The sun had long since slipped past the skyline, and what passed for darkness settled over the bones of the city. Not pitch black, too many lanterns and flickering floodlights. I stayed up, like I was asked. Two hours in already, though it didn't feel like it. The kind of still where the wind didn't even rustle wrappers. You'd think being in the city would be louder screaming, mutant things, but it was quieter than I expected. Eerier, almost. But not in a scary way.
My Protectron clicked and clanked in its assigned loop. Slow, dependable steps like clock hands. I'd rewired it with a path radius and adjusted its vocal barks to be less shrill. Now it only muttered "CAMP PERIMETER CLEAR" every few minutes, voice still monotone but not grating. I watched it sweep its sensors over the outer lot, the way its arms twitched on each pivot. Maybe I should upgrade those actuators later.
A wagon stood parked near the middle of our little temporary camp, the kind with rust-mottled armor plates bolted on its flanks and canvas tarps stretched overhead. One of the Brahmins was snoring. Loud, wet, and slow. The other blinked at me.
I shifted on my boots and walked over, crunching light gravel underfoot. They really were strange things. Big and lumpy and pinkish in the way raw meat is pinkish. They had eight eyes between the two of them and not a single useful thought. I didn't mean that mean, just… observational.
Still, I reached out and touched one. The one on the left side, first head, made a low chuff and tried to nudge me with its drool-slick snout. I flinched a little. Not from fear, just surprise. Guess I didn't expect it to feel so... alive. That nose was wet and rough like an old dish sponge, but there was something weirdly endearing in the way it leaned in. I patted its face. Both heads wobbled, blinking out of sync.
"You're ugly," I whispered. "But like... in a nice way." It mooed softly, and the other one sneezed. I heard a chuckle off to my right. Someone had seen.
"You makin' friends?" a boy's voice said, a little too casual, like he thought he was charming. I turned my head without smiling. A kid stood maybe five meters away, notebook in hand, pencil behind one ear, wearing a patched coat too big for him and boots too clean to belong to a real scavver. Couldn't be much older than me. Sandy hair. Tan skin. Kinda long lashes. Pretty boy. He walked like he wasn't used to rough ground.
"I'm doing the stock," he said, tapping the notebook. "But I figured I should check out the night's most exciting attraction."
"…They're odd looking," I muttered.
"They like you," he said, grinning as he stopped near the fence of junk crates and tires that formed the edge of camp. "Must mean something. Animals got instincts, right?"
I blinked. He kept smiling, tilting his chin up like he expected a laugh or... I don't know. A reply that wasn't awkward silence. I scratched behind the Brahmin's second ear instead.
"What's your name?" he asked, shifting his weight. I thought about lying. But I didn't.
"...I didn't ask yours," I said instead.
"Oof," he said, clutching his chest like I'd stabbed him. "Okay, fair. That's fair. I'm Levi. I help Rose run numbers. Kind of an apprentice quartermaster, if that's not too fancy a title."
He said it like I was supposed to be impressed. "You're the new girl, right? Quiet. Weird robot. Cool accent."
I didn't answer. My Protectron was rounding the camp's eastern arc, a spotlight briefly washing over both of us. Levi squinted.
"That yours?" he asked. "The Protectron?"
"…Yeah."
He watched it a second longer. " Ours back in Queens got chewed up by stalkers months ago. You... reprogrammed that one yourself?"
I gave a slow nod. That part, at least, I didn't mind sharing. He whistled. "Damn. That's impressive. Honestly. You gotta show me sometime. I love tech stuff."
Liar, I couldn't help but think. He stepped a little closer. Not too close. Just enough, I could smell the faint scent of something oily, maybe caravan grease, maybe his jacket.
"You've been outside long?" he asked.
I shrugged. "A little."
"You down south?" he asked. "I mean, your accent's got that nice kind of sharp to it. Not in a bad way, I mean. Just... y'know."
"I get that a lot."
"I bet. I think it's cool."
I let out a small sigh.
The Brahmin groaned behind me. Levi laughed again, nervous this time. "Well," he said, tapping the side of his notebook, "guess I should finish the tally before Rose bites my head off."
He took a step back, paused, then looked at me again. "I'm gonna go now," he added quickly, voice lighter, maybe trying to play it off. "But, uh, see you around?"
