New Vegas: Sheason's Story

Chapter 86: Democracy Inaction

The next day - around ten in the morning - we all left for Vault 11. The atmosphere in the car was... well, I don't want to say "frosty," but it was definitely on the quiet side. ED-E was back at the Lucky 38, helping April and Emily. Arcade was in the backseat, with his nose buried in a book. Raul was keeping pace right behind us on his motorcycle. And Boone... was just being Boone.

Cass and Veronica had me really worried, however. I'm pretty sure the two of them had talked last night, but I'd made myself scarce as soon as I'd brought Cass back to the Lucky 38, so I don't know for certain. I'm guessing that something happened, though, because they were sitting on opposite ends of the car (Veronica sitting behind me and Cass riding shotgun) and were very pointedly not talking to one another or anyone else.

I know I've experienced longer trips in the car, and definitely quieter trips, but the tension was just so unbearably awkward that I really had to stop myself from breathing a sigh of relief when we finally arrived at the entrance to the Vault, and Veronica broke the silence when she stepped out of the car.

"I still can't believe you're wearing that getup," Veronica shook her head as Raul parked his motorcycle. "I thought it was just supposed to be a joke or something!" Raul tipped back his sombrero and started chuckling to himself.

"You know, I think Veronica is jealous de mi dulce estilo, Boss." He grinned a yellow-toothed, cracked grin at me. Veronica seemed at a loss for words, and just kept shaking her head.

"I like it," Arcade chimed in from behind me. Everyone turned to look at him - even Raul - in disbelief. "What? It's distinctive. I mean, with a hat that size, it's not like we're going to mistake him for any of the myriad baddies who're trying to kill us all the time, are we?"

"Silhouette recognition," Boone nodded, gazing over in my direction. "Useful in nighttime firefights. Especially for those of us without cybernetic eyes." A small hint of a smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"You know, we could always go back to Usanagi's clinic, and replace your eyes so you can see in the dark," I offered up half-sarcastically as I opened up my car's truck and started rummaging around for supplies. "With all the caps we have, I'm sure we could afford it."

"I think I'll pass," Boone said, actually smiling... but only for a second.

"Alright then, fearless leader," Arcade said (holding back obvious laughter) as I leaned over the open trunk. "What's in store for us with today's underground death-trap? I mean, we've already had drug-addled raiders and giant mutant plants trying to kill us. Will it be super mutants this time? An army of evil clones? Giant, fire-breathing geckos?"

"No idea," I said honestly as I pulled Arcade's armor out of the trunk, and shoved it up against his chest. "Boone and I got a bit... distracted before we could recon the Vault too much the other night, so I have no idea what's waiting for us down there."

"Distracted nothing," Boone growled, grabbing a few magazine's worth of ammo and a pair of grenades. "We were ambushed by more Legion assassins." Boone looked over his shoulder and off to the side, at a rock formation close to the Vault entrance. "Yup. Still there." Sure enough, there were the four Legion corpses, still lying there, completely stripped of anything useful or valuable.

"... Why are they all sitting up like that?" Veronica asked, pointing at the bodies. "Please tell me you didn't pose them."

"Of course he did," I muttered, shaking my head.

"Sends a message back to the Legion." Boone said simply. "When Vulpes' spies find them - and they will find them - it'll let the Legion know this hit squad didn't just come across a wandering deathclaw. Let them know the hunters are being hunted."

"More assassins, huh?" Raul asked, looking off in the direction of the corpses as he busied himself loading one of his shotguns. "How many does this make now, Boss?"

"I don't know. I've stopped counting." I slung the G36 over my shoulder. "But I swear, if I ever see Vulpes again, I'm going to rip out his spine and beat him to death with it."

"Really?" Boone seemed confused. "For sending so much free ammo, supplies, and tradable commodities our way?"

"You know, that's one thing I haven't figured out," I said, internally debating with myself on which SMG to take: MP5, or 12.7mm? "These hit squads are supposed to be highly trained assassins, right? But we've been cutting through them like a Shiskebab through brahmin meat. Do these guys just suck, or are we really that good?" I put the MP5 back in the trunk. I may have had more ammo for the MP5, but the 12.7 has more punch - and I had no idea what to expect down in the Vault. Best to play it safe with as much overkill as I could carry.

"Little of column A," Boone said with a shrug. "Little of column B." And with that, Boone started walking toward the entrance to the Vault, with Veronica, the now armed-and-armored Arcade, and Raul following close behind.

Cass, on the other hand, seemed rooted in place. She was leaning against my car, staring off after Veronica. It hadn't escaped my notice that Cass hadn't said a word to me (or, presumably, anyone else) at all today.

"Cass?" I was going to approach her, but hesitated, deciding to stay where I was at this end of the car. I grabbed my helmet out of the trunk, and shut the lid. "You alright?"

"Yep," is all she said. She didn't look back at me, and kept her arms folded across her chest. I didn't say anything else until I made sure my helmet was securely strapped onto my head.

"Sober?" I asked. That got her to look back. It was a death glare, but still.

"What do you think?" Well, it was certainly believable now - not a single slurred syllable. "I just love having to deal with all my shit sober..."

