The Chosen One Of Arroyo

Sativa hasn't survived in the Wastes this long without using her brain every so often. That said, even she is prone to lapses in judgment.

Her first mistake in this case was agreeing to buy the deed to Mayor Ascorti's mine, but the prospect of selling it back to him at double the cost seemed to good to pass up. All they had to do was clear out the infestation of Wanamingos the mine had been named after.

Another mistake was not finding out beforehand what a Wanamingo was. But them again, it couldn't be worse than anything else she and her friends had taken on, right?

The next mistake was taking the elevator down into the dimly-lit mining tunnels and stumbling directly into the nest. Steeping on one of the eggs, getting shell fragments and green slime all over her boot, certainly didn't help.

When they noticed the flesh-like goo coating the walls, they really should have turned back right then.

And on seeing one of these things, with it's hardened jet-black carapace, long whip-like appendages, a body that seemed to consist entirely of a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth, and a way of sensing your presence with the need for anything like eyes, with a predatory hissing echoed by its friends in other parts of the tunnel, with weapons they had, the worst thing they could possibly do was shoot at it.

Here's what they did. Are you ready for this shocking development?

They shot at it.

"Oh good, you're back," said the Sheriff Marion as Sativa reported back to his office. "You've done a lot o' good work so far, but this next one's gonna be a tough one."

"Just glad to help. What have you got for us?"

"There's a bandit, name o' Frog Morton, that's taken up lodgings over in the ruins of the Great Wanamingo Mine just west of town." He handed her a wanted poster. "I need you to go in and take him out - trust me, he ain't the type that's just gonna come quietly. But be careful, he's crafty and he's bound to have some of his gang with him. I'll give you a thousand dollar to get rid o' the varmint."

She looked at the sketch of the varmint, asking, "Why do they call him Frog Morton?"

"His name's Morton, and they call him Frog 'cause he croaks people."

She rolled her eyes, clutching her chest theatrically. "Ohhhh. Ouch. That's terrible."

Marion snorted, replying. "Hey, I didn't make that one up - he did. With puns that bad, I'd say that gives you just one more reason to kill 'im. You up for it?

She nodded, rolling up the posted. "On my way, Sheriff."

---

"That looks like the mine entrance - the big metal building," Vic whispered in case anyone could hear them from this distance. "How are we gonna do this, boss?"

"I'm open to suggestions. Cass?"

"We could always just go in the front," the experienced gunfighter suggested, "If you were wantin' a buckshot sandwich. Personally I'd sneak through those side buildings there and look for a rear entrance."

She nodded and raised her shotgun. "It's worth a shot. All right, everybody. Let's move in quietly."

It was a decent plan, apart from a couple of factors: a handle fun of Frog's men stationed in the adjoining ruins, and the squeal of a nearby Pig-Rat alerting them to approach of Sativa's posse. There was also the matter of one or two explosive booby-traps laid down in the path leading to their main hideout, but this worked out in their favor as it made it hard for the guards to run off for back-up.

Needless to say, it became very noisy in a short amount of time.

After dropping off Karl in Modoc and Woody in Gecko they stopped off in Vault City, leaving Lenny with the car a short distance away to avoid setting off any xenophobic unpleasantness, or gunfire.

No one seemed to notice or mind her going through the storage rooms in the Vault so with the extra trunk space in the car it seemed like a good idea to stock up now.

"Have you heard the word today?"

It took a few trips back and forth, of course, and during one of these she noticed that one guy still standing in the middle of the street. He was loud and wild-eyed, and despite his unkempt hair and scruffy beard, his clothes looked clean and well-cared for. Strangely, for all his noise-making neither the guards not the other citizens paid him no mind.

"Hear the word! The word shall set you free!" This time she walked up to him. "Hello and welcome, traveler! Have you heard the word today?"

"Why, no... I haven't," she replied. "And you are...?"

"My name? I am Thomas Moore, preacher of the word and the truth. And what brings you to me today, friend? Do YOU seek the word?"

"The word?" she asked.

"The word, my friend... the word is SELFISHNESS. Mix in a slew of arrogance, and what do you have? Vault City..." He spread his arms wide. "In all its self-righteous, slave-trading glory."

