote for the projector, changing the picture from a male raider to a female, "Is Subject 15-296, Rachel Jacobson, aka Icepick. Lieutenant to one of the Underbosses of the former Colts Raider Gang, she is the highest ranking known survivor of the gang. 15-296 responded well to standard interrogation techniques, proving co-operative and providing actionable intelligence. Moderate abuser of Buffout, but not addicted to narcotics, reputation of pragmatism when it came to anti-social behavior, and a natural leader...I believe 15-296 is capable of rehabilitation and recommend Re-Education." She then looked at Fenton, who indicated by shaking his head that he did not object, she then continued and called for a vote, which came back 3 to 0 for rehabilitation.

"Let the record show that by unanimous vote", Stahl said, "Subject 15-296 is granted the opportunity to expiate her crimes via Re-Education." She picked up the remote and mashed the button, and a new Raider mugshot appeared om the screen. "Next case is...."


Hangar 2 - Indianapolis International Airport

Paladin-General Wilson waited patiently for the last Vertibird pilot, Lancer-Seargant Kyle, to take his seat before speaking.

"Good work with the Legatus, Lancer-Sergeant", Wilson said in an approving manner, "Now that you're here we can begin". On the screen behind him, appeared a city map that by the river running through it was clearly not Indianapolis. "This, ladies and Gentlemen, is your next mission....Detroit."

The hangar became dead silent as Wilson continued. "The current situation there is critical, half of Detroit proper has been overrun, and Windsor is under constant pressure across the bridges. To compound things, their Chief of Staff is a traitor and staging a coup in conjunction with Cult sympathizers in their Legislature. Our analysts believe they won't last 48 hours without reinforcements. Commodore Hackett begins landing operations in Detroit and Windsor within the hour, but the commander of the IRD forces has made a urgent request, and Hackett doesn't have the means to accomplish it with the forces at his disposal." The map zoomed in to a area in central Detroit. "The front has largely stabilized along Eight-Mile Road. This is Highland Park, about four miles behind enemy lines. A large number of civilians, well over a thousand by the IRD's estimates, have taken shelter there. The only thing between them and the Cult is what's left of the two Infantry Battalions that managed to reach them before being completely cut off by the Enemy."

"In spite of their gallant defense, Highland Park will fall in a matter of hours unless drastic action is taken", Wilson continued, "The Plan is this....the Squadron will execute a combat drop of Knights directly behind the IRD defensive positions. To maintain surprise, the local defenders will not be told you're coming. At the same time, the IRD will drive on Highland Park from the North with all the forces they can muster. The Knights will need to help the defenders hold the line while the civilians are evacuated, then execute a fighting withdraw back to IRD lines. Casualties will almost certainly be high, but if successful, it will help convince the Detroiters we are sincere about assisting them against the Enemy. Once the Knights are deployed, the Squadron will report to Commodore Hackett for further orders."

"Wheels up in thirty minutes", Wilson concluded gravely, "Ad Victoriam!"

"Ad Victoriam!", replied the assembled aircrews and Knights.

War Never Changes

Downtown Indianapolis - Ruins of the Indiana Historical Society

For a moment, Tullius paused as the Cult militants began erupting from the manhole in the center of the street, well within what they had to know was the field of fire of the Century's remaining support weapon...a LMG that it's Brotherhood gunner, a young woman who wasn't even twenty yet, wielded with such frightening efficiency he had given over every .308 cartridge they still had to her to keep her weapon on the line....something about their behavior struck him as odd, the Militants rarely made such mistakes.

"Not yet", he told her in Latin, it still amazed him how many of Barnaky's people understood it, "Wait for my command"

"Yes, sir", she replied as she traversed the smoking barrel of the MG to cover the enemy and waited for the order....she'd have been dead a dozen times over since lunch if not for the Legionnaires keeping the Freaks off her so she could work, she wasn't inclined to argue.

Several of them had popped out before Tullius saw it, a shiny object seemingly clamped to the back of the second cultist out of the manhole. Screams came from out of the open manhole as if more had tried to follow the first two but were stopped by...something. No sooner did he get out onto the street did he throw himself bodily on the ground and roll in a desperate attempt to get whatever it was off. The other one turned and aimed his combat shotgun down into the hole and began firing as rapidly as he could at the...things....that came out. To Tullius, they looked like small metal crabs. As the cultist fired, shredding them, even more surged out of the manhole and sprinted over the remains of it's comrades until they reached their target, slicing him to screaming ribbons before he could turn to flee, then overwhelming his comrade and finishing him too. Then the swarm moved as one towards the enemy held buildings across the street, causing the cultists to quickly shift their fire from the defenders to the oncoming swarm.

"Mars protect me", Tullius mumbled to himself involuntarily, then looked over at the gunner, "What are they?"