"Cass, I..." I hesitated, not really knowing what I should say. In the end, it didn't matter because she cut me off before I could get too far anyway.

"Drop it." Cass shook her head and pulled back the charging handing on her AA-12 like punctuation. "Let's just find this whatever-the-fuck-it-is that Veronica needs, and get the fuck out of here."

The entrance to the Vault was inside a cave, behind a simple, unassuming and inconspicuous wooden door built into the rock. I gave the wooden door a gentle shove... and the planks gave a single creak before giving out and collapsing into a pile of splintered wood and sawdust at my feet. I stood there, staring at the pile a bit confused before letting out a sigh.

"I swear, that worked fine the other night..." Someone stifled a laugh from behind me as we all filed into the cave, but I couldn't tell who it was. So I just ignored it and headed deeper inside.

"Alright, I've got a question," Arcade asked. "If you and Boone didn't actually recon this place the other night, how are you sure this is even the entrance to the Vault?" I turned to look at him questioningly; his face was lit up green by the glow of his plasma rifle.

"Really?" I did my best to contain my annoyance. I'm not sure it worked. I pulled out a flashlight and shined it at the end of the cave; illuminated by the shaft of light was a large gear-shaped metal door, with a faded (but still visible) number "11" in the center. I mounted the flashlight on one of the side rails on the G36 after everyone got a good look, and walked to the door. "Give me a little credit, Arcade. This isn't amateur hour over here."

Next to the giant steel door was a rusted control panel. It was lit up by a pair of tiny lights at the top, and obviously still had power, so I pulled the main lever on the door control. Just like the entrance to Vault 3, a klaxon sounded from some unseen speaker and the yellow light above the door began to spin and flash. However, unlike Vault 3, this door seemed... in worse shape. When it slid inward, it did so much slower than the entrance to Vault 3, and it sounded much more forced - the metal grinding against rusty metal screeched and howled and sent out a shower of sparks from every crevice.

"It doesn't look like this place has been open for a long time..." Veronica said as soon as the sparks and smoke settled. "Anyone else getting a bad feeling about this?" I had to admit... there was definitely something that felt... wrong about this place. I couldn't explain it. But I decided against saying anything.

Of course, when I stumbled across the four skeletons lying on the ground a few feet away from the entrance, I didn't think I needed to.

"Damnit," I sighed, making sure the flashlight shined on the circle of ancient corpses. "Think someone can get some lights on in here?" As if on cue, there was a clunk that echoed in the chamber, and the two cracked yellow lights in the ceiling flickered dimly to life with a buzz. I looked around, and realized Raul was near a junction box, giving me a thumbs up.

"Interesting..." Arcade's voice seemed to take on a strange, almost detached tone as he knelt down over one of the skeletons. He leaned in close to one of the skulls, and ran a finger along the sides. Then he leaned over another, looking at the same spot. "It looks like all four died from self-inflicted bullet wounds." He took one of the skulls in his hand and rotated it so I could see; sure enough, there was a rather large hole in the side.

"Any idea how long they've been dead?" Cass leaned over Arcade, trying to get a better look. Arcade just shook his head and shrugged.

"More than a year? That's about as accurate a number I can give, only based on the visual decomposition. If I were to take samples of the bone and run them through..."

"I'm interested," Cass cut him off tersely. "But not that interested, Arcade. Shut up."

"No need to guess what they used..." Boone picked up a 10 millimeter pistol off the floor... and then looked back and forth from the gun in his hand, to the skeletons, and then back to the gun. "Strange..."

"What's strange, compadre?" Raul leaned against the nearby railing. "Seems pretty straightforward to me. Haven't you ever seen the results of a suicide pact before?"

"There's four bodies... but five pistols." Boone looked back at the skeletons... and then set the gun back on the ground.

"What do you suppose happened here?" Veronica set the pommel of Oh, Baby! on the ground, leaning against it like a cane. Before any of us could answer, there was a burst of static from a speaker off to my left. Arcade was standing at a nearby terminal, his face illuminated green by the monitor.

"Are we really going to do this?" A man's voice emerged from between the bursts of static. His voice echoed in the room. "It's open. We could just... leave."

"I couldn't," A female voice with a southern drawl to her accent spoke up. "Not after that."

"We don't deserve to leave," said a second male voice.

"A shining example..." A third male voice sighed. "That's what it called us..."

"But we were!" The first man spoke up again. "We did what we were supposed to!"

"Not by a long shot," A fifth voice sounded off, another man.

"Anybody would have done what we did..." The first man said, almost pleadingly.

"You ask me, that's exactly the problem," the woman snapped. "Now let's get on with this already!"

"I'll go first..." I couldn't tell which of the men was speaking, but I definitely recognized the sound of a pistol being loaded.

"Wait - wait!" The first man spoke up yet again. "People should know what happened... don't you think? I mean... they could learn from it!"

"If there's anyone out there at all," The last man spoke up. "I hope they never have to find out what happened here. Ready, Harry?"

"Yeah." I think this was the second man to speak, but I couldn't be certain from a single syllable word.