"Why do you live here if you hate it so much?"

"Why... where better to preach than to those that need to hear the most?"

She shrugged. "I suppose you're right."

"It is TIME to hear the wailing of our kin outside these walls and let them in! We have more than enough to feed and shelter our brothers... we need not be rich when so MANY are poor."

"I hear you!" she answered, deciding to go along with it. You could hardly doubt the courage of his convictions, after all.

Moore looked upon her. "Friend... as I look upon you today, I see STRENGTH. I see
FAITH. Do my eyes deceive me? Or do they see a kindred soul that shares my cause?"

Sure, why not. "Damn right!"

"Then let me ask you this, my friend - to what LENGTHS would you go to spread the word?"

"No lengths are too long... no distance too great, when the cause is just, and the word is true. Whatever needs be done, I will do it!" She declared. Wow. She was really getting into it.

"Even though it may mean banishment from this oasis?"

She stopped, almost laughing to hear this place spoken of like that. "I don't know... what are you asking me to do?"

He leaned in, voice lowered. "I have a briefcase... with information vital to our cause. Will you deliver it to New Reno for me? I would do it, but the Citizens here are watching me..."

Well, that didn't sound too difficult. "Sure. Give it to me."

He left his speaking spot briefly and returned with a case clutched to his chest. "Here it is..." He thrust it into her arms, looking around for witnesses. "Deliver
this to a man, John Bishop, in New Reno. Tread carefully, my child, and carry the word with you."

"Deliver this briefcase to John Bishop? No problem."

---

Returning to the front gate with the briefcase and a relatively new metal-plate vest, Sativa and the others exchanged parting words with Vic when something in the distance caught her attention.

She almost missed it, but in the darkness noticed a group of armed men being stealthily led through the bushes by a strong-looking Tribal. Glancing in her direction to spot her looking at him, he gave a signal to the men he was leading, who ducked down and disappeared out of sight.

There had been mention of a group of raiders hitting the outer perimeter every so often but always breaking off their assault. Possibly testing their defenses for some reason. Despite the brief glimpse, these men matched the descriptions given.

There was also mention of an experienced guide leading the raiders through the treacherous wastelands, moving quickly and quietly, leaving no trace of their presence.

There was also been mention of a heavy reward foe whoever was able to track them down, put a stop to the attacks and determine their motives. Sativa didn't particularly feel like helping out Vault City anymore than she'd already had to, but she did like being paid. The decision was easy.

"We could find out where they're coming from, if we follow quietly. We'll have to leave the car." She turned to Vic. "I guess you're still set on settling in here..."

Vic hem and hawed. "Well, it'd be easier to get settled into my new home if I didn't have to worry about raids." He gave a shrug and hefted his rifle. "One more time couldn't hurt, could it?"

She nodded. "One more time, then."

Shiny buildings! Lush green parks! Sharp-dressed folk striding up and down the sidewalks with purpose and vigor! All of these descriptions would fit somewhere that isn't the Den.

To say that the Den was rustic would be doing authentic examples of rusticism a disservice. Many towns did not reach their dilapidated state because of the ravages of war, but rather the ravages of time. The town where the Den now stood had not been flattened by atomic bombs, but by looking at it, perhaps that would have been doing it a favor.

Some of the aging pre-war buildings have had whatever maintenance was necessary to keep the number of gaping holes in the roofs and walls to a minimum, leading to a sort of post-post-post-modern neo-retro-classical architectural style. Civic beautification is not a high priority, nor is filling in all the potholes.

There's no grass to mow, yesterdays junk is today's half-buried tetanus hazards, and plumbing is of the outdoor variety exemplified by the outhouse that for Sativa serves as a door to and from Milliways.

"This way," She tells her guest, pointing to crumbling road alongside the seedy bar (The Hole isn't just a clever name) they are standing behind. "The junkyard's just beyond the far end of the street. Watch your step."

That's no so much a warning about what you do here, as it is to actually make sure you don't put your foot in anything unpleasant.

"...What do you mean, 'So who knows how to drive this thing?'"