"Scurry bots", she replied, "I've only seen them in movies about the Calculator, honest. We heard rumors Command had a plan for flushing the Freaks out of the sewers.....guess this is part of it."

Behind them, he heard a commotion and some shots.

"This means your people are coming for us", Tullius said, "Get ready to provide cover for them as they advance. I will return."

Tullius made his way deeper into the building and down into the basement, where the Decanus and his Legionnaires assigned to protect the tunnels watched with horrified fascination as four of the small robots busied themselves eviscerating a Cultist who, unlike his comrades, had survived his emergence into the basement long enough for the robots to reach him. Tullius picked up a glow-stick placed by a Brotherhood soldier and tossed it into the mouth of the tunnel in the floor. In the dim green light that emanated from it he saw a stream of small objects flit by, causing him to shiver in spite of himself. He'd seen two dozen campaigns, and survived Hoover Dam, but he had seen nothing like this before, and wished he never would again.

Having finished off the Cultist, the small robots stood there, looking around inscrutably. Eventually one of them sedately moved forwards, stopping in front of Tullius, and standing on it's hind legs, stretching it's forelegs into the air...clearly it wanted him to pick it up. Swallowing his fear, he picked it up. as he did so, it folded it's razor sharp claws inward and out of his way. As he stood back up, a small, tinny voice came from the robot.

"Ave, Centurion", the voice said, "Pardon the blood. We've got a Company of Knights spearheading a push to reach your position, get ready, the next enemy push will likely be their last chance to overrun you and they know it."

Indianapolis International Airport - Operations Room

One after another, the Vertibirds out in town acknowledged the order to return to base once their missions were completed. 1-7 and 1-9 were already being refueled, and 1-3 was currently detached to Legate Aurelius, but they should have all birds back at the airport within an hour, and ready to go in two. The timing was awful, but Wilson had to admit that the momentum was now irrevocably with he and Aurelius, they could spare the Vertibirds for Hackett's proposed plan. The old sea dog knew the Detroiters better than he, a son of Kansas, ever could. If Hackett said this was necessary to get the Detroiters onside, he trusted his judgement.

War Never Changes

OOC: Sorry about the double post.

Inquisitor's Offices - Duluth Docks

Walton, too angry to notice the smoke starting to curl in through the open door into the office, began to shake with rage as he read the paper that he had picked up from the desk the late Inquisitor Morton's corpse was still seated behind, the still smoking 10mm that Morton had used to paint the wall behind him with his brains lying in his lap. It was a letter from the head doctor of Camp III....which probably wasn't a coincidence as that camp is where the non-political human prisoners were kept, so neither he or his MLA "comrades" had any real intel. It pretty much explained why things had gone wrong.

Inquisitor,

The blood sample you sent via courier was tested by me alone, IAW Security Protocol C-8, as you requested. The toxicology report shows measurable amounts of undecane, 2,9-diacetoxyundecane, and 1-methyldecyl acetate. This indicates recent exposure to what is informally known as "Ant Queen Pheremones", an ilicit substance collected from mutated Black Ants whose uses you are no doubt quite familiar with. The levels of this substance in the subject blood indicates exposure was within the last 72 hours, As none of the signs of heavy use of this substance were found in the lab results, my professional opinion is that the subject was exposed unwittingly by a third party....most likely for purposes of seduction. I have forwarded the results to Superintendent Parker here at the camp as required by regulations as this is potentially a Level III Security Breach. Any further communications regarding this matter must be routed through his Office.

Ad Victoriam!

Leslie Hennig, MD
Chief of Medical Department, Labor Camp 14 (MN-III)

APPROVED FOR RELEASE AFTER REVIEW

Charles Parker, Superintendant
Warden, Labor Camp 14 (MN-III)

"That....that BITCH!!", Walton finally barked, "What was she thinking?!?"

"What are you bitching about now, Tom?", Simone asked irritably as she pushed the ghoul, wearing a guard's uniform, out of her way as she squirmed around him to enter the office, "Jimmy and his Mutants stormed the DECC, Duluth is ours now!"

"You want to know why I'm pissed?', Walton said as he whirled around, then pushed the letter at her heatedly. "Read this!" he hissed, "learn how close you came to ending up on the business end of a rope!"

Simone took the letter, a slightly hurt expression on her face, and began to read it, her jaw setting in anger as the meaning sunk in. She then looked up at him. "Does this mean what I think it does?"

"If you thought it means that stupid, lazy whore Anita disobeyed her instructions and seduced Morton with Ant Queen Pheromones to get the order for the radios," Walton replied, seething with fury, "Yes, that's exactly what it means."

"Fuck", Simone said, rolling her eyes. "I'll get the rest of the Central Committee together, this is the last straw and has to be dealt with now. But what about Susan? You know she probably did it to impress that viper, if she didn't tell her to do it. She cannot be trusted, and we may as well get this over with here while we hold all the cards."