"No, no, NO! Wait!" The first man pleaded. There was a burst of static on the recording, and it almost muffled the sound: four 10mm gunshots in quick succession. There was a very long silence... and then there was a heavy sigh. There was a clattering sound - probably the gun being dropped - followed by the sounds of footsteps, and then the sounds of the Vault door closing. There was one last burst of static, and the audio cut out.

"What..." Veronica seemed mortified. "Why would it... I mean... what was that?"

"Security log," Arcade explained, continuing to lean over the terminal. "The system automatically recorded the event when it detected motion in the entryway. It's probably recording us right now. But that was the last log before the system went into standby mode..." He tapped on the keyboard and adjusted his glasses before they could fall off his nose. "... huh. According to this, the Vault has been running on backup power for... just over three decades? Well, I guess that's how long these people have been dead..."

"Alright, I think we're getting a little distracted here," I said, stepping over the skeletons and toward the door that led deeper into the Vault. "Grisly as this may be, we're not here to figure out what happened. I mean, knowing our luck, we'll probably stumble across the answers anyway, but we're here to look for that... part... uh..." I turned to Veronica. "What was it called again?"

"A differential pressure controller."

"Right, that," I nodded. "Any suggestions on where we should start looking?"

"Probably the Overseer's terminal. That's where we found the inventory list of spare parts in Vault 3."

"Then that's where we should start." I pulled back the charging handle on the G36. "Alright everyone - get military. All the other Vaults we've been to have been dangerous, and there's no reason to think this one is going to be any different. Let's go."

This place was seriously starting to creep me out.

There were a couple reasons for this, not the least of which was the complete absence of anything or anyone. I'd been checking the motion tracker in my helmet, the radar on my Pip Boy, and cycling through the various different vision modes with my cybernetic eyes, but as far as I could tell... we were the only living things in the Vault. Normally, people not shooting at me and monsters and mutant animals not trying to eat me would be a good thing. But at the moment, I would've welcomed the distraction with open arms and a loaded assault carbine.

I honestly can't remember if I've mentioned this before, but I do not like venturing underground. The air always seems to feel wrong when you go deep enough underground, and the walls always end up feeling way too close. I can deal with it, sure, but only if I'm distracted. Usually by something trying to kill me, but not always. And right now, without any obvious, tangible threat (like the robots in House's securitron Vault, the fiends in 3, or the plants and fungus-zombies in 22) my mind kept reminding me of how many tons of rock were currently above my head, and how even the slightest nudge could cause it all to come crashing down...

It didn't help that the lighting was so dim. Yes, there were lights, and yes, most of them were on without us having to find the switches, but they were cracked, and gave off a dim sickly yellow glow that made me wonder if total darkness wasn't the better option. Not to mention the creaks and rattles that echoed off the empty walls intermingling with the constant drone of some kind of huge machinery working in some far-off, deep corner of the Vault...

With nothing to shoot at, all these little details were piling up in my psyche and setting off my paranoia something fierce.

To cap everything off, the posters plastered all over the walls were really starting to screw with my head. They were like the kind of campaign posters politicians in the old world would put up to promote themselves: big bold letters, prominent names, red white and blue color schemes... except there was a problem. The content of all the posters was completely back-asswards: "Don't vote Glover: his family needs him!", "Haley is a known adulterer & communist sympathizer. Elect Haley for Overseer!", "Rumors about Haley are baseless! Vote Stone for Overseer!", "I Hate Nate!", and so on. It was almost like... but why would...

"Hey guys?" Veronica's voice sounded off from one of the nearby rooms behind me, breaking my train of thought. "I think I found something..."

"Yeah? What've you -" I cut myself off as soon as I walked in. Veronica was at one end of the room, hunched over a terminal... but on the other end of the room was a sandbag wall, with a skeleton slumped over it, the bony fingers somehow still clutching the assault rifle in its hands. Behind him (or her, I couldn't tell from the bones...) was a series of weapons lockers. "What's with your friend?"

"I'm not sure," Veronica said, typing away. "But I found something... well... strange. According to this, the residents of this Vault would select a new Overseer every year, by way of a democratic election."

"I thought you might've found the location of the part you were looking for?" I asked. Veronica shrugged.

"Not yet. But... I dunno. The bodies at the entrance, the recording, the posters..." Before Veronica could continue, Raul let out a laugh.

"Well, that's a relief. I thought my eyes were going the way of my knees, and were playing tricks on me."

"No, we've all seen them," Veronica sighed. "And it's... I don't know about you, but something sinister happened here, and I think we should try and find out what." I sighed, and gave a shrug.

"Alright, I could use the distraction anyway. What have you found?" As I spoke, Arcade brushed his way past me, and joined Veronica at the terminal.

"According to some of the files in here, the residents of the Vault would elect a new Overseer every year in a democratic election, but..." She looked at the screen curiously, scratching her head. "...but it was like they were trying to intentionally vote for the worst candidates possible. Liars, thieves, adulterers, drug addicts..."

"Just sounds like politicians to me," Boone said dryly.

"Well yeah," Veronica shrugged. "But when you look at the statements the candidates made when they were nominated, it makes me think that nobody wanted the job anyway."

"The hell?" Arcade scratched his head. "That... doesn't make sense. Does it?"

