ED-E sat in the passenger seat of the mail van. Franklin and the little bot decided that listening to 1920s swing music was an excellent way to pass the time.

“I am telling you, ED-E, I still can’t get over the fact this world never progressed culturally past the 1950s. So much music was made in response to society changing with the Cold War. It's a good thing I have extensive libraries of classic rock in my head. I think the NCR will like anti-war protest songs that were created during that era,”

Curious beeps.

“Oh, definitely. Here, I am gonna send you one right now.”

Franklin told ED-E the whole story about who he was and where he came from. Well, maybe not everything, but enough that the robot had an idea of who he was and what he planned on doing. The robot hadn’t opened up about the Enclave or who his creators were, but Franklin felt the eyebot warming up to him.

The towering figures of the NCR and Mojave Rangers were finally visible from Interstate 15. Franklin's new problem was how he was to convince the NCR to leave the MRCS alone.

“Hey, ED-E.”

Responsive beeps.

“I got an idea. There is a song in the file labeled nothin’. Get that ready.”

__________

Ranger Jackson

Mojave Outpost

“Sir, Ranger Ghost has spotted Doctor Franklin approaching from the north,” Major Knight reported. The doctor had caused a commotion at the outpost. When the caravans heard someone might clear the way north, they started lining up, trying to be the first to leave. Jackson had prevented any caravans from leaving due to increasing Legion activity, and the attack on Nipton had only proven his fears.

“Good. Let's go meet this troublemaker,” Jackson said. He had a hard enough time believing the doctor had killed Vulpes Inculta by himself, but claiming to be able to clear the way north was about as impossible as holding back the Legion at Hoover Dam by himself. The doctor must have returned once he realized how impossible the task was.

Jackson knew Deathclaws had taken over Quarry Junction. Orders from Command were to keep quiet about that while they organized a power armor unit to deal with it. Now with the doctor returning, Jackson could convince him to head northeast to Camp McCarran or Camp Golf.

Jackson and Knight stepped out of the office and saw the mailvan the doctor acquired. Where he managed to find a working car and enough gasoline was a mystery they still couldn’t solve. The NCR had a few vehicles of their own, but they were strictly used for large convoys. It was too dangerous to travel the roads. Raider attacks, mutant animals, rogue supermutants, and damned Legion saboteurs made it cheaper to travel on foot.

Wait… did the van always have treads? And why was the doctor standing on the roof of his van?

“Ahh, Ranger Jackson, you made it for my performance,” Franklin said.

“Performance?” Jackson asked.

“ED-E! Drumroll!” The doctor pointed to an old Enclave eyebot floating next to his van. Where did he find that?!

The robot, famous for its musical talents, began to play drums.

Bddddddd

“War…huh…yeah!” Franklin sung.

“What is it good for?” ED-E responded with a chorus.

“Absolutely nothin!” Franklin responded.

THE FUCK! What has gotten into this man? Did he stumble into a radioactive puddle and melt his brain?!

“I despise, cos’ it means destruction of innocent lives,” Franklin continued.

“Dr. Franklin! Stop this instant,” Jackson yelled.

The song had gathered a crowd. Caravanners watched from their tents, soldiers exited the bar to listen, and his own damned rangers watched from the roofs.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“What is it good for?” Franklin asked. As much as this seemed to be just a song, he actually addressed the crowd with each question.

“Absolutely nothin!” ED-E responded. The eyebot played the chorus, but some started to catch on. The question only had one answer.

Jackson didn’t disagree with the message. This damned war with the Legion took the lives of his friends too often, but it was a necessary one, damn it! The Legion made it very clear they would fight all the way to the west coast, enslaving, raping, and pillaging every town or city.

______

Franklin might have gone too far with his anti-war song. Ranger Jackson was as red as a brahim right now. He couldn’t help it. Edwin Starr made such a catchy song. How could he not play it? In fact, he might have never written that song in this world, so he was doing everyone a favor by spreading music across dimensional barriers. Franklin was doing a service.

“Are you finished?” Ranger Jackson’s said with barely contained rage.

“With my song? Yes. With everything else? No. I have news from the north.”

Jackson took a deep breath and calmed his nerves. “Go ahead.”

“It's good news, I promise. First, Quarry Junction is clear,” Franklin said. A few people who were listening in silently cheered and whispered the news to others.

“You’re fucking kidding me. You killed a whole nest of Deathclaws?” Jackson was skeptical.

“It wasn’t easy, but I know how to make napalm out of cactus juice, scorpion venom, and old tires,” Franklin lied.

It wasn’t a complete lie. He could make napalm out of those materials, but that was because he consumed them for energy to feed his material replicators. All that Franklin needed was for Jackson to believe he could.

“And the second thing?” Knight asked.

“The Powder Gangers have dissolved their group and agreed to fix and maintain the railroads here in the Mojave,” Franklin announced to everyone.

“What?” Everyone else said in unison.