I gave the smallest nod I could manage. He smiled just a bit too widely and turned away, walking back toward the cargo pile near the campfire. I stared at the Brahmin. The Brahmin let out a wet snort. I rubbed my wrist across my pants, suddenly aware of how clammy my fingers felt.
I almost started walking again when I heard it, a laugh, scratchy and too loud for how quiet everything else was. Came from the tent closest to the cows. Someone inside, followed by the flap being thrown open.
Out stepped a man, tall and broad across the chest. His armor caught the light from the wagon lanterns. Dusty olive plating, faded insignia on one shoulder, with webbing that looked more practical than patched together. Worn, but not junky. Old military issue looked like something out of one of those dusty New California Republic videos. It was hard to tell under the grime, but I knew what to look for.
He looked straight at me and grinned. "Well, there's our little Vaultmouse," he said, eyes crinkling. "You makin' friends with the cows, sweetheart?"
I blinked. Then stared. I didn't say anything. He chuckled like he expected that. "I'm Trig. Secondhand to Rose, for whatever that's worth," he said, thumbing toward himself. "Don't worry, I don't bite. Unless you're dumb, then I nibble a little."
I didn't know what to do with that. He glanced toward where Levi had gone and made a sound like he was clearing his throat just to hide a laugh. "That boy's got a talent," Trig said. "Falls over any girl with both eyes and a pulse. Noticed you the second you showed up."
I felt my face twitch. "...Didn't notice back." Another laugh came from inside the tent, then the flap pushed open again. A woman stepped out, holding a half-eaten jerky in one hand. Shorter than Trig. She wore scuffed leather armor over a faded T-shirt and ripped jeans.
"Of course he didn't," she said, grinning as she leaned on the tent pole. "That kid's about as subtle as a radroach in a teacup. It's kind of sad." She took a bite, chewed slowly, then added, "Name's Karma. Don't think we've officially met."
I gave a tiny nod. "I go by Vaultie."
Trig snorted. "You told 'em to call you that?"
I nodded again, slower this time. "Well, sorry to say, Vaultmouse fits better," he said, folding his arms. "You move like one. Kinda twitchy."
I could feel my cheeks burning. I didn't move my hands, though. Kept them shoved into my jacket pockets like maybe that'd ground me. My shoulders were too high. I tried to ease them down, but it just looked like I was adjusting my jacket.
"Hey," Karma said, voice a bit softer now. "Don't worry. He nicknames everyone. He called me Bonecruncher for the first three weeks." Trig smiled. "Only 'cause you broke that raider's nose with your forehead."
"Details," she muttered, waving it off. They were standing close. Didn't touch, but it was obvious. The kind of obvious you. A couple. I stayed quiet. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say. Or if I had to say anything.
"You doing okay on night watch?" Karma asked, nudging her chin toward the lanterns.
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Figured. Saw your bot making laps. Does a good job," Trig said. "Solid machine. Better than some of the morons Rose picks up."
There was a beat of silence, and then Karma added, "You didn't like that boy." I froze. Blinked. "I mean, not saying you were rude," she went on, her tone still light. "But you've got the face of someone who'd rather get shot in the foot than talk to a flirt."
I stared at the Brahmin. It made a low gurgle. "Shame he's too dense to notice," Trig muttered, almost fondly. "He'll figure it out eventually," Karma said. "Maybe," Trig said. "Or maybe she'll punch him and he'll take it as a sign from God."
They both laughed. I looked at them. Tried to look calm. Not anxious. Failed. Karma must've noticed, because she tilted her head and softened her voice again. "Hey. You're good. Don't worry. He'll back off if you keep being weird."
"I'm not trying to be weird," I said, a little too quick.
"Exactly," she said. "That's why it works."
Trig grinned. "Vaultmouse'll be just fine."
Karma had pulled over a folding stool from just inside the tent, balancing her elbows on her knees while she gnawed on her jerky. Trig stood with one boot up on a crate, arms crossed. I wasn't sure why I asked. The words came out before I thought about it.
"…You ever been to New Vegas?" I said, turning toward him.
Trig blinked. His eyebrows lifted a bit. "What makes you ask that?"
I shrugged, staring at his chest plate. The way the plates were shaped, the scuffed emblem on the shoulder. "You look like someone who's seen the Dam."