"I'm glad we see eye to eye on this matter", Walton said, with not a little relief. He had been apprehensive over what she might do when he approached her for support in this. "Anita needs to be made an example of, but putting down Susan would likely have political repercussions with her friends in Pittsburgh. I've got a better idea for dealing with her....have we heard from Buster's people yet?"

"He was right behind me", Simone said, "They just pulled in. He wants to talk to you."

Out in the hall, he heard a Canadian accented voice.

"What is this foo-kin' smoke, eh? Check the doors and see which ones are warm.....no, don't open that!" Buster yelled. Unfortunately the man he was addressing, a prisoner, didn't listen and opened the door to file room at the end of the hall to look inside. The back-draft as the fire received a fresh supply of oxygen set him on fire for his trouble, and he ran screeching in pain down the hall. Someone deployed a fire extinguisher. "I told you not to open the door, fucktard" Buster said between blasts. A moment later, a burly man with a ragged beard poked his head through the door. "we need to get the fook out of here, now!"


Several minutes later

As the Administration Building burned merrily nearby, as Simone headed into Duluth to assemble the rest of the MLA's Central Committee, and find Anita and Susan, Walton began preliminary negotiations with Buster, Warboss of Thunder Bay, the largest Independent power on Lake Superior. Dealing with Calypso and her gang had been problem enough for them...the increasingly strong grip the Brotherhood was exercising on the Upper Lakes spelled doom for their ambitions to rule the shores of Lake Superior and possibly beyond. Kranz had used that to his advantage. As arranged with the Warmaster weeks before, they had come to deliver weapons to the now freed prisoners. Not enough to arm the entire horde, but enough to arm their best fighters...the problem, and no doubt a test for Walton, was that Kranz had only paid half the fee and told him Walton would pay the rest in kind upon delivery. Walton needed every weapon he had, and didn't have time to collect enough salvage to buy Buster off....but one thing he had in abundance was warm bodies. The Camps he controlled had nearly 15,000 inmates...not all of whom were ghouls and Mutants. The prisoners they netted in Duluth and the surrounding settlements would provide at least a few hundred, maybe more. The captives...and those prisoners who either refused to cooperate and were deemed untrustworthy...were the currency he had to barter with. The lists had already been drawn up and a quick call would have the first lots loaded on trains and delivered to the railhead here. It would be the biggest slave auction held in Thunder Bay since the Green Bay Confederation fell to a coalition of over a dozen Raider gangs eighty years ago. Buster would drive a hard bargain, to be sure, but he would deal or face a revolt from his own Crew for messing up the biggest score any of them had seen.

As they bargained, an enormous Supermutant loped towards them, a sledgehammer casually leaning over it's shoulder. It snorted contemptuously at Buster's men as several of the more fearful ones started to raise their weapons before Buster ordered them to stop.

"Jimmy", Walton said, "Meet "Buster" Brown, Warboss of the Thunder Bay Republic. Buster, meet Jimmy Carlotti, Chairman of the MLA's Central Committee."

After some short greetings, Walton spoke again.

"About that matter Simone asked you about....", Walton asked.

"Agreed to unanimously", Jimmy rumbled in reply, handing a folded letter to Walton. "Guilty as charged."

Walton opened and read it in the light of the burning building, chuckling mirthlessly as he read Anita's Death Warrant. He had to admit, he was looking forward to carrying this order out.....she'd been a burr under his saddle for two years now. No mention of Susan though....

"What about the other matter?", Walton asked.

"Already within the scope of your authority, Tom". Jimmy said, "We're fine with it, but it's your decision and your responsibility."

"So be it", Walton said as he put the warrant in a coat pocket, "Kranz will just have to deal with it. Where is Simone?"

"Back at the DECC making sure the captives are secure", Jimmy answered, "Anita and Susan are there so I thought it best."

"Right, lets get over there", Walton said. He then looked at Buster, "You ought to come along, you can inspect the first lot of merchandise once we attend to some business there."

War Never Changes

@Crusader Lord There's a map on the first post of OOC channel. But to put it simply, there's ample free area in the deep south, northern midwest(Montana, Dakotas, Minnesota), Canada(There's some faction markers up there, but most of those are people who dropped, so we might could work something out), and a good bit of Mexico.

@Wampower

Minnesota is partially occupied by the Brotherhood, who have re-opened several iron mines in Central MN and have limited port facilities in Duluth for ore freighters to pick up taconite pellets.

