=Four Weeks Later=
Case stood in the corner of a room in the underground X-17 medical center, his breath hitching slightly behind the thick filter of his radiation suit. The rubberized fabric was hot and smelled of industrial disinfectant, but it was a necessary shield in a room made for experiments.
"Science, science my ass. This thing is a pain in the ass," Amelia muttered. Her brow was furrowed as her gloved hands moved with clinical precision under the glass of the fume hood.
Hovering just over her shoulder was Dala. The scientist had been remarkably quiet, her screens dim and her sensors focused with an almost religious intensity on Amelia's every movement.
A team of Mr. Orderlies drifted back and forth like silver ghosts, carrying trays of vials and sterilized equipment between the hood and the single, miraculously functional Auto-Doc they had salvaged from the rubble.
The construction robots had done wonders with the X-17 ruins. What was once a tomb of collapsed rebar and dust was now a gleaming, sterile hospital. The modified lab room they were in was a masterpiece of jury-rigged engineering; heavy-duty fans hummed constantly, sucking the stagnant, spore-laden air through high-efficiency filters and venting it out into the crater's dead atmosphere.
"Focus, Amelia," Dala whispered, her voice no longer booming but vibrating with a strange, humming reverence. "Look at the bunch of tiny fungals dancing, and then dying, sleep well, mushroom."
"I'm observing, Dala. I'm also trying not to spill it," Amelia said, using the pipette to do the experiment.
The goal was simple: find a way to kill the fungus of X-22 before it could turn a living Ranger into a Spore Carrier. They had tested dozens of pre-war antifungals and improvised compounds.
So far, six drugs have shown promise until now. As a precaution, Amelia had instituted a brutal prophylaxis regimen. Every single living being was required to swallow the bitter, chalky pills once a day for a full week, ever since a week ago, Case included.
Despite the constant fear of a sudden cough or a suspicious green patch appearing on a man's skin, the camp remained clean.
"No infections today. Just like yesterday, and every day before that, Captain," Case noted, his voice sounding hollow and metallic behind his mask's respirator.
"Don't jinx it," Amelia replied, finally stepping back from the fume hood. She looked over at Case, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but still holding that sharp, clinical edge that kept the facility running, even through the distorting glass of her gas mask and the bulk of her rubber coveralls.
"As for the good news," Case said, his voice vibrating through the respirator, "food production is officially up and running. Between the seed samples and the X-22 chips, we've managed to start harvesting crops in the soil in front of Higgs Village and a few other barren patches. Give it enough time and the right irrigation, and the Big MT might actually turn green after all."
Amelia let out a dry, muffled laugh behind her mask. "Green. Real green. Not the 'eat your lungs from the inside' kind of green. I think the boys would appreciate that for a change."
The thought of fresh produce in the middle of a high-tech wasteland felt like a fever dream, but the data didn't lie. These weren't the withered, radiated stalks found struggling in the Mojave; they were specialized "Miracle Seeds" developed deep within the X-22 facility.
According to the data the Rangers had scrubbed from the retrieved chip, these strains were engineered for maximum efficiency. They were designed to shorten growth cycles by a lot and were practically immune to drought, engineered to thrive in the harshest conditions and explode in growth when introduced to more controlled, friendly environments.
Even in the unforgiving dust of the crater, a single kernel of corn could transform from a seed into a harvestable ear in a mere month.
The other specimens told the same story. Tomatoes, potatoes, and various leafy greens were all showing the same hyper-accelerated development, and when integrated with the facility's advanced hydroponics, the growth rates became almost frightening.
It was a horticultural miracle born of pre-war desperation. Sooner or later, at this pace, the Big Mountain would be reclaimed entirely, transformed from a graveyard of science into a lush, sprawling Nursery.
"We're turning this place into a breadbasket," Case said, his voice quiet. "If the NCR or the Legion knew what was growing under this dome, they'd march every man they have to our gates."
Amelia nodded, her silhouette dark against the glowing monitors. "Then it's a good thing they think this place is just a haunted myth. Let's keep it that way until we have enough steel to back up the soil."
"Wanna get some fresh air, Amelia?" Case asked, gesturing toward the heavy airlock that led out of the sterile medical wing.
"Maybe later, I need to finish this one first," Amelia replied without looking up, her attention already snapping back to the titration levels on her screen. She looked like a woman who wouldn't leave that room until she had successfully wrestled the laws of biology into submission.
"See you then, Amelia, Dala," Case said, waving a hand toward the pair as he stepped toward the exit.
"See you, my little teddy bear," Dala's voice cooed through the intercom, the static in her vocal processor sounding almost like a mechanical purr.