"Here's somewhere I haven't been in a while," Cassidy remarked as the group came through the gates of the Den, Bess in tow. "Last I recall, the locals ain't too friendly, save a few."

"Not much has changed there," Sativa replied, with Vic voicing his agreement.

"I'm still real grateful you got me outta here, Boss. What are we doing back here, anyway? I thought we were headed south..."

"We are. I was planning on saving us some time, though. This way..."


"Hello there, cute-stuff," Smitty greeted her as she came into his junkyard office. "Hey, I see you got a few more friends those time round - Cass? That you?"

The aging adventurer laughed. "Smitty, y'old bastard! Still tinkering around with yer old junkers?"

"You bet Cassidy. Your ticker till acting up?"

Cassidy nodded amiably. "Figured the exercise'd do me some good. At least I won't keel over washin' glasses in that dump."

"Well, it's good to see you again. Now what can old Smitty do ya all for this time?"

"Say, old timer," Sativa respectfully spoke up, "I have this thingy here that I picked up in Gecko..." She showed him the car part she'd gotten from the ghoul mechanic in exchange for the super tool kit from Vic's daughter in Vault City.

"Well now, that looks to me like it's an old fuel cell controller. Hmm, I bet if I used that with the old Highwayman in the yard I could get her purring like a kitten," Smitty replied.

"Is it still for sale?"

Smitty nodded. "You betcha. Here's the deal: you give me $2,000 and I'll sell you the car. Heck, I'll even install the fuel cell controller for you. Should run good as new. I'll even charge it up with some extra micro fusion power cells I got."

"How about I give you the part, you make sure it works, then we give you the money." At least now she had enough money now. They'd picked up a lot of good junk during their travels, made a few good deals and were now Rolling In It, as the saying goes.

"All right, it's a deal. Come back in a couple hours, she should be up and running by then.

They shook on it, and on handing over the part the group decided to wander around the town to kill time. Things were a little better since last time. The child pickpockets normally seen loitering by doorways were absent, thanks to the establishment of Mom's Orphanage, now running full swing under the upkeep of the former squatters. Burn-out junkies wandering the streets were still prevalent, however.

And the Great Ananias was still touting his House Of Mysterious Wonders. "Hello, welcome, salutations! I am the Great Ananias," the short man with the large mustache offered a slight bow, with a flourish. "I bring mysteries from near and far, friend. Mysteries from a world beyond our own... of the Netherworld."

"What kind of mysteries?" Sativa asked.

"Today, in the room within, I have, for your eyes exclusively...A Jan-u-wine Egyptian Mummy!"

"A m-mummy? Hmm, I wonder if it c-could be..." Lenny murmured to himself. "No, n-nobody could be that stupid..."

"For a person of your obvious class I would be happy to show this unique, and historic, specimen to you for a mere $25."

With money to spare and time to waste, she was seriously considering it. But not without a little haggling. "Make that for a group viewing and you've got a deal."

The Great Ananias might have tried pushing it, but business was slow. "You drive a hard bargain, friend."

"OK, I'll cough up the dough. Now... Show Me The Mummy!"

He stood to one side on collecting payment, instructing, "Simply open the sarcophagus lid and the marvelous Mummy will be revealed, in all its ancient glory, to you! ...But please, no touching, and, uh, no flash photography."

"Fla-what? Just let us in..."

They were directed to a poorly painted, chipped and cracked paper-mache sarcophagus leaning upright against the opposite wall. The door to the sarcophagus swung open to reveal a desiccated corpse, the skin flaking off the mottled-brown, atrophied flesh, narrow strands of something that's a little too papery to be actual cloth wrapped around its skeletal form.

"Wow, that's fantastic... I guess," Vic remarked.

"That's a mummy?" Cassidy asked. "I can't believe we just paid $25 to see a six-foot hunk of jerky."

Sativa stared at the 'mummy' intently, examining its facial features in particular. "Hey, wait a minute. That's not a Mummy. That's a ghoul," she exclaimed in realization. "WOODY! Hey WOODY! Is that you?"

