ORIGINALLY WRITTEN: November 2022 - April 2023
SUMMARY:
Imani Davis, the famed Courier Six, is mere moments from the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. Hunted by the Legion and with the New California Republic breathing down her neck as she tries to reform a corrupted system, she stumbles across a series of holotapes and graffiti pieces addressing her and a place known to few as “The Divide”. Bringing her story full circle, these messages left behind by the evasive Ulysses give Imani one last job; a job that leads them into the great depths of the Divide, a landscape torn apart by frequent earthquakes and violent storms. This is the fabled location of the battle between the Courier and Ulysses. The road to the Divide is a long and treacherous one, and of the few brave enough to walk it, none have ever returned.
Having helped the tribes in Zion, aided Christine and others in their escape from the Sierra Madre while putting an end to Elijah’s reign of terror, and having survived the forced lobotomy in the Big MT, this last job could very well mean the end of Courier Six… and the end of the Mojave.
NOTES: This fic is a multi-chapter work that I began writing in 2017/2018, and will eventually (hopefully) become part of a series exploring the canonical story of my Courier Six, Imani Noelle Davis. It is a long read. I recommend using the table of contents above as a bookmarking system.
The Mojave sun beat down on every inch of sand that its rays could reach, scorching the pavement beneath the courier’s feet. Each step forward felt like walking bare on scalding rocks, even though Imani wore a pair of sturdy boots. Ones she had found while on her travels with Boone through the NCR encampments. Yet this did not stop her, not even as the road vanished from beneath her and sturdy footsteps struggled to carry her up the sandy hill. She didn’t have far to go, the blinking blip on her Pip-Boy growing closer and closer to her own coordinates. Peering ahead, the canyon wreckage made itself visible.
Sheets of metal stacked along the canyon’s entrance, surrounding what appeared to be an old, rusted bus. Familiar words greeted her on the face of the wreckage, messages encouraging her to go home. Inquiring if it was truly her that stood before the site. And it had truly been her, the ghost of the Mojave. The one who, despite all odds, held the very fate of the Mojave in her hands as she reached out to grasp at the vehicle’s door.
A chill of uncertainty ran over her.
Imani could feel a familiar pit of nausea rising in her gut as she passed through the decrepit ruins, her lungs burning as the air in the canyon grew thick. The skylight peeking through the canyon dimmed, the sky itself growing dull as the harsh sandstorm passed overhead. At that moment, it looked like the courier had stepped into a whole other world. A once blue sky turned amber in its hues, the gentle Mojave breeze replaced by a piercing hurricane of sand and radiation. Her footsteps picked up their pace, squinted eyes scanning the horizon for any sort of shelter. Then she saw the metal doors, tucked away within the walls of the canyon, and beside them a sign detailing that the shelter she had sought was a nuclear missile silo. Hesitant, but not enough to tip the chances of her survival, Imani took shelter behind the Old World doors, shutting herself in the darkness with a low, thunderous noise as the locks sealed once more.
It took the courier’s vision a moment to adjust, and the sudden electrical flashes that illuminated the space before her did not aid this. Sparks leapt from the exposed wires that dangled from the ceiling, fizzing in the air for mere moments as they searched for their next connection. Yet like most things in the Mojave, particularly under the shadow of the Legion's banner, they faded from existence. Left to be forgotten as the courier trudged onward and found herself in the central room. A lone console sat before a sealed window, beeping faintly among the sharp zapping of the dancing electrical currents. All printed instructions had faded over time and became unintelligible to Imani as she peered over the console’s facade. Gauges became decrepit among the silo’s ruins, with hardly any indicator of how stable the plant was. One wrong button press could turn this ruin into a grave, and not the first that the courier has found herself in.
Far from the first.
The first grave Imani had slept in was just outside the quaint desert town of Goodsprings. Buried neatly among the town’s residents without a second glance after a crooked Chairman buried two rounds into her skull. He and his hired Khans had ambushed her as she was settling into the town, having pursued her for miles upon hearing that she was making a special delivery to Robert House. The Platinum Chip. A blessing and a curse. What appeared to most as a simple poker chip with a fancy paint job appeared to the Mojave’s most intense players as the ticket to win the Strip. Embezzled within the smooth grooves of the Chip lay the access key to an underground network of military-armed robots, buried deep within Legion territory. Access to a tool like this would permanently change the west, and would ensure a clear victor at the Second Battle of Hoover Dam.
The second grave was in Zion, at the doorstep of the gorgeous painted canyons. The Happy Trails crew all lay slaughtered before her, leaving the courier pinned between the White Leg assault and the rocky passage below. Gunfire encased her, and death awaited her should she have taken one step closer to the edge. The rivers ran red that day, and Death extended his hand to the courier as she fought to survive the attack. He came once more when Joshua Graham pulled her toward the tribe’s chieftain, maneuvering the courier through intense attacks and crumbling canyons to simmer the holy fire that had consumed his flesh and soul for years. Imani had only avoided death that day because of her services to Graham and his people.
The third grave came at the hands of Father Elijah, traitor of the Brotherhood and madman lost to the wastes. He lured the courier with a mysterious radio broadcast. Tempted her with promises of riches and forgiveness. The bunker housing this broadcast lulled Imani with a toxic cloud, whisking her away from the Mojave and allowing Elijah to gain total compliance from her. A shackle in the form of a radio-emitted bomb collar, one that would take the lives of three strangers alongside the courier’s should she refuse to do his bidding at any moment. The vast streets of the Sierra Madre Villa twisted and concealed varied dangers, turning the entire city into a deathtrap. Death awaited the courier and her newfound companions at every doorstep, and had nearly claimed her more than once. The casino itself had proven already to be a tomb, the last resting place of famed Vera Keyes. It was now prepared to take another within its vault. Yet it was not Imani nor her companions who came to rest in this tomb, but the likes of Elijah himself. A cunning play by Christine Royce and Imani had lured the mastermind into this grave, sealed him away among the riches to perish at the expense of his own incredulous greed.
And the last grave, much like the decrepit silo, had rested among the ruins of the Old World. An expansive research facility carved into the mountainous terrain. A sterile Auto-Doc tore into flesh and bone, removing parts of the courier that, by all means, should have rendered her deceased. Yet still she woke, now fitted with cybernetic augmentations that allowed her to once more find herself on her feet. To once more stare down the barrel at a treacherous path. One marked by the Old World flag. This time, she responded to the ‘Think Tank’, a collective of pre-War scientists whose sole mission was to secure the technologies from the facility’s ruins before their own traitor had seized them. Yet unlike the confrontation with Elijah, this ‘traitor’ was hardly such a thing. Doctor Mobius, unlike his colleagues, had acknowledged the horrors of their doing. The lethality of the cazadores and night stalkers. The damage their experimentation on humans had caused in the past, and would cause should they branch into the Mojave for new, lively subjects. He had broken from his team not out of resistance, but out of fear. Once she had learned the horrors of their past, Imani grew infuriated with the Think Tank and refused to allow them to use her as a test for their grand scheme. Close as she had grown to some of these scientists, their deaths had brought her grief. She lingered within the confines of Big MT until she had healed from the surgical procedures which granted her the biological organs she had first come with.
Now, she once more stood among the Old World ruins alongside Death, who would linger in her shadow as she came to confront the past once and for all.
Further examination of the decrepit silo centered in the chamber revealed to Imani that powering the facility was more of a challenge than initially thought. Alongside the many panels and buttons was a console with encryption the courier had never seen before. Strings of coding that could stretch over the Mojave like a blanket were interwoven within the database, concealing every bit of information that could hint at the intelligence that lived among the missiles. Beside it, a small disc-shaped receiver that appears to be a bypass to the security encryption. A sigh left the courier’s lips as she stepped back from the console, glancing around the room for any signs of where to go. She moved to test the door to her left, fingers scraping at the central seams, only to reveal it had been sealed shut with no intentions on moving. Automated. Unlikely to open until she powered the central console. The only other passage was to the other side of the room, a rusted door with a flickering overhead sign. Between the flickering, Imani could make out that the door led to the maintenance sector of the building. Approaching the door, it seemed just like the other: frozen in time and unwilling to budge. Yet unlike the other, this door had a humming terminal beside it. Curious, Imani released the terminal’s keypad and began examining the files. There were records of the silo’s power status, detailing that the silo had three accessible levels with security functionality. Security had been deactivated, and it was revealed that the entire silo had no power to it. Rather, the emergency generators were the only sources of power left within the building. Perhaps at some point these generators would have powered the central frame and kept the doors open, but when nuclear hellfire rained down upon the world, the silo trembled with fear, leaving sliced wires lining the hallway and their power source nonfunctional. The courier’s only hope of venturing forth would lie in restoring the silo’s primary power. Backing out of the logs, Imani found the controls for the door and engaged them, allowing the large metal hull to creak as she stepped back and the seam split.
After waiting for the structure to settle into its newfound breath, the courier opted to explore the corridor to her right, following the string of beeps and flickering displays to enter the utility room. On the far end, past the smoke and dust that distorted her vision, stood a large, dirtied pod surrounded by blinking consoles. Just past the scuffing, Imani could swear she saw an eyebot peacefully floating inside. How peaceful it looked amidst the rubble, sleeping as if the world around it was not crumbling. Before wandering over to examine the pod, partly in the lingering fear that should she wake the bot, it would attempt to defend its metallic fortress, Imani stopped to examine the rusted shelving nearby. Calloused hands rummaged through strewn about piles of junk, stopping briefly to glance over any discarded text. These hands stopped once more when they came to rest upon an in-tact respirator. The courier wasted no time in examining the mask and fitting it to her features, especially when she didn't know just how long she would be exploring the decrepit silo. Better safe than sorry. Once the apparatus was secure, Imani's gaze wandered back to the slumbering bot, curious if it had somehow woken itself in the few moments she scavenged. When it hadn't, she stepped back from the shelving and cautiously approached the colorful consoles, watching the multicolored lights dance rhythmically across the display. Every so often, one of the buttons on the lower portions would flicker to life as if it were trying to join in the odd ballet. Seeing as no others had made the indication of functioning, the courier reached out to press the flickering button and stepping back as a series of hisses and gear clicks echoed through the maintenance room. The glass front of the pod shivered and crawled away from the central unit, allowing room for the eyebot to jolt awake and excitedly fly into the air, just narrowly avoiding the shower of electricity that fell around it. Almost as if it were playing into the dramatic display, a heroic jingle emitted from the bot's speakers. It was followed by a young voice.
"RALPHIE! Fly far, fly fast!"
It chimed, following the declaration with a series of excited beeps and enthused bounces. Well, that'd quelled Imani's suspicions toward the bot's hostility toward her. Tensed shoulders slacked, and the courier tilted her head as the bot lowered itself to her level.
"What was that sound you played? Some kind of memory glitch?"
The eyebot tilted side to side, letting out a string of confused notes.
"The jingle you played. It couldn't have been a boot-up sequence... It said something about someone called Ralphie."
Seemingly as soon as the name had left the courier's mouth, the bot cowered and shook, spinning in place as if averting its sensors. Twitching antennas lowered, and it cautiously turned back toward Imani. The courier frowned a bit, offering an apologetic look.
"It's okay, you don't have to answer that." She paused, stepping away from the platform and looking toward the shutter windows. "I think I could use your help getting out of here. Can you come with me?" The eyebot bounced once, mimicking a nod as it flew lower and circled around the courier. A string of soft whirs escaped its chassis as it hovered just beside her. Its enthusiastic nature brought a small smile to Imani's features.
"Alright, let's go then, ED-E."
She hadn't meant to name it, but the soft trills that the bot let out were enough to convince her that maybe it wouldn't have been a bad thing. It seemed to like the name, and it did look very similar to the old bot Mr. Nash had floating around the post office. ED-E it was, then. Just as she began wandering back toward the corridor's entrance, the bot flew in front of her again and began to play a log. This time, though, an older man's voice spoke.
"Experiment log 369248/B - Eyebot Duraframe universal interface override system. This is Dr. Whitley presiding. We've boosted signal gain and enlarged the overflow buffer system. That should ensure 100% connectivity and control. ED-E, whenever you're ready." A few responsive sounds from the eyebot, though distant through the crackling of the speakers. The man, now identified, cheered. "Yes! Success! Um, reporting full success on 369248/B. ED-E was able to interface with and override the test panel in under three seconds. Great job, team. Now, let's start on the proposal for the full rollout."
"That was a recording from your development—Are you saying you can override security systems?" The courier asked.
ED-E lingered a moment before letting out a string of expository beeps, all of which went over the courier's head. Brows knitted together as she attempted to decode the string, noting the seemingly affirmative nature of the response. The eyebot then turned and raced ahead, momentarily vanishing in the dark corridor before calling out with a sound hum. Imani blinked and shook her head, following suit and finding her newfound companion in the central room. It floated patiently above the mainframe's console, waiting until it'd spotted her before summoning the receiver terminal. The console blipped to life as ED-E conjured a ball of electricity, allowing bolts to jump from its receiver to the console. The silo trembled beneath the courier's feet as its systems came online, crackling sounds echoing through the halls as the overhead lights flickered on one by one. ED-E moved to the side where the red handle sat, bobbing toward it as if instructing Imani to pull the lever. Hesitantly, she stepped forward and obliged the bot. It let out a series of proud sounds, whizzing back and forth as the central shutters parted and revealed an in-tact missile just behind them. Surrounding the missile were other bots, just like ED-E, whose focus seemed entirely on maintaining the projectile. Sparks danced around the chamber as they welded rusted seams, captivating the courier's attention as she stepped forward to watch. The brief, blue glows illuminated her features as her hands pressed against the window, toes stretching as she tried to peer down the shaft. Just how big was this thing? Why had it been there? How long had it been there? Was this thing pre-War? So many unanswered questions were left to linger as the reactor door opened, revealing the path forward.
As they traversed into the next corridor, ED-E allowed Imani to take the lead, hovering close behind her as she stepped over the destroyed eyebot underfoot. She paused temporarily, offering her companion a solemn look before pressing onward. Strong arms pushed against corrugated steel, shifting the collapsed roofing and allowing the duo to squeeze past and into the next room. The surrounding space was vast, the walkway suddenly creaking at the weight pressed onto it. Imani hesitated, looking down to notice that they were on a series of catwalks. Through the fine holes, Imani could see the missile's base swallowed by darkness. She swallowed the rising lump in her throat and looked ahead, finding that the missile was now just out of reach. Propped before the courier and towering over her form. ED-E cooed, floating away from the walkway and over the vast chasm. The eyebot tilted itself side to side again, almost attempting to soothe the fear that'd washed over the courier as she approached the stairwell to their side. Deep breaths caused muscles to shiver, her grip on the railing deathly as she began to climb, following the guidance of the bot. When she'd reached the next landing, ED-E stopped and sat itself before the courier, shivering as if it were afraid to linger without ground for too long. Then it played another audio log. The same voice from before rang out, though this time with anger.
"Dr. Grant? What the hell do you think you're doing?" A soft hum followed, though it'd belonged to a woman.
"Oh, Whitley, there you are. Orders from Colonel Autumn - he feels the Eyebot Duraframe project isn't advancing quickly enough. I'm to-"
"You didn't even disengage his damage-avoidance protocols! You're hurting him!"
Dr. Grant scoffed and could be heard moving... something around. "Don't be ridiculous, it's just a machine. See here, I've already increased the navigation system's efficiency by 65%."
More shuffling. Distress.