Case didn't look back, making a quick exit before Dala could elaborate on her "observations." He stepped into the decontamination cycle, the hiss of the air scrubbers drowning out the last of his own madness.
Case stood patiently as a Mr. Orderly hissed through its sterilization routine, its metallic claws working to unlatch the seals of his radiation gas mask. Once the heavy headpiece was removed, he took a deep, unfiltered breath of antiseptic. The X-17 hospital was still empty, as expected.
He rode the elevator to the surface, and as the doors slid open, he was greeted by a sight that seemed impossible just a month ago. The cleanup was well underway.
Groups of Rangers stood guard, leaning on their service rifles as they watched specialized construction robots haul away twisted rebar and rusted debris. The oppressive, cluttered skyline of the crater was opening up, revealing the sleek, retro-futuristic bones of the facility.
What had once been a jagged patch of dry, dead dirt near the elevator was now a carpet of soft, engineered grass. The Biological Research Station had been busy, seeding the area with a blend of resilient ground cover and small, hardy flowers that added splashes of color to the monochromatic landscape.
The rhythmic hum of the hydropumps echoed in the distance, a steady heartbeat that pulsed water through a newly laid network of pipes, soaking the parched earth and turning the dusty crater floor into something fertile.
Rangers were finally at ease. This place felt more like a base now. Food was secured, personnel secured, the underground facility secured, the Big Mountain turned into a self-sustainable environment.
Emily remained below, bound to the mainframe as she had been for centuries. But for the first time in two hundred years, the mountain was breathing again. With the supply lines to the upper levels re-established, a steady flow of scrap, high-grade steel, and raw chemicals began to circulate back into the subterranean factories.
In front of the heavy blast doors leading to the X-17 elevator, Milla was waiting. She was clad in the form-fitting silhouette of a Stealth Suit. Case had noticed her wearing it more often lately, frequently venturing back and forth to the X-13 testing facility. The once-dark suit was now professionally repainted in a desert chocolate-chip camouflage pattern.
"Hey, Case," Milla said, her voice filtered slightly by the suit's internal comms. "How are you holding up?"
"Hey," Case replied, leaning against the cold bulkhead. "How's the day treating you?"
"Good. Better than good," Milla said, a hint of excitement in her eyes. "The suit's AI is integrating perfectly with the new tech from the Second Level. And with the Stealth Boys we've started producing, we managed to create… this."
Without clicking a device or moving a muscle, Milla simply vanished. The air where she stood shimmered for a fraction of a second before becoming perfectly transparent. Case blinked, squinting at the empty space. Suddenly, she reappeared just inches from him, a playful smirk on her face.
"Onboard Stealth Boy," Milla explained, her voice echoing slightly in the sterile hallway. "Infinite recharge, linked directly to the suit's internal power cell. No more scavenging for expendable modules."
"Woah…" Case muttered, reaching out to graze the matte, camouflaged plating. Even under the harsh fluorescent lights of the elevator bay, the suit seemed to drink in the shadows. "That's… that's something else."
"Stealth Suit Mark III," Milla corrected with a flicker of pride in her eyes.
"Did Zero work on this with you?" Case asked, watching the rhythmic pulse of the hangar's diagnostic lights.
"Of course," Milla added, adjusting the pressure seal on her wrist with a satisfying click. "The dude is eccentric—honestly, he's an idiot—but he's a genius when it comes to circuitry. We didn't just stop at the stealth tech, though. We managed to overhaul our IACP as well."
Case's eyebrows shot up. "The whole line-up of the Riot Gear?"
"Exactly. We pulled the sensor array tech from the stealth suits and combined it with materials scrounged from the X-13 Research Lab," Milla explained, patting her chest plate. "We've integrated a new ballistic undersuit. It has internal liquid cooling for the Mojave heat, better aramid fiber density, and superior kinetic protection. It's lighter than the old kit, but it'll stop a .308 round like it's a spitball."
"As if the armor wasn't advanced enough already," Case muttered, impressed despite himself.
"Hey," Milla shrugged, the desert-camo composite plates shifting smoothly with her movement. "The best for the best, right? If we're going to change the Mojave, we might as well look the part."
"And Jacob? How is he handling the Special Outcomes contract?" Case asked.
"Ah, you know him. He's back to being a field spec-op, probably already knee-deep in a Legion camp," Milla commented, her tone a mix of amusement and respect. "Amelia is the one left here to babysit us with Emily. Someone has to keep the 'Bird fueled and the base running."
"We aren't just scavenging anymore, are we?" Milla asked, turning to him.
"No," Case said.
"So, the Divide job? Are we ready now?" Milla asked.
"Yes, in fact, I think, the preparation is complete now."