"No idea," Veronica continued typing away at the keyboard. "But there's something else. Something called Overseer Order 745. It was the last order issued by the last Overseer, to every terminal in the Vault shortly before the systems went into standby mode. The order ended the elections permanently, replacing it with a system where a new Overseer would be chosen at random from the Vault population by the mainframe's random number generator."

"Hang on, what's that?" Arcade asked, pointing at the screen. "It looks like an audio file."

"Another one, huh?" Boone asked flatly. "Wasn't one snuff tape enough?" The terminal let out a burst of static, and the sounds of a conversation between two people filled the room.

"Okay," A male voice spoke up from the speaker. "Let's pick up where we left off, Kate."

"Katherine," the woman replied tersely. The man cleared his throat.

"Yes. Sorry, right. Katherine. I keep forgetting."

"My husband calls me Kate," She said with annoyance.

"You were telling us of a discussion you allegedly had with Roy Gottlieb of the Justice Bloc -" the man was cut off before he could continue.

"Not allegedly," Katherine said. "Had. We've been through this."

"It's still just your word against his, Ms. Stone. But please, the discussion." There was a female sigh.

"He said my husband's name had come up in their meetings."

"The candidate endorsement meetings?" the man asked.

"Yes. They were going to endorse him. He wouldn't say why, but I know my husband had a regular poker game with some of them, and he'd been on a winning streak lately."

"And according to you, what did Mr. Gottlieb offer?"

"He said he could sway his voting bloc," Katherine replied. "Prevent the endorsement. But only if I..." She trailed off, and gulped audibly.

"Only if you what, Katherine?"

"Only if... I..." She sighed heavily again.

"Only if you performed sexual favors," the man finished her sentence for her.

"...Yes." Katherine said the word with disgust.

"Was this just for Mr. Gottlieb?" There was a long pause.

"No. All the bloc leadership. Their... friends..."

"And you agreed?" The man asked.

"What else could I do?" Her voice had a defeated resignation. "They had a majority..."

"How long did this go on before the endorsements came out?"

"I don't know. A month, maybe."

"And when they came out," the man continued "and your husband was endorsed despite your supposed agreement, was that when you decided to kill members of the bloc?"

"Yes," Katherine said flatly. "I thought, their majority is pretty slim. If I thinned things out a little, especially in the leadership, someone else might get elected."

"Assuming you weren't caught." Then, something unexpected happened: there was soft laughter on the recording. Katherine's laughter.

"No, Mr. Miles. I expected to be caught. That was my best chance. Now they'll have to elect me." I looked around, and realized that everyone in the room listening to the recording looked as surprised as I felt.

"A confessed murderer?" The man - Miles, apparently - said with shock in his voice. "You think voters would be willing to risk putting you in charge?"

"They have to pick somebody and live with their reasons," She said flatly.

"Yes, but-"

"Wait and see." The audio file beeped an end, leaving a strange silence hanging in the room...

"Veronica," I spoke up, as the gears in my head started turning around and around. "That Overseer order you mentioned. 745. Who ordered it?"

"Um..." Veronica typed away at the keyboard again. "Overseer Order 745, issued by... Katherine Stone, Vault Overseer."

Well, at least now I had something else to focus on.

The deeper and deeper we descended into the Vault, the more obvious the signs of conflict became. It wasn't just sandbag barricades either: more and more skeletons, bullet holes in the walls, splattered patches of decade-old dried blood, blast marks from explosives, the remains of traps and tripwires... even a few collapsed tunnels barring our paths.

It wasn't until we found a working terminal in the living quarters that we got an explanation for all this carnage. It had a security recording from the Justice Bloc HQ, with two unidentified men talking to one another: plotting a coup. After Katherine Stone had been elected Overseer and taken away the elections, they were terrified of losing their power, so they wanted to start an armed revolution. "Laws don't outlast their governments," one of them had said.

This place had been plunged into a civil war. This place had killed itself - ripped itself apart in violence and bloodshed... and for what? Because of some stupid election? What was so damned important about the Overseer job, anyway? What was so important about a job that nobody wanted?

As I was trying to work out all of this in my head, we wandered into the Atrium. This room was bigger than anywhere else in the Vault - easily two stories, maybe more. Hell, it even had a balcony. Like the rest of the Vault, it was falling into disrepair, but there were no signs that there had ever been any fighting in here. At one end of the long rectangular room was a wall still covered in campaign posters (the only one in the room), and a speakers podium. The rest of the room was filled with a large, U-shaped table and dozens of chairs all facing the podium.

I looked around the atrium, and realized that we may have made a bit of an error coming this way. The only way out was the same way we came in. I was about to say something when all the lights in the room shut off with a clunk.

"Oops..." Boone muttered. I spun around at the sound. He was standing at a terminal mounted on the wall that was obviously active.

"What did you do?" Veronica asked, worry creeping into her voice.

"I don't... uh..." He trailed off, and I realized there was a blue glow coming from behind me. I turned around, and was amazed to find dozens of ghostly blue images now in the room. There were people all wearing Vault jumpsuits sitting around the U-shaped table (some of them hovering in the air, sitting on chairs that weren't there anymore), and one man standing at the podium. They almost looked like the holograms from the Sierra Madre, but... different somehow. I looked up and saw a series of blue lights obviously projecting the images into the room.