"Get the hell out of here!" Whitley's voice rose. Grew pointed. There was a moment of silence before the other doctor spoke.
"Fine, Whitley, it's your lab. At least until I tell the Colonel about this."
Imani's eyes narrowed at the laughter that surrounded Dr. Grant's parting statement. It was joyous; proud of the fact she was interferring with whatever it was Dr. Whitley was doing. ED-E shivered again, prompting her to abandon her focus on the tone.
"It sounds like Dr. Whitley really cared about you." She mused, watching the eyebot as it solemnly twittered in response. "Who was Colonel Autumn?"
The mention of the man's name sent another wave of shivers through the bot, its antennas lowering as it bobbed downward toward the shadow cast by the missile. As it tried to hide. It reluctantly beeped again before willing itself from the shadow and toward Imani's side. She watched it, slowly reaching out her hand so that the bot could bump against it. Soothe itself with the brief contact.
"We should get moving. I don't feel safe waiting on these platforms... We can talk more about it another time." ED-E sung a solemn string of notes before pushing forth, raising itself into the air and scouting the path ahead. Imani followed suit.
The next sector of the silo trembled even before they'd stepped foot in it, with red lights casting a hellish glow onto the duo as they'd abandoned the creaky stairwell. Chipped paint on the lifeless door sign gave a general guide to where they were: Operations. Imani assumed that this room must lead toward the surface, or at least away from the missile's resting place. Rumbling grew louder as ED-E cowered by the courier, watching her anxiously as she tried to make sense of everything around them. As the sounds reached a thunderous crescendo, a sentry bot rounded the corner and opened fire, unleashing a wave of bullets. Imani jumped and ran for the nearby table, falling to the ground as a fleeting hand grabbed at the rifle sat atop the table. ED-E deftly manuevered around the open airspace, shooting off electrical arcs as the courier situated the weapon and fired ahead. The sentry pushed forward, digging its tracks into the concrete as it made its advance, unbothered by the fire it faced. The only thing to stop it was the electrical spark that struck its core, which caused it to fall into place. It hunkered down, trembling as its core overheated and boiled the circuitry within. Cables talked as their strands contorted under the pressure, twinging until they snapped. Then, in a spectacular display, the sentry's core exploded, illuminating the room with a bright glow. Dust particles were set ablaze, allowing the flames to quickly envelop the space. ED-E panicked, beeping hurriedly as Imani scrambled back to her feet and ran past the sentry's corpse. The eyebot followed, racing ahead then promptly stopping to ensure his newfound companion was still following. The tightly wound corridors brought them to a set of concrete stairs, to which the duo climbed until they could climb no more, and until they found themselves within the silo's storage rooms. Harsh breaths suddenly ceased as the courier stared ahead, eyes trained on the grotesque sight before her.
Strung up on the wall was the corpse of a man, pinned to the wall by a series of nails. His head hung low, arms tucked beside him as if he'd never gotten the chance to react. His armor was vaguely familiar; a string of pieces put together from whatever scrap he found within the silo's walls. Yet what made him stick out was his skin, or the lack thereof. Muscles were exposed to the dirtied air with strings of flesh just barely hanging on to the deep contours. Speckles of ash and dust painted the sticky surfaces not covered by the armor. Colors grew more vibrant towards the extremities, blood pooling where they'd hung as gravity tried and tried to pull the body from its position. Gnats bounced off of the exposed planes, briefly stopping as they feasted on what remained. The courier's stomach churned as she stepped forward to investigate the armor, expression twisting as the stale stench surrounded her. She was thankful the respirator blocked the sea of gnats, though wished it could do just that bit more and prevent the smell of decay from settling in her lungs. Yet the thought subsided as she wiped the dust from the chestplate's logo. NCR. ED-E beeped, moving to float above the second corpse in the room, which lay strung across an overturned table. The courier turned and crouched down, cautiously leaning closer to examine the other. His armor bore no insignia, and seemed far more crude than that of the crucified man. Beside him lay a serrated bowie knife and nothing more. Perhaps he was Legion. Yet that couldn't have been; it didn't make sense. Why would they have both been in the room? If they didn't kill one another, then who killed them? What killed them? She sighed and shook her head, grabbing the knife and wiping its blade on her pant leg.
"Could be useful. ED-E, do you see a way out?" She raised her head and the eyebot whirred to life, floating toward the opposite side of the room. It bounced in the air, even doing a little twirl. "Alright, let's go."
The opened door led them back to the missile chamber, though they were considerably closer to the top than they were before. This time, though, the courier couldn't even climb a few steps without bullets raining down upon her. A sentry bot on the platform above had quivered to life, and it knew it was not alone. The platform beneath the courier's feet creaked and groaned, each frantic step pulling at the rusted bolts in the wall. One wrong step and suddenly, the courier felt her stomach in her throat. She gasped and screamed out, lurching forward as the abyss below bellowed. Her foot dangled over the edge, knuckles paling as she gripped the steps before her. As she stared down, she could just catch the glint of the rifle as it was swallowed by the darkness. Too close. ED-E once more targeted the sentry's core, waiting only until it exploded to race down to check on its companion. The flames that filled the air created a deep pit in the courier as she grounded herself, head slowly lifting to stare up at the magnificent flames. She watched as they danced into the open air, crackling as they just missed the body of the mass weapon. Too close. Far too close. A series of woeful beeps echoed in the air, bringing Imani's attention back to the situation at hand. It was as if it remembered how unsafe these stairwells made her feel, and it was now attempting to coax her upward again. And upward she stood, facing the last set of steps and bringing them to the top of the silo. The next room was just as chaotic as their encounter had been, with furniture strewn about and overturned. With blood seeping into the dated fabric. In the center was a luxurious desk, preserved even after all these years. Untouched by the war. ED-E floated ahead and peered at the various consoles within the room, searching for any sign of how to lift the lockdown. Imani stepped toward the desk, gaze fixated on the muted mural on the floor. A gilded ring surrounded a brave eagle, which clasped various plants in each of its razor sharp talons. In front of its chest sat a shield carrying the old flag. The lettering within the ring was hard to make out.
"Seal of... something." Imani tilted her head to examine the other side. "The United States."
ED-E floated over and crooned, attempting to examine the seal itself before giving up. It chirped and flew back to the nearby console array, moving back and forth as if shaking its head.
"No luck?" The eyebot beeped again, lowering itself to the numerical keypad. "You need a code?" A series of affirmative trills. Imani nodded.
It was then that she noticed the desk's chair was spun around, facing the wall. Curiosity grew as she stepped around the disarray of clutter, hand reaching out to spin it toward the light. The movement caused the body to slump forward, head hitting the desk as its arm fell from the rest. She jumped back, looking to the floor to find a gun where the arm had draped. Then to the pool beside it. Then to the wall where blood dried and caked. There were no others in the room, and it had seemed there was no struggle. A suicide. The courier's expression fell, and she turned her gaze away from the corpse, allowing a few moments of silence to pass before she moved to examine the papers on the desk. Buried beneath the man's head was the paper containing the procedural code, now tainted with the remnant decay. She sighed and carefully removed the paper, holding it up to the light to see the full sequence. Then, after another brief pause, she stepped away from the desk and turned her attention to the console. Upon entering the code, the silo's mainframe came online. Alarms began to blare as the bunker doors peeled apart, revealing a tunnel to the surface. The silo trembled at the weight of its powered core, causing ED-E to nervously dart toward the tunnels. Bullets ricocheted off of the eyebot, causing it to 'scream' and rush back into the main office. Imani ran forward and nearly caught her own share of fire, ducking around the corner as the tunnel's defenses regained their targeting abilities. With no rifle, and no way to disable the security, there was only one way out of this tomb: Run.
Tired feet pushed forward, gripping to any bit of traction they could find as the courier raced forward with her eyebot in pursuit. Bullets whizzed by as they fled, narrowly missing the duo and bouncing off the walls. The silo groaned with each piercing catch, unsure of how much more pressure it could take. The courier stumbled now and again, boots catching on the limbs of civilian corpses. They all faced the silo doors, hands stretched outward and limbs contorted by the sudden fire. Had the circumstances been different, Imani would have checked them. Would have put together the fact that they were not killed for trying to leave, but for trying to come in. Slaughtered for whatever reasons the silo's staff had at the time. Orders from top down. Selfishness. Survival. The very concept that allowed Imani and ED-E to burst out into the Divide once more. That allowed them to settle as the smokey air enveloped them. Wobbling legs collapsed as the courier sank to the dirt, pressing her back against the stripped metal exterior. Trembling fingers tore the respirator from her face, lungs screaming as air flooded into them. She coughed, holding her chest as the adrenaline began to dissipate. They were safe for now. They could rest. ED-E sunk down to her level and cooed, tilting its chassis. She peeked up and smiled.
"Yeah, I'm alright. I will be." She nodded, taking a deep breath before looking over the respirator again. A few moments and it was already back on, doing well to help her steady her breaths. ED-E vibrated proudly, then froze as if someone grabbed it. Stopped dead in its tracks and stared at her.
"ED-E?"
No response from the bot. Imani sat up on her knees and reached out, carefully poking at the cold metal.
"ED-E? Hey, buddy? You alright?"
A faint click, then a new voice greeted her.
"There's your signal. Faint, but there."
The voice that emitted from ED-E's speakers was just audible over the eyebot's static. It was deep. Gravelly. Unlike any the courier had heard in her travels across the expansive Mojave. Threatening in its tone, but not in its words. Intrigue bled into the man's words. Bled into Imani's psyche as she sat back and looked around, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she would find its source. After all, the man had to be close if he could read her Pip-Boy's signal and take total control of ED-E.
Right?
"Just like NCR—voice without fire, without strength; sick. Heard tales of you walking the Mojave. Giving the two-headed bear strength. Giving hollow men like Kimball, like Crocker, half the life Hanlon had. " Dark eyes trained on the courier, pressed into the long scope as a strong hand carefully adjusted the radio receiver. "Now... Let's test that strength. That... 'conviction'. Courier."
Silence lingered as the courier gathered her sense of surroundings, slow to pull herself to her feet. Slow as the way the man raised the sniper's scope to focus on her expression. To peer past the long, tightly-knit braids that settled in place as she faced ED-E.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" Her voice felt so much smaller in comparison to his. Meek. Feeble. What he would expect from someone with no true allegiance.
"I'm a courier. Courier Six... was Courier Six. Like you—and not like you, in all the ways that matter. Spent too many years looking for you—now, letting you come to me. Thought carrying that Chip would end you. No... You got lives in you; hard to kill. Storms, bullets... sand and wind, yet you still walk. For now." Amusement. The sound of a grin dripping into words as Imani's expression twisted.
He was the other Six? The one that Nash told her about when she'd first checked in with him. She could remember the exchange well. Remember seeing the wheels turn as he tried to make sense of it all.
—
The cool air of the Vicky and Vance was more than welcoming after traveling the long road from Nipton to Primm. More than welcoming in comparison to the gruesome sights the courier had just walked away from. Yet still the stench of burning flesh lodged itself in her nose. Still, the wicked flames danced in the dimmed neon glow. Mr. Nash did his best to usher in the courier once she'd confirmed her employment, offering a seat at the nearby bar as his wife slid around the kitchenette. Chatter about the Chip's delivery status turned to the odd circumstances of it all, voices hushed as they attempted piecing the timeline of events together. Offhandedly, Nash mentioned the other couriers. Decoys, all assigned by Mr. House to thwart the trail of any wannabe robbers. Yet there was one he mentioned that never stuck around.
"He canceled?"
"Yeah," Nash paused, head tilting as he tried to recall the interaction. "Got this look when he saw you next down on the Courier list. His expression turned right around; asked me if your name was for real. I said, sure as lack of rain, you were still kickin'. Then he turned down the job, just like that. I asked if he was sure, it was good money."
He hesitated continuing, setting down the glass in his hand and turning to lean in close.
"No, let 'Courier Six' carry the package. That's what he said—like the Mojave'd sort you out or something. Then he just up and walked out.">
A chill ran down Imani's spine. So now, on top of the man in the checkered suit attempting to execute her, she had another man hoping the delivery would fall through? Hoping that the inhabitable wastes would eat her up? That someone, perhaps even the very man who'd kidnapped her, would put an end to things? Her head shook as she sat forward, letting her head fall into her hands as calloused fingers massaged her scalp. None of this made sense.
"Do you know who he was? Where he went?"
Nash sighed and toyed with the empty whiskey glass. "No idea. Sounds like you two had a history for him to act like that. And turn down the money, too. Hope he didn't see any trouble in that package of yours. Maybe he thought your name was bad luck. Not for me to say."
"We've never spoken before—I'd remember your voice."
A bold claim, all things considered. Much of Imani's journey to New Vegas was her trying to regain her memories. Rediscovering the monstrosities of the Mojave while chasing down the one thing she, at the time, could remember: A checkered suit. She hadn't forgotten her family, nor her status as a courier, but details aside from that were vague. Splattered within her psyche as her brain once was on the cold sand. Yet still, she was perceptive. In control of what she knew. Perhaps more so than the unnamed courier originally thought.
"Words aren't the only way couriers meet... sometimes it's the paths we walk. But no, we've never spoken before now. You may not know my voice, but we've walked the same places. The Long 15 to Primm... that wasn't the only road you ever walked. I've been to your home; the place you kept returning to. May not be the place you were born; was the place you gave life to. Same thing.
People forget couriers can keep communities alive... until the day they're gone, and their breath catches in their throat."
Silence. Consideration. Pieces began to squeeze together.
"So you're the one who sent the radio message—Ulysses."
The name came smoothly. Assuredly. Made him pause as he processed it. The Divide's breeze chilled as it picked up.
"Not my given name; close enough. Took it from history. Found it in a book. It's an Old World name. Ulysses lived a long time ago, long before the Old World set fire to itself. He made a mark without being myth. Had to fight during a time when his world had two flags, and he had to make them one."
"Unification... Like the NCR." Imani raised a brow. "You have a lot of hate for them. That kind of hate isn't new in the Mojave."
"No..." Distaste. "Not new. And not new among all those in the shadow of the Bear. You know their flag, a bear with two heads. Symbol's an Old World one, too. Had one head, then, better off for it. Their flag speaks to their spirit. They're split like any two-headed animal, trying to go in different directions; ending up nowhere. In the Mojave, that'll only get you sand between your fingers—or over your grave."
A familiar sentiment. All the couriers, hired by Mr. House, split off in different directions across the Mojave. All of them slaughtered in the sands in hopes of acquiring the Chip. All of them, including Imani, who took a breath and sighed. "So what is this place, then?"
Avoidance.
"The Divide... this place is a slice of it. Old military. Can still smell the pride—and the fear. Hope of the Old World, wrapped in fencing, covered in storm. Got new inhabitants now other than ghosts, more recent..." A sigh as the proper term escaped him. "Recruits."
"Inhabitants? It doesn't look like anyone's alive down there."
"These new inhabitants... not natives... most of them. Came with duty; purpose. Ready to kill each other. The Divide was stronger. Left marks on them, too. Not Bear; not Bull—now... radiation's marked them, made them equal in history's eyes. As vicious as the storms are, these shadows of Legion, of NCR—silhouettes of things to come."
Another piece of the puzzle.
"So those bodies in the silo were NCR soldiers... Some were special forces."