Woody was a name she'd heard in Gecko - the friend of Percy Crump, Master Merchant, who'd been worried that he'd gone missing. Her only clues were that he liked to travel, had been head to the Den and was a heavy sleeper. Slept like the dead, you might say. Well, now the pieces were coming together.

Sure enough the Mummy started to stir, snorted, stretched languidly, and then looked at her with a sleepy blink to it's eyes. "Hello," he rasped, sleepily.

"I assure you that the Mummy is, in fact," Ananias insisted with diminishing credibility, "Quite jan-u-wine."

"Holy shit! That is Woody!" Cassidy exclaimed. They all started urging for him to get up and get out of there. "Run Woody, run for it! Well, uh, gimp for it then! Go Woody go!"

Woody - for it was in fact Woody, not a Mummy, standing somewhat drowsily before them - grabbed the sides of the papier-mache sarcophagus, let out a shriek and ran (or at least hobbled) for the door, leaving a trail of toilet-paper 'mummy-wrappings' and a hasty "Thankee kindly, Stranger!" behind him.

"Go Woody go!" Cassidy whooped after the escaping ghoul.

They vacated the premises, leaving the not-so-Great Ananias to simply shrug and say, "I knew I should have picked up that mono-headed Brahmin instead. Oh well, back to the drawing board."

"So, what can you tell me about Vault City?" Sativa asked as they approached the lift.

"Vault City? Well, actually, there's not much to say. I mean, I've been a Citizen all my life... but there's not much to do in Vault City," she admitted. "At all."

"It seems a shame that a beautiful young woman such as yourself can't find something to do in Vault City," said Sativa.

Phyllis blushed slightly and jabbed the call button, answering, "Look, I know you're a new Citizen and all, and I don't mean to throw a damper on your Citizenship, but this City can be VERY dull at times."

The place makes me want to claw my skin off. "Dull? How so?"

"I mean, have you noticed how similar everyone is? And OLD? Most of the seminars and extracurricular activities are geared towards octogenarians. I'm barely twenty-five, and this city makes me feel like I'm fifty."

"Uh... octo-genarians? You mean the guards?" The door opened and they stepped into the elevator.

"Uh no, 'octogenarian' is an adjective that refers to a person who is eighty years old," Phyllis explained with a small laugh, pressing the button for Level 3.

"Oh. Speaking of old, I noticed there aren't any children in the city," she mentioned as the doors closed and the lift descended, indicator beginning its journey from one end of the gauge to the other.

"Well... yes," Phyllis nodded. "Actually, there aren't. Yet. I don't know if anyone told you yet, Vault City is a planned community. We're not due for another pregnancy cycle until a few years from now."

Confused Sativa was confused. "Uh... a pregnancy cycle?"

"Yes. Pregnancies are permitted only during certain years established by the Council."

"What if you get pregnant anyway?" She asked as the the lift came to a halt with a sharp 'Ding!"

This time it was Phyllis who was puzzled. "How would that happen?"

"Uh, last I heard, SEX can make someone pregnant." She never had medical training on par with Vault City standards, but she figured that would be pretty common knowledge.

"Oh, you mean intercourse? Intercourse is still allowed outside of pregnancy cycles," the Resident Medical Assistant explained while they strode down the corridor.

"Doesn't... that... make people pregnant?"

"Oh, no, no..." Phyllis shook her head. "You see, our pregnancies don't result from intercourse."

"...I'm afraid to ask. But I will anyway."

"Male Citizens... 'donate' to the Auto-Doc here in the Vault and the most favorable matches are chosen by the computer. Then the appropriate female Citizen is seeded by the Auto-Doc. Central computer's to the left," she said as they came to a junction.

Sativa grimaced at hearing of such a clinical process. "Don't people still get pregnant from intercourse? What about accidental pregnancies?"

"Well, actually..." Phyllis frowned contemplatively. "You see, this is something I've been thinking about recently, but Citizens don't seem to have accidental pregnancies. The only successful pregnancies have been facilitated by the Auto-Doc."

"Maybe it's just because they don't have much real sex around here," Sativa suggested with a shrug, eager to change the subject. "Anyway, you were talking about how similar everyone is?"