"Is this... what is this?" Arcade asked. "Is this... a recording?" The ghost at the podium - a portly, balding man wearing a sash over his Vault jumpsuit - cleared his throat and adjusted his collar. That's when I realized the sounds were coming from the ceiling, and not from the images being projected.

"Good afternoon," the man said, gripping the podium again. "Each year, it is the appointed task of the ombudsman not only to officiate the election, but to chronicle it in hopes that after the last Overseer has finished his term and walked to his death in the sacrificial chamber beneath his office, and the Vault has become still, that one day some excavator from humanity or perhaps some yet-unknown race of super beings might find our records and incorporate them into historical canon." As he spoke of the Overseer, he looked up and behind him - at the circular window in the wall above him.

"Did he just..." Cass said softly. "Did he say what I think he said?" Arcade shushed her.

"Quiet, I'm trying to listen!"

"But lately..." The balding man at the podium sighed. "It's occurred to me that that's not really why. I think the real reason we do it is because we want to believe that somewhere in the archives... there's an answer to all of this. Or, perhaps, there will be one when the historical records are completed and the whole story is told. We want it to make sense. To understand why the Vault's mainframe will kill us if we do not offer one of our own as a yearly sacrifice. To fully comprehend why we continue to have these elections despite the unfettered corruption that has plagued it for what must be decades by now. There was a simpler time when elections meant shaking hands and kissing babies. But now..." He shook his head. "With the rise of the Voting Blocs and this infestation of bribery, drug trafficking, smuggling, and God knows what else... we want to know why."

As he spoke, I walked up to the projected image standing at the podium, trying to get a better look at the hologram. It was definitely cruder than the holograms at the Sierra Madre; the image was grainy, and wasn't quite so well focused as the Madre holograms. The image blurred whenever he moved, and the edges of the images weren't nearly as well defined either. I brushed a hand through it, and the image flickered slightly.

"Well, I've been through the archives," the man continued, adjusting his sash and shaking his head. "and I can tell you that you won't find the answer there. You'll find an account of the first Overseer, who entered the Vault as the only citizen aware of the sacrifices that would have to take place. But he didn't have the answers either. If he did, surely he would have foreseen the citizens' anger when he broke the news. Surely he would've guessed that they would want to choose a sacrifice democratically, in the way we citizens are accustomed to washing our hands of terrible deeds. Surely he would've guessed that his name would be at the top of the polls, and that the simultaneous vacancy of Overseer and Martyr would forever fuse the two positions here in Vault 11." The man sighed heavily again. "But he didn't. He no more had the answers than any of us. The records state that after the citizens discovered that the sacrificial chamber's password was the name of his wife - Betty - and its door was unsealed so he could be offered as the first sacrifice... he walked into that room crying like a child."

I looked back at my friends; everyone was transfixed, watching the holographic recording of this speech unfold.

"I can only wonder if there are no answers to be found," the man continued. "Perhaps we are just going along with this because we don't see any other choice. Nevertheless, I still hold onto hope that we can find one. I urge you all to take the journey I took - to remember that it wasn't so long ago that we were ruled by our civility and our dignity, and that those were times when we didn't have to feel quite so... ashamed." The man nodded. "Thank you." The ghostly audience listening to him rippled with applause as he walked away from the podium... and then the images faded into nothing. There was a clunk in the ceiling, and the lights slowly faded back on.

"Well, that explains why nobody wanted the job, Boss," Raul was the first to speak.

"Those were holograms, definitely," Arcade mused, turning to me. "Sheason, were those like -"

"No," I shook my head, knowing exactly what he was going to ask. "Those weren't like the Sierra Madre holograms at all. Kind of makes me wonder how many different types of holograms there are. This has been, like, the third different kind of hologram I've seen..."

"That..." Veronica was looking around, gaze unfocused and mouth agape, like she couldn't quite process what she'd just witnessed. "That was this Vault's experiment, wasn't it? Kill one person so the rest of the Vault could live?"

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few - or the one..." Arcade shook his head. "That's..."

"Fucked up," Cass finished for him.

"But why..." Veronica kept shaking her head. "Why would they - I mean - that doesn't make sense..."

"How long would that go on?" Boone asked softly, still rooted to the floor next to the terminal.

"Less than 200 years, obviously," Raul offered up dryly. "Otherwise there'd still be people living here." I had to keep myself from laughing, despite the grim realizations that had just come to light. Maybe I wanted to laugh as a coping mechanism, because... this was seriously some fucked up shit. There were no other words for it. I shook my head.

"Alright, c'mon people. Let's focus on what's important." I pointed up at the circular window. "If I had to guess, that's the Overseer's office, so that's where we need to go. We also know the password to get into the terminal up there is Betty. So, let's go there, find the differential pressure controller, and get the fuck out of here, before this place gets any weirder."

Less than fifteen minutes later, we managed to find the Overseer's office. It looked like the fight had been pretty heavy on the way here, and when we finally opened the door to the office we found a skeleton sitting in the chair at the circular desk... with a pistol in its bony hand, and a hole in its skull. The computer terminal behind the desk was splattered with dried blood that had gone black.