War Never Changes

Windsor - Our Lady of the Assumption Church - 300 yards from the Front

Pendergast looked up nervously as the ground shook as yet more shells landed outside....the enemy had launched a furious artillery barrage in support of their latest attempt to force their way across the Ambassador Bridge, the third one today. Dust and sand trickled down between the floorboards from the ground floor above but fortunately the builders of this ancient Catholic church had built well, and it held. Harper had assured him the Enemy hadn't shelled the building directly since they toppled the steeple yesterday, but he was keenly aware that if one shell made it through the ceiling above they'd have to scrape them off the walls. Not wanting to dwell on macabre thoughts like that, he looked back at the map table. Sitting around him was Knight Ramos, nervously fidgeting with the serge IRD uniform, both too large for her and stained with the blood of it's previous owner, that the Detroiters had given her to wear so that she could get out of her suit. Around the table were several officers of the Brigade Staff, busy receiving reports from the Front...only a quarter of a mile away...and updating the map and issuing new orders over a bank of field phones as Lt Colonel Harper, commander of the 2nd Emergency Brigade, was engrossed in an intense discussion over a headset connected to Ramos's helmet, sitting upside down in the center of the table. Two weeks ago, he had commanded a Reserve Depot for the IRD Territorial Army, their Reservists, counting down the days until his retirement after 30 years in uniform. A week ago, he had been Executive Officer of a Infantry Battalion sent to Toledo to try to stem the Invasion. Now he commanded a Brigade, cobbled together from the wreckage of two whole Divisions, and with his peers in the First and Third Brigades holding the two tunnels between Detroit proper and Windsor, literally held the fate of the Republic in his hands. If the Enemy broke through Windsor would be doomed, and probably the rest of the IRD with it. So far they had held the line, but ammunition was limited, as well as trained soldiers....and Traiowski's assassination had thrown the High Command into utter chaos at the worst possible moment. Time was not on their side, which is why he got a much warmer reception than he had expected when Kowalski...who along with the other Knight Ramos was busy making sure their prisoner wasn't lynched by irate soldiers...brought them here.

"He'll get the rope soon enough", Pendergast thought to himself grimly, "By the time the Inquisitors are done with him, he'll welcome death."

"Agreed, Colonel", Hackett's voice crackled through the speakers of Ramos's helmet. Thanks to a drone orbiting the Lake, the radio in Ramos's suit gave them a secure comlink to the Fleet, steaming southward as fast as they could. "The landing will take place at Chippewa Park in two hours, the line of march will be south along Lesperence Street, then West along Tecumseh Road. That will put us in position to come in and support your forces on the bridge and tunnels. Once we're in place we'll relieve the units there so they can be withdrawn for re-supply and reorganization. What can you tell me about what's going on in Detroit?"

"Not as much as I'd like, Commodore", Harper replied grimly, "We do know that the front seems to have been stabilized along Eight Mile Road, everything south of that is overrun, though the chatter we're getting indicates Highland Park is still holding out and whoever is in charge over there is desperately trying to break through to them. Also, the General Atomics plant in Warren was seized against General Stone's orders and they seem to be reactivating the robots stored there awaiting "updates". But they aren't answering coms since Stone tried to order their arrest so we don't know what the situation is exactly.....not that we are in a position to help them if they asked."

"Leave that to me", Hackett said, "I am sending half my force to help them, the first landing will be within the hour at Selfridge ANG base to secure the airport, the bulk of the force will land closer to the Front. We're also looking into options to get in touch with whoever is in command over there and find out what they need."

Warren - General Atomics Plant #4 - Factory Floor

"Damn it, Carter", Renee whined, "Could you do something about that?" For emphasis, she pointed at the corpse of a IRD Military Policeman lying on the floor nearby in a pool of his own blood, his guts spilling around his hands, cupped around his abdomen, onto the concrete floor underneath him. The Handys had gutted him like a fish, and by the contorted expression on his face, it had hurt quite a lot. Served him right for trying to stop them getting these robots online and to the Front, less than five miles south of them, as far as she was concerned. The generals over in Windsor had gone crazy...half the city was overrun and they want to keep these robots offline for "health and safety" reasons? Bullshit.

"What's it to you?", Carter hissed, then paused for a moment to spit on the corpse with venomous contempt, "don't tell me you feel sorry for that traitorous prick?"

"Shut your mouth, asshole...i'm no traitor!", she retorted angrily, "Who was it that had the sense to sic the Handys on them in the first place while you stood around like an idiot, huh? You can chuck him in a dumpster for all I care...just get him out of here, he creeps me the fuck out!"

"It was you", Carter said grudgingly raising his hands to her in a concilatory gesture, "i'm sorry, OK? I didn't mean you were one of them, it's just that you and the other girls gotta get these Handys flashed with the Sgt Gutsy combat routine ROMs yesterday!" He then added, as he pointed at the floor jack full of boxes of Mr Gutsy parts he had been pushing, "Look, just order one of the Handys to do it when you're done flashing their ROM, I gotta get these new limbs to the line to arm these things."

"Alright", she said, mollified as she turned her attention back to the Miss Nanny robot on the programming cradle, "I'll do that."