"It's like they're all..." She struggled for the right word to describe them. "...Clones. They all dress alike, act alike, and the worst part is that everybody seems happy with it. I..." She sighed, "Well, sometimes I worry that I'll end up being just like them. That probably sounds silly, huh?"

Sativa shook her head "Not at all. Pressure to conform must be pretty rough around here, especially considering how... insular a community Vault City is."

"Yeah, it can get kind of overwhelming at times. But here I am, bringing down your opinion of Vault City. Don't misunderstand me. It's a great place to live."

She had to laugh at this. Really. "Just a suggestion, but you might want to travel a little outside of Vault City. Even speak to some of the merchants in the Courtyard. They might be able to broaden your horizons a little."

Phyllis gave this some thought. "Well, I've been tempted to go outside the gate, but the other Citizens have warned me against it..."

"That's just another reason to do it," the Tribal goaded, "You don't want to do what the other Citizens do, do you? They're all set in their ways."

"You know, you're right," Phyllis decided. "Maybe I will step outside the gate when I get the chance. I'd like to know more about the outside world."

"It'll be good for you." Unless she gets eaten alive, or worse. Well, what can you do? "Is this it?" She asked as they came to a bank of terminals.

"This is the Central Computer. You can access it from any one of the terminals here," Phyllis indicated.

"Right. Um, I'm not all that good with computers. Do you think you can give me a hand?"

"Well, all right," the nurse relented. "I'll help you get started, but then I need to return to my post. There's also some learning terminals down here, I'd take some time with those as well if I were you. Now, these all run on a Unified Operating System, so it's pretty straightforward..."



"...Bum-ba-bum-ba... Maaaay-beeee..."

Sativa had lost track of the time she'd spent at the learning terminal tucked away in the corner of the third subfloor when she heard this truly angelic voice.

"Yoooou'll think of meee... when you are alllll alone..."

She rubbed her eyes, blinking away the afterimage of countless pages of incomprehensible information and got up from her chair at the terminal to look for the source of the singing.

"Maaaay-beeee... the one whooo... is waaaaa-ting for yooou...

...will prove un-truuuuuue...

...then what will yooou dooooo?"

She left the room and followed the voice down the corridor to the space outside what was once the Overseers's office where she found a slack-jawed man in a servant's uniform, pushing a broom and singing to an unseen audience.

He didn't notice her approach as he pantomimed the clapping and roaring of a crowd. "Th-th-thank you, th-th-thank you...yuh-yuh-you're a wonderful audience. An enh-encore? Ouh-okay!" His singing voice was better than his speaking voice, that was certain. As was his screaming voice, as she found out when she came up behind him and said hello. "Wh-?! Aighhh!"

"Whoa, easy there!" she held up her hands, trying to calm him down.

"Yuh-yuh-you nearly sc-scairt the life uh-outta me," he exclaimed, clutching at his chest.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"Th-that's okay. It's juhst nuh-not muh-many people come inta the Vault."

"Who are you?" She asked. "What is it you do here?" Besides push dust around and croon to an imaginary audience.

"Juhst keep an uh-uh-eye on things in stuh-storage down here. Muh-Muh-Make shure all the doors stay luh-luh-locked."

"Do you have a key?" It couldn't hurt to ask, could it?

He shook his head. "Uh-uh. Dozn't mattuh, cuz muh-muh-most doors are juh-juh-jammed shu-shut anyway."

She looked around. "What do you store down here?"

"Spuh-spuh-spare parts...suh-suh-supplies...and uh-uh-ore..."

She patiently waited for him to reach the end of his sentence. "Ore?"

"Uh-uh-ore from Ruh-Ruh-Redding...nuh-nuh-not so muh-muh-much any-more."

"Not much ore from Redding? Why not?"

"Duh-duh-don't know. Mic-Clure's really wuh-wuh-worried 'bout it."

"Oh. Thanks anyway." She was sure this would all be interesting to know to someone who actually cared. Feeling like being supportive, she told him, "You have a great singing voice. You should keep practicing."

He smiled. "Th-th-thanks! That's n-nice of you to say."