"Alright, Veronica," I stepped into the room, and walked over to the circular window. "You're up."

"Gee, thanks." Veronica grumbled; she balled up some of the cloth on her robes, trying to wipe away the decades-old dried blood partially obscuring the screen. She tapped away for a few minutes... and then suddenly stopped, stepping away from the terminal. "Uh... Sheason? You're not going to like this."

"Oh, great. What now?" I walked to the terminal and leaned over to take a look. Veronica pointed at a few lines of code.

"Well... I found the last working differential pressure controller in the Vault. It's still installed in the HVAC system... next to the mainframe."

"So?" I asked, a bit confused. "What's the problem?"

"Well, I looked at the map for the Vault..." Veronica tapped a few keys, and the screen changed to a map similar to what was available on my Pip Boy. "... and the only way to get to the mainframe is by going into the sacrificial chamber."

A very heavy silence hung in the air.

"Of course it is..." I muttered, shaking my head. "Well, go on then." Veronica stared at me, like she didn't understand what I'd said. "Open it up."

"Wh - you can't be serious! You're going to walk in there? Willingly? We don't even know what's down there!"

"No, we don't," I said. "But I'm not planning on dying today, and I'm not leaving until we get what we came for. Besides," I held up the G36. "I'm pretty sure whatever is down there is counting on whoever enters being unarmed."

"I'm not letting you go in there alone," Veronica said flatly. "I'm coming with you."

"Me too," Boone gave a single curt nod.

"Same here," Cass leveled her shotgun, giving me a nod. I was silently relieved - I half expected her to stay behind, considering how mad she was with me.

"Might as well join the party," Arcade added with a smile.

Another heavy silence hung in the air as we all looked at Raul.

"Have fun, Boss!" He smiled at me with a wave... and then shook his head. "Nah, I'm just messin' with ya. I'm coming too." I laughed inside my helmet, and gave Veronica a nod. She pressed a single key on the terminal.

The whole room shook. The curved desk began to rise up slowly, causing the pistol and the forearm bones still holding it to fall off the skeleton and clatter to the floor. A panel in the floor slid away with a creak and a groan, and suddenly there was a short staircase that led into a tunnel. With me in front, the six of us descended one at a time.. and then, something unexpected happened. As we started walking down a very long, dimly lit (and completely untouched) hallway, a voice come over the speakers.

"Congratulations, martyr!" The voice seemed a little too... enthusiastic. "Your fantastic journey is only just beginning! Please, proceed to the light." As if on cue, the door at the end of the hallway slid down and opened, flooding the end of the hall in bright light, that only seemed to get brighter the closer we got.

"The light is calming, and puts your mind at ease," the voice said. "Go to the light." By now, I'd gotten to the door, and the light was so bright, I couldn't see anything else - but I did hear the sound of a door slamming shut behind me.

"Sheason!" I couldn't tell who shouted. It could've been Veronica, but it almost sounded like Cass... I don't suppose it really mattered.

"Oh, fuck!" I spat through gritted teeth just as soon as my vision returned. I looked around, and realized that, yes indeed, the door leading out had closed. "Why am I getting a nasty sense of dj-vu?" As I spoke to myself, the lights began to dim.

"Sheason, hold on!" The same muffled voice spoke up - it was definitely Cass. "Don't do anything! We can... just hold on! We'll get the door open!"

"Welcome!" The enthusiastic voice said from a speaker behind me. I looked around at the far end of the room, and saw a projector pointing at an empty patch of wall, a red easy chair, and a small table sitting next to it, with a flowerpot (complete with fake flowers), an empty bottle of liquor, and an ashtray. "Please, sit in the chair. The show is about to begin."

"Uh-uh." I stood in place, refusing to move. "I'm not falling for that trick again." After a short pause, the voice spoke up again.

"The show requires that you sit in the chair." I looked around the room, trying to figure out exactly where the voice was coming from, but stayed rooted in place. How long would it take them to break through the door? Assuming they even could...

"It is absolutely essential that you sit in the chair." As the voice spoke this time, the projector lit up with a hum. I looked back at the door, and then back at the chair...

"You have no other choice. You must sit in the chair."

"... Fuck." Slowly, I walked forward. "I just hope if there's gas like in Elijah's bunker, the filters on this damn helmet work..." Slowly - cautiously - I sat in the chair. The projector clicked, and the white square projected on the wall flipped up like a slide show. The words "HAPPY TRAILS" (complete with quotation marks) were projected on the wall in cartoon-like letters.

"Greetings, martyr, and welcome!" The voice said, as the slide show progressed with more cartoony slides. "If you're here now, it means you've been offered up as a sacrifice so that your Vault can continue to thrive. Currently, you may be feeling sad or angry. Perhaps you never got to have grandkids, or you never got to enjoy the pleasures of a fresh cigar. But march with your chin held high, soldier, and remember that each of us has an important role to play!" I don't know why, but this voice reminded me a bit of Yes-Man. The forced enthusiasm, maybe... "For some people, their role might be to heal the sick. For others, it might mean they will drive a racecar or fly a rocket ship. And some of us are meant to forfeit our lives for the good of the people. Sure, it might not be as fun as driving a racecar, but it's every bit as important."