"Might have been, once. To the Divide they came... in the Divide, they rest. If you saw their corpses, you saw mercy. Got what they deserved, coming to the Divide. The Bear and Bull—NCR, Legion—came in waves. Before. And after. Right into the invisible fires... the wind, ground... collapsing beneath them. Once under different flags, now they are equal in their hatred of the trespassers." A pause as he watched her. "You and I."
She glanced toward the sealed doors. What she saw in there was unlike anything. The ghouls of the Mojave showed signs of decay. Melted from the inferno the radiation boiled within them. Warped beneath the pressure of their own bodies.
"But... even radiation isn't enough to cause those wounds."
"Even as the fires here burned them from within... the winds of the Divide tore their skin; exposed them... screaming... to the sky. And just as the Divide tears at them, so they tear at each other, for sport—like some tribal scarification. Falling back to their history, maybe. No matter what they suffer... the radiation, fire of the Divide, sustains them. Makes them stronger."
Like the Mojave ghouls, then, but not quite.
"Radiation may keep them alive in areas so physically punishing, it would kill others—even ghouls."
Smart. "There's truth in your words, in what I've seen of their tactics, movements—recovery. Those wounds—they couldn't live otherwise. The Divide winds have torn the skin from many of them—may be the radiation is the only thing keeping them walking. Make camo near silos... warheads. No way to cleanse the radiation—makes them hard to kill there. Have to draw them out."
"Like you've drawn me out, you mean."
The change of tone raised curiosity. This courier caught on quick, now. Not naive like she had been when accepting the delivery. Not naive as she had been in chasing down Benny. No, she had followed his path. Followed him through Zion. Through the Old World. Fingers moved to rest against the trigger guard.
"You had the chance to kill me. You brought me here to talk. If you wanted me dead, you'd have waited until I came for the Chip."
"No." Fingers fell from the metal. "No, I couldn't. And I'm thinking you can't kill me, either. If you did, you'd answer for it, just as I would. Let the land do the killing for you, that's one of the things you taught me. Killing is personal—so's vows; promises. Last bit's more important to me than the first. Promises to keep. To others. And the Mojave's dangerous enough—left to the land, the land has its way. If I wanted you dead, we would have met sooner. Not sure that's the way this ends."
Pause. Hesitance.
"Wait... so you swore not to kill me? Why?"
"What kind of world would this be if Courier killed Courier. You've got enough distance ahead of you—save your breath for the road. Don't waste it on words."
"No—Hold on." A shifting form slowed, sights growing curious. "So you refused to deliver the chip; what, to set me up to die?"
"We all have death following us, only a question of how close. You dodged it—for a time. You're good at that, talent for it. With that Chip weighing you down... a burden, lets death move a little faster without me pulling the trigger." He sat the rifle aside.
"I don't understand."
"Never was meant to carry the Chip. Your burden. Meant to weigh you down long enough to let death catch up to you... but you survived. There was death in that package, and while the Chip is important to Old World ghosts... no, you are more dangerous than that Chip could ever be. Maybe why you found each other; little piece of the Old World, speaking to you, waiting for you to wake something else up with it. Might be that history needs to have its say. If not, then messages will do."
Nothing made sense. Circles and circles of information that only led to one place: here. The beginning and the end. The Divide. The barren path ahead, and the path she'd taken to get here in the first place.
"Alright, enough talking. You went to a lot of trouble to lure me here, so let's get on with this. Where am I meant to go? To find you?"
"American sleeps ahead of you, its nightmares filled with quakes; storms. You'll need to find your own path. That means waking America's spears up from their slumber. There's ways—warheads set off the collapse, warheads could open the gates again. You're resourceful.
That machine, robot with you—can help you find the warheads you need to destroy... and their trigger. The detonator. The way ahead is below. The tools are there. The rest—up to you."
The courier stepped forward, peering past the static eyebot to see the pathway wind down into the canyon. So it seemed.
"Before I go—If we share history, then I want to know the past."
Silence greeted her as she looked to the eyebot's visor. As she looked, hoping to see something. Anything. He gathered his things and stopped at the stairwell to the decrepit ruins.
"Who are you, who do not know your history? You came all this way for answers. Only currency I have, nothing else to be gained—could turn around, walk away at any time. If history matters to you... you'll need to earn it. Any logs of mine I have already cast away in the Divide, they're lost to you. For now—find the trigger for the warheads, buried in Hopeville. Use it to keep moving... and keep alive."
"... Fine. I'll find this trigger—then I'll come find you."
"The Divide will send its worst against you—it may break you. We'll see if you're stronger. Road gets rougher from here... Courier." The word stung. Imani shivered. Ulysses steadied. "Left marks for you, colors'll tell the way—if you're smart. They'll lead you to your home one more time, lead to the ending of it—maybe remind you why you wander."
His voice faded and ED-E trembled back to life, beginning to wobble in place as it regained its bearings. It floated aimlessly at first, then found Imani beside it. It chirped excitedly, glad to see her on her feet again. She couldn't help but smile at the bot's enthusiasm, reaching her hand out for it to bounce against. Her gaze wandered back to the road ahead; to the winding path down into the canyon. Just past the clouds of dirt and dust, she could see the remnants of a town. Or was it a military base? It had to have been the latter, given its proximity to the silo. The courier ventured forth, navigating the terrain with ease. Aside from its aesthetics and storms, it was not so different from the rough terrain of the Mojave. It was still a desert, and she had traversed it well enough on her hunt for the truth. Traversed through fire and brimstone to enter the Strip’s metallic gates. To bathe in its neon glow, as she now basked in the Divide’s yellow haze. Then emerged the visage of a warhead, shimmering amidst the rubble. Vibrantly hued as it just barely held on, rust eating away at its casing. It was tucked nearby a series of barracks, narrowly missed by the overturned semi that’d crashed into the first building’s walls. The courier cautiously stepped around it, shivering at the sudden array of clicks that emitted from her Pip-Boy. Even her current proximity was dangerous. Enough to stir a bubbling sense of nausea as she’d passed the warhead by, opting to focus on the encampment ahead. On the flickering flames that snaked through the ruins, allowing smoke to dissipate into the fog. To vanish just as Ulysses had; without a trace. ED-E signalled worriedly, antennas lowering as it floated ahead to investigate the distant growling. As it’d done so, gunfire rang out. In the distance, a sniper marked by the radiation.
Imani ducked behind the encampment’s sign, realizing she’d had nothing to fire back with. A knife would do no good from this distance, that much was certain. ED-E beeped, floating down and wobbling back and forth. It then somersaulted in the air before her, moving toward the larger buildings. ‘Go, I will cover you.’ Electric bolts danced from its receiver, traversing the wreckage and illuminating the sniper in a white glow. The being stumbled back, briefly abandoning the rifle and providing the opportunity for Imani to make a break for the building. Strong legs hurriedly leapt over the strewn about wreckage, carrying the courier toward the doors as more of these soldiers appeared. Scouts who blindly fired toward her figure, narrowly missing and striking the stationary rubble. When she’d reached the doors, strong arms failed to fling them open. Locked, or perhaps stuck from the decades of debris that settled into the hinges. The courier cursed, looking around as ED-E weaved through the wreckage itself, picking out the best paths for itself and its arcs. It was then that Imani spotted the makeshift ramp leading to the building’s roof. Taking a breath, she made another sprint, holding her hands out as she hefted herself onto the overturned vehicle. Nails dug into the metal as she hunkered down, minimizing her exposure as she climbed. The structure croaked under the sudden weight, though did not fall, even as she clambered onto the rooftop and dove for cover once more. Feet slipped as she rounded the corner, following the marked path to the opposing edge, stopping only briefly as she peered down. Concrete and dirt greeted her; she supposed it was better than staying in plain sight. With another drawn breath, she heaved over the edge and contorted, catching herself and rolling in the empty space beside the torn wall. ED-E soon joined her, ducking low before flying over the concrete heap to examine the path ahead. Empty. Oddly quiet. Though not without activity. Barrels of oil shone through the fog, illuminated by artificial flame. Drag marks indicated fortification. Yet no noise, aside from the brewing storm’s breeze. The distant, rumbling thunder that crawled across the Long 15. And a long drop down, further than the previous. There was no guarantee of safety. No convenient rubble to scale. Just the abandoned roadway and sparse patches of earth. ED-E focused on the courier, watching as she stepped to the edge. Watching as her foot dangled over the space below, hands clenching and unclenching as her eyes closed. Watched as she stepped off, bracing herself as the ground greeted her.
Beeps faded in and out past the visceral crunch that echoed throughout the street. Limbs were slow to move as they regained their sense of being, nerves on fire as trembling hands searched the duster’s deep pockets. There. They brought the Stimpak from its home, gripping it tightly as the needle was thrust into flesh. A chemical cocktail that worked wonderfully. A new life was flushed into the courier, her breath escaping her as she sat herself up. She was fine; would be, long as the area’s inhabitants hadn’t caught wind of her presence. Thankfully, such seemed to be the case as she stood, careful to take her time as the eyebot floated closely by her side. The sky had darkened in the time between the courier’s tumble and her awakening, golden hues now dimmed as she looked to the ruins before her. It appeared to be some sort of housing complex, if the rotted furnishings that weaned over the edge was anything to go by. Patterned wallpaper lay torn across the wooden flooring, melting into the tacky varnish. Boots clung to the film, making Imani’s trek upward that much harder as she followed the painted arrows. Up past the skeletal remains of the building’s inhabitants. Up past the abandoned relics of the Old War. Up to the rooftop, where an encampment sat with its dancing flames; where the detonator Ulysses mentioned sat neatly, as if it were being presented on a platter for the courier’s taking. She paused, though, unwilling to take it just yet. It was nerves that stopped her. A sinking feeling that twisted within her gut and weighed on her chest. The warhead below was massive, even if it were shadowed by the missile she’d seen in the silo.
What sort of destruction would rain down if she detonated it? What would happen to her? To the landscape? To any survivors in hiding? If what Ulysses said was true, perhaps there were none. Perhaps it was best that she simply detonated it. Cleared her path forward, damned be everyone else.
And so Imani retrieved the detonator. Held it in her hands cautiously as she turned it over. Tried to gain an understanding of how it worked. It was then that, just off in the distance, she’d seen another warhead, just like the first. Though this one sat in the middle of the roadway, tucked neatly against the overturned vehicles lining the security checkpoint. She glanced to her Pip-Boy, pulling up a map of the Long 15 and examining it closely. She watched her flickering marker as it calibrated itself, pointed directly at the blockage. Just past it lie the road ahead. The only way through the Divide. Seeing as there was no other choice, Imani adjusted her grip and raised the detonator, pointing it toward the warhead. Fingers twitched against the grip, shoulders rolling as she planted herself in position. Breaths slowed as she steadied herself, the world around her vanishing as the trigger came to meet the guard.
Flesh pressed into the worn brick, bracing as the thunderous roar that echoed throughout the Divide shook the ruins. Grasped onto them and threatened to topple them without a second thought. The detonator bounced against the concrete as panicked hands rose to shield her head. ED-E shrieked and ducked beside her, its chassis scraping against the rooftop. Explosion after explosion rang out. Old fusion cores suddenly awakened; collapsing in on themselves and setting off a chain reaction. Those few sparse moments felt like forever. Felt unrelenting as shockwave after shockwave caused debris to dance. It was only as everything settled that Imani dared pull herself up from the ground to peer over the rooftop’s edge and toward the warhead’s resting place. A clear road ahead greeted the courier as she pulled herself to her feet, grabbing the discarded detonator and fashioning it to clip to her belt. ED-E joined in examining the destruction, beeping woefully as it floated down the stairwell that’d carried them up. Imani followed suit, allowing her steps to hurry as a familiar series of clicks emitted from her Pip-Boy. They were leisurely at first, much as she had been when first scaling the old homestead. Yet as the courier's pace quickened, so did the haunting staccato. Clicks grew crackled. Footfalls grew impatient. Road turned to dust and dirt. Light turned to dark, save for the occasional lines of fire that resonated from the base's buildings. The courier did not stop, nor did her robotic companion. Both pushed through the firefight, only stopping when the eyebot shivered and floated down in front of the courier. She blinked, suddenly aware of just how dark things around them had gotten.
Then a familiar voice rang out.
"I don't believe it!" Too enthused, though equally angry. The voice of Dr. Whitley. "Grant actually went to Colonel Autumn and got approval for her damned 'efficiency guidelines!' 'All experiments will be carried out with the test subject fully active, to reduce iteration time.'—It's barbaric!
I've explained this to the Colonel—just because the Eyebots don't have true AI doesn't mean they're just machines. I guess results are all that matter around here. Forget things like 'ethical procedures' or 'humane treatment.' I'm starting to have serious misgivings about leadership around here." The doctor sighed, allowing a few moments of silence to pass.
"At least I've got you to talk to, huh, ED-E?"
ED-E's antennas lowered at the recollection of the event, faceplate turning downwards as if ashamed. Imani allowed her own sigh to escape as she took in the new information surrounding, what she presumed, was ED-E's creation.
"Whitley was really protective of his Eyebots, huh? I can't believe they'd approve something like that. I've met enough robots to know they're more than just machines." The bot shot up in response, bouncing up and down as its antennas extended outward. It let out a series of excited tones. "I can see why you left that place."
The courier paused, looking around them. "Looks like we should try leaving, too. We got a lot of ground to cover—"
A string of panicked trills emitted from the eyebot, his form darting behind a pile of debris as a low snarl echoed through the tunnel. Imani dropped behind her own cover, breaths hitching as she raised herself just enough to catch the source. Just ahead, a Deathclaw stalked through the shadows, form hunched as it began to track... something. Something that seemed quite unhappy to have been found. So much so that it'd hissed viciously, catching the Deathclaw by surprise. The ensuing sounds were equally fierce, with a choir of snarls ringing out between panicked roars. Quickly as it'd begun, though, it ceased, leaving Imani no other choice but to cautiously trail ahead. She kept low, back hunched as she pushed between piles of debris to remain in the shadows. The only light ahead was that of a floodlight casting it's chilled glow on the highway's support beam and on the path forward. Following its trail, Imani found herself upon a horrific sight. One she never thought she would have seen.
Before her was the mangled corpse of the Deathclaw, torn to shreds by whatever it was it'd come into contact with. Hardly recognizable as blood and viscera painted its resting place. She stopped cold in her tracks, suddenly weightless as her stomach dropped. Just audible above the ringing in her ears was the squelching of its remnants being torn apart by its killer, seeming to bleed out from an abandoned box truck. The courier swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped forward, boots scuffing against the concrete. She froze again as the feasting ceased, bracing herself for what hell would emerge from the vehicle. What gigantic being would saunter from its meal, teeth gnashing as it obliterated her with a deft swipe. Fists rose before her, yet nothing came. At least, nothing of the sort. Rather, a small creature crawled from concealment, raising its dark head and allowing luminescent quills to stand tall as it sniffed the air. White eyes stared at the courier, limbs outstretched as it braced itself. And then it ran, leaping over the rubble and vanishing into the depths of the tunnel. ED-E trembled and buzzed, pressing against Imani's shoulder as if hoping she would protect it. She jolted at the sudden contact, breathing a sigh of relief and patting the bot's cooled chassis before cautiously venturing ahead.
The path through the tunnel was oddly peaceful. Uneventful aside from the few distant sounds of the odd creatures scaling the uneven piles. For the most part, they'd seemed disinterested in Imani as she passed through, perhaps unwilling to expend their hunting prowess onto something of her size. Too lean, or perhaps too complicated. Had they seen a human before? Maybe they only attacked when attacked. That was the most rational explanation for their disinterest, as she wasn't trying to acquisition anything from them. Not showing her own interest in the tunnel, aside from following the dimly lit path.