She left him to his work and headed for the elevator, humming the song as she went.

Harold was one of a kind. It's hard what it was about him, but he was good to talk with.

"Mighty kind o' ya helping us out with the atomic power plant. We're in your debt."

"I didn't want to see Vault City destroy your town," she told him, sitting across from him at his desk. And she didn't want to be the one that to do it, either.

"Mighty kind a'ya," he said again, wheezing. "Not many smoothskins would do that for a town full of ghouls. Kinda reminds me of a smoothie I knew, way back when."

She frowned. "Another smoothie? What do you mean?"
"Another smoothskin. Had a lot of respect for that one."
"Who was that?"

"Well, I could probably remember if I wasn't dead. I never get tired of that joke," he laughed, which predictably led to more coughing.

"Maybe you don't..."

"Well, to be honest, can't remember the name. But they wore a funny suit. Kinda like the one you're wearing." He said pointing at her in her Vault suit. It was preferable to her leathers when she'd started to feel uncomfortably warm inside the power plant. Harold knew her grandfather?

"Oh, this old thing? This is the Vault Suit that my ancestor wore. It's a totem of my holy quest."

"That so? Well, well, well. That explains a thing or two. I wondered why you looked familiar. I'm not losing the last coupla marbles I got left."

"We really look alike?" She didn't have any memories of what he looked like and the big stone head carved in his honor in the middle of the village reflected more of an idealistic representation than any actual real appearance.

"There is a resemblance. Near as I can remember, anyways. You know, your ancestor saved the whole darn lot of us."

"He saved all of the ghouls?"

"Jumpin' to conclusions, youngster. That's gonna get your ass shot off someday. All of us. Saved every two-legged-shuffler on the dang planet."

"You mean with how he defeated the Master."

"Now yer gettin' it. And what happened next? For a thank you, the damn high-and-mighty Vaulties booted the Vault Dweller out. I always wondered what happened after that."

That much she knew. "I can tell you what happened."

Harold leaned forward. "Well, I'd sure like to hear that."

She recited legend as it was told to her starting with his journey to the north and those that followed him, about the village he created, about the Garden Of Eden Creation Kit and her own quest. "...and so that's why I'm looking for Vault 13 now."

Harold listened, quietly. "Thanks for telling. I sure was curious all these years. You sure got your work cut out for ya. Huh, ya know..."

"Know what?"

Harold opened a desk drawer sifted through the clutter to pull out a handful of medical stimpaks, as well as two or three Super-Stims: highly effective, but also highly harmful in too many doses. "Well, I been saving these for a rainy day, but it sounds like you're gonna need 'em more than I ever will. Here, take these."

She shoved the supplies into her pack. "Thanks for everything, Harold. I better be going though. Goodbye."

"Anytime, friend," Harold coughed.


Lenny, the ghoul that had stitched her face up earlier stopped her before she left. "I h-heard you talking w-with Harold, that you're the d-descendant of the Vault Dweller."

She nodded. "That's right."
"You know, I met the Vault Dweller once."
"You met my ancestor?"
"W-well, he stuttered, "I didn't actually m-meet the V-vault Dweller. But I saw 'im. Once."

"You saw him? Where?" It was inconceivable that she should meet one person still alive that knew her grandfather, let alone two.

"I-it w-was a long time ago. In a place called N-necropolis. A lot of us g-ghouls lived there. One, day I saw someone running through the city."

"Running?"

"Yes, running. You see, we ghouls c-can't run too much anymore. So, I knew it was an outsider when I saw them. They ran by so close I could have touched them. I wish that I had joined the Vault Dweller."

"You wanted to join my grandsire?"
"Yes. I h'had the chance of a lifetime and I blew it."
"What do you mean?"

"L-later, I h-heard that the Vault Dweller had fixed our water system. The V-vault Dweller saved us - all of us. Do you understand? It didn't matter that we were ghouls. For once it didn't matter. We w-were people again. W-worth saving."

"My ancestor was the founder of our tribe," she told Lenny. "That memory is revered amongst my people."