"I didn't think driving a racecar was important, even before the bombs..." I muttered. The slides switched again; each slide was focused on the same smiling cartoon man, who I finally recognized as the Vault Boy: the Vault Tec mascot.

"Let's take a moment to reflect on the moments that made your life worth living. Think about that time you kissed your steady girl for the first time under the bleachers at the big game! Or when you snuck out after curfew to catch that new flick that your parents wouldn't let you see because it was too scary. Boy, were they right!"

"I never met my parents," I said aloud, even though I knew the voice couldn't hear me. "And thank you so much for bringing that up, I really appreciate that."

"And who could forget when you met the love of your life? What a looker!" Even the forced enthusiasm couldn't make that sound convincing. "These are just examples. Do you feel that stirring in your chest as you think of these things? Good. What you are feeling... is peace."

"No, what I'm feeling is pissed," I growled, gripping the G36 tighter...

"You've led a great life. Living it has been its own reward! But it is only the beginning." The slides switched again. The Vault Boy looked like he was meditating under the silhouette of a tree. "Close your eyes now, and imagine what joys await you in the next life - the afterlife. Can you see them? Good."

Without warning, the projector shut off; there was a clunk, and the room was flooded in darkness. I heard a strange mechanical whir come from behind me; I leapt forward out of the chair and turned around just in time to see a large mechanical arm - tipped with a large and dangerous looking needle - attached to the ceiling, and stabbing the air where I had been sitting seconds earlier.

As soon as it realized I'd moved, it "looked" up, focusing on me with a red laser sight, aimed the needle, and made to stab at me again. I grabbed the metal arm just behind the needle, bringing it to a halt inches away from my face, and struggled against it for a few seconds. I brought the G36 to bear, aiming it with one hand. The carbine barked, and a shower of sparks erupted from the joint in the ceiling keeping the arm in place. It went cold and lifeless, shuddering and falling limply out of my hands.

A series of loud clunks reverberated from the walls on either side of me... followed by a loud klaxon coming from the same speakers as the voice from either.

"Son of a bitch..." I growled under my breath as I kicked the chair into the table that held the projector, knocking them all over, and leveling the G36 with both hands. "I've got a bad feeling about this..." I cycled through the vision modes on my eyes as quickly as I could, and realized that the walls on either side of me were actually doors. Behind them I could see a mass of heat signatures and electrical signals pulsing and glowing brightly - and the shapes could only mean one thing:

"Fuck! Robots!" Just my luck - I didn't have any pulse grenades. But I did have a few plasma grenades and at least one microfusion cell grenade... and I did have armor piercing ammunition for the carbine. I took a hand off the carbine, pulled a grenade off my chest, and braced myself...

The doors started to slide out of the way; I tossed the plasma grenade in my hand off to my right, and kicked off the ground, running at full tilt toward the opening door on my left. Part of me was pointing out how incredibly stupid this was - especially since I was now face-to-face with a sentry bot that was leveling a minigun directly at my face.

I unloaded the G36 as I ran, and just as the sentry bot's minigun started to spin up, I angled my approach and slid against the smooth metal ground - sliding right between the front two legs of the tank-like robot.

It felt like time slowed down. I was vaguely aware of the massive explosion on the other end of the room. Just as I started to pass by the sentry bot's back leg, I grabbed hold of it, pulling myself up while simultaneously kicking off the ground with both feet as hard as I could. The next thing I knew, I was riding on the back of the sentry bot, holding on for dear life while it tried to shake me off like a bucking brahmin.

"THREAT ANALYSIS: RED! ENGAGING TARGET!" The metal voice of the robot boomed and resonated through the chamber. I scanned the back of the robot, and found a small port at the base of the robots head, right where it met the torso.

"This looks important!" And with that, I jammed the G36's muzzle into the port and pulled the trigger. There was a loud bark from the carbine, a shower of sparks, and what sounded like half a dozen rifle bullets entering the robot's chassis and bouncing around inside, ripping the internal electrics to shreds without the means to break through the outer skin.

"SYSSSS-TE-E-E-E" The sentry bot shuddered and spasmed, before finally leaning forward, powering down. Sadly, I didn't get a chance to celebrate, because at that precise moment, a missile flew through the air from the other side of the room and exploded at the feet of the sentry bot.

My world turned into nothing but fire and noise for a few seconds as I tumbled head over heels through the air, only coming to a stop because the force of the blast knocked me face first into the back wall. I collapsed to the ground in a heap, my carbine having been knocked out of my hands along the way. I shook my head, pushing myself up off the ground as fast as I could - part of me wanted to thank the armor for cushioning the blow, but that didn't seem... whatever, now is not the time to worry about that.

What I really needed to worry about was the robobrain rolling directly at me. It was a crude looking robot - just a giant metal cylinder mounted on a pair of tank treads, with flexible PVC pipes for arms flailing around. What pushed it into creepy territory (and what gave it the name 'robobrain,' presumably) was the glass dome sitting on top of the cylinder, and a brain wired into it, acting as the robot's... er, brain.