Karma let out a low whistle, amused. Trig huffed, but there was something behind it. Like I'd opened a box he hadn't touched in a while. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I was there."
"Hoover Dam?"
He nodded slowly. "Back when the NCR still thought they could keep it. Before it all went sideways."
I stared at him, too curious to play it off. "What happened?"
He didn't answer right away. He leaned off the crate, rubbed the back of his neck, and looked out toward the edge of the settlement like he could still see the water, still smell the Colorado in the air.
"I was stationed west of the Dam when everything broke loose," he said. "Last week of the war. NCR had their boots locked in. Engineers thought they had the whole thing in the bag. We'd dug in like ticks. But then House pulled something out of his sleeve, some kinda airstrike. Real big. Old world stuff. Dropped bombs."
He raised his hand slowly and mimed the fall, like dropping stones into a river. "Wiped out a whole stretch of Legion lines in one pass. We could hear it from our post.
I swallowed. "You were there?"
Trig nodded. "Day before the bombs, I'd already been kicked out."
"Kicked out?" I tilted my head.
"Court-martial," Karma said, smirking.
"Sort of," Trig said. "Politics, really. I was already hanging out with Rose then. We'd—ah—bent a few rules on supply dispersal."
He didn't seem proud or ashamed. Just tired.
"You're lucky," I said.
He nodded again. "Damn right I am. Left the outpost the day before. The Legion got pounded. NCR didn't fare much better. The Strip's still open. If you're civil. And if you don't wear NCR red. You show up flying that flag, and you're lucky if they just send you home naked."
Karma added, "You hear rumors. Some say House keeps the old Securitron army marching day and night. Others say they've got AI cameras now. Don't need people anymore. The whole east side of the Strip's automated."
I nodded, trying to keep my face flat. I already knew all this. But I had to know how it ended. "So house won the war?" I asked quietly.
"House owns the Strip. House owns Hoover. That man plays a long game."
Karma looked at me sideways. "Why the questions?"
I shrugged. "Just… wondering."
"Have you ever been to the Mojave?" Trig asked.
"No."
"You sound like you know a lot for someone raised in a vault."
My fingers twitched. I stared at my boots.
"We took someone who claimed to be from New Vegas," I said.
They didn't believe me. Karma raised an eyebrow. "Still," he added, more thoughtful now, "House is the only one who made it out intact. And he's still running it. From what we hear, anyway. Caravan routes still report back. You can get to the Strip and back if you're careful. They say House doesn't tax the roads unless you're a real ass."
Karma chewed on her jerky. "Some traders love him. Say his bots clear the way. Others are nervous, too quiet. No one gets to talk to him. You deal with terminals."
I was nodding too fast. "Sounds like House."
Trig narrowed his eyes at me. "You like him?"
"I think he's… smart."
Karma smiled. "You're a weird one, Vaultmouse."
I shrugged again.
Trig leaned in slightly. "Have you ever heard of the Courier?"
I blinked.
"What?"
"There was a story. From the Strip. Some weird courier showed up right in the middle of the battle, working for House. No name. No history. Came out of nowhere. Helped flip the board."
I tilted my head, trying to play dumb. "Courier?"
"Yup. Took a bullet to the head. Still got up. Helped House finish the fight at the Dam."
Karma chewed slower. "Nobody knows where they went after. Could be dead. Could be running House's bots behind the curtain."
Trig smirked. "Or they could be someone we already met."
I felt the breath catch in my chest. Then I realized he was teasing.
Karma laughed. "Not Vaultmouse. Too short."
My face twitched again.
They didn't press further, but the way Karma watched me made it clear she was still wondering.
"How long have you been out?" she asked.
"Two days," I said before I could stop myself.
"That's wild," Trig muttered. "You're way too put together for someone who's barely seen sunlight. And that means your vault is pretty close."
"I'm not put together," I said, trying to change the topic. That got a laugh from both of them.
"Well," Karma said, settling back on her stool, "you're doin' fine so far. Just don't let Levi ask to braid your hair."
"Or to show you his maps," Trig added, snickering.
Karma shook her head. "He's sweet, just... not smart about girls."
I didn't say anything. Just stood there, eyes flicking between the cows and the edge of the camp. I didn't feel awkward anymore. Not exactly. But I wasn't relaxed either. The rest of the night was… nothing.