"Later, I heard that the Vault Dweller destroyed the source of the m-mutant army," he continued. "The Vault D-dweller saved all of us. Human and ghoul alike. I could have been a part of that, but I lacked the c-courage. I've never forgiven m-myself."

She thought about this, long and hard, before making a decision. Sure, he was old and jittery and likely to fall apart in a light breeze, but she wasn't about to turn away a helping hand. "I am following in my ancestor's footsteps. Would you like another chance? Will you join me?"

Lenny's smile was so wide that she was worried his jaw would fall off. "I'm h-happier than a bull b-brahmin in a pasture-full o' cows! I'd b-be honored to j-join you. I m-may be old and I cain't m-move t-too darn fast, leastways not for too long, b-but I kin sure p-patch you up when y-you need it."

She couldn't be sure of a steady supply of Stimpaks. "I'm glad that you can join me. I'm sure that your healing skills will come in handy. Only..."

"W-what?"

"Could you try not to stutter so much?"

"W-well I can sure t-try b-but..."

"...Never mind. Just let me know when you're ready."

"Are you Festus?" Sativa asked of the ghoul in the supervisor's office.
He looked particularly unkempt and glum looking, with a particularly rancid appearance and the body odour of an infected wound. "Are you the one in charge?"

Despite his appearance she hoped the answer was yes. She'd had to search the whole place, acquire three coloured keycards and just wanted to hand over the part before the feeling of these steel walls closing in around her became too much to bear. Or all her hair fell out from the radiation leaking out all over the place. One or the other.

"Yep, I run the whole reactor," he said. "Without me, this whole town would be shut down. I'm a very busy man. They really overwork me here..."

"Well, I have a part that you can use to fix the reactor," she replied, holding out the Hy-Mag.

The ghoul took the part and examined it from every angle, before replying hesitantly, "You know, I'm not so sure that this is the right part after all. Maybe you should take it back to Vault City to check. I don't think I can help you with this, after all."

"I'm sure it's the right part," she insisted. "I have..."

"The people I got running it mean well, but... well, they are not the sharpest tools in the shed. If you know what I mean."

"...great confidence in your abilities."

He looked back at her, remaining stubbornly unconvinced. "I don't think that those people in Vault City really like us all that much. I wouldn't put it past them to booby-trap this part. Maybe it only looks like the right part, and it's really a bomb! You can't fool me that easily. I'm not installing this thing."

"With your technical expertise, if it were a bomb, you would already know it. Please, just. Install. The part."

"Okay, I'm here. But I'm still not sure that this isn't the right part, or that it's not a trap somehow. You know, I'm much too valuable to waste. Maybe I should just let someone else do this... later... much later."

"It needs to be done now," she insisted. "And you're the only person that can do it right. Come on, all Gecko depends on you!"

She felt a tap on her shoulder as Cassidy whispered in her ear, "Much as I wanna stand around here all day, are you really sure we wanna trust it with to guy?"

"Do you trust anyone else to? One of us, maybe?" she asks back, shaking her head before turning back to Festus. "Can you at least show us where we need to put it?"

Scratching his flaking chin, he nodded, "I guess so. I am the supervisor, of course."

The group followed the ghoul who led them, very slowly to the reactor control room. A window gave them a view of the heart of the reactor and a very thin barrier between them and painful death.

Festus directed their attention to a computer terminal. "Station #3 Reactor Maintenance & Repair Robot Control Terminal. You probably ain't all that keen on going inside yourselves, so I figure if you can get that machine up and running from here you can have it do all that for you."

"Uh-huh," said Sativa, whose only prior experience with an automaton was bashing it to pieces for trying to kill her. She took one look at the computer and turned to her companions to remind them, "Look, I grew up in a village, just in case any of you think I'm remotely qualified to handle this. I shouldn't really have to explain this."

Cassidy shrugged. This was, admittedly, out of his range of expertise, limited as it was to pouring drinks and 'killing the shit out of things.' None of the spirits Sulik consulted had any ancient wisdom regarding power plant repair systems. "Uh, boss?" Vic raised his hands. "I might be able to give it a shot."

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Really? You've worked with robots before?"

