Author's Notes: I wanted to avoid the shitfight of trying to decide what of Fallout 2 was canon and what was a bad joke, so I pick up where Fallout left off.
The Aftermath
With the Master's army defeated and scattered eastward, the wasteland enjoyed relative peace and gradual prosperity; the primary catalysts being the fledgling New California Republic and the Brotherhood of Steel's steady introduction of pre-war technology. However, like the world that had once destroyed itself over dwindling resources, the lack of reliable energy and the irresistable draw of technology created demand that couldn't be satisfied.
Mindful of increasing tensions over energy concerns, the NCR moved to locate potential energy sources, and further cement their status as a political power. Exploring the broader wasteland became paramount, though with the decay and destruction of pre-war energy infrastructure, the search lacked direction and progress was slow.
Boy Scouts of America
The NCR formed scouting teams who ventured into the wasteland, following the example of the legendary Vault Dweller. Though they were denied access to the upper echelons of Brotherhood hardware, they were well equipped and desolate wastes soon made veterans of those who endured their initial outings. Over the years, the NCR scouts established a well-earned reputation as formidable warriors.
Eventually one team struck paydirt in the ruins of Bay City. The USS Kingfish lay intact in dry-dock; a flaky brownish-orange edifice that didn't have enough black paint left to seem nearly as ominous as a century-sealed sepulchre ought to. In fact, to the scouts making the discovery, the ochre giant seemed almost vibrant against the backdrop of the deserted grey city.
Initial attempts to get inside were fruitless; they just didn't have equipment to even scale the monster vessel, let alone breach the hull. However, they took the impenetrablility to be a sign that no wastelanders had previously forced entry, nor had the tendrils of post-apocalyptic decay intruded on the inner workings. Radio reports were enthusiastically received, and a larger expedition was dispatched.
Serenity
The salvage operation began soon after. Geiger readings were low, but high enough to indicate the Kingfish was definitely an atom sub. A sizeable reactor and payload of nuclear torpedoes were sure to be among its treasures, but it would take weeks to erect the scaffolding required to get onto the deck of the ship and safely breach the entry hatches.
The scouts, now accustomed to a nomadic lifestyle grew weary of the bustling community that had sprung up, and sought refuge in further exploration. The weeks passed and while the Bay City yielded multitudes of useful resources, it was exceedingly rare to encounter any creature bigger than a rat. To men who had found life clinging desperately to far less hospitable environs, this eventually become too foreboding.
The groups of scouts in Bay City returned to the dry-dock with an ultimatum – they were leaving, and the expedition would be prudent to do likewise. The expedition leaders barely batted an eyelid. They were on the verge of breaching, and saw the uncanny quietude as more blessing than curse. They continued their mission; the scouts hastened into the mountains.
The Kingfish and the Kraken
There is no accurate account of the events that transpired after their departure, but the few surviving scouts paint the clearest picture. The expedition breached the hull and ventured inside. Exhaustive checks indicated the reactor remained intact and serviceable, so after lengthy discussion it was decided primary power should be reestablished and the computer systems fully analysed before they attempted to dismantle the reactor for transport south. As far as the scouts could tell, everything went to plan and the catastrophic disaster that followed was purely misfortune. Most likely, the humming reactor triggered some primal response in the beast that came from the sea.
Frantic radio chatter described the surging ocean suddenly bursting upward as rippling tentacles eclipsed the entire jagged skyline of the ruined city. Several immediately moved to envelop the atom sub, coiling and constricting, with the crush of metal clearly audible above the hysteric radio voices. Minutes later, the entire coastline shock with the force of an explosion that rivalled those that ended the Great War nearly a century ago.
The Valley Below
The NCR scouts who survived the blast eventually shed light on the devastating events, though the effects were almost immediate and obvious to all. The coastal hills seemed to simply slide off the face of the earth and into the horizon, taking Adytum with them. Junktown was shaken to the ground; the burgeoning Shady Sands became rubble and even the defiant towers of Necropolis were brought to their foundations.
Initially it seemed the Brotherhood of Steel and their Lost Hills bunker had lucked out, suffering few casualties, but the next week made their eventual fate clear. The vast valley that stretched to the north and west of them was gradually being absorbed by the ocean. The mountains to their east seemed to be rising. Exodus seemed inevitable and the paladins were sent forth to scout the mountains for an escape route that would serve the evacuation of the critical equipment from the bunker.
