Ten shells jumped down the walls and rushed into the Quarry. The surviving Deathclaws came out of hiding to meet them, and a brawl began. These giant lizards were ruthless to Franklin’s shells. Their claws cut through his nanites like an axe chopping wood. This didn’t mean his nanites would lose. Two drones with flamethrowers were still flying overhead after all. They worked in tandem with the shells to distract the Deathclaws and inflict maximum damage.
The two Emperors came rushing out from behind the dragline. They were a few feet taller than the normal Deathclaws, their horns were bigger, and their skin was a dark black color. Franklin wasn’t sure why, but their appearance screamed, ‘I am big, scary, and mean. Look at me; I am special.’ He wasn’t sure what it was about this world, but everyone important seemed distinguished.
While most of the shells and flamer drones battled the Deathclaws, Franklin had a single shell break off to find the Empress. The lone 10% wouldn’t be able to defeat her, but that wasn’t the objective.
A dozen light brown eggs sat in a nest made of tires, metal fencing, and bone. The Empress squatted over her nest, protecting the eggs from the shell. She had heard the fighting, but her motherly instincts demanded she protect her clutch. She was more than capable of defeating the lone shell. Unfortunately, the doctor had a history of not fighting fairly.
The shell leaped on the nest and released the payload it carried inside it. With a tiny electrical spark, the entire alcove erupted into flames.
The Empress rolled around the remains of her nest, trying to extinguish the fire. Her instincts screamed at her to check her eggs. They had been shattered by the explosion and her frantic attempt at smothering the flames.
ROOOARR
She rushed out of the nest into a berserk rage and tore her way through everything: the shells, the mining equipment, the other Deathclaws. Nothing could stop her path of destruction. She smashed, maimed, and destroyed as much as she could. Her rage left her unable to tell friend from foe, and the battle became a chaotic mess.
This wasn’t the intended chaos he wanted to cause, but the doctor wasn’t going to complain. The Deathclaw’s fight made for fantastic combat data. This world's scientists had outdone themselves with this super soldier virus. He was looking forward to acquiring an unused sample.
The battle did not last long after that. The Doctor's shells could not stand the furious attacks of the Deathclaws and were soon reduced to small puddles. The flamer drones ran out of fuel, requiring them to retreat.
Four regular Deathclaws, one heavily wounded Emperor, and the enraged Empress were all that remained. The Emperor had lost a good amount of skin, and his right arm was dangling from loose muscle fibers. It would probably die of infection if the species weren't somehow immune to that.
The battle may have been almost, but it was a Pyrrhic victory for the Deathclaws. Their numbers have been significantly reduced; one of their alphas has been killed, the other is crippled, and the Empress is displaying signs of depression at the loss of her eggs. One more attack and the pack will be defeated.
Even if there might be more giant lizards in the surrounding area, they will be dealt with eventually or will move on to better hunting grounds.
All that is left for the doctor to take back the quarry is to refuel the flamers and send a second squad of shells. He sent out a few shells to gather materials. If you knew what to look for, the desert thrived despite nuclear fallout. Bugs still crawled around on rocks. Birds picked at cactus fruits. Life found plenty of the things it needed to live. In turn, he located all the components to make more flamer fuel.
Franklin left the shells to their work while a drone flew over the surrounding area. He promised the powder gangers a chance to become legitimate businessmen and intended to make good on that promise. This meant scoping the surrounding area for threats and opportunities.
To the west was the town of Goodsprings. He had seen the signs leading to the city but had stayed away from looking at it. This was the place he suspected the first man he killed came from. They might know him there, and he hesitated to confront them and ask about the man.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
To the north was the edge of La-New Vegas. He had heard the name it was called now and would have to make sure to call the city by its new name correctly.
To the east were mountains. A valley sat in between some, blocked off by chain link fences. Further investigation revealed a few prewar entrances marked with hippy-loving graffiti. He was about to consider their locations for possible salvage and information gathering when he switched the drones' sensors to thermal imagining.
Eleven ventilation shafts rose from the ground, and half of them showed heat trails. These old bunkers had people living in them. People who were operating the unknown facilities beneath the sands. Was this one of the so-called Vaults Private Johnson mentioned?
Marked for future investigation.
Further into the mountains was a group of large satilite dishes. That should be the area called Black Mountain. If any of those still worked, it would be an excellent place to build a communications center. It would still be helpful once he connects to any lingering satellites that remain dormant in orbit.