At least, that's what she'd thought. What they'd thought. One wrong step was all it'd taken to awaken the hive of creatures. Send them into a frenzy as they leapt from the shadows and clawed at the dashing courier. Hands were scraped against the ruins, blood trails providing motivation for the Tunnlers as they gained ground. ED-E did what it could to pacify the onslaught of attackers, shooting electrical sparks toward them in a way that'd shown surprisingly effective. Long as the sparks emitted, their vision could not adjust to the sudden luminosity. They were blinded, albeit temporarily. Long enough to maintain the minimal distance and keep the courier mostly intact as the path elevated. Yet as she ran, even more Tunnelers emerged, signifying a nest beneath the rising platforms. A few managed to latch onto the courier, bringing her to the ground. Inky claws dug into flesh. Bruised fists swung as legs frantically kicked. Spark showers illuminated the scene, casting a haunting glow onto the courier as she peeled herself from the hoard. Her features were rougher. Shadowed by streams of crimson and thick patches of dirt. One arm emerged; then another. One foot; then the other. The white of her undershirt was no more. Her duster barely clung to her form. Somewhere in the mix, the backpack she'd carried was abandoned. None of it mattered, though. Not when the way out was so close. When it was illuminated by the sunset's heavenly glow. Cool air suddenly flooded her lungs as the respirator fell from her face, enveloping her as she collapsed against the road's barricade and threw herself over it. She fell just as the exit did, crushing the pursuing pack of hunters beneath it as she stared up at the night sky.
It was over. She could rest. Needed to.
Trembling limbs carried her to the nearby car. Carried her as she crawled into it and allowed the exhaustion to blanket over her as she rummaged through the center console. Bandaging fell against jagged wounds, quickly stained but holding on well enough. Eyes grew heavy as she pulled the last of the roll tight, fingers lazily tucking it in onto itself as she sat back. It wasn’t much, but it would do. Would be enough to allow herself to disappear from the world for a few brief hours.
When the courier rose from her slumber, it had felt much like the day she'd first come back to life. Muscles ached and wailed with every subtle twitch. The sun's light was blinding, forcing her to fight through the pain of raising her arm to shield her gaze. Rich, brown skin flourished with deep bruising, hues of purple and black painting swollen mounds. Bandaging shifted and fell as the courier sat up from her seat, legs reluctant to push her form from the vehicle. She wobbled when she stood, clinging to the metallic chassis as her head spun. ED-E jolted to life, floating up from beside the rear tires and bobbing beside the courier as she caught herself.
"Hey you..." Her voice was raspy, fatigue lingering in her words as the eyebot floated down and bumped against her cautiously. It let out a few trills. "Yeah, I know it's bad. Don't worry... we'll keep an eye out for some stims."
The bot bounced excitedly, seemingly glad to see its companion respond to its outputs. But then it ceased, floating down to eye level and fixating on her with a blank gaze.
"Ulysses."
"There you are, you went quiet for a time. Then that signal came in strong from your machine, like a heartbeat. Made your way through Old World towns; the tunnels that join them. Now... the High Road. For all you've seen behind you—" A pause as the other adjusted his scope to counteract the sun's shimmering. To watch as the courier's battered form came into sight. Survived, though just barely. He sighed. "... There's worse along this stretch. Deathclaws. Hunt the Marked Men, and they also hunt what burrows below."
Oh, she'd known all too well what those... things were capable of. She'd watched, or rather heard, a small pack devour a Deathclaw in a matter of seconds. It was no wonder why they'd chosen to remain above the surface. To pass by what, to them, would be the perfect threshold to settle into. The casualties were not worth that risk and, in an odd way, that was poetic. Imani nodded.
"You mean those creatures in the underpass."
"Tunnelers." Not their name, but one assigned to them. Simple. Effective. "Predators that make their own roads beneath the ground here. Divide broke their sky, showed them the world above—and the scent of new prey. Be a slower death for the Mojave than bombs and fire... but they'll come for its people, from where they least expect—below."
Pause came to the courier, hands resting against the wrinkled edges of her makeshift bandaging as that last statement rang out. Her expression furrowed, gaze darting along the sun-bleached concrete as she dug between the lines. Brown eyes widened, darting upward and toward the eyebot.
"You mean, they're spreading out from the Divide?"
"Death'll come from below. In the Divide, need to watch the sky and ground... Mojave'll be easy prey for them. They'll start emerging throughout the Mojave in time; might be years. Probably less. They breed fast; hunt in groups. More than enough to bring down the strongest in the Mojave. Once they draw blood..." The sights came vividly to Ulysses. When they'd first breached from beneath the earth some time ago, the specifics of it were lost to him amidst the chaos. How they'd frenzied, slaughtering everything in their path. He shook his head. "Seen them tear apart Deathclaws... Deathclaw might get some, but the rest will swarm it, tear it apart, like Denver hounds."
Denver. Legion territory. Far behind crimson lines. Maps were simpler. Straightforward. At least for traveling couriers, who were granted access to the supply roads and nothing more. Point A to point B. Pieces began to fit together.
"Some of the Marked Men—Looked like NCR... but fought beside others in Leigon armor."
"Pain makes for strange allies... the hate the Bear and Bull shared across the battlefield, now turned against the Divide. Few survived... intact. Many NCR were already here when the destruction happened. Keeping the route East open, in fear of Caesar." The name fell from his lips with a hiss. Disgust. "Fear of the Legion."
"I don't follow. Why keep it open?" Lost again, but keen on the details. Ulysses made note of that resilience. Knew then it would be what would carry her to him.
"The why of it: Hoover Dam. The Bear, NCR, couldn't be allowed to reach it easily. Long 15... Canaan... both bad enough. Kimball, Caesar, House... you'd think their whole world was that wall, cutting the Colorado. If I'd never laid eyes on it, never spoke of it..." Regret. Shame. "... but once found, it was all Caesar could see. That, and the flag beyond it. Another symbol big enough to challenge him. And the Divide, one of the roads to it—Legion was tasked with cutting that artery. If you can't kill the Bear in one stroke, bleed it. Starve it. That kind of murder... it's what any of the Legion would have done. Now... the Divide belongs to history."
Imani finally pulled herself from the vehicle, pausing momentarily to allow her balance to settle before wandering the small space along the passage's exit. Combing for supplies. Something to carry. Anything to keep. She turned her back to ED-E and Ulysses. Trusting. Naive. As she searched, she spoke.
"Makes sense why things happened the way they did, in Zion. Remnants of the Legion among the White Legs."
Silence. Anger. A name he had not heard in years, but one he knew well. He had been the one to bring them to Caesar. Been the one to show them the Legion's way. Had followed the courier through her attempts to make things right. Observed how their histories intertwined, with neither truly knowing the extent. Imani peered over her shoulder, blind to the reaction. Casual.
"If this is the High Road, where does it lead?"
"At the end of the High Road lies Ashton—its silo. That machine with you, it can open it, wake it up, like it did the one in Hopeville."
The courier shook her head and examined emptied hands, stepping away from the rubble and turning her attention back to the eyebot. Maybe she would get lucky ahead.
"You have a lot of hate for the robot with me. I can hear it in your voice."
"Hate?" An interesting word choice. "No. There's nothing to hate in metal... steel, gold, or platinum. Your machine... it's just a tool, made of wreckage of the Divide. All that was brought here."
"Uh-huh." Imani didn't buy it, though supposed there was no point in arguing about it. Curiously, she glanced ahead. "There's something I still don't get. When we first spoke in Hopeville, you mentioned you'd sworn not to kill me. Didn't answer it then, so I'll ask now: Why?"
A long pause. Consideration behind his next words. He had been vague, but not without a purpose. No. Never without a purpose.
"You know the why of it. If you don't—I do, and that's enough. Shows trust only walks so far West. Earned more than that, though, getting this far. We walk the same road, carry the same colors. Can't break that by making the road red."
"What kind of world would this be if Courier killed Courier... That's what you said then."
"Yes. Want more than that, walk the Divide. Answers'll come, closer you get to home. You and that... machine."
"Home?—I've never been here before, at least not from this road. It all looks the same. Empty. There's nothing here to call home."
Ulysses scoffed. Ignorance. "Many in the Mojave think the Divide's nothing but canyon and storm. Wasn't always. There was life; a town, father West... not talking about an Old World town like Hopeville... more recent. Something you saw in your lifetime. It had the name 'the Divide', too. But rather than cracks in the earth, it was a road from the West into the Mojave, a supply line. Took a courier to make that road—You. Back then, you saw the road with eyes facing East. This time... the Divide's in the other direction. And if your eyes try to make sense of it when you reach it... home's not what it was."
ED-E's shadow cast onto the courier's face, shielding her from the rising sun ahead. It was the first time the eyebot moved since Ulysses took control of it, though its movement was... off. Not like its usual floating. It seemed too controlled. Controlled, like her conversation with Ulysses. The only thing to come from their back and forth was more questions. Few answers. Had the towns along the Long 15 been his home? Hers? All she could remember was the quaint homestead on the outskirts of Primm. The trading table her brother set up out front. The distant creaking of the old wooden coaster across the way. None of this was familiar. It was only haunting.
"Okay... Maybe I've walked this road once from another direction." It was what couriers did. "What makes you think this leads home? To my home? You keep saying that, as if you know where I was born—You don't." Doubt, shadowed by bargaining. Information brokering with no concrete stakes.
"All roads lead back to one's home. Not your birthplace, maybe, but home. Home isn't where you're born into this world. You taught me that. Part of your message, whether you meant it or not. Can be a place of mind, a moment where you know who you are; the history of it. And they can be places you breathe life into. Never would have known the Divide had it not been for you. The road you made with your tracks, again and again. You were the only one willing to make the journey to and from here... a hard road. Kept the land before the Divide alive through seasons, storms...
Can't have been just a job. Was something more to you. Don't feel for a place that hard unless it's home."
More questions. No answers. The tender ache in Imani's head resurfaced as she tried to swim through the pools of information. To pull the pieces from the dizzying current. What message had she sent him? When did she send it? They'd never talked before. Not in any traditional form, anyway. Did her family have a home prior to Primm?
What did she do?
A sigh left the courier's lips as she brought her hand to her head, pressing her fingers into her temporal. She rolled slow circles, allowing tired eyes to slip shut as she took a breath to calm herself. To steady her nerves as she felt herself getting swept away. Ulysses watched her closely. Watered the seeds of doubt in hopes they would nourish the truth. Prepare her for the revelation. After a few moments, she looked to ED-E.
"I've walked a lot of hard roads, Mojave and before. That doesn't mean anything for the Divide."
"It means everything—" The suddenness of his voice startled the courier. It had seemed she was the one to strike a chord this time. The one to provoke the response. His voice lowered. A threat. Bubbling resentment. "—even if you deny it; cast it aside. That speaks to what you are, proves what happened here. It was you walking that road that kept the Divide alive. It grew from what you did. Settlers... camps... filling that Old World city. Chance for a new nation; new beginning. New way of thinking."
The anger dissipated quickly as it boiled, smoothed over by a recollective calm. He continued.
"Could've breathed new life into the Mojave, bridging East, West. Like Hoover Dam... but not the Old World, something you made. Road was a supply line."
"Was—There is no other supply line into the Mojave beyond the Long 15."
A robotic scoff. "Not anymore. If one existed, the two-headed Bear would have claimed it. And it tried to. "
"Then tell me what happened."
"... NCR saw the worth in that road you made." He grimaced. "Staked a claim, whether it was wanted there or not—true elsewhere in the Mojave. And where the Bear tries to cling to life, the Legion comes... bearing messages. Some brought by blade. Others... by Couriers. You knew what was coming, as sure as I know what's coming for you. This time—" A shadowed form leaned forth, grip on the receiver lethal. "You carry the burden. Walk west into the sun, and keep walking until it dies. There—I'll be waiting."
Before Imani could get another word in, the eyebot sputtered to life. Servos kicked and groaned, antennas wobbling as ED-E gained its bearings again. It aimlessly floated to the side, seemingly dazed by the sudden takeover. Perhaps drowning in its own floods of knowledge. Drowning in the jammed signals. It sang softly, tilting itself to reassure the disgruntled courier. She sighed as she watched it settle, looking to the vast road ahead with a newfound fire in her eyes. One foot fell before the other, shoulders squaring as she fought through the lingering aches. She would walk the road ahead, one way or another. No matter what horrors could come.
The first stretch was uneventful. Peaceful, even. Abandoned encampments scattered the worn lanes, providing the courier with a fair supply of tools to use throughout her journey. A few stims, some used immediately to combat the damage the Tunnelers caused. A service rifle with a handful of bullets, with more being found later down that stretch of road. An old rebreather, with a filter that seemed to cling for dear life. It wasn't much, but as the dust danced in the sun's glow, it was better than nothing. The apparatus fit snugly to the courier's features, sealing her airways from the decrepit ruins around her. The first true landmark was that of a toppled skyscraper, hanging over the highway, much like the overpass did. Inquisitive eyes focused on the ruins, only to fixate on what appeared to be a man. A barely visible figure amidst the wreckage. She stopped in place, watching as it did the same. Neither expected to be found. Neither wanted confrontation. Imani was the first to step forward, keeping the rifle slung over her shoulder to show her peaceful intentions. The figure simply lingered, unwilling to chance its reveal. Tension broke with the turn of the courier's head.
"ED-E, do you see—" Gone. In a matter of seconds, the figure was no more. No longer staring her down from the vantage point. Blood ran cold as Imani threw herself behind a lane divider, raising her rifle and watching the building.
Nothing came. Not even a gentle breeze.
Reluctantly, the courier crept out of concealment, gaze trained as she stalked closer to the sighting.
Just past the barriers she'd tucked herself behind, Imani could see the familiar red tip of a discarded warhead. By this point, the detonations had become procedure. Pause, aim, and fire. Shield herself from the destruction that followed and pray nobody alive—or, rather, none of the Marked Men—got caught between it all. Yet even as the flames traversed along the thick layers of dust and debris, encapsulating every particle it could, the courier could not shake the pit that grew in her stomach. Couldn't shake Ulysses' words from her conscience as she cautiously lurched forward to examine what remained. Nothing, it had seemed. Aside from rusted metal and piles of junk. And so she carried onward, only pausing when she'd come across an old recreational vehicle.
It still stood on four wheels, all flattened by the crushing weight of the chassis. ED-E floated down toward the front window, chiming excitedly as it scanned the interior for any supplies. Seeming sure that there were items of worth inside, the eyebot lowered itself further and glided to the doorway, wobbling side to side idly as it waited for its companion. Imani was soon to join him, a bandaged hand gripping the archway as she pulled herself up the first step. She winced briefly, grip tightening as the other steps followed suit. Inside the RV were the remnants of a camp, fashioned together with a few light pieces of furniture and various ammunition boxes. Toward the rear was where most of the stash remained, and rightfully so. Away from the door and easy to access. And so, the courier continued to venture into the vehicle, stopping just before the stash to crouch down and retrieve its contents. A survivalist's kit; weathered, though intact. It contained just what she'd needed: First aid supplies and rations. Enough to carry her to the Ashton Silo Control Station. She examined the kit thoroughly, taking out what she could use at the moment and allowing herself pause to tend to the gnarly wounds left by the Tunnelers.
And it was then that she'd realized her mistake.
