» Fri Oct 01, 2010 10:23 am
Ripper looked at each wall, his head swinging as he paced about the damp floor. Each step sinking into the soft ground that covered their trench-network base of operations. Each step only bottling more anger into him. It had gotten to the point that even the bulky frame of a super mutant could not contain it. He whirled around, snarling.
"SEND WORD! I want everything we have from the spawning center in The Mall NOW!"
The super mutant guard stared at him dullishly. His glazed eyes slowly working through what had been said to him. Without a word, he nodded and disappeared through the door, off to relay the message. He could bear the wait no longer. He would mobilize his already substantial forces here, and attack. Whenever his reinforcements arrived, he could use them to mop up whatever survivors remained or, worst case scenario, mount a second assault. The mud made a soft, muted squish as once again his massive left foot sank into the ground ahead of his right foot. It was time to get out of this awful, dank darkness.
The knight who guarded the gate to the Washington monument, the right side of the gate to be specific, peered out across the vast landscape. It happened slowly, at first. That's what let it evade his notice initially. But soon it was undeniable. The trenches in the No-Man's-Land of the middle of The Mall were turning a yellowish-green hue, and they seemed to... pulsate? He stared hard at it. No, those weren't the trenches. It was the super mutants. Lining the trenches. Crowding them. It was the largest group of super mutants he'd ever seen. A genuine army of them. And the very stark realization that they didn't have the manpower to repel a force of that size hit him quite hard. He couldn't stop himself in time to prevent the exclamation.
"Oh my God."
The knight on the left side of the wall had already begun buzzing the commander inside the monument.
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The call went out. A base commander forcing himself to remain calm put out a region-wide call-to-arms, all available units. An emergency request was sent through the priority channel to the Citadel. Brotherhood high command officials were informed, and mobilization had begun. Initiates were given rifles, squires got spare suits of power armor, knights prepared themselves for yet another battle, and the few paladins available went through whatever rituals they felt necessary to keep their mind, spirit, the forces of luck or the universe or whatever else might be out there on their side.
And as Elder Lyons looked at the sizeable force beginning to amass in the courtyard, he realized.
"It's not enough."
His assistants and lieutenants and other company remained quiet. Lyons had a tendency to work out plans with himself, and though it drove his advisory staff insane, it was best to let him work in peace & quiet. His face grew long, and his already year-weathered face looked even older, aged by stress, exhaustion, and a difficult decision.
The double-doors to the Scribe sections were opened by couriers and representatives of High Command. Each gathered the scribes of whatever order they'd been sent to and explained the nature of their visit.
"The Brotherhood goes to war today. It fights against the largest army of super mutants our chapter has ever seen, and we have no idea of why they choose now to fight. We don't know why they want the monument so badly, but it is something we will dedicate ourselves to finding out. But we can only do that if our brothers and sisters weather the coming storm. Elder Lyons himself has sent word that any volunteers from the scribes are not only eternally appreciated, but desperately needed. We will not conscript you to fight, brothers. You did not sign on for that nor were you assigned to a combat role, but your assistance may prove crucial to the coming fight."
The assembled scribes looked at eachother. The message varied slightly from room to room and messenger to messenger, but the reception was the same. Some scribes were incredulous, aghast at even the implication of fighting in the field. Some were scared. Too scared to raise their hands or step forward when it came time to volunteer. They were simple scientists, after all. What could they do? Take a stray bullet in place of some Knight or Paladin? But there were a few in each group. A special few. A group that saw beyond their lives, or the lives of their fellow scribes. They saw that the brotherhood, their brotherhood, was in need of them. And they were the ones who raised their hands, who stepped forward, who were handed rifles from the armory with hard faces and solemn stances and somber eyes. These were the scribes who, clad still in their researcher's apparel, received clasped hands upon their shoulders and slaps on the back from the infantrymen, the rank-and-file who were encouraged by these non-combatants opting to stand and fight beside them.
With sergeants and drill sergeants yelling and directing troops into position, the bulk of the Brotherhood forces were assembled, and they began the journey to The Mall quietly. It was misleading, a large force prepared for war, marching in utter silence save for the stomping of boots on gravel. But they knew the silence. The soldiers knew why the man beside them was quiet, for it was the same reason they were quiet; they were not going on just another patrol. They were silent because their minds focused entirely on going to war.
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"Colonel, you ought to take a look at this, sir."
Warren looked up, walking over to the scanning center. Krath followed behind, maintaining his regal posture. Looking over Warren's shoulder, he saw the scanner readout as the technician explained.
"Sir, scanners indicate that large group of super mutant hostiles are gathering in the trenches closest to the Washington Monument. Preliminary results indicate almost undoubtedly they're planning on hitting it, sir."
Colonel Warren thought about this for a moment, his eyes growing wide.
"It's the largest bunch of muties I've ever seen, sir. Massive, really. 125, at the very least. Probably closer to 160, maybe one 170. Possibly 200."
This couldn't end well. It'd be a massacre of those Brotherhood soldiers. This didn't matter to Warren, they were filthy terrorists, after all. But they were damn better at caretaking a priceless government facility then the super mutants would be, the colonel knew that without a doubt. And even if like the Brotherhood troops before them they didn't find the cloning labs, it didn't mean they couldn't accidentally harm it with some primitive rabble-rousing. More astronomical odds had been proven in operations past, no, this simply could not come to pass.
Warren had an idea. An idea that, in all honesty, could only be declared insanity in a different situation. Yet it seemed like the only possibility now. It was the first time in the history of the entire world that such an alliance would be formed, and no doubt the last. Turning to face his aide, Krath still watching, Warren took the young man by the shoulder.
"Get Merrison, tell him to assemble all of our combat personnel. Then have him meet me in the command center. Understood?" The young man nodded.
"Good. Go."
In his entire life, and for all of his service, never once would he have thought such a happenstance would, or could, ever occur. But here he was, spearheading it's genesis. The Enclave Armed Forces would be providing battlefield reinforcement for the Brotherhood of Steel. Warren turned back to the scanner readout.
What am I about to do?
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So, that's the end of the first part of this new, and final, story arc of Letters. I could apologize for the absence, but what's the point? You know the reasons. RL, no inspiration, writer's block. Same ol', same ol'. But after an email from one of our readers here, Markeh12, I thought about all the fun I'd had writing this, and getting to know the FanFic section of the board. It's got many talented writers and critics, many of whom have come into this very thread to help me improve this work, or to provide a friendly compliment, the boost from which kept me writing chapters more times than I can count. This may be the beginning of the end of the story, but I'd just like to say that I at first thought this was a simple give-and-take. I'd put up chapters, readers would comment. I was wrong. The friendships formed here, and the sense of duty I have to finish this story, for both myself and you, the readers, is something I'll cherish for a long time to come. I hope this coming finale does the story justice, and I hope you walk away satisfied.