“Allow me to explain,” and Franklin did.

______

“You have lost your fucking mind,” Jackson said.

“I understand it might take some convincing,” Franklin said.

“No! You don’t fucking get it. I had friends at the NCRCF that died in that prison break. Half the fucking NCR in Mojave knew someone there. And you just want all of us to accept them getting a full pardon for nothing!” Jackson yelled.

“Maybe we should take this conversation somewhere else.”

The smartest man on the planet, my ass, Franklin thought. He had let the excitement get to his head, and now he needed to salvage the situation.

“Sir, that might be for the best,” Major Knight said.

“Shut the fuck up, Major! You arrest this man,” Jackson pointed at a private and then at Franklin.

“Ranger Jackson, I don’t believe this is necessary. We can talk this out,” Franklin panicked.

Scared beeps.

Oh fuck, ED-E. They might destroy him. I guess old habits really die hard.

With a single message, the mailvan activated combat mode. Twin grenade launchers raised from their covers, red dots target every NCR trooper, with three targeting Jackson.

In response, a dozen NCR troops aim their service rifles at the van, ED-E, and Franklin. Rangers with hunting rifles perched on the rooftops.

The caravanners took the opportunity to leave. Some of them didn’t have that much on them, and with word about the Quarry Junction, some decided to risk it and flee the outpost.

Franklin was the first to speak,” You know, I should have expected to be in a Mexican standoff or two. I mean, you guys wear cowboy hats and use revolvers. Oh, and you can't forget the cowboy robots. This place screams Western.”

“You’re still treating this like a fucking joke, doctor?” Jackson asked. Despite his prior anger, the ranger looked a little hesitant. He didn’t expect the doctor to actually pull a gun or cannon on them.

“No… I am deadly serious right now. In a few days, some of the worst criminals from the prison will be handed over to the NCR. Along with them will be my emissaries. They will give my demands for the rest to be left alone. In exchange, the rest of the gang will be pardoned and dissolved. They will join my company and work to repair the railroad network here in the Mojave. They will also operate a series of trains that caravanners can use to transport cargo to the Strip. This is an opportunity for the NCR to make a lot of caps.”

No one said anything. Franklin knew nothing the NCR had could kill him, but they didn’t know that. Some of these men and women might die following Jackson's orders. From their perspective, it might not even be a bad idea. Franklin had underestimated the NCR's hatred of the Powder Gangers.

“The road north is clear as promised,” Franklin said.

“The only way it will be clear is if every one of those convict fucks is dead.”

Jackson says that, but it probably isn’t his decision. Here is hoping the NCR took after America and its leaders decide policy based on their wallets. Hell, Franklin might even have to fill a few of those wallets himself.

“I think it's time I leave,” Franklin said.

“You do that,” Jackson said.

Franklin waved for ED-E to follow and got in the van. He deactivated his laser dots. They were fakes anyway; they were there for intimidation purposes only. Next, he backed up and drove north, passing between the twin statues. A monument dedicated to bridging the survivalist Mojave Rangers with the NCR Rangers. Seems history didn’t repeat itself today.

_______

The mailvan traveled down the mountain, heading north. Franklin would turn east once the road split and travel through the ruins of Nipton and then turn north to Boulder City and then Vegas. Somewhere between here and there would be some trace of the checkered-suit man.

Along the road, Franklin saw a few caravanners that had left the outpost during his standoff with the NCR. Some waved, others looked away in fear. They would walk north and spread the news of his deeds. Whether they spoke good or bad things didn’t bother Franklin as long as word spread.

Once the MRCS started working, they would brag about their excellent working conditions to everyone they met. It would invite all sorts, he imagined. His employees might start to trade away the water and food his systems brought for them. Not that he minds them doing that; Franklin just hopes they barter with traders, not raiders.

While these thoughts crept around his electronic neural pathways, a figure started to wave by the side of the road. Franklin pulled over and rolled down a window.

“Can I help you?” Franklin asked.

The hitchhiker was a cowgirl. She had a shotgun in a sling and a revolver on her hip. “Yeah, I was wondering if you were heading to Vegas. I could use a ride.”

“Ma said I shouldn’t pick up hitchhikers,” Franklin said.

“It's a sign of good character when a man listens to his mother, but I won’t bite. Saw how you handled the NCR up there. You can obviously handle yourself, too, if you really did clear out Quarry Junction,” she said.

“That's true. Why do you need to head north?”

“Jackson wouldn’t let me leave the outpost because I was technically a caravan. Sure, a caravan of one, but he was pretty adamant about that. I need to head north because the rest of my crew was killed. Want to visit the attack sight and look it over,” she said.

“Sorry to hear that, miss. Hmmm, ah, why not? Hop in. We are taking the long way north, though. Hope you don’t mind,” Franklin opened the door for her.

“I am not in a rush. Glad to have some protection. Mojave has gotten real dangerous nowadays. Names Cass.”