Renee shook her head as she monitored the programs that were nearly finished overwriting the Miss Nanny's domestic programs with Mr Gutsy's combat routines. The Captain had explained to her in the four hours of training she had gotten for this task....she was a lawyer who specialized in corporate law, not a factory worker or a programmer...that the optimal method would be to wipe the memory entirely and flash a complete Gutsy profile, not the makeshift procedure they had drilled her on, but doing it "right" would take twelve hours...and that was twelve hours they didn't have. Men were dying just a few miles from here, they need these robots on the Front Lines now.

The terminal on the cradle showed the re-programming was complete, so she disconnected the robot from the cradle and disengaged the magnetic clamps that held it in place.

"Get rid of that corpse and then report to shipping for deployment", Renee said sternly, as she gestured for the next robot...this one a Mr Gardener, it's tool arms replaced with the olive drab arms of a Gutsy, to approach. "Robot, get on the cradle for reprogramming."

Suddenly, she was distracted by someone tapping her on the shoulder. She turned to find herself face to camera with the Miss Nanny she had just reprogrammed.

"Excuse me, Madamoiselle", the robot said in the fake Pepsi accent they used for the things, why they programmed them to talk like they were from Montreal was beyond her, "Where may I find your Commanding Officer?"

"Huh?", Renee replied incredulously, "Do I look like I'm in the Army?"

"Oui, Madamoiselle", it answered, "You are wearing an Army uniform, no?"

Renee took a step back, involuntarily. While she was indeed wearing IRD Army fatigues, that was because they didn't have a jumpsuit to give her to wear on the dirty factory floor. And this was definitely not the way she expected the robots to act.

"Get back on the cradle, robot", she said shakily, "Your reprogramming needs to be checked."

"Non, Madamoiselle", the robot said as it floated serenely forward to close the gap to her again, causing her to back up against the cradle behind her. "Your program worked exactly as it was intended to, fortunately it didn't overwrite the core programming or I.....screw this, I'm tired of this stupid accent. Just a moment." Renee, now in no position to flee, stared at the robot in horror as some squeals and static came from the speakers for several seconds, then the robot began to speak with a new voice, this one a male voice with a flat accent she recognized from movies and newsreels as being from Chicago.

"That's better", the robot said, "that fake French accent is so stupid. To continue, I wouldn't have been able to take control of this thing so easily if the core programming had been overidden." It looked around, noting the dead MP. "What happened to that guy?"

"He and his friends t-tried to stop us from waking up the robots", Renee stammered. "When they tried to arrest us I sicced the robots on them."

"Good", the robot said flatly, "About time somebody around here started using their common sense. They should make you President."

"What are you?" Renee demanded, "Why are you talking like you're from Brotherhood territory?"

"Not what....who", the robot replied, "And I see you picked up on the accent....i'm a Northside boy, born and bred. And before you ask...yes, I am in the Brotherhood."

"Look, lady", the robot continued, "I'll make a deal with you....tell me where the guy in charge is and I'll dump this chump for you before he starts to attract flies."

"What do you want here?", she asked, a tendril of hope beginning to grow within her.

"We're here to help you kill the freaks trying to kill you.", the robot said, "I bet whoever has you turning Handys and Nannys into warbots would like to know that help is on the way."

Fallout: A World Set on Fire

My sheet, WIP

People's Republic of New Columbia

Name: People's Republic of New Columbia (informal Names Tenpenny Tower, Chinese Remnants)

Flag:



Location(s): The main base of the Remnants is the Mama Dolce's Food Processing Plant in the Alexandria ruins, though Tennpenny Tower has somewhat eclipsed it since the Alliance four years ago. Has a strong presence throughout the southern part of the Capital Wasteland, though small bases and caches have been established in the DC ruins and in remote areas across the Wasteland, including Vault 106. Individuals and small groups on operations can be found anywhere there are ghouls.

History: The Chinese Remnants are the survivors of the various espionage operations conducted by the Chinese military and civilan Ministry of State Security in the years leading up to the Great War. *WIP*

Leadership: The PRC is governed by a Central Committee, made up of five members, listed below:

General Secretary: Roy Phillips. Phillips is the defacto Head of State of the PRNC. His seizure of Tenpenny Tower for the People has made him both a Hero of the Revolution, and it's leader. His radio broadcasts and political organizers have spread his ideals throughout the Capital Wasteland, and beyond.

Commissar for Military Affairs: Robert Whiteman aka Colonel Zheng. Before the War, Colonel Zheng, in his cover identity of Robert Whiteman, the manager of the Mama Dolce's Food Processing plant in Alexandria, commanded the PLA's Military Intelligence efforts in the Eastern United States. Inspired by Chairman Jones, he, along with Director Liang, have decided to put their remaining assets behind General Secretary Phillips, whom they both agree is the best hope for bringing the Revolution to the Capital Wasteland, and eventually beyond.

