494A/N
I apologize in advance to any readers who are from Florida. I follow the memes :P
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Roman Stern sat down at his desk and slowly raised his head.
Before him stood the camera crew, the prompter and some of the state administration officials. He asked for no script, preferring to deliver the nation's address himself off the top of his head.
"You're live, High Marshal."
All eyes were on him now. Stern ground his teeth together, then cleared his throat. His voice carried over and across the Dominion lands, broadcasted from every network from every television and radio station.
"Citizens of the Dominion, yesterday at 4:32, our nation has suffered a bio-weapon attack. The deed was perpetrated by the agents of the Enclave. The affected zones have been contained and the spread has been halted, but I regret to tell you that the damage will be felt. We do not know the exact extent of our losses at this time, but we can assume the sum total measures in the thousands.
We have known loss, we have known treachery. We exist as an Eden in a spiteful wasteland, surrounded by enemies who would stop at nothing to destroy us. But we are the Dominion. We shall prevail. Join me in mourning, stand together and share in the grief. Hold your loved ones close, then raise your fists- for when our tears have dried we shall have vengeance."
It was more than just words, that vengeance was a promise.
"Your delivery was excellent, as usua- er- as always, High Marshal." The prompter praised. "Ahem, well done!"
Stern ignored the sycophant and turned his attention to his beloved dog Lancelot. He rubbed the furry rascal behind the ears, speaking softly as though he were speaking to a child. "Come on boy, one more stop before we return to the Jormungandr."
Lance let his mouth hang open and panted. He trotted off happily, following close to his master's heels as they headed down the long halls towards another laboratory. Stern hadn't forgotten what the Enclave was capable of doing. For such a resourceful and cunning enemy, he had to assume that they were actively working to gain one step ahead of the Dominion. That's why Stern began investing in counter-measures and contingencies.
One such contingency was a little operation involving microscopic robots, injected directly into his bloodstream. Stern bore the discomfort of the procedure with the stoicism attributed to his high office. Four injections pumped from four canisters loaded with thousands of nanobots, four trickles of blood forming a symmetrical box on his naked chest.
Stern felt the weight beneath the skin, and the swirl of the nanobots going active. They would always be a part of him now, protecting him from chemical and physical attacks. Just one more tool to his ever-growing arsenal. The High Marshal grabbed a towel and wiped the blood away, pausing to watch the tiny holes close and scab over within minutes. Passive regeneration, just like the mutants of the Wasteland. The scientists made way as their leader got dressed and went about his day. He rejoined the delegates from Horizon after they'd finished touring Elysion and rode with them on the armored transport convoy towards Carlon City.
There was a noticeable change in Dr. Vahlen's demeanor. She had grown warmer, impressed by all that she'd seen. She'd never been to a city so big nor even seen so much greenery in one place before, having grown accustomed to seeing green within the confines of a hydroponic facility. She didn't care much about the military infrastructure or the great industries of war. She wanted to know about the people, the culture, the social cornerstones that allowed the regime to last for as long as it did.
Her questions had become more personal, ecstatic even, as she drank in the majestic scenery of all that the Dominion had built.
"How did the Dominion come to be, High Marshal?" Vahlen inquired, "I imagine it must have been a grand birth indeed."
Stern reflected on the events that shaped the course of their history. The bombs, the herding of the first generation of vault-dwellers, his removal of the Vault-Tec leadership and assuming of command. Then, there were the long years of reclaiming the Wasteland from the brutal mutant hordes, the raider gangs and the fledgling barbarian factions. "Yes, like all births... it was painful, bloody and violent. But in the end, it was a grand beginning."
Vahlen blinked, her expression growing from excitement to one of caution. "I now find myself hesitant to ask for elaboration."
"I won't brag about our achievements. Our history, this very city, speaks for itself." Stern declared, "And you have access to our national archives. I leave the judgements to you."
First, the decoy convoy rolled out of Elysion. This was followed by a second decoy convoy, which took a different route. The third, where the High Marshal and his guests from Horizon rode in, came last and took a direct route for Carlon City. In each convoy were four military transports, carrying eight armed soldiers from the Cerberian Guard. Their priority was the middle vehicle, which was the High Marshal's armored car. The decoys had similar vehicles, protecting the High Marshal's doubles.
As the convoy traversed the great highways connecting the two cities, Vahlen turned her attention to the High Marshal's loyal dog. Lancelot acclimated to the visitors from the moon and was friendly with the good doctor. Vahlen rubbed his neck and scratched him on the cheek, fascinated by the purity of his breed. As a scientist from Horizon, she could tell that Lance was not a natural-born dog.
