Chapter 1:

His faceplate lay on the deck beside him, his gloves too, and he cradled his head in his young hands before keeling over and curling up on the floor; the roar of the explosion in the distance drowned out his screams of rage and un-fathomable sadness. If one could compare the young man who had once wept for hours on the cold, rusty deck to the man he would be in 40 years time you would swear that they were different people, this one great act of weakness would never be repeated again in his entire life for it had drained him off all humanity, though not in the literal sense. Being a trooper and citizen of the Enclave of the United States of America many would argue that he had always lacked these things and indeed even before the tragic events of early 2242 Sutler had been ‘inhumane’ in the eyes of the wasteland; however, as he watched his and his people’s home for over 150 years and indeed almost everyone he knew being engulfed by the mushroom cloud any chance of ‘redemption’ faded, even the remotest chance that he would doubt the Enclave’s mission was destroyed, one-hundred percent of Alan Sutler was invested in the Enclave whom he would serve until his dying day, he would rebuild America, he would rebuild the American way of life so that democracy, liberty and capitalism would live again. A gloved hand grabbed the shoulder of his Advanced Power Armour and then sat next to him was his best friend, PFC Augustus Autumn; Sutler stemmed his weeping and silently together they watched the plume of smoke disperse for two hours.

The tanker came to a halt in San Francisco Docks and still in a state of shock, Sergeant Granite awoke alone in a small rusty room aboard the huge tanker, his men lay asleep around him, he shook them awake without a sound and slowly lead PFC Autumn, Specialist Sutler & Corporal Jefferson out of the room and down the access ramp from the tanker.

“PFC Smith?” Granite rasped through his dry lips, the fifth and most recent member of the group, PFC J. Smith was nowhere to be seen. “Sutler when did you last see Smith?”

“Just after we boarded,” Sutler said quietly, his faceplate was on again but he was looking down at his feet. A local Shi Dockworker approached them.

“You are looking for similar man too you, in big black armour of the flying men?” Granite didn’t question the local’s knowledge and meekly replied that he was correct.

“He left few hours before, with many people in rags and blue suits, went into city.” He held his hand out, seeking payment.

“Your life should be sufficient payment Red. ???? off.” Cursing in Chinese the Shi Dockworker shuffled back towards the forklift and his clipboard of fishing supplies.

“Guess Smith’s AWOL then,” Granite said to the trio behind him. Silently he walked on, his destination probably Navarro but Sutler didn’t care, he was still in shock, the cloud still etched into his retina’s, any kind of leadership was needed now, so he didn’t have to think just blindly do until the pain left him, however long it would take.
They wandered through the city of San Francisco until weary they took refuge in a old townhouse for the night; still suited up the four men lay silently but neither able to sleep, it was around 3 am when Sutler finally closed his eye’s never to re-open them.


* * * * *

The cool light of the florescent tube always made everyone’s face even paler Sutler thought, his blue jumpsuit was folded neatly in his drawer and he was pulling on the endo-suit of Advanced Power Armour; Jenny zipped up her jumpsuit.

“When do you come off-duty tonight dear?” She said, kissing the back of his neck; Sutler turned around to face her.

“Not until 9:30 Jen, your parents will let you out right?”

“Of course Al, gives me plenty of time to get ready.”

“I’ll call at 9:45, should give us enough time to get to the recreation hall to see tonight’s safety film then back to mine for the night.”

“Can’t wait Al,” she zipped up her boots and walked to the door of Sutler’s room. “Say hello to Autumn for me dearest.”

She waved goodbye and Sutler grinned, 10 minutes later he took a final swig of water, re-connected his faceplate, holstered his pistol and set of for Control Company offices. The cold steel corridors of the Oil Rig were easy to get lost in but Sutler had never had problems finding his way around, he rounded another corner and waiting for him was Corporal Bill Jefferson, the main fire-support of the squad, packing a L30 H&K ‘Sunbeam’ Gatling Laser. He nodded at Sutler.

“Sutler, still packing your little pistol?” Sutler glanced at his Gauss Pistol often the butt of certain size related jokes, of course he always said,

“Still packing your over-compensatory Gatling Laser Bill?”
Autumn came still connecting his faceplate.

“Doris wouldn’t let you go early Autumn?” Sutler said grinning.

“Nope she’s going to get me in the ???? with Granite if I’m ever late.”

“You coming to the pool lounge tonight with me and Autumn tonight Sutler?” Jefferson asked.

“No can do, taking Jenny to see tonight’s safety film.”

“You don’t spend much time with us anymo…” Jefferson was cut off by the arrival of Sergeant Granite squad leader.

“Gentlemen glad to see your all hear now lets move we’re going…” his radio began to crackle and he immediately answered.

“Sergeant Granite ECC-021, yes sir, yes sir, at once sir over and out.” He stowed it in his belt, “Right listen men were being re-assigned down to Docking Platform 2 indefinitely sounds like some ????’s going down somewhere or hell it might be a drill but even so, drills must be treat like the real thing and we may have a breach down in Platform 2 so let’s move!”

They double-timed to Docking Platform two and stood in a small waiting room, suddenly the horrific figure of Frank Horrigan came through another door in front of them.

“Stay here until ordered otherwise by me, do you understand?”

“Yes sir!” replied Granite “????ing freak,” he added when he thought Horrigan was out of earshot. Ten minutes past, and
they stood on guard, there was no comm.-pvssyr, nothing just silence when a trooper came running towards them. Granite aimed,

“State your name and rank trooper!”

“J. Smith! Private First Class,” Smith replied. “There has been a failure in the reactor cooling system; the whole rig is in serious danger, we have to evacuate now!”