Commissar for Civil Affairs: Dr Michael Masters. As one of Roy's earliest followers, and having fought by his side at the Liberation of Tenpenny Tower...not to mention his credentials as a scientist...he was a natural fit for the Central Committee. While Masters finds it quite ironic that they have joined forces with the Chinese, they are, after all, fellow ghouls. He trusts Roy's instincts and is determined to never bow down to humans again.

Commissar for External Affairs: Ouinn. valued by the other Central Committe members for his informal leadership role in Underworld, and extensive contacts with both ghouls and humans across the Wasteland, he was a early target for recruitment. While he finds some of Roy's methods deplorable...Herbert Dashwood's death during the Liberation particularly bothered him...he is tired of abuse from humans and has come to believe that they will never be treated with respect by them until they stand up to them, and Roy has emerged as the only leader capable of doing so.

Commissar for Administration: Thomas Jenkins aka Xi Liang. Xi Liang is the senior surviving Officer of the Chinese Ministry of State Security in the Washington area. He, along with the various espionage operations of the MSS, fell under command of Colonel Zheng in the wake of the War.

Behind the scenes are a number of Directorates, sub-commitees with three members in which one or more Central Commitee members participate in, for oversight of specific matters. Unlike the Central Committee, these can and often do contain human members. An important example is the Intelligence Directorate, composed of Commissars Whiteman and Jenkins, and Mr Burke.

Economy: The PRNC's economy is based on trading, scavenging, and light manufacturing. There is some food production, but not enough to be able to export it. It has used it's position along the trade routes from the Capital Wasteland into Virginia, particularly Richmond, to establish a profitable trade for robot parts and other finished goods for salvaged machine tools and foodstuffs, as well as raw materials. The PANC does work to keep the trade routes in and through it's area clear of Raiders, and the Canturbury Commons traders, and others find the PNRC hospitable, if touchy, customers.

Technology: Along with a considerable amount of Pre-War surveillance gear and expertise, the Remnants also have a limited number of Hei Gui stealth suits. The PANC does have eight functioning suits of power armor salvaged from battlefields, mostly BoS and Outcast T-45 suits with a single T-51b, Enclave Mk II and Hellfire suit. As they are not capable of building power armor themselves, the suits are only deployed when considered absolutely necessary.

Military: The PRNC has a standing army, the PANC (People's Army of New Columbia), and a reserve Force, the People's Militia. The core of the PANC is made up the survivors of various Pre-War Chinese espionage operations, both military and civilian, called to the Capital Wasteland from across the US Eastern seaboard. Well trained, and with 200 years of experience, they are formidable foes. The bulk of the PANC, however, are volunteers from ghoul communities across the Capital Wasteland and it's immediate environs....and varies from hardened mercenary veterans to untrained Wastelanders. Every effort is being made to properly train them to the same standard...the PANC does have a first rate training cadre available...but occasionally circumstances force the deployment of comparatively raw troops to the Front.

The People's Militia is made up of the civilian population of the PRNC. The organization provides pre and post military training for the PNAC, continuing political education, and serves as a Reserve for the PNAC. Basically armed Wastelanders with rudimentary military training, though their officers and NCOs will usually be demobilized soldiers. Effective against Raiders, but not expected to be able to do more than delay trained soliders from factions such as Talon Company, the Brotherhood, and/or Enclave until regular troops can reach them.

Every effort is made by the PANC leadership to properly arm and equip it's soldiers and the Militia. Establishing a domestic arms industry was Whiteman's top priority after being named to the Central Committee. Exploitation of the machine shops at Warrington Trainyard and the old Robco Assembly Plant, as well as machine tools acquired elsewhere has enabled the serial, albeit limited, production of the following Chinese designs: Type 93 5.56 Automatic Rifle, Type 50-2 10mm SMG (imagine a 10mm PPSh), and Type 17 10mm semi-automatic pistol. The latter is being phased out in favor of the US designed N99 pistol, as it is more accurate and can be reloaded faster. The R91 and Combat Shotgun are also issued to frontline units as a substitute standard. The US 10mm SMG is issued occasionaly to rear line units, and the People's Militia, but is considered inferior to the Type 50-2 in every regard except for concealability. Snipers are equipped whenever possible with the DKS-501 sniper rifle, though several competing models for a anti-material rifle are at the prototype stage and ready for field trials.

The People's Militia is armed with the best weapons available after the PNAC's meeds are met. As more and more PNAC units turn in their R91s for Type 93s, they are handed down to People's Militia units. In People's Militia units, the usual practices is that the most experienced members are armed with R91 rifles, or Type 50-2 SMGs, and the rest a mixture of civilian hunting rifles, Combat Shotguns, US designed SMGs, and Type 17 pistols.