"My, aren't you a handsome boy?" Vahlen said. Lance gave her a dog smile and sat up straight.
"You don't have animals on Horizon, I take it?" Stern observed.
"No. They take up... unnecessary space and resources." Vahlen paused to rub Lance behind the ears. Prior to that moment, she had no experience petting animals. But petting the dog the right way almost felt natural, instinctive. Lance seemed to approve. "Besides, I doubt any animal would enjoy a life in space."
"Dogs will. There's a reason why they're man's best friend."
Far from the front, isolated from the main Enclave teleportation network, General Winters stepped out of the cramped booth and loosened his collar. He stood among three other officials in a sealed chamber located deep underground, a chamber built from analog devices to prevent network infiltration. General Winters was no longer in Dominion or on Enclave territory. He was on a barren landmass considered the second deadliest place on Earth next to Australia.
Florida.
Between the cannibalistic troglodytes, the rad-storms and the ever-shifting tectonic plates, it was difficult to determine which was the main reason why the Enclave chose to completely avoid the place. Present at the meeting were General Egan Summers, Vice President Rell Cord and Chief of Enclave R&D Augustus Autumn. Together with Winters, these four individuals formed the Cabal, a shadow council within the Enclave whose loyalties aligned with the American Prime Directive... a directive they believe that the current president was in violation of. All the pieces on the board were in place, but Winters' opponent wasn't the Dominion. This game was played against the true enemy of the Enclave- itself.
The gradual shift from natural births to vat-growing citizens, the indiscriminate slaughter of promising vassals and the threat of replacing their military with robots were hints pointing towards their worst fears. They called it Howard's dedication to 'inorganic adaptation'.
In securing this meeting, far away from the reach of President Howard, he'd made the first move.
"Gentlemen, welcome." Winters declared as he sat with them. It went without saying that their presence at the meeting was greatly appreciated. Every time they secluded themselves from their main duties invoked suspicion, and their boss was a very paranoid individual. "As you know, I have been tasked with leading the main assault into the Texas Wasteland. Within the next twenty-four hours, I will issue the order for the advance into the Dominion mainland. However, the pace I shall dictate will ensure a stalemate."
The traitors nodded in acknowledgement.
"Gentlemen, I do believe we have found the one variable in the equation to move our plans forward. I believe that the Dominion would help us overthrow President Howard."
Vice President Cord curled the fingers on his right hand and began tapping it on the table. He was intrigued, but cautiously so. "How? As far as they're concerned, we've invaded their lands and slaughtered their people. These aren't incentives for an alliance."
"No, they aren't. But saving the life of their High Marshal... that, however, is enough of a bargaining chip."
Cord shot a quizzical sidewards glance at Summers. The general gestured for his colleague to continue.
Winters cleared his throat, "Yesterday, President Howard deployed a suicide squad to infiltrate the Dominion on a mission to assassinate High Marshal Stern. I've deployed Apex Operative Greyfax to infiltrate the Dominion as well, but on a mission to intercept and eliminate the suicide squad."
"That's... actionable." Cord nodded, "Evidence points to the Dominion forming an alliance with the moon colonists. If we can get them to side with us, we can coordinate the destruction of Howard's automaton armies."
"That brings us to you, Egan." Winters turned to General Summers. "Have you uncovered the location of the President's bunker?"
"Bunkers." Summers corrected him, "An artificial intelligence with such a burgeoning entity cannot be housed in a single location, but I've located the nexus. It's well fortified and heavily guarded. It would take an army and then some to bust the bastard open."
"We'll deal with that problem when we get there." Chief Autumn raised his hand, turning the focus back to Winters. "Winters, how will you accomplish swaying the Dominion to our cause?"
"Hannah Greyfax. Her orders are to make a spectacle of this mission, and to make contact with the High Marshal. I have briefed her on the details of our directive. She will relay them to Stern. However she accomplishes that, I leave to her discretion. She's a precog, she's reliable."
Cord's brows furrowed, "Am I to understand that you're basing all of this, this prediction of success, on a gamble?"
"Vice President, everything we've done... everything we're doing... is based on a gamble. Carpe diem. If we don't seize this opportunity, we lose and you can say goodbye to the American Dream."
"Well, Cord." Summers said as he leaned back, "Several hundred years back, our forefathers had this same conversation regarding the French. You know how that turned out."