Metal suddenly creaked and groaned beneath the weight of a tremendous beast. Claws scraped along thin metal, accompanied by the low, vicious warbling of an inquisitive Deathclaw. The air grew hot as the creature sat above her, sniffing the air in search of the prey it had tracked. ED-E huddled down beside the courier, beeping nervously and lowering its antennas, as if afraid the beast would grab hold of them. Wide, brown eyes scanned the windows for a way out. An alternative to walking out of the door and hoping for the best. And it was then they found the Old World flag donned in red paint. A message from Ulysses that the area was unsafe, though delivered too late. As if mockingly, the words 'You can go home, Courier' were scrawled beneath it. Imani scowled, careful to bite her tongue as to avoid catching the Deathclaw's attention. Though it seemed all it had needed was the soft breath that escaped her, for it stalked closer toward the back of the vehicle, allowing a clawed hand to reach down and grip the frame. Knowing the options were limited, the courier found herself looking to ED-E and raising a slow hand. She pointed to the eyebot, then to herself, and then to the door. Fingers curled into themselves as she formed a loose fist. One finger rose. Muscles tensed as her free hand pulled the pack's strap over her shoulder. Another finger rose. Those aches shot through the courier's body as she flattened her feet and began to stand. Then one more, which allowed her to gather the courage to sprint for the vehicle's exit.
And Imani ran. Ran fast, as her life depended on it.
The highway was a blur as the courier vaulted over the rubble. Thunderous roars broke out around her, and she did not stop to dare peer to their source. She knew the sound well enough to know that she had stumbled into a nest. All she could do now was run, detonator in hand, and hope that the time it took her to aim and fire at the warheads upon the flatbed was enough to keep her out of the hands of the herd. Explosions rang out, shaking the ground beneath Imani's feet as she carried herself further. The sudden burst of flames created pause, hesitance among the herd that granted the courier the opportunity to rush forward and weave through the abandoned cargo trailers. Civilian freighters turned to military convoys, signifying that the silo had to be close. If she could just keep running—
Another round of explosions, though not of her doing. Ducking behind a truck and peering around it, Imani had seen that the chain reaction finally caught up to the Deathclaws that'd pursued her. Cars exploded in a series of booms. Concrete rumbled. The highway behind her collapsed, leaving all the room in the world between herself and danger. Leaving her a few moments to finally catch her breath. It was as she sat against the concrete divider that ED-E sank to her level, beeping wistfully as another audio log began.
"All due respect, sir, I think you're making a mistake. We're close to a breakthrough with the Duraframe Eyebots, I can feel it!—" An exasperated sigh from the familiar voice of Dr. Whitley. "Yes sir. Yes—Sir, I understand that we need the Duraframe assets for Hellfire armor, but—No, sir. ... Yes, sir. I understand, sir. I'll tell the team to start disassembling the ED series prototypes right away."
Imani watched the eyebot curiously, glancing between its bobbing frame and the nearby truck in search of what connection sparked the sudden playback. Could it be the area? The chipped, stark star that sat on the door?
"ED-E, you little rascal." Her attention turned back to the bot as the log continued. "Were you eavesdropping again? I think those videos you watch are a bad influence on you. How much of that did you hear?"
Sorrowful, echoed beeps followed the statement, sparking a thought.
"Hmm... didn't Dr. Grant say she'd upgraded your navigational systems? I think I have an idea..." Footsteps shuffled closer. "How'd you like to be just like RALPHIE?"
Silence. The dusted winds of the Divide. So many questions, and very few answers. Imani's head tilted to the side as she pondered on the statement. That name: RALPHIE. Wasn't that the name that ED-E had broadcasted when they'd first met?
"Sounds like Dr. Whitley is a bit of a rogue element, huh?"
The eyebot proudly bounced and sung, wiggling its antennas, coaxing a laugh from the courier as she pulled herself to her feet.
"Hm... I think I would have liked him. We should keep going, though. Don't wanna risk getting ambushed." Another series of happy whirs followed, and the pair looked forth to the remnants of the crumbling highway.
It wasn't far before the asphalt turned to dust, and the rough terrain beneath the courier's feet softened. The wide landscape turned narrowed, tremendous cliffs rising around the adventuring duo and blocking the sky from their view. Imani shivered at the cooled temperatures the shadows cast over her, pulling the lapels of the duster coat closer to shield her core. Downed powerlines and crushed signage dotted the narrow road, leading her forth to the end of the line. There, just before her, stood the Silo Control Station, caved in on itself with nothing more than its central console standing.
The courier stepped into the remaining structure, peering over thickened walls to see the vast landscape before her. Desert ruins and eclipsed towers meshed into one, ruins of the Old World being consumed by the new. Just to her side, the central console beeped, unlatching the security box above a red lever. Beside it was a receiver like that within the first silo. One that only ED-E could access, and one that he gladly floated forth to do. An electric arc connected the eyebot to the frame, lights dancing across the dash and illuminating the silo's doorway. Flickering in the dim orange glow was another mark left behind by Ulysses: A white Old World flag, signifying that this was the path to the Temple. Imani joined ED-E at the console, now able to see the blast doors below. Reluctantly, she reached forth and pulled the lever.
The earth bellowed as what lay within woke from decades of slumber. Steam radiated from the doors as they peeled themselves apart, groaning under the pressure of long-worn hydraulic systems. From the opening rose a missile, grand as the one that slept within the first silo. Its head stood tall above the ground, body concealed within the chamber as it prepared itself for launch. Eyes widened as the courier stepped back from the console, hardly able to catch her balance as a series of shockwaves broke out. She fell forward, clutching the console as her head tilted back to watch the missile fully emerge, pointed toward the atmosphere. Flames dusted along the ruins, highlighting a trail that would be visible for miles. The warhead crawled higher and higher, tilting under its own weight and guiding it forward. It wobbled in the storm, wavering before it caved in and burst open.
A deafening boom stilled the air. A blinding light was all that remained. The silhouettes of the landscape were nothing more than a mere illusion. And the courier wept, unable to peel her gaze away from the horror she had unleased once again unto the Divide.
Had this been what Ulysses alluded to? Had this been her past?
The only thing that pulled her from the spiral of considerations was Dr. Whitley's voice. It was softer. Almost reassuring. Speaking to ED-E, and perhaps to her from wherever he lay.
"Good, you're back online. Listen to me, ED-E—if you stay here, they'll dismantle you for parts. You have to go now.
I've uploaded destination coordinates for our outpost in Navarro into your system. I want you to go to the Enclave there, okay? Do you understand me? It's going to be a long journey, my little friend. You'll have to fly very far, and fly very fast. Can you do that?"
A sad array of chimes echoed around the courier.
"I know you can. Be careful out there, ED-E. Maybe I'll see you again some day."
Another saddened array, though this time much closer. Imani rose her gaze from the console and to the eyebot, who opted to float in close and nudge itself against her arm. She wiped furiously at her eyes, granting it the opportunity to tuck itself beneath them and against her torso. The courier didn't speak for a few moments, attempting to regain her composure. When she'd finally felt ready, her voice was hardly there.
"Navarro... Isn't that in NCR territory?"
ED-E pressed further against her, shivering and letting out a string of worried beeps. Imani slowly found herself caressing the eyebot's metallic frame in an attempt to soothe it. To soothe herself.
"Whitley turned you loose all on your own? That must have been scary... And it sounds like it wasn't easy for him, either."
ED-E's response was curt, only a minute string of saddened chimes. Imani patted his chassis gently.
"I bet Whitley would be proud of you for making it this far." She nodded to herself, taking a breath and finally abandoning the console. "And we'll make it even further. Let's keep going, ED-E."
The eyebot sprung to life, bouncing in the air and positioning itself just over her shoulder. With a briefly renowned sense of hope, Imani grasped the silo doors and pushed them open, welcoming the darkness that loomed before her. She had to keep going. She had to learn the truth. No matter the cost.
The scene before the courier briefly took her back to the beginning. To her first steps into the Divide's grueling landscape. The way the harsh winds had torn her up. The way she grasped those big, silo doors and all but slammed them shut to escape it all. The electrical arcs zapping in the darkness, illuminating their waltz around her. This silo was much like the first, though differed in its layout.
Rather than be greeted by a vast control room, Imani found herself stood before an expansive elevator shaft. As she approached it, with ED-E focusedly floating alongside her, low, warbling growls began to echo through the rocky cavern. The very same low, warbling growls that had nearly been her demise back before the High Road. Tunnelers. Brown eyes narrowed in search as she stepped forth onto the grated platform, gaze focused as she examined the control console and peered past the open fencing and into the abyss below. It was then that she saw them. The faint, glowing speckles of the Tunnelers' hungry eyes. Trained on her as every step echoed throughout the shaft. If there was one thing the courier knew for sure, it was that the second she flipped the switch, they would pounce on the opportunity to sink their claws into her.
Yet still, there was no other path forth. And so, with a hesitant breath, Imani flipped the switch and awoke the beast.
The platform groaned as it began to slide forward, lights flickering at the electrical pull. Somewhere down the line, thunderous explosions began to ring out. Systems overloaded as the platform crawled a mere few feet. A few feet that allowed the cavern's inhabitants to spring up onto the perimeter fencing and snarl wildly. Ravenously. ED-E shot into action, playing a determinant tune as it blasted away at the hoard of creatures. Imani's fists rose defensively as they charged through the trembling arcs, viciously swiping at the air in an attempt to draw their first blood. Behind her, the fences rattled as more approached, pointed frills sprawled out on display as they hissed and spat. The droplets that touched her skin burned, stinging at dark flesh and causing muscles to briefly lock up and seize. Fingertips trembled as the courier cursed and stretched them, desperate to regain control as the hoard flooded in. Flames began to engulf the platform, licking at the straggled Tunnelers and pulling them down toward their own demise. Deafening explosions disoriented the courier, hands now swinging just as wildly as her eyes struggled to focus. She was growing woozy from the rain of venomous spittle that befell her. Her head was spinning, and her coordination faltered, body spinning in tandem in an attempt to keep the Tunnelers from clambering up her form and dragging her town with them. ED-E beeped frantically, hesitant as it shocked the ground by her feet, allowing the blue shockwave to swallow the hoard and create a pause for her to leap through. She stumbled and rolled forward, clutching onto the platform as her leg dangled precariously over the edge. Like the Tunnelers, she scrambled forth and rest on all fours, frantically searching her pack and taking the few moments she had to jam the needle tip of a Stimpak into her thigh. Her eyes widened. A wave of adrenaline crashed over her. She was already on her feet again, fighting until the platform lurched forward, locking itself in with the steady, concrete docking bay.
It was over. And, if ED-E's casual bobbing signified anything, it had ended in a matter of minutes.
Imani panted as she marched ahead, boots stomping over the presidential seal as trembling hands braced against the blast doors. Another explosion rang out, nearly sweeping the courier off of her feet as she forced herself through the doorway, body swaying just as ED-E bobbed alongside her. Relief only washed over the courier as her gaze fell upon the empty room before her. No enemies. No bodies. Just a dimly lit command center, and a stairwell pointing to the silo's launch deck. Some peace amidst the chaos, only briefly interrupted by the final series of systemic overloads.
Imani tossed the torn pack onto the central table, wincing at the sudden loss of weight from her shoulder. Joints cracked as she slowed her pace, haphazardly looking over the nearby shelving for anything that caught her eye. Nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing more than discarded junk that she wasn't able to fashion into anything useful. When she turned, she almost sobbed from the sight before her.
A functional autodoc.
There was a brief wave of hesitance as she set one foot in. Flashes of the Big MT, where her organs sat neatly in canisters before her. The echoing knocks of the Sierra Madre, where the machine tore away at flesh and bone until it could no more. Her chest rose and fell quickly, breaths short as the adrenaline sunk to her gut. As it dissipated into nothing. Imani whimpered as her legs trembled beneath her, grip on the doors slackening as she fell forward. She only just caught herself, reaching up with a weak hand to seal herself in.
The world went dark, with only the rhythmic sounds of the doctoral machinery to lull her to rest.
When the courier awoke again, she felt relief alongside the ache in her bones. Soreness, but not pain. A renowned energy as she pulled herself from the machine and glanced around the room to find ED-E "sleeping" on the table beside her pack. Antennas perked up and the eyebot sung sweetly, fluttering over to cautiously bump itself against her shoulder. She smiled and patted its chassis, shaking her head and allowing herself a few, slow blinks to refocus herself. It hardly worked, even as her gaze shifted to the stairwell. Mindlessly, she grabbed her belongings and followed the pathway downward.
Spiraled down the series of rustic stairwells and past the walls of flames.
Traversed down through the crater in the deck, stumbling over the piles of debris and past the crushed corpses of the Tunnelers.
She only paused briefly to look up at the building that stood before her. A relic of the Old World, with its vibrant bricks and decorative archways. It was kissed by trickling sunlight, an illuminated beacon within the dank silo remnants. Had her mind been more focused, she would stop to appreciate it. Look for a sign as to what the building used to be. Would take her time in exploring the various rooms that lined the carpeted stairwell. Yet instead, she simply climbed. Climbed until she could no more, and found herself once more pushing forth, basking herself in the sun's holy glow and revealing the vast landscape of the Divide ahead.
The air was still. Fresh. Heavenly.
"Hopeville, High Road, Ashton... Tiny cracks in the Earth, nothing compared to the road carved ahead." Each word was laced with an emphatic breath. Subtle pauses to drive home the intimidation of the landscape that stood before the courier. Subtle pauses to, perhaps, mask the expectancy that oozed into his words.
She had made it further than he'd thought. Was he prepared for if she made it now? Prepared to confront the vitriol that bled from his heart into his words?
"Before you... this is the edge of the Divide. Ahead lies your work; the history you burned in the earth. What you brought to the people here."
The courier couldn't help the astonished expression she shot the eyebot, chest tightening as Ulysses' voice rang out. As he talked of her supposed doing. She stepped past the floating bot and peered over the building's edge, spotting the remnants of total destruction below. Lopsided buildings much like the one she stood atop. Scattered warheads tucked amidst the rubble.
No. No, she couldn't have done this. She would have remembered. Why couldn't she remember this?
"I had nothing to do with this!" Her voice burst from her throat. Pierced the air with its suddeness.
"You," he drawled, "delivered a package. Had markings that matched those in the Divide. Not all... but enough. Military markings, from some place the Bear had savaged in the West. Maybe seeing those markings on it reminded you of home... made you carry it."
His ponderance meant nothing. Held nothing. At least, not to Imani. She shook her head and splayed her hands out at her side to offset the sudden weight that crushed over her. To stabilize herself in the turbulent wave that drowned her as she tried to remember the town below. Bullets flying. The vast Mojave. Cold nights in the desert. None of fire and flame.
"You said I brought it from the West..." She stepped away from the ledge. "I've been West, sure. It's possible, but I don't—"
"It was a device. A detonator. One I'd never seen before, or heard before. You carried that thing to the Divide. I know because I followed you as you walked the road; watched you do it."
A chill ran up the courier's spine, causing her to shiver. She was suddenly aware of the eyes on her. The overbearing gaze from some unknown location. Had he been following her this whole time? Through the Divide as she sought his message? Through the Mojave? No... The flags she followed were long chipped. An elaborate rat race through fire and brimstone.
But for what? She couldn't determine. Ulysses continued.
"You brought it here, to the community you built. And you are responsible for what happened after—when the device opened; started to speak. When it did, the Divide answered back. Those missiles you've seen, buried in their silos. They exploded beneath the ground, cracked the landscape. Sand, ash... the dead... the Divide skies became a graveyard."