Speaking of space. There was a building to the south over a mountain ridge that displayed a rocket at its front door. The building was called the REPCONN test site. This might be a parallel version of the PEPCON company. He believed they had a building in a similar location in his world. The only reason he remembered this was because it was a chemical housing facility that blew up with the equivalent force to that of a small nuclear bomb.
This version of the company seemed to have handled their chemicals better and converted this building into a rocket testing sight. Yet another place to investigate.
“So many hidden treasures of technology just lying to waste. It would almost make me sad if I weren’t giddy at the thought of exploring them.” Franklin was as happy as a kid in an unsupervised experimental weapons lab.
It took the shells an hour to gather the materials. They acquired enough to make four shells and refill a flamer. Shortly after that, they moved into the quarry for round two. The remaining Deathclaws resisted fiercely. The impressive creatures have left a mark on his mind. He would find more of these creatures. What experiments he would conduct on them remains to be seen, but they deserved to be uplifted.
While the Doctor might have thought deeply about potential cranial expansion for the Deathclaws, he had not let his guard down. Being shot was the new all-inclusive sport in the wastelands, so his sensors were on full alert for any approaching individuals.
Well, this individual was different from all he had seen in the wasteland so far. They were also the most unique and whimsical individual he had witnessed.
An 8-foot tall blue monowheeled robot. Their torso and shoulders were big box shapes with a toob-like arm ending in three grasping fingers. Red, green, and blue buttons flashed on its chest and hands. In the center of its torso was a CRT screen depicting the face of a smiling cowboy with an H&H Tools Company logo below the screen.
“Well howdy, pardner. Fancy meetin you here,” the robot said. He said? The doctor was going to assume he for now because that was the vibe the voice and cowboy face gave off.
“Uuhh fine, I guess?” Franklin was unsure of how to respond to robots in this world. Here he was, drooling at the thought of discovering lost technology, and a fully function robot just up and knocked on his window.
“I would hope so, seein' is how you done dealt with all those Deathclaws done in the quarry,” the robot said.
Oh shit. “Yeah, I did.” He wasn’t exactly hiding his capabilities, but he hadn’t expected someone like this to find him this soon. A robot like this must have friends or an owner/operator. The amount of maintenance he must require would be something no simple farmer or merchant can handle.
“Mighty fine work it is. Those Deathclaws had been making it hard for traders and customers to make it to Vegas. The boss is pretty happy to see them gone.”
The robot's confirmation of a higher authority only increased the doctor's trepidation. He wasn’t ready to fight an equal or even superior foe.
The robot spoke again,” Cat is already out of the bag, friend, and tryin' to put it back in is gonna do you no favors. Seein' how you handled the Deathclaws, the boss has a job for you.”
“Job?” What could this mysterious ‘boss’ want with him?
“Boss recently hired a bunch of couriers to bring him stuff. Well, one of them got shot in the head and buried in a shallow grave over the hill that way. Now I dug him up and patched up at the local Doc Mitchel, but would ya know it? He died anyway a couple of days later in an explosion of gore and limbs. Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got,” the robot said.
This sounded a lot like the man the doctor accidentally killed during his teleportation accident. If the robot knew about the courier's death, he must also know the doctor was the one who did it. Was this blackmail? Was the robot and his boss upset at the delay in their delivery, so they were gonna make the doctor do it instead?
“Now, seein’ as how you seem to be a sort mailman yourself, I mean you are driving the only working mail truck in the Mojave, I have been given leave to hire you to retrieve the package and complete the delivery. Whatcha think?”
Initially, the robot’s proposal wasn’t all that bad, but the last line hinted at something more.
“What do you mean retrieve it?” The doctor asked.
“Wellll, remember how I said the courier got shot in the head? Well, the guys who did it stole the package. A platinum poker chip. It's a very sentimental item that the boss cares about. The courier found out that they were heading back to Vegas, but the Deathclaws were making that hard,” the robot said. Franklin couldn’t tell if the robot actually had the emotions he was displaying or if that was just a program that added embellishments to his words.
The job didn’t sound too bad. He hadn’t been told about the pay yet, but he didn’t care. He could replicate any currency they could possibly use in the wasteland or make something that would work just as well. The real worth of this job would have is meeting this robot's master. Whoever could construct and maintain this robot was bound to be powerful and have access to advanced technology and supplies needed to make them. A potential ally in this wasteland that might be his equal. A kindred spirit in this irradiated world. Franklin was excited at the possibility.
“Alright, I accept,” Franklin said.
“Hot damn, we got a deal then. They went that-a-way.”