Paladin Rhombus and his squad were the first to return with the shock discovery. The illusory “rising mountains” were divided through by a widening rift and cursory explorations could see no start-point, nor end-point. Though other squads were following the rift north and south, there seemed to be only one conclusion – the scrap of land the Brotherhood called home was sliding away from the continent and into the ocean.
Out To Sea
Impending doom drove the Scribes and Elders to a frenzied search for an egress, but from the beginning only one solution seemed likely. With an estimated deadline of eight month, the Brotherhood set to the task of tearing apart their sanctuary to build an ark. The Ark.
The specifications were simple – enough living space to house the populace, enough storage for the hardware that afforded so much power to the Brotherhood, and a design that would keep it all afloat. The task itself was herculean. The scribes drew plans and modelled prototypes while the knights and paladins stripped materials out of the base itself.
After countless iterations, a final design was settled on and assembly began in an escavated pit to cradle the vessel and keep it upright. Weeks and months passed; the ocean brazenly creeping closer, and the Ark progressing from bare bones to monolithic sea-faring monster and eventually, new home. The vigour and excitement of building gave way to a tense wait – the completed Ark couldn't launch until the land beneath sank into the ocean, hopefully leaving the untested vessel floating on the surface.
Washington or Bust
They didn't have to wait long, but those weeks were tense times, moreso than when the Master's army threatened, simply because everyone could see fate creeping closer; the final days with water lapping at the hull were near intolerable. The water level rose, leaks were summarily patched, but eventually the Ark began to rise with the tide. It floated!
After another impatient week, the time came to power up the propulsion and journey onward. With no maps extending beyond California, the only logical solution was to follow the coastline, and the chosen destination was Washington to the north, and the city of District Columbia. Although it was likely the once mighty capital was one of the most heavily bombed targets of the Great War, it was just as likely to be a treasure trove of pre-war artifacts.
So the Brotherhood sailed onward, ready for the next chapter – Into the Capital Wasteland!
--
I think I probably packed too much into such a short story, but there's my entry for better or worse.
The Aftermath
With the Master's army defeated and scattered eastward, the wasteland enjoyed relative peace and gradual prosperity; the primary catalysts being the fledgling New California Republic and the Brotherhood of Steel's steady introduction of pre-war technology. However, like the world that had once destroyed itself over dwindling resources, the lack of reliable energy and the irresistable draw of technology created demand that couldn't be satisfied.
Mindful of increasing tensions over energy concerns, the NCR moved to locate potential energy sources, and further cement their status as a political power. Exploring the broader wasteland became paramount, though with the decay and destruction of pre-war energy infrastructure, the search lacked direction and progress was slow.
Boy Scouts of America
The NCR formed scouting teams who ventured into the wasteland, following the example of the legendary Vault Dweller. Though they were denied access to the upper echelons of Brotherhood hardware, they were well equipped and desolate wastes soon made veterans of those who endured their initial outings. Over the years, the NCR scouts established a well-earned reputation as formidable warriors.
Eventually one team struck paydirt in the ruins of Bay City. The USS Kingfish lay intact in dry-dock; a flaky brownish-orange edifice that didn't have enough black paint left to seem nearly as ominous as a century-sealed sepulchre ought to. In fact, to the scouts making the discovery, the ochre giant seemed almost vibrant against the backdrop of the deserted grey city.
Initial attempts to get inside were fruitless; they just didn't have equipment to even scale the monster vessel, let alone breach the hull. However, they took the impenetrablility to be a sign that no wastelanders had previously forced entry, nor had the tendrils of post-apocalyptic decay intruded on the inner workings. Radio reports were enthusiastically received, and a larger expedition was dispatched.
Serenity
The salvage operation began soon after. Geiger readings were low, but high enough to indicate the Kingfish was definitely an atom sub. A sizeable reactor and payload of nuclear torpedoes were sure to be among its treasures, but it would take weeks to erect the scaffolding required to get onto the deck of the ship and safely breach the entry hatches.