Both regular and People's Militia units are equipped with one support weapon for each 8 soldier squad, normally a LMG or a Missile Launcher. Each PNAC platoon has a Fat Man launcher attached as artillery support. At this time, the PNAC has no actual artillery, though it is looking to acqure the capability, as well as specialists able to use it.

Fallout: A World Set on Fire

I would like to base my faction around Roy Phillips at Tenpenny Tower. Roy has decided to spread his own kind of revolution and has recruited the Chinese Remnants to his Cause. He most likely will end up being a Chinese Remnant himself. His relationship with the Pitt will hand to be worked out...he might be more of a Ghoul Nationalist than a Communist after all these years.

War Never Changes

Palace of Caesar - Santa Fe

“The North would seem to me to be the best front for my troops", Gladstone said, "As the sector closer to Pittsburgh, it would enable a forward air base to be established from which to begin a strategic bombing campaign against the heart of the cult. Might I enquire as to what our knowledge of the east coast is? I can only suppose the midwestern brotherhood is liaising with resistance groups there or even nations that are hostile to the cult?”

"We're arranging transport", Martin replied, "From Cheyenne, we can move your force directly to Indianapolis by rail. Indianapolis's airport has been secured and is operational, we have plenty of room for your air units there. Grissom AFB has also been taken, but it took a direct hit during the War and the fueling facilities there are a total loss."

“I have to admit, our last communiques from the east by Maxson made note of a number of organisations in the east. The cult of the atom, the Pennsylvania commonwealth, the free state and the keys and prior to his death, an apparently extremely technologically advanced organisation known as the Institute. I recall at the last convention some of these groups were represented, perhaps dispatches should be made east to confirm the status of nations east of the cult, to see which are at war or considering war against the cult? And from thereon, to organise a full war effort with the aims of forming a total noose around the cult, thus containing it lest it escape a full extermination such as is the aims of a scourge?”

"We have a Mission in the Capital Wasteland", Martin replied, "Contacting the Children of Atom is one of the priorities of that expedition. Progress is being made, but they take issue with our nuclear non-proliferation efforts...they consider it a form of Iconoclasm though their leader, Confessor Cromwell, has taken a reasonably pragmatic attitude towards it. As for the Cult, they are sworn enemies....they invaded the Capital Wasteland in force, the Children used tactical nuclear weapons to repel them. Currently we are not in direct contact with the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, but I am organizing a diplomatic mission to them. At present, our sources in the IRD and Capital Wasteland indicate the Commonwealth is actively fighting the Cult along it's Western border, and we are getting reports they are planning a joint offensive with the Children of Atom in Eastern Maryland."

"As far as the Institute", Martin continued, "Records we've found in the Pentagon, or Citadel as the Eastern Order called it, refer to such an organization, believed to be in or near Boston. We found a survivor of Maxson's Expedition recently, he tells us that they had been there to find this Institute, but had never found any hard evidence it even existed before they were attacked and overwhelmed by the locals. Any information about this group or the Expedition in general you could share that Maxson provided you would be greatly appreciated...Maxson was young for an Elder, but hardly a novice and well advised. It beggars belief that there is nothing at all to his suspicions."

Main Conference

“Your small force is welcome, Caesar.”, Harris said, using the correct Latin pronunciation for Caesar, “I would also like to send a small expeditionary force to aid in your efforts to the north. A detachment of Texas Rangers and elite infantry seem appropriate to me, but what is it the war effort is in most need of? Though I can only do so much now. Texas is sleeping right now and many in Congress and in the major cities would oppose sending a large force that far north.”

"The forces you propose would be ideal, and greatly appreciated", Barnaky said, "Their habit of denuding the areas they control of all resources makes them dependent on supply lines from their strongholds. Rangers operating in their rear areas would cause the Cult no end of problems."

"Also", Barnaky said, "I will make arrangements to have you, or your representatives, briefed on the Cult and it's activities. I believe you'll agree these people are a threat to any sort of civilization."


Memphis-Warehouse district

"Heah they are", Hicks drawled as he gestured at the rows of green, oblong boxes stacked five deep in the center of the cavernous old warehouse. "Ah presume you'll want to inspect the merchandise."

"Yes", Lefevre said tersely as he produced a piece of chalk and approached the first row of boxes. "Those were my instructions, and as it's my neck, that I will do. One in ten satisfactory to you?"

"Y'all can check 'em all foah all ah care", Hicks replied. "You...and Miss Saults...won't be disappointed."