The dream changed and suddenly there was a blaze of noise, Sutler hurtled out of cover towards a bench in the foyer, Smith was fiddling with some console and suddenly Jefferson burst out of the waiting room, spooling his Gatling Laser before opening fire, the burning beams from the laser scorched Horrigan’s armour who turned from Smith to Jefferson, firing a huge bolt of plasma from his massive arm cannon in Jefferson’s direction, it hit the wall behind he and took a large chunk from it, almost into the neighbouring storage room. Smith finished whatever he had been engaged with on the console and immediately dropped behind it to avoid fire, eight turrets around the room, awoke, spooled and opened fire on Horrigan who recoiled in pain and began shooting the turrets; Sutler popped up landing two shots on Horrigan’s face before a good size of the bench was melted by a bolt of plasma.

“????!” Sutler yelled running for the waiting room.

In the waiting room using the broken door as cover were Granite and Autumn, using their rifle’s to try and disable Horrigan’s plasma cannon. The combined effort of the turrets and their combined fire took there toile on Horrigan who was split clean in half by a shot from Smith, Granite cheered and Horrigan said something to Smith before finally dieing. Sutler and the men got up and sprinted for the Docking Platform, Granite frantically trying to establish contact with someone on his radio. Sutler awoke and was momentarily blinded by the sunlight pouring through the wrecked roof of the house.

* * * * *

It was noon the next day and the sun was beating down on the four men, slowly and weakly making their way north through the wasteland to the largest US facility, the Poseidon Energy Refinery Navarro, suddenly Autumn started the first thing resembling conversation since the battle with Horrigan; Autumn said, his voice croaky from lack of food, water and sleep.

“The turrets in the docks,” Autumn said, still a little quietly.

“Yeah,” said Granite.

“I thought that they require the authorization of the President?”

“They do.”

“Then how did Smith activate them?”

Granite didn’t respond and neither did anyone else, Sutler puzzled, his brain kicking slowly back into action, there was no way possible to activate those turrets without the Presidential access card, no way at all. How? How? He couldn’t have bypassed Presidential security.

“He had to have had the card then,” Sutler said, unsure what he was implying.

“Didn’t the waster say he had other people with him, men in rags and blue suits?” added Jefferson, uttering his first words in 15 hours, “The people from the Vault 13 and that tribal village.”

Things were adding up inside Sutler and the other men’s heads, a mass break-out from force-field cells coinciding with a catastrophic failure in reactor cooling systems, impossible.

“So what you’re trying to say men, is that a man infiltrated the Oil Rig, destroyed it and everyone we know to save some
????ing tribals!?!” Granite yelled. The feeling of horrific realisation was sweeping over all of them.

“We let him escape, we let him win…” Sutler said quietly, “We let a murder of 800 people escape justice; I, we looked into the eye’s of the man who knew that everyone on-board was going to die and we helped him escape. We’re traitor’s, everyone we know killed, why not even because we were going to kill everyone, no because a tribal wanted his mates back and for that we all die!”

They were all silent, abject horror flowed through them all the thing that they had just done ratified everything the tribal had done, if they hadn’t helped him he wouldn’t have escaped, he wouldn’t have won and although they and everyone else would still have been killed at least HE wouldn’t have won.


* * * * *

It was two days after the battle with Horrigan now and Sutler was feeling weak from hunger, even with the armour doing most of the work he was sick, weak and in dire need of a wash. Before them was a building with a funny cross hung over the entrance, a pair of guards in grey robes wielding G11’s flanked the doorway. A man in similar thick robes ran up to them, he was wielding a power fist but was clearly not hostile in intent. AHS-4 Benedict saw the four men approaching their church, had they come to seek help? Whatever they needed he would provide, such an offering of advanced armours and weapons would seem him AHS-7 before the end of the week, simply offer these lost soles shelter and align their oppressive neurodynes whilst they slept. He approached them, trying as hard as possible to look friendly, he looked down and realised he was running at these well armed gentlemen with a power fist; he quickly through his hands into the air.

“Humble greetings sirs,” he said with a courteous bow, “I am AHS-4 of the Church of Hubology, do seek free-shelter for the night?”

“Waster’s offer nothing ‘free’; what do you want, charitable donation perhaps?” said Sutler, pure loathing punctuated every syllable.

“Please fellow seeker I meant no dis-respect we seek a sign from our lord the Great Prophet dike Hubbel who now must surely be looking down upon us from the planet Quetzel.”

“I see,” said Granite, “That being the case I apologize, we would love to accept whatever you can give us though a free night and a meal would be most welcome.”

“Certainly friends,” Benedict said smiling, he lowered his hands, this was all going so smoothly, right now AHS-2 Julian should be preparing the lovely poisoned meals and then he would be given a seat of honour aboard the Space Craft for presenting such amazing tools to AHS-9 back in San Francisco.

The church resembled a pre-war Christian Church, two columns of worn pews separated by an isle and headed by an alter marked with similar crosses and behind it a huge mural; on the left side of the Alter was what must be the planet Earth, charred black, stars marked a passage and what looked like a pre-war USSA Space Shuttle and on the other-side of the alter was a larger green planet which must have been Quetzel above the planet was an old man with beard and round spectacles, presumably the Hubbel guy.

“Welcome to our humble church sirs,” Benedict said, bowing again, “The guest rooms and in the old cellar there should be enough for two to a room with your big armour and unholy tools, make yourselves comfortable and I’ll will collect you when your meals are ready. He led the men into a well lit cellar,

“These are you quarters for the night sirs; I shall be about 5 minutes, plenty of time to arrange sleeping arrangements.” He scuttled off upstairs and slammed the heavy door, he barred it from the outside and chuckling went to the kitchen…