Looking at the pile of discarded guns, Atlas stared at the soldiers, his gaze hard. "In this wasteland, you either adapt or die. Your weapons are obsolete here." He motioned to his twin swords. "These are what work. You’ll learn, or you won’t survive."
John stepped forward, nodding at Atlas's words. "We don't have time to babysit, so here’s the deal. You follow our rules, you stay alive. You break them, well..." He let the unspoken threat hang in the air, and it was clear no one was interested in testing it.
One of the younger soldiers, still looking uneasy, hesitated before speaking. "So... what now? Are we prisoners?"
Atlas shook his head, a sly grin on his face. "No prisoners here. You're free men... but in the wasteland, freedom comes with responsibility. You'll work, you'll fight, and you'll survive, or you'll end up just like those who didn’t."
The soldiers, now weaponless, exchanged uncertain glances. Atlas turned on his heel, addressing the Portal Crushers. "Alright, let's get back to business. We've got more important things than babysitting a bunch of Earthlings showing up out of the blue."
As the Portal Crushers moved back into their positions, the air of tension slowly faded. The soldiers still stood together, uncertain, but their weapons had been handed over. They were no longer a threat, just another group of confused refugees trying to figure out how to survive in a world that didn't make sense anymore.
Atlas shot a glance at John, who met his gaze with a nod. "Keep an eye on them," Atlas muttered, his voice low. "We can't trust them yet."
"Already on it," John replied, eyes scanning the new arrivals. There was a flicker of distrust in his gaze, but he kept it hidden under his calm demeanor.
Atlas looked at Lt. Col. Sanders with a raised eyebrow, “Now that we're going to be incorporating your forces into the Fort Bone Empire, do you have any suggestions?”
Sanders straightened his posture, “Well, our men are designed to fight as units, so I think it would be best if we kept them that way.”
John cut in, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, but while we're willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, there’s no way we’re keeping a separate group together. We need to integrate them into the Fort Bone troops before there’s a schism between the military and civilians.”
Lt. Col. Sanders paused, then nodded slowly. “That’s an accurate assessment.”
Atlas leaned forward, his tone serious, “What kind of weapons and preparation did you make before you got here?”
Lt. Col. Sanders shifted his stance, folding his arms as he responded to Atlas, “We didn’t have the luxury of bringing heavy vehicles or artillery. Our soldiers only carry what they could haul on foot. Each one’s outfitted with standard-issue M4 carbines, along with a few SAWs for squad-level fire support. We’ve got some M17 sidearms for close-quarters, and each squad carries a couple of AT4 rocket launchers in case we run into any heavy armor.”
He paused, then added, “We also have fragmentation grenades, a few claymores for perimeter defense, and a healthy supply of night vision gear for operations after dark. Medical kits, MREs, water filtration systems, and enough ammo to hold the line for a while. We’re light on our feet, and well-equipped to adapt.”
Atlas nodded, considering the loadout, “No vehicles or tanks, huh?”
Sanders shook his head, “Not this time. We move fast and hit hard, but we’re not rolling out in Humvees or Abrams. It’s just what we can carry and what we can scavenge along the way.”
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Atlas crossed his arms, a thoughtful expression on his face, “Well, I don’t know how well any of those weapons are going to work out here. I know for sure the firearms are probably only good for one or two more shots at best, and the rocket launchers will likely be the same. The frag grenades and claymores might come in handy, though, if we pack some mana-based equipment from the vending machines around them.”
He glanced at John before continuing, “The medical kits, MREs, and water filtration systems will be useful, though. We’ll need every edge we can get, especially out here.”
John crossed his arms, nodding at Atlas's words. “The night vision goggles might be useful, at least before they break down.”
Atlas agreed, then John turned his attention to Sanders. “So, what plans did the Earth Government make for you to contact other friendly forces when you got to the Wasteland?”
Sanders hesitated, his loyalty to Earth still lingering despite technically joining Fort Bone. Atlas didn’t miss the hesitation and leaned in, his voice firm. “Look, Sanders, you either have to shit or get off the pot. You can’t keep holding on to being a soldier from Earth. We don’t have room for divided loyalties here. Your men have already agreed to become residents, and you should do that too.”
Sanders stared at the ground, nodding quietly.
‘It’s easy to ask that of them, but it’ll be hard to enforce,‘ John thought, watching the quiet conflict on Sanders' face.
Reluctantly, Sanders finally spoke, “We had flares packed on us that we were supposed to fire into the night sky once we took control of a settlement. But I haven’t seen any of them fired yet.”
While they were speaking, the three of them instinctively glanced up at the sky, as if expecting the flares to magically appear just because they’d mentioned them.
Atlas thought, ‘Typically, a flare fired into a night sky could be seen from 48 to 64 kilometers away, depending on the brightness of the flare, atmospheric conditions, and any potential light pollution. In the wasteland, there was no such light pollution, so if any of the settlements near Fort Bone had been taken, we would’ve clearly seen them.‘
“Nope, no flares,” said Atlas.
“Well, while we aren’t going to let you form your army into a separate unit, for tonight, why don’t we set you up in this area there,” he gestured to an empty part of Fort Bone town. “You still all have tents and everything?”
Lieutenant Colonel Sanders nodded, “Yes, we’re ready to set up.”
Then he asked, “What about weapons?”
Atlas replied, “Well, have all your men strip their gear. I don’t trust you to have guns in our settlement. But they can keep their uniforms, of course. That’s one less group of refugees I don’t have to outfit.”
“Are we going to be completely weaponless?” Lieutenant Colonel Sanders pressed.
Atlas turned to John, “What do you think, John?”
John shrugged, “Well, I think we’ve got some spare clubs and swords that we looted off the bandits, and the crafters have a bunch of bone javelins they’ve made. Should be enough.”
“That’ll do,” Atlas nodded. “Get them some of those, and lock up all the other gear in our armory.”
The 'armory' Atlas referred to was really just another room in the castle.
“Alright, I’ll have Amber help you out. Let’s go, John.”
John nodded to Amber, "Amber, follow Plan A and get these refugees settled."
Amber and her group, who had formed the welcoming wagon ahead of time for just this situation, immediately got to work. The refugees, roughly 400 people including the soldiers, were guided with calm efficiency. Amber explained the rules of Fort Bone and the laws of the Empire, walking them through what to expect. There was no panic, no disorder, just a well-oiled system in place.
Amber then addressed the group of soldiers standing off to the side, "Hi guys, I hear you’ve got your own tents?"
"Yes, ma'am," the sergeant in charge replied.
"That's great, that'll really help us all out. As you can see, this area’s mostly made up of PlastiTarps. Where would you like to set up?"
"We can set up anywhere, ma'am," the sergeant responded, his tone quick and firm.
"Great, set yourselves up over there, and when you’re done, just let me know. We’ll get you some food after that."
"Chow would be appreciated," the sergeant nodded. "All right, men, set up the tents in order. Let’s go, chop chop!"
While the refugees were settling, Atlas turned to John with a grin, "That was amazing, buddy. Four hundred refugees, no one died, and nobody tried to take over. Can you really believe that guy's name is Colonel Sanders?"
John chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, that name sure spices our day up."
"And those soldiers," Atlas continued, "they looked tough, but they really chickened out at the end."
John snorted, "Guess they didn’t want to ruffle any feathers."
Atlas laughed, "Yeah, they were clucking nervous the whole time. Good thing they didn’t fry under pressure!"