Case stepped out of the Sink and made the short trek to Higgs' Village. The scene at the forward operating base was exactly as Jacob had described: efficient, but weary. The "infinite armory" and robot vanguard had provided an edge, but the Big MT always found a way to draw blood.
He found Milla in one of the pre-war houses, Dala's house, they'd converted into a field hospital. The air smelled of antiseptic and ozone. She looked pale, her Reinforced Mark 2 armor stripped down to the undersuit, lying on a cot with a series of IV bags hanging above her. A Ranger medic was monitoring the flow of anti-venom and sedatives.
"Oh, Case... you won't believe this, but I can feel my whole body being burned, inside and out," Milla rasped, her voice thick from the Med-X. She gestured weakly with her bandaged hand. "Those fucking cazadores... they're a literal pain."
"On the bright side, you took over the facility, right?" Case asked, pulling up a stool beside her.
"Damn right we did," Milla whispered, a ghost of a defiant smirk crossing her face before her eyes fluttered. "Cleared the labs... found fucking cazadores." Her consciousness began to slip away under the weight of the sedatives.
"Get to sleep, Milla," Case said softly, checking her vitals on his Pip-Boy. "I'll handle the debrief. I want to hear what the team pulled from that crater."
Case walked out of the house, Corbin and Markus already surrounded the fountain, with a sack filled with holotapes, and Corbin also carried the antennae from X-2 on his back. They put the loot on top of a canvas tarp, neatly aligned.
There are ten LAERs, five Laser rifles, two Gatling lasers, three plasma rifles, two Gauss Rifles, a gauss gatling, some holotapes for the Sink Personality; Autodoc, Light Switch 01, Toaster, and Muggy; a bunch of microfusion cells, protonic inversal axes, fission batteries, and so on.
"This is quite a loot, Case. This place is heaven for any laser maniac," Corbin commented, wiping grit from his brow. "Personally, I prefer ballistics. Laser is... finicky, and a Brotherhood magnet."
"If that's your preference, I'll gladly take the Gatling Laser, Corbin," Markus said, his eyes lingering on the L40 frame. Unlike the L50 Gatling Lasers often seen on the East Coast that run on standard Fusion Cores, this model was calibrated for using Electron Charge Packs.
"Suit yourself, Markus," the ghoul nodded, a soft hiss escaping his seals as he pulled off his helmet. His irradiated skin looked even more weathered in the harsh Big MT light. "And Case, hope you don't mind, but we took over more area than you asked for. We took over the large gun, the Saturnite factory, the toxin factory, and this 'lightshow thingamagic' research center."
Case's eyebrows shot up. By securing the factories, they had the means of production. He was glad the Big MT had remained hidden and untouched by large raiding groups; otherwise, this place would have been picked clean to the barebones decades ago.
With Corbin's progress, the map was looking significantly "greener." Now, he only needed to take over X-13 and the surrounding research block. But he knew he couldn't do that effectively without Milla. He needed the Stealth Suit Mk II housed there, and he needed a specialist—someone with her stealth skill—to run the "basic training" tests to calibrate the suit's AI.
"Good work, Corbin," Case said, raising a thumb in genuine approval before eyeing the pile of holotapes.
"Hey, kid, it's your idea," Corbin replied, his raspy voice cracking slightly. "Now, let me get some R&R. This throat needs some water, and my joints need a break from that armor."
Markus waited for the ghoul to head toward the mess hall before turning his gaze back to Case. "Case, I hope you don't mind, but I left a few Rangers stationed at X-8. I think that place holds more than just data. We cleared the place of those cyberdogs—nasty pieces of work—but goddamn, we can't get through the second test."
"Wait, you've already done the basic test?" Case asked, surprised at their speed.
"We did it," Markus nodded, a look of annoyance crossing his face. "But that announcer... odd pair, I say. This Borous and Klein combo kept screaming through the speakers about communists and subversives. Goddamn, I know what it's like to be hated as a mutant, but pre-war 'commie' hate is so old school. It's like being yelled at by a museum exhibit."
Case chuckled. Dr. Borous was infamous for his "High School" obsession and his paranoid obsession with Chinese "communist" infiltration. "They're stuck in 2077, Markus. They can't help it."
"Whatever it is, the security in the second tier is different," Markus continued, tapping the barrel of his minigun. "The doors are reinforced with some kind of resonance field. Our standard fire isn't doing much but scratching the paint."
"Ok," Case said, the realization hitting him, looking at the gun being holstered on his hip. "You need my special gun, then. The Sonic Emitter."
"That's the point," Markus nodded, leaning in. "We can hold the perimeter, but if we want to see what they're hiding in the deeper labs, we need you to bring that frequency-blaster down there and crack the locks."
"I'll go there."
"Kid, don't go there with a simple marksman carbine," Corbin called out. Before Case could protest, the ghoul tossed a heavy G3 Assault Rifle through the air. It sailed with the weightless ease of a seasoned soldier's throw.
Case caught the weapon, feeling the cold, stamped steel and the solid weight of its build. Unlike the light, precision-based marksman carbine he'd been carrying, the G3 was a beast of burden. It was chambered in 7.62mm, a round that packed significantly more kinetic energy than the standard 5.56mm. Against the reinforced cybernetic plating of Dr. Borous's cyberdogs that extra punch was exactly what he needed.
"Use this," Corbin added, leaning against the fountain. "It'll punch through the armor of most dogs before they get close enough to taste you."
Case didn't hesitate. He swapped his gear on the spot, laying his old ammo and carbine on the dried stone of the fountain. He slapped a fresh magazine into the G3's magwell, pulled back the charging handle with a satisfying clack, and felt the tension of the spring. The gun was freshly oiled, the action smooth as silk. He grabbed five additional magazines from Corbin's own tactical rig, sliding them into his chest rig.
"Much better," Case muttered, adjusting the sling. "Corbin, would you kindly get Jacob back at the Sink? Hand him all of these holotapes—especially the Auto-Doc and the personality drives."
"Sure thing, why not?" Corbin replied, scooping up the heavy sack of data. He offered a toothless, rotted grin. "I also need to see what this command center you all are talking about. I hope that thing has whiskey and beer. If I'm going to be a 'high-tech consultant,' I'm doing it with a glass in my hand."
"Tell the Sink's Central Intelligence Unit to prioritize the Auto-Doc," Case called out as Corbin started the trek back toward the central dome. "We need Milla back on the line."
"Consider it done, boss," Corbin waved a skeletal hand without looking back.