"I wish there was some other way we could have worked this out..." The robot's voice was heavily synthesized, but it was entirely too high - almost like it was a child speaking. Under different circumstances, I might've felt sorry for it. Or maybe unnerved at the very least. But it was aiming the laser mounted on the end of its claw-arm at me, so I couldn't really do anything except get up and tackle the robot before it could get off a shot.

I slammed my shoulder into the robot's chassis with a resounding metal clang, grabbing hold of the claw with one hand, and pushing it away. The laser discharged in the air behind me; I pulled out one of my combat knives, planted my foot on top of one of the treads, and plunged the knife directly into the top of the glass braincase. The glass cracked, and the brain inside started to twitch and writhe underneath the blade; the bio-med gel started leaking out of the cracks in the glass dome.

"Even I-I-I kno-o-ow that wa-a-a-a-a-a-" The robot shuddered, and slumped to the side, the knife planted firmly in the brain. I ducked back down, and started using the giant metal cylinder as cover. Good thing too: just as the robobrain stopped making noise, the sound of a rapidly spinning minigun filled the room, and all I could hear was round after round flying through the air, ricocheting against the armored metal chassis.

I practically welded my back to the broken robobrain, unslung the 12.7mm SMG, and grabbed my last microfusion cell grenade with my free hand. The barrage continued - the fire was so heavy, that most of the shots were going wide: hitting the floor, the ceiling, the back wall... I knocked away the pin on the makeshift grenade with my thumb, and tossed it over the broken robobrain in the vague direction of the minigun firing at me.

The explosion completely drowned out the minigun fire, and the shock shook the whole room. I gripped the SMG with both hands, and aimed around the robot. A blue and orange corona was lingering in the air behind the sentry bot - or, at least, what was left of it. The right arm with the minigun was completely gone, and the rest of the chassis was blackened and half-melted. I didn't hesistate. I just advanced on the robot, aimed the 12.7mm, and held down the trigger.

Sparks flew off the chassis with every impact. It was still trying to move, but it was like it couldn't even lift its arm-mounted missile launcher. The whole robot was jerking around unsteadily on the two undamaged legs. When the SMG ran dry, I tossed it aside and started firing with Roscoe. When Roscoe was emptied, I did the same, pulled out That Gun, took aim at its face, and fired off all five rounds. By now, I was so close I could've punched it. But instead, I just tossed That Gun aside and pulled out the Ranger Sequoia, burying the end of the barrel into one of the eye slits. I pulled the trigger, and the back of the sentry bots head exploded in a shower of sparks and shrapnel.

The robot finally stopped jerking... and then it fell backward, collapsing on the ground in a heap. For a few seconds after, nothing happened. I just stood there, breathing heavily, surrounded by piles of broken robots. I was about to go around, picking up all my discarded weapons when the door at the far end of the room exploded. Well... okay, the whole door didn't explode. The hinges and the heavy deadbolt lock evaporated in fire, and the bulky three-inch steel door shuddered, crashing to the floor with a resounding clang, surrounded by smoke and dust.

I was far enough away from the explosions that I didn't even really need to brace, but I still brought my arm up to cover my face instinctively. When the smoke cleared, I saw that everyone had rushed in with weapons drawn - with Cass and her AA-12 right up front.

"Hey guys!" I waved as calmly as I could muster, and the lot of them just stared at me dumbfounded. "You missed the party. If you'd come in earlier, I could've saved you some treats."

Cass shook her head; she somehow managed to look relieved and annoyed all at the same time. I probably would have made more jokes, but it seemed the Vault had other ideas. There was a heavy clunk behind me, right near where the microfusion cell grenade had gone off; quick as a flash, I aimed the Ranger Sequoia at the noise - and it sounded like everyone else had brought their guns to bear as well.

Apparently, there had been another hidden door, that decided to reveal itself by sliding into the ground. Behind the door was a computer mainframe, still running, still softly humming, and with a terminal on the front glowing green.

No one said anything. I just walked up to the mainframe carefully - not even thinking of lowering the Ranger Sequoia - until I reached the terminal. There was a function still open: a recording. Curiosity got the better of me.

"Sheason, what-" Veronica spoke up, but she paused when the speakers turned on.

"All right, I know you can hear me, so listen up," The voice on the speakers crackled to life. It sounded like one of the men from the first recording we'd heard in here. "There's five of us left. Five. Out of... I don't know how many. So... it's over. We've talked, and it's over. We're not going to send anybody else to die anymore. So shut off our water or gas us or do whatever it is you're programmed to do. But we're done listening to you!"

There was a pause on the recording. Suddenly, the room echoed with triumphant trumpeting, not entirely unlike ED-E's music.

"Congratulations, citizens of Vault 11!" The overly enthusiastic voice from before replied. "You have made the decision not to sacrifice one of your own. You can walk with your head held high knowing that your commitment to human life is a shining example to us all! And to make that feeling of pride even sweeter, I have some exciting news: despite what you were led to believe, the population of Vault 11 is not going to be exterminated for its disobedience. Instead, the mechanism to open the main Vault door has now been enabled! You can come and go at your leisure - but not so fast! Be sure to check with your Overseer to find out if it's safe to leave the confines of the Vault. Here at Vault-Tec, your safety is our number one priority!"