Case gathered the veteran Rangers—those who truly kept the gears of the operation turning, the main team—along with Emily. After the Vertibird had been safely parked near the X-2 array and every inch of its hull scanned for trackers, the team reconvened at the Sink.
Amelia, Jacob, Corbin, and Jack circled the sleek, metallic table of the command center. Case stood at the head, a clipboard in hand and a heavy weight behind his eyes. He had plans—he always did—but the scale of their new reality was enough to make anyone's head spin.
"So, Boss... I feel like you're the official leader now, not gonna lie," Jack commented, resting his hands on the circular holographic rim of the Central Intelligence Unit. He was already wearing his newly up-armored IACP Riot Gear, though his helmet rested on the table beside him.
Corbin just shrugged, ever the pragmatist. "Jacob, Amelia, or Case... what's the difference? We're all pulling the same weight."
"Let's focus on the tasks at hand," Case interrupted, tapping his pen against the clipboard. "First and foremost: the impending refugee crisis. I have no doubt that as more Rangers return to our ranks, they'll keep rescuing Caesar's slaves. I've got nothing against the mission, but we need to survive it. Jacob... explain the numbers."
Jacob stepped forward, his fingers dancing across the holographic interface. He swiped away the Mojave maps and tactical data, replacing them with live feeds of their logistics.
Charts for bed availability and medical supplies flickered into view, but the food stockpile dominated the center of the table. The current stores were enough to feed thirty people for a month; if the population doubled, they'd be bone-dry in two weeks.
He then pulled up the schematics for the underground hydroponics bays. Production was already underway, with enough projected yield to support fifty additional people once the expansion was complete. However, they were looking at a one-week bottleneck before the first harvest was ready for the mess hall.
Emily then added, her holographic projection flickering as she pulled up a biological scan of the growing chambers, "The seeds from X-22 are exceeding all projections. Between the genetic modifications and our experimental hydroponic liquid, we're seeing massive growth rates. We should have a full harvest in a week or so."
Case leaned over the table, his expression hardening. "The food is a good start, but my main concern is security. I want every single refugee thoroughly scanned. X-rays, deep questioning—everything. We cannot afford to let a single Legion frumentarius slip into our midst. If they find out where we are, this whole sanctuary becomes a tomb."
"We've already initiated the protocols," Jacob replied, tapping a finger on his own data pad. "Only the children are being passed through without intense questioning for now. Every adult is being processed at the Yangtze facility. It's secure and isolated, at least until we have a reason to suspect we've got criminals among them."
Amelia nodded in agreement. "It's a temporary solution, but it works. At least until we can build a proper processing center closer to the perimeter."
"As for the housing," Emily chimed in, her avatar waving a hand dismissively as if to sweep away the problem. "Beds aren't exactly a high-tech challenge. We have plenty of base fabric materials and organic waste to choose from. I'm already handling the production of high-density biofibers—we can weave enough mattresses and blankets to keep everyone comfortable within forty-eight hours."
"Okay, that's one thing handled. What else?" Case asked.
"We've solved the bullet situation. For now, we're replacing the Service Rifles with AER9 Laser Rifles," Jacob explained. "It streamlines our logistics perfectly. With a bit of tuning, we've managed to get thirty high-powered shots out of a single Microfusion Cell (MFC). And since the ammo is recyclable, we're essentially self-sufficient."
"I don't recall that being easy," Case countered. "You can't just hook those up to a lead-acid battery. Even then, I didn't think it was as simple as plugging it into a wall charger. Honestly, I'm not even sure how they work."
Emily interjected, her holographic interface flickering as she pulled a detailed blueprint of a standard-issue MFC onto the CIU screen.
"At its core, a standard MFC is just a high-capacity battery," Emily explained, pointing to the glowing diagram. "And like any battery, it can be charged—but it requires a massive, sustained voltage that you'd normally only get from something like Hoover Dam. Most people in the wasteland just don't have the juice."
She gestured toward the blueprint for a charging station for MFC and Fusion Core, a massive box that could slot a lot of MFC at once, and four Fusion Cores at the same time. "The Big MT reactor acts like a massive jumper cable. We slot the dead cells into a charging rack, and the reactor hits them with a high-voltage 'kick.' That surge of power forces the atoms inside the cell to start smashing together again, re-igniting the miniature sun inside the casing."
"Ok…? I don't get the science," Case said, shaking his head. The idea of "re-igniting suns" in his pocket was a bit much for a man who preferred the simple mechanical thud of a semi-auto rifle.
Jacob let out a heavy sigh and leaned back. "Kid, look, don't try to overthink science. If it works, it just... works. All you need to know is that the ballistic performance is roughly the same as a 5.56mm Armor Piercing round."