"Still, it must be said. The fate of our nation, to be placed in the hands of a foreign power, is an affront to the American spirit. Although, now that I think about it, the Dominion might think the same. If we succeed in this monumental undertaking, I wonder if they'll be amenable to merging with the homeland?"
"Another task for another time." Winters declared as he rose from his seat, "Gentlemen, if we are clear to our purpose?"
"God bless America." The traitors said in unison. "And no one else."
Stern shrugged off the dissonance bouncing in and out of his ears. His enhanced vision focused sharply and his mind wound up tight as he quickly analyzed his situation. The armored car had tipped over, sending its passengers tumbling over one another. It wasn't at all clear to him what struck the car, but it was definitely powerful. Lance stuck his nose against the High Marshal's face, but Stern brushed him off. He stood upright and listened to what was going on. Outside, he could hear the Cerberian Guard trading shots with an unseen enemy.
"Mein gott im himmel." He heard Vahlen groan. In that compartment with him, she was the only Horizon colony delegate left standing. The others were either unconscious or dead from a broken neck.
"Doctor, are you alright?" Stern asked, pulling the woman up by the shoulders.
"I think so." Vahlen replied, brushing her hair and straightening up her wrinkled suit. "What happened?"
"We're under attack." Stern said calmly, "And I'm most likely the target. We're gonna stay put and wait this out. This car was designed to weather any assault with the tenacity of a battle tank. We should be fine."
No sooner had those words left the High Marshal's lips than someone suddenly screamed, "Incoming!"
The armored car was struck a second time. Stern instinctively wrapped himself around Vahlen and braced up against the inevitable tumble. The vehicle flipped and landed with a loud crash on its wheels, its windows cracked and armored door shattered from the detonation of a HEAT rocket. A gout of fire filled the passenger compartment but was immediately vented out by the car's countermeasures. Stern took the brunt of the fire, saving Vahlen's life. His dog got his fur singed a little, but was otherwise intact.
"Alright, new plan." Stern coughed, "We have to go."
He pushed a button and opened the emergency exit hatch located beneath the car. Stern went through first, guiding Vahlen to safety as they maneuvered towards the nearest Cerberian armored transport. It was quite the mess outside.
Six Cerberian guardsmen lay dead all over the street. One of the transports, the lead one, took a direct hit in the start of the attack and sat immobile in the middle of the highway with its doors and windows flaring with crackling red flames. The transport bringing up the rear had also been hit, boxing in the convoy and trapping the High Marshal in the killzone. They were taking fire from four different sources, and were slowly being picked off one by one.
"Sir! Stay put!" Cerberian Guard Lieutenant Roiya Sintor, commander of Stern's personal retinue, called out from across the highway. She pulled a wounded guardsman to safety and reloaded her mag-rifle. "Condors are on their way! We're getting you out of here, just stay in cover!"
"This isn't good cover, lieutenant!" Stern bellowed. "Toss me a mag-rifle!"
Without a moment's hesitation, Sintor crouched low and slid her weapon towards her boss. Stern snatched up the weapon and checked it over. He barked out an order, "Dr. Vahlen is now a priority, I'm going to lay some suppressing fire! Be ready to receive!"
"Copy!"
Vahlen shot Stern a worried look, "What?"
"You're going across." Stern explained, "Run fast and keep your head low, got it?"
"Ja. Okay." The woman replied, her expression growing taut and determined.
Stern and his guardsmen leaned out of cover and suppressed the shooters, opening a tiny window for Vahlen to make a dash for better cover. She dove for Sintor, who quickly pulled her towards safety.
"Priority secured! Your turn, boss!" Sintor yelled.
Stern prepared to make his own exit, but was stopped when the Enclave suicide squad leaped from their perches and closed in on his position. They were equipped with Hornet para-jumper suits and swooped in like a murder of crows. The Cerberian Guard took down a few of them but not enough to stop their advance. Lieutenant Sintor and her fellow guardsmen were shot to pieces by superior Enclave plasma weaponry, and Stern found himself surrounded with only a derelict armored car to keep them out. Vahlen cowered in the shadows and behind the stack of bodies slumped against the armored transport.
Landing swiftly on the highway, the assassins approached steadily with their weapons trained on his position. There were eight of them, fully committed to their mission. Suddenly, Stern broke cover by vaulting off the roof of the car and firing his mag-rifle at his enemies. He shrugged off the plasmic discharge slamming into his body from all sides and kept going. He managed to kill two more before one of the Enclave operatives lowered his weapon, whipped out a stun-gun from his belt, and drove the High Marshal to his knees with a powerful zap of electricity.