"No," he admitted, "But I can follow instructions pretty good..." He picked up a thick manual handily located next to the terminal and leafed through its plastic-covered pages. "I've managed to get an old computer up and running a few times, too. Couldn't really do a lot with them, but I think I got the gist."

She stepped aside to let him use the terminal. "All right, I'll leave it up to you."

Vic beamed as he stepped up to take his place. "I won't let you down, boss."

"I hope you don't. I really don't want to die here."

"No pressure, huh? Okay, let's see here..." he tapped instructions painfully slowly, one key at a time with his index fingers and his tongue sticking out to one side.

Tertiary Functional Access Code Accepted. RM&RR Unit warming up... Unit ready for service. Service Procedure?

"I'm in! Okay... 'Initiate Coolant Maintenance Sequence.' That should-" The machine bleeped uncooperatively.

RM&RR unit roll-out initiated.
Checking Drive Systems... OK
Checking-Manipulator Arm... OK
Checking Internal Stabilizer... OK
Logic Circuits... FAIL

"The Logic Circuits failed. I wonder what that means." Tat-tap...

Logic Circuits damaged. In emergency, RM&RR unit may be directed manually.

Everyone else stood around uncomfortably waiting while Vic entered the commands one-by-one, checking the manual at every step. "...Amplify Plutonium-Gamma Shield... Deharmonize Neptunium Impeller... Calibrate Uranium-Rod Driver... Set Voltage on Saturn-Class Capacitor... I guess it knows how to do that... Test Jupiter Wave Complier whatever those are..."

Finally a hatch opened, ready for a component to be placed into the receptacle. "Okay, that's it! Now we just have to install Hydroelectric Magnetosphere Regulator and we're all set."

With the part placed and the sequenced initialized, all they could do was hold their breath as the robot moved across the reactor floor in a complicated pattern, making half a dozen right-angled turns before reaching the end of its journey and extending the part to embed it into a bank of machinery lining the far wall.

Cassidy broke the silence. "Should we running yet?"

"No, that looks good," Festus answered, watching a random light in the control room turn green. Sighs of relief erupted, earning Vic many heavy-handed pats on the back and calls of "Attaboy!" and "Good job not screwing up and killing us all!"

"So does mean the reactor won't leak anymore?" Sativa asked Festus, wanting to make absolutely sure their work here was done.

"The reactor's running pretty good now, all right," the ghoul nodded, then adding "Could still do with a tiny bit of a tuneup, mebbe, but I'd say it's a pretty good job all the same."

"More work?" She asked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that the reactor's running now, but it sure could run better. I mean better by a long country mile, if we jist had a smidge more data. Now if you could get the optimization data, we'd be cooking with gas. Uh, well, you know what I mean."

"Optimization data? Where would I get that?"

"Well, you could probably get the information from the Vault City central computer."

"Hmm, that's a thought." Now that she was sure to get her citizenship, she should be able find that along with the Vault location she was looking for.

"I bet a clever one like you could jist sneak in there and use a holodisk with the reactor performance information on the central computer. Then sneak the disk right back here. That'd do it. I'd do it myself, but I'm just too valuable here to leave, even for a moment..."

Overhearing, Vic chimed in, "Or we might be able to do it from here. It says this terminal allows access to something called PoseidoNet. Some kind of network, I think."

Sativa looked over at Vic. "Would there even be anything left to connect to?"

"Only one way to find out... okay, here we go..."

Uplink with central PosiedoNet initiated.
Searching Comlinks...
Searching...
Iron Mountain... Offline
NORAD... Offline
SAC... Offline
Searching PoseidoNet...
--More?--
Active PoseidoNet Stations:
Atomic Powerplant #5
Navarro Refinery
Control Station ENCLAVE
ENCLAVE Vault-Research Control... AccessDenied

Vic frowned. "Everything's shut down except for the ENCLAVE Vault-Research Control. I wonder what that is?" He tapped on the keyboard and pressed Enter.

Everyone almost jumped back as the text on the screen disappeared, replaced by what appeared to be a live video feed.

Someone stared back at them.

And spoke.

"ENCLAVE here."