Not the kind of nothing that's frustrating. Just the kind that stretches. The kind where your mind wanders but your eyes don't. Where your boots sink half an inch deeper into gravel with every shift of weight, and you feel each second.
I leaned against a crate for a while, arms crossed, eyes scanning. My Protectron kept making its slow circuits. Each heavy step echoed just right in the stillness. Every so often, its voice would buzz out with a calm monotone update, "CAMP PERIMETER SECURE."
Karma and Trig had gone quiet eventually. Still sitting out in front of their tent, talking low between each other. I didn't listen in. Didn't need to. I stayed where I was, trying not to yawn too obviously. My body was getting heavy, but my mind was wired.
But nothing came. The sky started changing around the edges. It didn't go from black to blue not right away. First, it got thin. Lighter, in a grey way. Like the shadows weren't as deep anymore. Then the pink crept in. Soft and slow. A warning that the sun was thinking about getting up, too.
That's when the clang hit.
CLANGCLANGCLANG!
The sound of a metal pan getting absolutely beaten woke the entire camp in one go. I jumped. So did one of the Brahmin, who let out a long groan and shook its head like it was being tortured. My bot whirred in confusion, pivoting mid-step like it was trying to locate a threat.
"Let's go, let's go, lazybones!" Rose's voice rang out sharp, loud, and unforgiving. "We're behind schedule!"
She stood in front of the wagon, holding the pan high like a war trophy, one boot planted firmly on a crate as she shouted like a raider warlord. Her coat was rumpled, her braid slightly out of place, and she looked like she'd been up longer than me.
Around the camp, tents unzipped. Grumbles. Coughs. Half-swears. Sleep-drunk voices mumbled curses or jokes, hard to tell which. Someone stubbed their toe. Someone else laughed too hard at it.
I stood still, blinking blearily in the morning light. Rose pointed her pan at the others. "Pack fast, eat on the move! We roll in ten!"
No one argued. They just started moving. The caravan stirred to life around me, tired limbs stretching and cracking and slowly waking up. I counted as I watched. Karma and Trig, already moving in sync, folding their tent with practiced hands.
The boy, Levi, stumbled out of his shirtless, blinking into the sunrise like a confused puppy. An older woman with dark braids and a limp grumbling as she rolled up her sleeping pad and knocked dirt from her boots.
A small guy with a shaved head and nervous eyes, already strapping gear onto the side of the wagon before he even bothered tying his boots. Two younger girls, twins, maybe?—who looked like they'd just rolled out of a junk heap and were laughing at something that probably wasn't that funny. They were older than me by a bit, from what I could tell.
And a quiet man I hadn't spoken to yet, tall and broad, wearing armor that had once been cleanish metal. He kept to himself, moving with slow deliberation, folding canvas and strapping crates like he was still half-dreaming. Eight people.
Not counting me or my bot. Each of them fell into a rhythm, like this were normal. Just folding tents, strapping them down, wiping eyes, and smearing dirt off cheeks. A routine. Like this was just another morning after just another night.
The wagon was already loaded. Heavy and creaky but packed, crates tied down tight, water barrels in the middle, bags strapped up high. Rose climbed up the side of the wagon like it was nothing and swung into place near the front bench. She looked down at me and jerked her head toward the back.
"Vaultie. You're off duty. Get some rest." I hesitated. She thumped the spot behind her with the heel of her boot. "C'mon. I left you a blanket and a pillow. Best you're gonna get unless you wanna sleep on Brahmin shit."
I blinked again, still a little out of sync, and finally nodded. My legs felt heavier than they should. My body didn't argue when I climbed up. The spot was wedged between two crates, just wide enough for me to stretch out if I curled a little. There was a thick folded blanket and an actual pillow. It smelled like dry cotton and maybe a little like metal. I didn't complain.
I eased myself into place as the wagon creaked and groaned. The Brahmin snorted. The wheels shifted. Rose shouted something to the others, something about supplies, something about keeping pace, and then we started rolling.
I lay on my side and blinked slowly. The morning air was cold against my face, but the blanket was warm. Too warm, maybe. It made my eyes feel heavier than I expected. The wagon clattered on, wheels crunching on gravel and broken glass. Someone laughed behind me. Someone else cursed about losing a spoon. Karma's voice floated up from somewhere nearby, sharp and amused. And I finally let my eyes close.