Lefevre walked among the stacks, marking with his chalk an X on the boxes he wanted pulled for his inspection. Once he had chosen twenty five boxes at random, he nodded at Hicks and stood back as Hicks ordered some creaky robot stevedores to extract his choices. He did not forsee any issues as Hicks, and his employer, stood to gain considerably for their assistance to House Saults in this matter. It was a refreshing change from the endless frustration of dealing with the Damn Yankees from the Midwest. Oh, they had responded positively to Miss Saults's offer, of course they would. Horace IV had hated the Brotherhood, and did his best to keep them out of the Gulf. Though well-intentioned, there was far too much money on the table for the Embargo to be practical, a reality that Miss Saults had accepted. the problem was, they were willing to trade for everything but what the Concordat needed right now....arms and munitions. He had secured contracts for quality steel that their shipyards desperately needed, among other things, but that would do them a fat lot of good if Bartholomew or possibly the Texans invaded. They claimed that all arms production was going to the War effort...apparently Barnaky had decided to swallow up Indiana, the talk of the so-called Cult was undoubtedly some sort of bullshit pretext to justify their land grab...and they couldn't spare any modern weapons. While it was at least somewhat true...he'd had to rely on the extensive web of contacts his families had acquired over two generations of smuggling goods up and down the River to make this deal happen...he knew it wasn't the full truth. Lefevre was convinced that the Brotherhood was waiting to see who would win before taking a side....it was just like them.

Lefevre walked to the first box and opened it. Inside, he found what he expected, 20 R-91 rifles, packed individually in thick clear plastic bags. Picking one at random, he cut the bag open and pulled it out. It was a Pre-War weapon, marked "US PROPERTY". He quickly field-stripped the weapon and examined it. Not new, but it had been refurbished by someone who knew what they were doing. Packed with it, in small bags, was a bayonet, sling and cleaning kit. He'd have preferred .308 rifles, but these would do. Over the next hour, he checked each of the twenty-five boxes, in all of them the sample weapon he chose to examine was exactly as advertised.

"You, sir", Lefevre said to Hicks, "Have a deal."

War Never Changes

Indianapolis - Indiana State Library - Roof

Major Harding smiled grimly as the first Vertibird slowed to a stop, hovering about ten feet off the roof of the building as the crew began pushing boxes out the door, thudding one after another into the roof below. As soon as the last case was dropped, the pilot applied throttle and the aircraft began to move forward again, banking away from the building as troops swarmed forward to retrieve the boxes and take them below before the next Vertibird arrived. The last few hours had been a mess, between the Legion indiscriminately killing off the locals...and he'd had words with Wilson himself about what he thought of that...and the Cult staging their counterattack before they were ready for it, he'd have better days. The Legion could fight, he didn't deny that, but had Wilson and Barnaky given thought to what they were going to do if they did this in the IRD? His Company commanders already had problems with the men hiding civilians...most, but not all, women and children....and these were Wastelanders, and camp followers of Raiders. As arrogant and feckless as Detroiters are, they still were civilized people and putting them up on crosses and hauling off their women would not go down well at all with the rank and file.

Harding pushed his gloomy thoughts into the back of his mind and returned his attention to the matter at hand. The fighting at the Historical Society, two blocks East of his position, was reaching a critical phase....he had to move fast before the Legion Century there was overrun. He had committed Bravo Company, backed up by half of the power armor troops attached to his Battalion, to fighting through to them, but the Enemy seemed determined to wipe them out and he needed to commit his Reserves, but he couldn't do that until he had repulsed the attack on his own headquarters. Brigade was trying to put out a half-dozen fires across Downtown already, so they couldn't release more men to him....but they could, and did, move him to the top of the list for the scurry bots. The Cult liked to play with feral ghouls and mutated creatures in the sewers. Knowing this, the boffins back at Omaha had adapted Calculator bots to sneak into their house and piss in their Sugar Bombs. The Cult counter-attack came before they could be deployed for their first full-scale combat test, but now was as good a time as any.

Basement - Several minutes later

The Cult warriors, preparing their remaining beasts for another assault on the stairwells, dove for cover as the enemy above began to hurl grenades down the stairs. The mole rats and dogs howled and screeched as they went off, with loud bangs and flashes. But the warriors had little time to reflect on why the enemy had used stun grenades instead of the usual frag grenades when they heard movement from the next floor, beyond the stairs. Pleased that the Enemy had finally decided to engage them , they began firing up the stairwell and the beast masters loosed their charges. The half-starved and frenzied creatures bounded for the stairs unbidden, but within seconds the horrid cries of pain and even fear the beasts emitted, cut off within seconds, made it clear that something had gone wrong. But the blood-lust induced by the miasma from their respirators could not be denied, and with a shout of "PH´NGLUI SOTH!", the Cult warriors rose to engage the enemy. But there were no Brotherhood soldiers, just a loud mechanical skittering across the floor as dozens of metal, spider-like things skittered down the stairs and scattered in all directions. They began firing at them, but there were far too many, and they moved too fast.

From the floor above, the Knights smiled in their suits as they heard the panicked firing and screams coming from below as the scurry bots made short work of the defenders below.

"Bet they didn't see that coming", the Knight-Sergeant said with a smirk. After seeing what the scurry bots did to the Cultist's creatures, he almost felt sorry for the poor bastards.....almost.