Silence followed the recollection, only broken by the soft footfalls of the courier as she moved to stand before the eyebot once more. Finally able to gaze at it as she spoke.
"This package... you said it had markings. Military. What was it, exactly?"
"Machinery. Simple on the outside, computer parts. Inside... more complicated. Was the only time I'd heard a machine speak in the Divide, the only machine with a voice."
An inkling of recollection.
"If you saw this happen... How did you survive?"
This time, it was the other courier's silence that plagued them. The subtle shifting of a shadowed form as he bit back the vivid flashes of the second doomsday.
"Should've died there... but now that I know you live..." He shook his head. "The machines here... saved me. I was the only survivor. Or, thought I was. Your package—the message inside—awoke medical machines... close to the one that shadows you... began to build themselves, then others.
They only take what parts they find in the Divide, never roam beyond it. Can't even leave the silos without a human to shadow, like hounds. Maybe they saw the flag on my jacket; thought I was of America. If so, history saved me. A sign."
"So... this is revenge. This... trial. Revenge for nearly killing you, then." Imani's head tilted, gaze fixating itself on the bobbing machine.
Ulysses did well to note the determination in her features, even if obscured by the crosshairs of his weapon.
"Not the name I'd give it. Not the name the dead would give it. Soldiers of the Bear died here... Legion died, too, my brothers. Still dying, both of them, all around us. None of the people that lived here survived... yet all of the West and the East, they hold on as the Divide tears at them.
Revenge isn't the message I have for you. More than that... Courier."
If not revenge, then what? The statement did well to unravel the courier's nerves. To tangle them like yarn within her. She shifted on her feet, allowing her gaze to wander.
"Why?" She cleared her throat, regaining herself. "Why would I have brought it here?"
"I've walked the East. You've walked the West, more than I have. Circle Junction. Reno. Vault City. Word of you at Fort Aradesh... Fort Abandon. Even further West than that, Brahmin drives on the Big Circle."
Warmth on the courier's skin. Freshened air. Joyous laughter as tiny legs carried her through the fields. Her eyes widened at the flashes of recollection. At the new connections neurons had so long struggled to make.
There it was.
"Whatever you saw out there, wasn't enough to make you stay. Maybe the markings on the package reminded you of the road home."
Imani rose a hand to rub at her temporal. To attempt to soothe the headache that began to form. Wipe away and bury the memories that began to resurface not out of pain, but out of fear. Fear that they would confirm everything that has been said.
Fear that they would confirm her role in the devastation.
"No I'm... I'm not responsible for this. There's no way I could have known." Uncertainty betrayed her. The subtle breaths between each word spoke a thousand more. All for Ulysses to pick apart and consume.
To offer her leniency, even if for a fleeting moment.
"If you had been there when it happened. If you had seen the Divide break, you would know it. You carry death wherever you go—if the Mojave doesn't know it yet, it will."
Amusement began to bleed into his words.
"What happened here... can happen again. You've already proved it, what you did in Ashton. The silo there."
There was no denying responsibility. She had pressed the button. She had watched the earth break apart as the warhead stood proud. Had cowered as it unleashed upon the debris. She knew this, and yet she still tried.
"I had no idea the silo was active until the missile was in the air toward Hopeville. I thought—"
"Thought. Didn't stop you, though. Like carrying the Chip to Vegas, Old World death in your hand. Pieces of the Old World like that just need someone careless enough to take them where they need to go, to do their killing."
Fire. Brimstone. Anger. Deniability. It all bled together. Consumed the courier.
"You wanted me to come to the Divide—I'm here. Now what?"
"Your road's not done. Haven't walked it full yet, not nearly enough. The way ahead and below leads to the heart of the Divide. And there... you and I, we'll have an ending to things."
The courier peered past the eyebot once more, taking in the scenery ahead. Mapping it to memory.
"This canyon is miles long, maybe longer. How the hell am I supposed to find you?"
A stifled scoff, left to stew in the sniper's nest. Lost to the other courier's ears as Ulysses once more began packing.
"At the end of the Divide, through the trenches and wreckage—That's where you'll find me. My new home, here, amongst dead men. You and that machine, keep your eyes on the tower that cuts the horizon... you'll find your way. Made it this far." He paused, taking a breath. "Not much farther to go."
The eyebot shivered to life, turning itself around slowly before gliding toward the courier. It bobbed, whirring as it returned to the ledge adjacent to the building's rooftop access. There was no stairwell back down; no alternative exit. Just the strewn about scaffolding illuminating the path ahead.
The only path ahead.
Imani was reluctant to begin the descent, still recovering from the cocktail of medication that was pumped into her while she was under. She considered taking a few moments to rest, though the fleeting sunlight singified that if she was going to make any progress, it may as well have been in the moment. As she stared down at the wreckage below, she found two warheads within her immediate vicinity. Reaching for the detonator, she winced. Hesitated as she rose it to aim at the first warhead, sat directly ahead of her amidst the wreckage of a smaller tower.
Grandiose towers illuminating the night sky and overpowering the stars above. Imani had just turned 18, alongside her brother, Ian, and it was convenient that one of her first delivery jobs would take her out West to the capital of sin. Perhaps a nudge from Old Man Nash to go and have some fun while it lasted. It'd taken days to convince her parents to let her drag Ian along with her.
He turned toward her as they wandered the main street and beamed, jogging ahead and turning quick on his feet. The light encompassed Ian, surrounding his vibrant features with a heavenly glow. Warm hues splattered across rich, umber-toned skin. Drew every subtle hue from the deep brown and lit up those starstruck eyes of his. He grabbed Imani's hand, voice muddled and beneath the sudden burst of noise.
She'd squeezed the trigger without realizing it, swept back to the present as the warhead burst. She braced as the building beneath her feet trembled in the shockwave. Listened as ED-E played a triumphant tune and floated ahead to scan the wreckage.
Without pause, she turned and aimed at the secondary warhead, forcing the trigger down and standing firm in the aftermath of the detonation.
It was only when the tremors ceased that Imani found the courage to step over the building's ledge and onto the skewed scaffolding. Beneath her weight, the structure creaked and groaned. She made it a point to take the approach slow, allowing herself to crouch down and keep her weight centered as she focused her gaze on what was ahead, rather than what was below. The Divide's winds howled around her, nipping at her footing and clouding her vision with dust and debris. Blurring the path ahead as the courier ducked into the exposed room beside her, raising her arms to shield her eyes from the sandstorm.. Before her were two paths: A rusted stairwell, and a length of scaffolding leading to the remnants of another tower. Relucant, she stepped onto the secondary platform, darting across to the next available cover. She crouched by the wall and prodded at her Pip-Boy, turning a few loose knobs to allow the built-in flashlight. It didn't help much, but it was enough to catch the glimmer of an abandoned holotape amidst the rubble. Curiosity got the best of Imani, and so she sat in her spot to load it onto her Pip-Boy.
When she pressed play, Ulysses' voice carried through the wind. Carried that same, low growl he had to his words when he'd recalled his past—their past—in the Divide.
"The White Legs... meant to show respect, bribe me for Caesar's favor, echoing mannerisms and words... Showed them tech caches, taught them the workings of chamber and powder, spoke of Caesar's pride in those that used such things... lies.
And... and then... they tried to honor me—not the Legion.
They brought me before the campfire one night, showed me how they changed themselves, how they wore their hair now. It was like my entire dead tribe in the firelight, teeth grinning red in the dark—eager corpses, blood-covered ghosts. They... had taken my braids, the way of the Twisted Hairs, as if it showed they were like me, of me... while every knot in their braids spoke of raping, violence—and ignorance of what the knots meant. They thought to show respect... defiled it."
There was a considerable pause. A few breaths taken to extinguish the boiling anger. To let it simmer on his tongue and spoil his words.
"Lost myself in trying to read the braids they wove, when I remembered they had put no meaning in it. They had no history of what it meant. They didn't even know the insult in the twists, knots... and Dry Wells came rushing back, the White Legs circled like that... It was like looking at the dead of my tribe, reborn as ghosts - hateful, hungry, bowing to Caesar. Another history... gone, carried by me alone."
A soft click, and his voice was no more. He was, for the moment, no more. A ghost in the wind, encapsulating Imani. These few seconds of recollection had told her so much of Ulysses' past. Opened her eyes to his perspective. He walked the East. Walked with the Legion as it burned through and pillaged the open landscape. Walked with it as it stomped on the various tribes; took them in as its own. United them under one banner. And he lost all he'd had prior to those days. Lost his home, just as he'd claimed to have here. Lost the Divide. Home. There was weight in his sorrow, and in his anger. She felt it, even as she stood from the nest and made her way back across the scaffolding. Felt it as she began her descent, eyeing the scattered posters on the deteriorating walls.
Briefly, she wondered if her own braids carried any weight. Hid any messages in the tightly-knit, overlapping strands. Perhaps they told of her travels; of how she'd come back from the dead several times. Once in the Mojave. Once in Zion. Once in the Sierra Madre. And once more in Big MT, where she had been torn apart like a true cadaver. The scarring from her surgeries still sat fresh on her skin, raised ridges weaving across rich planes and just able to controt with the movement of her muscles. Or perhaps, much like her, these braids carried nothing. Time would tell, she supposed.
As the courier traversed through the Old World ruins, cautiously stepping over patches of rubble and scanning the horizon, ED-E glided mindlessly behind her. Followed her until it'd seen... something. Just as she went to step out onto another platform of scaffolding, it began to play an audio log.
"Dad!" The voice of an enthusiastic young boy rang out, accompanied by the shuffling of excited footsteps. "Hey, dad! Check out this robot I found!"
Imani couldn't stop the small smile that'd tugged at her lips as she paused to listen, leaning against the nearby wall and watching the blinking lights across the canyon.
"Careful Tommy—I've never seen a robot like that before. It might be dangerous."
"He's not dangerous!" The boy protested. "Look, he's hurt! Can we take him home, dad? Maybe mom can fix him!"
"I don't know, son... What if someone comes looking for it?"
"Please? He looks so lonely! Maybe if mom fixes him, he can help her out around the garage?"
An exasperated sigh. Light in tone, though. Accompanied by an audible smile. "Alright, boy. But if he breaks anything, it's coming out of your allowance!"
"Yay!" The boy burst into a ball of joy, laughing. "He'll be just like RALPHIE, only this one's not a toy!"
ED-E bobbed happily, swaying as it joined Imani in the exposed passageway. She peeked toward him.
"Where did this happen?"
The eyebot twittered, bouncing a few times.
"Illinois? So that's where you got that plate—" She caught herself. "Where... the other you got it, I mean."
ED-E bounced again, singing happily at the correction.
"Mhm... Sounds like that kid was pretty fond of you. Why did you leave?"
ED-E tilted itself and sunk, antennas pushing back as if they were pointed ears. Was that... shame?
"You gave that up to continue Whitley's mission?" A curious decision. Not insensible by any means. Navarro, if what she was gathering from the logs was true, would have been the safest place for ED-E. Autumn wouldn't—or couldn't—track him there. Couldn't prove that whatever story Whitely spun about the eyebot's disappearance wasn't true. Being in the open, especially with a family, could put too many people in harm's way. And such seemed to be confirmed by ED-E's enthused beeping, antenna's perking up and chassis bouncing rapidly.
Imani laughed, shaking her head at the display.
"Alright, alright. Come on, let's keep going."
The way down was just as harrowing as it had been so far above the canyon. Even as the ground grew closer, the series of nauseating twists in tandem with the shuddering structure did little to reassure the courier that she wouldn’t plummet the rest of the way. Fortunately, she’d touched bare ground with no issues. Worn boots kissed the gravel beneath them, muscles finally unwinding from their tensed state as she felt her core settle just enough for a wave of adrenaline to crash over her as the laser of a Marked Man’s rifle narrowly missed her, burning a thin streak into her duster as she bolted for cover.
ED-E called out triumphantly, echoing its fanfare as it shot forward toward the group descending from the building across the roadway. Bullets ricocheted off its chassis, lodging into the tall piles of concrete around the duo. Imani saw a duo move away from the stronghold, attempting a flank to gain a better shot on the eyebot’s modules. The courier sprung into action, weaving through the ruins and launching herself at the pair, tackling into one and shoving him into the other as she fought for the service rifle. Legs kicked wildly, searching for any way to push into the dirt and hold their ground. Muscles tensed and contorted, blood and sweat smearing across the rough sands as Imani unsheathed the Marked Man’s knife, using it to incapacitate him long enough for his grip on the rifle to falter and allow her to take it for herself. She rose the barrel, firing a few shots at the figure below her before raising it to fire at will, rising to her feet and navigating strategically through the cover and pulling some of the attention away from the wobbling bot. Quick as it began, it was over, leaving the courier and her companion to stand amidst the rubble as they searched for the path forward.
There were no signs etched onto the piles of debris. No Old World flags to greet them as everything blended together. At first, it'd seemed to be a dead end. An early end to the road. Yet tucked between the rocks sat a familiar red glow. A warhead, slumbering beneath the ruins of the Old World. The courier breathed a sigh of relief as she backtracked, climbing atop a pile of concrete to aim the laser detonator. Steady as she could be, jolts of adrenaline still shocking her nerves, she fired, turning her head and raising her free arm as the tip grew white hot. It was a matter of seconds before it'd combust, sending full pieces of debris across the canyon and into the remnants of the buildings surrounding the duo. One of the distant buildings roared a resposne to the sudden shockwaves, rebarb barely clung onto itself as the structure split in two and tumbled onto the road ahead. In the distance, just past the columns of smoke, flares arched over the horizon. Cast their glow upon the cliffs as the projectile pyrotechnics came to rest on the ledges above. Signals of the courier's arrival. Beacons of destruction to come.
From the ruins spawned more Marked Men, determined in their fire to strike the courier down where she stood. To splatter crimson streams across the ever-changing landscape. She returned fire, unable to find cover and simply pushing forth as the path twisted around the fight, guiding heavy steps toward the very ruins they'd appeared from. Guided her back toward the way she came, and through a newly uncovered cavern. The remnants of another Old World relic, where bricks and stone meshed together. Where they stood held together by nothing more than mere resolve. ED-E flew ahead of the courier, playing a cheerful tune before gunshots rang out. Though this time, there were no Marked Men to be found. No sudden bursts of energy shocking the air around the courier.
It was just them, and that's when it clicked. Another log.
Imani took a moment to settle her nerves, eyeing the path behind them and the path forward. "What was that? It sounds like they blew out your jets. I can't believe you kept going after that."
The eyebot wavered in the air, chirping cordially to confirm what'd occurred.
"No wonder you didn't make it all the way to Navarro. That sounded bad."
ED-E sulked and whined, shivering as it spoke a series of expository tones. It was odd, how these few pitches could convey so much emotion. Enough for Imani to understand and sympathize with. She offered a hand, to which the eyebot bumped against.
"You're lucky you got away from whoever shot at you." A pause. "Speaking of... I don't like the look of this place. We should keep moving. Let's see where this door goes, yeah?"
It'd seemed ED-E agreed, tucking its antennas inward and raising its arc projector toward the frontal visor. The eyebot shivered, lowering the volume of its dials and gliding closer to the courier's form. As they stepped inside, the Old World ruins grew dank. The only light came from distant fires. Burning rubble left behind by the previous occupants. The building was lifted; tilted at an angle that made navigating the corridors that much more strenuous in addition to stepping around rusted metal. Just ahead, the building emerged into a spacious grotto, marked only by the chipped, red flag on the wall and a few choice words:
You can go home, Courier.