The scouts, now accustomed to a nomadic lifestyle grew weary of the bustling community that had sprung up, and sought refuge in further exploration. The weeks passed and while the Bay City yielded multitudes of useful resources, it was exceedingly rare to encounter any creature bigger than a rat. To men who had found life clinging desperately to far less hospitable environs, this eventually become too foreboding.
The groups of scouts in Bay City returned to the dry-dock with an ultimatum – they were leaving, and the expedition would be prudent to do likewise. The expedition leaders barely batted an eyelid. They were on the verge of breaching, and saw the uncanny quietude as more blessing than curse. They continued their mission; the scouts hastened into the mountains.
The Kingfish and the Kraken
There is no accurate account of the events that transpired after their departure, but the few surviving scouts paint the clearest picture. The expedition breached the hull and ventured inside. Exhaustive checks indicated the reactor remained intact and serviceable, so after lengthy discussion it was decided primary power should be reestablished and the computer systems fully analysed before they attempted to dismantle the reactor for transport south. As far as the scouts could tell, everything went to plan and the catastrophic disaster that followed was purely misfortune. Most likely, the humming reactor triggered some primal response in the beast that came from the sea.
Frantic radio chatter described the surging ocean suddenly bursting upward as rippling tentacles eclipsed the entire jagged skyline of the ruined city. Several immediately moved to envelop the atom sub, coiling and constricting, with the crush of metal clearly audible above the hysteric radio voices. Minutes later, the entire coastline shock with the force of an explosion that rivalled those that ended the Great War nearly a century ago.
The Valley Below
The NCR scouts who survived the blast eventually shed light on the devastating events, though the effects were almost immediate and obvious to all. The coastal hills seemed to simply slide off the face of the earth and into the horizon, taking Adytum with them. Junktown was shaken to the ground; the burgeoning Shady Sands became rubble and even the defiant towers of Necropolis were brought to their foundations.
Initially it seemed the Brotherhood of Steel and their Lost Hills bunker had lucked out, suffering few casualties, but the next week made their eventual fate clear. The vast valley that stretched to the north and west of them was gradually being absorbed by the ocean. The mountains to their east seemed to be rising. Exodus seemed inevitable and the paladins were sent forth to scout the mountains for an escape route that would serve the evacuation of the critical equipment from the bunker.
Paladin Rhombus and his squad were the first to return with the shock discovery. The illusory “rising mountains” were divided through by a widening rift and cursory explorations could see no start-point, nor end-point. Though other squads were following the rift north and south, there seemed to be only one conclusion – the scrap of land the Brotherhood called home was sliding away from the continent and into the ocean.
Out To Sea
Impending doom drove the Scribes and Elders to a frenzied search for an egress, but from the beginning only one solution seemed likely. With an estimated deadline of eight month, the Brotherhood set to the task of tearing apart their sanctuary to build an ark. The Ark.
The specifications were simple – enough living space to house the populace, enough storage for the hardware that afforded so much power to the Brotherhood, and a design that would keep it all afloat. The task itself was herculean. The scribes drew plans and modelled prototypes while the knights and paladins stripped materials out of the base itself.
After countless iterations, a final design was settled on and assembly began in an escavated pit to cradle the vessel and keep it upright. Weeks and months passed; the ocean brazenly creeping closer, and the Ark progressing from bare bones to monolithic sea-faring monster and eventually, new home. The vigour and excitement of building gave way to a tense wait – the completed Ark couldn't launch until the land beneath sank into the ocean, hopefully leaving the untested vessel floating on the surface.
Washington or Bust
They didn't have to wait long, but those weeks were tense times, moreso than when the Master's army threatened, simply because everyone could see fate creeping closer; the final days with water lapping at the hull were near intolerable. The water level rose, leaks were summarily patched, but eventually the Ark began to rise with the tide. It floated!
After another impatient week, the time came to power up the propulsion and journey onward. With no maps extending beyond California, the only logical solution was to follow the coastline, and the chosen destination was Washington to the north, and the city of District Columbia. Although it was likely the once mighty capital was one of the most heavily bombed targets of the Great War, it was just as likely to be a treasure trove of pre-war artifacts.
So the Brotherhood sailed onward, ready for the next chapter – Into the Capital Wasteland!
--
I think I probably packed too much into such a short story, but there's my entry for better or worse.