Stern's faithful dog snarled, lowered his head and pulled his shoulders together like a charging moose. Lance crossed the highway with the speed of a runaway train and fearlessly leaped into the air. He closed his jaws over the throat of his master's assailant. Stern saw it all, and much more. He saw the subtle twist of the other guy's wrist, the squeeze of his finger over the trigger, the burst of muzzle-flash followed by a splash of red.
"Lance!" He screamed.
The dog and his target tumbled over, a shot-up mass of bloodied fur slumped across the mauled body of an Enclave operative. The High Marshal had seen a lot of shit in his lifetime, but nothing could ever compare watching one's dog get shot to pieces.
"Motherfuckers!" Stern roared, rising to his feet even as they kept blasting him with their plasma rifles. He didn't feel the hot suns tearing off bite-sized chunks of his flesh, nor the agony of little lightning arcs bouncing through every fiber of his muscles. He made for the nearest assassin and drew back his hand. He punched the guy so hard in the chest his heart simply stopped beating.
Then, he went for a second and closed his hand over his neck. The Enclave operative screamed, squeezing his trigger in a frenzied panic. His weapon whirred, then clicked. Nothing. The would-be assassin rasped weakly as the High Marshal's fingers tightened around his neck. "Why won't you die?"
"Nanomachines, son." Stern hissed, snapping the guy's neck like a twig.
Amazed at the ruined but still very much alive colossus, the assassins froze in their tracks as Stern slowly sank to the ground. His chest and sides were blown to shreds, exposing the cybernetic endoskeleton beneath the hard transhuman layers of skin. The capacity for an aesir's denial for death was incredible. Already, his flesh began to mend itself with the freakish regenerative properties of a ghoul.
Their amazement was all Hannah Greyfax needed to accomplish her mission, to make a spectacle of the Cabal's intentions and save the High Marshal's life. She almost missed the highway, but followed the sounds of battle and her precog visions. She made quick work of the remaining assassins with a dismissive flick of her gauntleted hand.
"Huh." Hannah's lips twitched into a smirk, "Looks like the High Marshal's not afraid to get his hands dirty."
"Who the fuck are you?" Stern growled.
"Hannah Greyfax. Also Enclave."
Stern glared at her and rose to his feet. He towered above her, looking like a bear standing on its hind legs, ready to tear her apart. All that was registering in his grief-stricken mind were the words Enclave and Enemy, and his body was running on auto-pilot.
"Easy now." Hannah warned, "Don't make my job any more difficult than it has to be. I'm to make sure you stay alive."
Stern snorted, stifling a mirthless chuckle. He was still too angry to say anything.
"Believe me, if my mission was to kill you..." Hannah said, "It wouldn't be as messy as this, and you'll never see me coming. I represent the Cabal, the part of the Enclave that still adheres to the directive of the United States of America. We believe that we share a common enemy, and would like to propose an alliance."
"Alliance?" Stern scoffed, "Some nerve you have! There will be no alliance! You bastards attacked the Dominion, unprovoked! You used bio-weapons on my people! You killed my dog!"
"We didn't do any of these, High Marshal." Hannah replied coolly, "These actions were perpetrated under the orders of Thaddeus Howard. And he is our common enemy."
Stern calmed down, somewhat. He glanced around, hearing the gentle whup whup of approaching Condor gunships.
"We cannot discuss this at length at the moment." Hannah declared, placing her rifle over her shoulder. "But our proposal stands. Help us help you. This intervention was a gesture of good faith, and the Cabal is prepared to make another. When you find yourself amenable to such an alliance..."
She handed him a holotape, "This contains the location of an Enclave teleporter, hidden in the wasteland within your own borders. I have neutralized the task force stationed therein. It should prove useful on many accounts."
Stern didn't quite know what to make of it, but he took the holotape. He eyed the Apex operative with suspicion, "Who are you again?"
"My name is Hannah Greyfax." The woman repeated, "And I am your new best friend. Know that you are safe, for as long as I live."
There was a veiled threat in there somewhere. Stern watched Hannah turn away and leave the scene, wrestling with the impulse to call down an airstrike on her. Instead, he let her go. He had a feeling she would be close, regardless of any security measures he might emplace. Paranoia would goad him to assume that it was all a convoluted scheme, to mess with his head. But the saner part of Stern pushed him to investigate this new lead. Perhaps there was some truth in there, about him having a new best friend.
Wistfully, Stern picked up Lancelot and carried him towards the Condor gunship just as it landed on the highway.
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