The air was still around the courier as she read the message to herself. His message. She knew very well what he'd written was true.
At any point up until now, she could have turned around. Trekked back through the silos and up the canyon cliffs back to the shady sands of the Mojave. Could have abandoned it all. Left him to wonder what happened. But the courier was moved by tides much fiercer than she could imagine. Swept up by some gut feeling that told her to keep going. To keep pressing forth, no matter the consequence to herself. If she died here, the Mojave would still wage its war. The Bear would defend the Dam with its life; stand tall as the Bull gored it with its horns. And the Bull would trap itself beneath the Bear, struggling to push it down. Perhaps it would. Perhaps it wouldn't. And Imani's army—the leagues of Securitrons, the allies she's made, the miscellaneous factions without a voice—would devour itself. Collapse like the tunnels around her. Would die with her, should she fall where she stood.
Left to be forgotten to history.
Sunlight filtered through the cracks on the cavern's surface, creating small spotlights to illuminate the undisturbed earth. Across the way stood a lone building, painted by the stray rays. The path forward, tucked across a seemingly bottomless pit. One would certainly assume such if they were looking from above. Imani has. She stepped into the darkness, chills running up her spine as the air cooled around her. The sound of scampering claws echoed around her, a clear sign that she was not alone in the depths of Abaddon. Too small to be Deathclaws. Too large to be scorpions.
Tunnelers.
The courier crouched, tucking her limbs close to balance herself. ED-E followed suit, hovering close to the ground alongside her as she inched forward. A few stragglers rose from the gravel, shaking their venomous spines and sluggishly stretching their malformed limbs. Stretched them similarly to how Imani had. Slowly. Calculated. Unlike her, though, they embraced the warmth of the fleeting sunlight. Basked in its glow whilst she clutched to the shadows. For a moment, she truly felt like an intruder. Any confrontation would be a result of her escalation. She gripped the rifle's strap, holding it firm to her chest as she climbed beneath a pile of rubble. Pushed the thoughts aside as she focused on her objective. She dropped to her stomach, pushing herself forth with her elbows and knees to remain unseen by the basking creatures. It was smooth sailing once she'd gotten past the central pillars. Few Tunnelers were disturbed from their slumber, and those that were simply brushed past, blissfully ignorant to the serpent in their lair. Blissfully unaware of how she slithered past, only pulling herself back up to crouch when she'd found herself in the light.
And before her stood the Old World flag, adorned in chipped white paint.
Pushing forth, the Courier found herself in yet another stairwell of sorts. Though this one was unlike the last in that it was barren. Desolate, rusted metal bars clung to a concrete pillar. It was not illuminated like its counterpart, either. Imani cursed and toyed with her Pip-Boy once more, turning the flashlight on and using it to guide her steps. ED-E did what it could to help, creating a steady ball of electricity to cast a blue glow behind the courier's head as the bot floated behind her. Once they'd reached the top, they found themselves in an officer corridor. Filing cabinets stood tall along the interior wall, tucked just out of reach of the beams of light filtering through the exposed window. It had been mostly covered by the wreckage, though a corner remained untouched by it all. Imani turned off the flashlight, looking to ED-E as it hovered forward and found itself examining a dusted poster. When the courier approached to join it in its observations, it began to play a jingle.
"Next week on RALPHIE the Robot's Incredible Odyssey!" Began an announcer of sorts, only to cut away to a young boy. A boy that sounded remarkably like the one who'd found him.
"RALPHIE, hurry! If mean old General Winters catches you, you'll never make it home!"
The eyebots frightened beeps echoed.
"No! RAPHIE, fly far! Fly fast!"
"Tune in next Saturday for the exciting conclusion! Only on Vault-Tec Channel 9!"
Static followed by a long-familiar voice. Dr. Whitley closed a door behind him.
"ED-E? What are you doing in here all alone? And who left these old videos playing?" He stepped closer, voice becoming clearer within the transmission. "Come on, let's get you into your recharge bay. We've got a big day tomorrow."
A click, and then silence. ED-E bobbed aimlessly, watching Imani as she thought. A familiar feeling bubbled in her chest.
"That's what you're doing—You're trying to find your way home."
ED-E's tones were wistful. Faint as it tilted and sunk before the courier. Promising as the prospect was, it'd seemed the eyebot's faith in completing its mission was diminished. Snuffed out by the reality of war. Imani frowned, stepping closer and resting a gentle hand on the bot's chassis.
"Suddenly, a lot of things make more sense. You know, I'm sure RALPHIE the Robot would be very proud of you for making it this far."
The eyebot sprung to life, bouncing in place and singing an ecstatic tune as its antennas perked. Imani smiled. The first full one to have crossed her face in a considerable time. Vibrant, much like the rays of sunshine that steeped into the room.
"I'll do whatever I can to help you get home—after we deal with things here. I promise. Now..." She stepped back, moving to grab the door handle. "ED-E?"
ED-E whistled curiously, turning to accompany her.
"We've got to fly far and fly fast if we want to get to the end of the Divide."
A triumphant tune filled the hallway, echoing off the walls as the eyebot soared around the courier's form. She laughed along with him, opening the door and allowing the sun to flood into the room. Warmth surrounded the duo as they stepped outside. Golden rays kissed rich, earthy-toned skin; dusted across the apples of her cheeks as she looked around. ED-E circled her still, dancing around the rooftop before suddenly ceasing before her.
Then his voice rang out once more.
"Thought that explosion, that building falling deep in the Divide, might have been your work... wouldn't kill you. Maybe close. Knew you'd survive... but no need to go any farther. You've brought me what I need—that machine with you, sealed in the Hopeville silo."
Imani tensed, looking at ED-E with furrowed brows. Ulysses' lips twitched, corners pulling tight against his skin as he bit back the pride in his throat.
"Needed someone to unlock it—bring it home. Now the signal's strong enough, no need for you to carry it anymore. I can call your machine to me."
He was close. Too close.
"What?—No. ED-E's not going anywhere."
ED-E?
"You gave it a name," he cooed, "What was it to you? Companion? Slave... Weapon? All of that, nothing compared to its primary function. It's a messenger. Like us... and it shares our history."
Flashes of the long road. NCR flags flying high as uniformed patrols chattered and took inventory. A faint buzzing beside her ear as she watched a stranger approach the outpost on the mountain.
"Welcome to the Mojave Outpost. Traveling in from the I-15? Must be, not a lot of eyebots around out here."
"Know a guy in Primm who might be able to fix him up. Nash, I think his name is. Not much use to me sputtering about like it is.:"
The courier stepped closer to the conversing men.
"I work for Nash," she paused, turning to reveal the small courier's patch on her duffle bag. "I can tell you where his office is."
Imani stepped back. The ED-E in the Mojave... A machine with a voice, much like this one. They were one and the same, after all. Clones of one another. Had ED-E—this ED-E, here with her—been the detonator? What did Ulysses need it for?
What was he going to do?
"If you feel its loss..." He began, watching and allowing her few moments to question things. "Remember, you could have turned away at any time. Gone back home, and none of this would have happened. But you had to make one last delivery, and that's why I knew you'd come, Davis. Couldn't stay away; it's who you are."
Her name stung like venom falling from his lips. Felt foreign to her as shoulders squared.
"You're not taking ED-E from me."
"The machine you brought is mine now. It's coming home. I'll reduce it to parts, just enough to function, to be aware of what's happening. What's inside that machine—that's all that mattered. All the machines here, made of wreckage from the Divide... and all that was brought here. Inside its frame, it carries the message you brought here..."
Hellfire. Screams. Damnation. Eradication. The Divide's beginning.
"And it'll do what it was programmed to do: whatever it can to get home. The giants here will listen to it. I'll bring the Divide to your home, your nation." Words cut through the receiver like a knife, sharpened with vitriol. "Let its flags burn, just like you let the Divide burn."
"Wait!—"
"Big Mountain access code... Ulysses. Command override... Navarro."
The eyebot sputtered to life, though its movements were coordinated. Devoid of attachment as it regained its bearings. Blue arcs painted the receiver, building up and exploding in a blinding ball of light. Before Imani could regain herself, ED-E was gone. A dot on the horizon as it sped further into the Divide.
The courier stood alone atop the Boxwood Hotel. A mere vessel among the sea of semi-sunken buildings and wreckage. And there was nowhere else to go but forward, for now this was no longer a mission driven by curiosity. It was a mission commanded by wrath, and the survival of the greater Mojave.
The air stilled around the courier as she moved forth toward the barren wastes ahead. Quiet fell at her feet, the only sounds echoing her steps the distant rumbling of machinery. The distant drones of an Old World waking from its slumber. It had become a source of comfort, and a source of fear. A reminder that she was not alone. Whichever direction the revelation twisted Imani's gut was dependent on the circumstances. Now? It did nothing but nauseate her. Allow bile to rise in the throes of a gnawing anxiety and coat the depths of her throat. She winced, shaking her head as she crouched through the ruins.
These feelings—her feelings—were tangential to the mission ahead.
And she tried to tell herself that as the whirling winds of the Divide clawed at her. Tried to remind herself of such, as battered hands rose to wipe harshly at the tears welling on thin eyelashes. Yet she failed. Allowed the buildup of weight to finally crash onto her. Allowed the isolation to swallow her as she braced against a decrepit tower, wetting her cheeks with salty streams of anguish. She sobbed. Wailed into the winds as her journey caught up to her. Forced itself upon her gaze and captivated her attention. Guided it to the towering cliffs surrounding her, all pointing toward the distant Temple. It was too late to turn away. To go home. Even as the ache in her heart begged for the sweltering sands of the Mojave; pleaded for respite. No, she couldn't give up now. Not when ED-E needed her.
Not when the Mojave needed her.
Imani took a deep breath and winced at how the Divide air leaked through the respirator mask. Filters gone bad. A sacrifice that would need to be made, as there lay no salvage before her. No blessings hidden in the pack she carried. The mask came off with a rush of relief. Skin stuck to the edges of the apparatus before recessing back into faint indentations. Subtle red hues hidden amongst deep skin, only drawn out by the sun's reflective sheen, much like those of the landscape around her. Textured, worn cliff faces, exposing their layers to the harsh winds. Subtle hues, just concealed by the dusted breeze. Bleak in passing, but awe-inspiring when one took the time to truly admire them. These moments of passing were uneventful, and perhaps purposefully so. The corpses that were strewn about the ruins were fresh. Lacked the distinctive, horrific stench that most held closely. Splatters of crimson still dripped and puddled, shimmering like jewels beneath the canyon's skylight. Imani had not been through here, and ED-E had been incapacitated by the courier that awaited her. Upon closer inspection of one, steady hands found nothing more than a single hole bore through a makeshift helm. A single, well-trained shot was more than enough in the eyes of their killer. This had to be Ulysses' work.
But why had he done it? Gone through the effort to keep her alive now, when he left her to nearly perish on her journey thus far?
What was his message?
What was written amidst the crumpled bodies? What words were hidden in the way they piled? It was not forgiveness, nor mercy, that much she was certain of. That much inspired her to grow cautious as she stepped past the massacre's remnants. He had said it well in their last talk: She could have turned away at any time. Yet she couldn't stay away.
This massacre was a warning. A message of what fate would greet her once she entered his temple. What fate would fall upon the Mojave and overshadow its senseless civil war. Obvious, but incomplete. Ulysses had still hardly answered why he wanted her to live through it. A haunting voice echoed in the back of her mind as she searched for the answer, to this lingering question. Echoed through the pews of a long abandoned church, tucked neatly away amongst the ruins she now walked. Just off to the side sat a young girl, no older than eight, with her hair neatly braided, and brown eyes fixated on the obscured preacher ahead.
"By the rivers of Babylon we sat and yea we wept, when we remembered Zion
Remember, O Lord, the children of Edom in the day of Jerusalem who said, "Raze it, raze it, even to the foundation."
O daughter of Babylon, who art to be destroyed. Happy shall he be, that rewardeth thee as thou hast served us.
Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones."
Imani paused, shivering at the recollection. Was this... another memory? A glimpse into the Divide prior to its destruction? It had seemed so. Rather than brush it aside as she had the others, she fixated on it. Watched as the stained-glass reconstructed itself before her, painting her and her family in its vivid hues. The temple before her morphed. Cleansed itself almost magically as she stretched out her hands to grasp at the handle. For a moment, she did not process the remnant blood and viscera that coated calloused knuckles. Paid no mind to the way her legs trembled as she pressed to the cold metal. Instead, she saw herself. Saw flashes of the woman she'd once been. Watched as she'd beamed at her brother, who was packing the last of their belongings into the brahmin's saddle.
"I'm gonna miss it here," he mused. "But I heard New Vegas was a great place to start up independent work. You know how long dad's been dreaming of this kinda thing!"
"Yeah... I guess I'm just worried. Going out of NCR territory like this, it's the kind of thing the pastor was warning about."
Ian sighed and shook his head. "I know, but do you think he really means it, or is he just trying to keep everyone in the NCR's good graces, Imani? The whole 'remember what we do for you and how it can be taken away' spiel..."
It was Imani's turn to shake her head and let a soft breath escape her. She knew what he was trying to say, and maybe he was right. Maybe they had nothing to worry about after all. The NCR was still out there in the expanse of the Mojave. But so were Legion eyes.
So were the eyes that burned in the fury of the detonation. The eyes that now vanished within the Divide.
The courier hesitated as she held the Temple's door, grip wavering as she peered back at the expansive landscape behind her. Took in its beauty one final time before entering.
Darkness. Silence. The distant wails of machinery clinging to life.
The scene was haunting, just as that first silo the courier had found herself in. Just as cold as her footfalls echoed through metallic halls. Her guts twisted and turned with the corridors. Her heart hanging from a thread on her sleeve, like a leashed beast sniffing out the trail of its prey. She winced at the tightness in her chest as it crushed down over the hole her journey had left within her. Winced at the sudden lurching of her heart as her gaze found itself on another set of familiar scenery. Large, encapsulated tubing. Chambers. Floating before her, the robotic companion she’d come to care for. Her steps grew energetic. Desperate. Wrapped hands worked at the mechanical modules, calloused fingertips pressing into the keys as a warm cloud of steam released. The chamber hissed, stubborn in its awakening.
"Come on... Release, damn it—"
Appendages curled in on themselves, balling tightly as the side of her palm struck the keypad. Whether by sheer luck, or by the force of the strike, the locking mechanism released, allowing the eyebot to float out of its dazed state. Sparks fluttered and disintegrated, leaving no trace at the courier's feet as she stepped back. ED-E turned itself on its axis, bouncing in place as it sung a series of grateful tunes.
"ED-E! Are you okay?" Weary brows knitted together as a curious head tilted along with the bot. It beeped, antennas idly floating behind it. Imani smiled.
"Of course I came after you. I wasn't going to leave you behind. Not after..." A sigh. "Whatever Ulysses is planning, it's clear he needs you there with me. Come on, let's put an end to this."
The eyebot wavered in place, antennas perking upward as it chirped determinately. It was just as eager to join Imani's side as she stepped back from the console, happily bobbing beside her head as she took one last moment to collect herself. Seeming to sense the uncertainty that burned in her throat, ED-E sunk down and nudged its chassis against her head, lightly bouncing off her cheek while humming a soft little tune. She breathed in, letting a quiet sigh roll from her lips as a smile tugged at them.