"Not bad," Case admitted, leaning in. "Tungsten or Steel core equivalent?"
"Steel core," Jacob explained, tapping the holographic display. "Don't expect it to melt through a suit of T-51b or high-end Advanced Power Armor in one shot, but it'll punch through almost any scrap metal or leather the wastelanders are wearing. Legion plate, NCR chest pieces, Raider cages—it'll cook right through them."
"Ok," Case nodded, doing some mental math. "So how much are we carrying?"
"The standard loadout is 420 rounds per Ranger. With the integrated chest rig on our armor, that's just 14 Microfusion Cells. If you throw on a bandolier, you can carry even more without breaking a sweat."
"Double our current 5.56 loadout with half the weight," Case noted, impressed. "Not bad at all."
"It gets better," Corbin added, leaning over the table. "We're starting mass production on Reinforced Combat Armor Mark II. It's going to replace the basic plate armor the trainees are wearing. It's tougher, better padded, and handles high-velocity impacts significantly better." He paused, glancing at the terminal. "But Emily's got an even bigger plan for the IACP—the Riot Gear. She thinks we can push the platform even further."
"And the Power Armor?" Case asked, his mind drifting to the massive, hulking suits they'd recovered.
"Have you ever heard of Combined Arms?" Jacob asked, his voice taking on a tactical edge.
Case nodded. He knew the theory: infantry, armor, and air support moving in a synchronized dance where every element covers the other's weakness. It was a beautiful concept on paper, but in the Mojave, it was almost unheard of. The last major offensive that could claim to use it was ancient history.
"Think of this as a roadmap," Jacob continued, the holographic map shifting to show a tiered military structure. "In the near future, every single Ranger will be issued the Mark II Combat Armor as their standard. The Riot Gear becomes the specialized platform for our Special Forces, and the Power Armor serves as our heavy breakthrough infantry."
Case nodded and smiled.
"And to tie it all together," Jacob finished, "we'll be supported by a fleet of armored vehicles and the Vertibird. We're building a professional, modern army."
"Sounds impressive," Case admitted, leaning over the holographic table. "Alright, go on with your plan. But to get the materials for an army that size, we need to go to the Divide. That place is ripe for the taking right now. Plus, we can unlock a motherlode of Pre-War secrets and data while we're at it."
Jacob shrugged his shoulders and shook his head skeptically. "Sure thing, boss. But let's be real—the Divide is nothing but a localized apocalypse of sandstorms and high-pressure wind shears. You really think your weather machine fixed all that?"
"Correction," Emily interjected, her holographic form flickering with a hint of pride. "The Big MT weather-control array was actually causing havoc. It was stuck in a feedback loop, feeding the storms. We stopped the loop. Now? It should be... visitable. Mostly."
"'Mostly' is a comforting word when you're flying a Vertibird into a canyon," Jacob muttered. He then pulled a pencil and a piece of paper from his pocket. "What do you need for the expedition? I have no doubt that you want to tag along with them, don't you?"
"Woah, woah, wait, we aren't planning for an expedition yet, Jacob, we don't have enough men here, and let's be honest, we can skim the outskirts of Mojave for scraps metal, and let's remember, there's less treacherous place to visit."
"Such as?" Jacob tilted his head, the pencil still poised over his paper.
"Boulder City, the outskirts of the Mojave... the list goes on," Case replied, tracing a finger along the holographic map. "The Divide is a graveyard filled with high-end security bots and probably a few very unwelcome inhabitants who didn't get the memo about the world ending. We aren't ready for a full-scale war with Pre-War automated defenses."
Case tapped a flickering icon on the display, centering the image on the ruins south of the Dam. "Boulder City is a small town, but it still has enough scrap to keep our furnaces hot. The NCR hasn't fully grasped the area yet—they're too busy staring across the river at the Legion. That's where we're heading. We collect everything; we leave nothing."
He paused, looking around at the veterans, his voice dropping an octave to drive the point home. "Then, and only after we have enough personnel and weapons, we go to the Divide."
Jacob nodded, his pencil scratching across the paper as he adjusted the manifest. "I like it. It's a milk run compared to the Divide, but it's smart. We get the trainees some field experience without throwing them into a meat grinder."
"Exactly," Case said. "We use the Power Armor for the heavy lifting. We strip the rebar out of the collapsed buildings, haul the copper from the transformers, and maybe scavenge whatever else is left in the ruins."
"Ok, we will go with that plan, Case. Anything else to add?" Jacob asked, tucking his pencil behind his ear.
"That's it."
"So, this whole operation—the preparation, the scrap runs, the final raid on Hopeville—what do you want to call it?" Emily asked, her holographic avatar leaning forward as if ready to log a historic entry into the Big MT archives.
"Operation Earth Breaker."