The path forward was clear. It lacked those ambient whines of Old World machinery. Lacked the odd charm of floating dust and tight corridors. Rather, everything seemed to open up before the courier, swallowing her as a beam of sunlight poured in from somewhere above. She raised a hand, shielding her eyes just in time to reveal the source of the rumbling beneath her feet. A warhead, rising from the depths below and coming to stand beside an open catwalk. One in which a man stood upon, back turned to the blast doors. One in which a man stood, bearing the Old World flag hung before him like a crucifixion, twisted and pulled to its limits as ancient fabric held onto its last threads.
That was him. It had to be.
Ulysses did not turn as the courier approached, opting to listen to the slowing pace of her steps. It was only when she'd stopped at the bottom of the steps that he'd turned to address her. To let her see who had led her through fire and brimstone. Long locs framed his worn features, casting a gentle shadow upon his piercing gaze. Dark eyes seemed to glow beneath the sky, rays of light reflecting from the cleanly material of his own respirator. Imani felt so insignificant beneath it all. Yet still, she met his gaze as he spoke.
"Even in this place, NCR's shadow falls. Or is it just you, Courier, without the Bear's corpse to weigh you down. Judging by your shadow..." His gaze briefly left hers to fall upon the eyebot. Broad arms raised to cross over his chest. "Maybe you can't let your machine go. Doesn't matter now. Either way, the Divide giants are awakening. The missiles here, on their way home. There is no way to stop them."
Imani watched as the other stepped closer to the stairs, boot pressed firm on the first step. A warning.
"What happened at the Divide, what I did, was an accident." Her voice shivered, lungs sinking with each word. Her heart writhed in her grasp. Her head spun. "What you're doing? It's madness."
A hum of amusement.
"No, now there is purpose. I believe you when you say you were... careless. The Divide... the Chip... that machine you brought here... Many messages can be taken from that, intended or not. What I do now is an act of conviction."
"Conviction?—" She bit back a scoff, jaw clenching. "If you blame me for the Divide, then let me answer for it, not others."
She took her own step forward, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides as she sucked in a breath. Her own warning. And Ulysses simply watched, brow quirking as he steadied his posture.
"Blame you? No, learned from you. Both the weapon to kill a nation, and the strength to do it." Ulysses stepped down upon the first step. "You showed me a road; a way to carry my message. You've already answered for what you've done. Now the flag you follow will answer for it."
The flag she followed?
"So... You intend to bomb the Mojave?"
Ignorance.
"No, not the Mojave. The West, all that's been built since America died. Same symbols as before the war, now a flag carried by a tribe of children. You walked the West; didn't stay. You know the reason... the Bear grows without structure, follows a symbol without knowing its history. And knowing that you believe in the Bear's sickness and have given it strength...
Then that gives more reason to lay waste to your homeland. After this, only one flag will remain over the Mojave. Let that one fly, or destroy itself."
He stepped unto the second step, further closing the gap between them. Imani swallowed. Simply watched as he awaited her decision on the matter. Yet she would not make one. She had more questions. More holes to poke through.
"You can't destroy the West, even with all the missiles here."
"No need to destroy the Bear, just cut its throat. You taught me that at the Divide—only need to cut off the supply line, the road, to watch something greater die.
I'll turn the Long 15 into miles of fire. Cut off the Mojave. NCR will fall back, lose Hoover Dam... and leave their throats exposed to the Legion."
Ulysses stepped down once more, placing himself within arm's reach. Imani stepped back. She was vulnerable. Unprepared. Yet determined.
"Even if you have no faith in the NCR, I do. My actions have proven it."
A slow nod from the other as he looked her over. Scrutinized the way her form trembled with the distant rumbling.
"You actions have carried strength." A pause. Consideration. "If you speak for the two-headed Bear, I'll hear your words. Even if I will be the only one to hear them. If you believe it should not die this day... then answer me: Why?"
Imani glanced past him to the magnificent warhead, pupils expanding as she thought on her words. Thought on how they, should they fail, would seal the fate of the Mojave for her lifetime and the next. Would seal the fate of hundreds of thousands. It was then, as her eyes fell upon the Old World banner, that she found her voice. Found her reason.
"You can build a community and make it stronger. You saw it at the Divide. You even blamed me for it."
An appeal. He followed it.
"History has proven this. Our history. And you think that you have this strength within you? Enough for all of NCR? The West is not the Divide, and nothing you can do can prevent the missile's launch. Convincing me—It changes nothing."
A lead. The subtle change in the delivery of his message. The softening of his gaze as he peered down upon her. She followed it.
"Okay... I still believe, though, that one person can make—or break—a nation. You know this." A pause. "And even if the missiles launch, and I die here... if I can convince you, that will be enough to rewrite history."
His gaze broke hers, wandering to the ruins around them. Dark brows knitted together.
"It may be... that as much destruction has been written in the earth here... you may build something else, as you built the Divide. You have spoken truly. There is a shadow of a nation behind you; the hopes of a people—" Distant footfalls echoed. Head snapped as his gaze dashed toward the blast doors. "—yet it may not matter. The Divide still stands against us."
Urgency. Quickened steps as Ulysses came to stand by Imani's side. She tensed, shoulders raising in preparation for... something. Any sort of strike. Yet it did not come.
"Our enemies gather outside... shadows of the Bear and Bull... they will have found their way in, just as you did. It was always my intention—in case I could not kill you—the Marked Men would flood this place; cut off your escape."
His hand found her shoulder, grip firm as he met her gaze.
"If we cannot prevent what comes, then let us make our stand here. Two Couriers, together, at the Divide."
Imani slowly nodded, bringing her own hand to rest upon his shoulder as his had atop hers. Her grasp matched his, firm in its message: Camaraderie. She would fight alongside him, as he would alongside her. And fight they would, as the Marked Men cascaded upon them like locusts.
Explosions rained upon the crumbling ruins, sending bouts of shrapnel into the thick air. Gunfire rang out, echoed and disorienting as the couriers stuck by one another. Ulysses covered the lateral catwalks, dancing around Imani as he returned his own rain of fire. Imani covered the groups that rushed forth down the central pathway, fists flying and connecting with the knife-wielding legionnaires who, even upon death, carried their creed. An army of eyebots joined their fight, emboldened by the victorious tune it'd sung. The ground shook with every thunderous discharge of the missile's launching mechanisms, creaky arms letting go of the body one by one as the countdown began.
"Go, there!" Ulysses waved his gun to a nearby console. The other courier ducked beneath the simmering blade of a Marked Man, allowing her companion to incapacitate them and clear a path. She dashed to the lowered platform, jumping down as Ulysses cleared his own path.
Flashing reds illuminated the woman's skin, highlighting her features in an eerie glow as she looked over the console. Fingers trembled as she attempted to navigate the array of buttons, watching the flickering screen as it denied the abort sequence.
"Shit—It's not working! I—I can't!—ED-E!"
The eyebot spun, whining as it sped over and sunk itself to her side. It clicked, and Dr. Whitley began to speak once more.
"Experiment log 369248/A - Eyebot Duraframe universal interface override system. This is Dr. Whitley presiding. Initial tests of the override system are promising. Against unsecured or lightly-encrypted targets, the Eyebots have a 98% success rate. More heavily protected systems are still... problematic. Military-grade encryption presents a very real possibility of critical overload of key systems.
We've stopped tests before any robots were destroyed, but if we don't address the problem, our Eyebots will fry themselves hacking military networks."
Imani froze. Fingers hovered over the keypad, eyes locked on the flickering screen.
"Are you... are you saying you can stop this missile?"
ED-E beeped.
"But the log said that this kind of encryption would kill you."
"No. ED-E, I won't let you sacrifice yourself like this. There has to be another way. Maybe I can just—"
ED-E nudged Imani's arm as it purred out a sad series of chirps. She slowly closed her eyes, attempting to thwart the tears that threatened to spill over as her hand came to rest on the eyebot's chassis.
"If... If you're really sure you want to do this. Then... Okay. Go ahead and stop the missile. And... Goodbye, ED-E."
The eyebot let out a series of affirmative sounds, though they grew static. It waited patiently until she peeled herself from the console, then positioned itself in her place. Its limb extended toward the console, flickering a heavenly blue as it began the procedure. From its speakers played a heroic tune, one that had never left its internals until this very moment. A final act of reassurance and encouragement. Large bolts of electricity arched between the bot and the console, bursting in a vibrant ball of light as they'd worked through the cracked casing and through its circuitry.
ED-E's own circuitry soon fell victim to the procedure. Its chassis wavered before falling to the ground with an echoing thud. Yet there was no time to grieve, for the ground shook and Ulysses had secured the exit. Sparing one last glance to the eyebot, Imani muttered her final goodbye as her feet carried her across the platform. Rocks fell from the skylight above. Shrapnel launched itself as the cavern boomed. There was a sharp pain in her side. There was no time for it. Just as the pair of couriers reunited at each other's side, a blinding glow surrounded them. A flood of heat on their backs.
And then, silence. Whispers within the winds of the Divide.
The hours that passed were oddly still. The landscape of the Divide had changed forever, and its effects rippled through the jagged canyons. Ripped into the cores of every being that walked the long road. Tore into Ulysses and Imani as they’d sat atop the canyon, gazes fixated on the sandstorm below.
“Something else in you needing an answer?”
Ulysses’ voice pierced through the silence that built between them. Lodged itself in the air as the question rolled off his tongue. Imani’s head was the first to turn, eyes scanning over the other courier as he kept his focus on the landscape. She slowly nodded.
“Do you plan on staying here? I mean…” Her voice faded, attention drawn back to the steep drop before them.
“Need to be here; see what was done. It’s custom of the Bear to never see the marks it claws in the land… not my custom. Maybe that’s why you’ve stayed, too.” He glanced at her. “Need to see where the missile from Ashton touched ground below, in Hopeville… the Courier’s Mile.”
“It’s got a name?”
“My name for it. If you have a better one, you grant it—my choice in names won’t carry past you and I.” Concealed lips quirked upward. A glimmer shone in his eyes, though subsided as he’d pointed out into the canyon. “Lies along the road, running from the Hopeville silo… Straight on to where the ground burns, and wind howls even stronger than here.”
The courier squinted as she sat forward, wincing as her hand came to rest on her side.
“Mhm… I see it. The Divide’s irradiated, though… You’re sure you want to stay here?”
There were a few moments before Ulysses answered her question. A few small moments of consideration. Fleeting thoughts of returning to the Mojave. Returning to the roads he’s walked. Facing the Bear and the Bull head on. Accompanying the courier through her final walk. No, he couldn’t.
“The invisible fire burns here, true enough. Still… to have helped carry out such an act, then not face it… Not my way. If my life burns out here, so be it. Until then, I wait and watch. See what the road brings.”
A few fleeting moments of silence. Consideration, though this time from the courier herself. She let the weight of his words sink into her hands. Then, a thought.
“You mentioned being Legion… If it means anything, Caesar is dead. I killed him, before coming here. Not because of this, but… I had my reasons.”
Ulysses huffed, leaning back on his palms as he watched the sky.
“Name’s died twice to history. If the West thanks you… the East won’t, in time. Fall apart, back to the tribes, maybe. Too soon to tell what will happen; let history weigh what you’ve done, if it gets that far.”
“Are you angry at all?”
He shook his head. “Caesar would be history’s hypocrite if he was angry about what happened. I’m not one for it, either. Seems you just proved his philosophy to him. If he’d been stronger, he’d be alive, and we wouldn’t be talking.”
Imani snickered a bit, though was quick to cease when Ulysses turned his attention to her. He studied her for a moment, gaze hardening as fires burned behind them. Recollections of ghosts. That fateful night beside the campfire.
“Unless you do the same for the Legate that comes, you’ll get no thanks from me. When that Monster arrives, he’s not going to have a leash. Lanius… the ‘Butcher’. Monster. Terror of the East. Not even his slaves have seen his face—struck them blind so they can’t. Wears a mask… Don’t even know if it’s the same man. Caesar could command him. Not now. The Bear’s going to burn, and burn slow.”
“And Vegas with it…” Imani sighed, slowly hunching forward to rub at her temples. She watched a few stray pebbles tumble into the hazy abyss. “Especially now that they don’t have House.”
Curiosity gleamed in the man’s eyes.
“House spoke; acted through machines. Sometimes can judge a man by his messengers. Sometimes the messengers judge him. Wonders what happens to Vegas now. The tribes—families. We’ll see.”
“They seem stable enough for now. Not too concerned with what happens outside their casinos. As long as NCR still roams the streets between shifts… You don’t sound happy about it, though.”
“What you did was for the best.” Ulysses nodded. “The Old World died long ago. Anyone who believes they can make it return, and everything will be as it was… it is a dangerous belief. Needs to be silenced before their belief spreads. If you saw House, you didn’t see a man. An Old World spirit, perhaps. Filthy. Diseased. If so, killing him was a mercy, not cruelty.”
Yet even so, there was no relief in the words. Imani took a breath and willed herself to her feet. She shuddered at the surge of pain that radiated where the stray shrapnel had once embedded itself, only lifting her hand momentarily to ensure a blossom of crimson did not appear beneath it. She lingered, watching Ulysses as he watched the Divide.
“I—” She cleared her throat, burying the waver in her words. “I should… Probably head back. To the Mojave. It won’t be long before things come to a head. They weren’t great when I’d found your message. Whatever waits at Hoover Dam… I think I’m ready now.”
“Then there is nothing more to be done. The Mojave awaits.”
“... Yeah, goodbye to you, too. If you ever change your mind,” a gentle hand came to rest atop his shoulder, earning his inquisitive gaze. “Send me another message, yeah?”
It is said a man still walked the streets with a tattered jacket, an Old World flag etched on the back. He remained there, perhaps as punishment for the scars he left on the wastes—or a reminder of a history he could not forget.
For Ulysses... his journey was over. The courier had been the end of his road.
As for the courier, she turned her back on her home for the second time, and made her way back, navigating the treachery of the Divide. Tunnelers and the Marked Men avoided the lone figure, as if recognizing the courier's right of passage... or out of fear. She walked until she stood again upon the edge of the Divide, the last road she would walk before the Second battle for Hoover Dam. There, beside her feet, was a final package, from one courier to another—a footlocker, bearing a gift, and a message.
Last tape, last message. In case... you best me. If you're hearing this, you have, through blood or word. This message, and all that lies with it—it is for you, Courier. If you want to know the... why of things.
This world, I've walked a good part of it... I stopped only because of you. What you did—gave me pause.
Long ago, I crossed the Colorado, the first among the Legion to see Hoover Dam in all its glory... an Old World wall, yet bridging two sides. And beyond it, a symbol of a two-headed Bear. An idea great enough to challenge Caesar himself. Might kill him, taking it, whether he won or lost. The Bull needs to fight—needs the challenge—without it... it falters. Dies in the dust.
Might be a lesson there, in you and me. Leave the thought behind the message to you. My message is this:
The destruction that has been wrought, at the Divide—or elsewhere, if you couldn't stop me... It can happen again. It will keep happening. If war doesn't change, men must change, and so must their symbols. Even if it is nothing at all, know what you follow, Courier... just as I followed you, to the end.
Whatever your symbol... carry it on your back, and wear it proudly when you stand at Hoover Dam.
The lights flickered across the Divide, reminders that the Old World histories persist, and find meaning in the present. It's said war—war never changes. Women do, through the roads they walk.
And this road has reached its end.