Gecko
"Y'ever seen a ghoul before?" Cassidy asked during the trek between Vault City and Gecko.
"Not really," Sativa admitted. "Heard a lot about them, though. You?"
"Sure, a few times. Them and regular people tend to stay out of each others ways most of the time. Those bigots in Vault City can't stand them at all, so me? I could love the walking lumps of radioactive beef jerky cos of that alone. Really, they're okay most of them anyway. So long as you stay upwind..."
"Most of them?" Sativa asked.
"There are exceptions, of course. Some are just the regular bastards they were before the war, but others, their brains just can't handle all the rads they soaked up an..." He was interrupted by a dry, rasping growl from the distance. Cassidy brought up his shotgun, muttering, "Ah hell. I think you're gonna find out pretty soon."
The pack of feral roamers moved deceptively quickly for creatures composed of wasted flesh and brittle bones. Their appearance partially camouflaged by the desert, they came upon the group quite suddenly, brandishing old spears, dull knives and their own bony hands.
While vicious and terrifying to behold, weapons brought them down as easily as they would any man. Sulik lay into one with his giant hammer, leaving only a messy splatter of wasted flesh and bone fragments in the sand. Even Vic didn't have too much trouble picking them off with his hunting rifle. Only one got close enough to nearly take out Sativa's eye with claw swipe that left a nasty pair of gashes down one side of her face.
The ghoul was too close to get a shot off but a quick shove sent the ghoul staggering backwards, giving Cassidy, who was proving to be a welcome addition to the team despite his heart condition, the opportunity to end its pitiful existence with a blast of both barrels.
"Thanks," Sativa said.
"No problem. Hey, careful with that," he warned, stopping her from touching the wounds on her face. "Don't wanna let those get infected. Can you still see all right?"
She nodded. "Just stings a bit, is all."
"Well, it don't look too bad, but you should get it looked at. Anyway, sometimes these guys get like that. They should be a lot friendlier in this town of theirs, just as long as we act friendly."
Sativa nodded and holstered her pistol, resisting the urge to touch her face. "I think we can manage that. Let's go."
Gecko was not so much a town with an atomic power plant so much as it was a power plant with a town that has popped up around it. The ghouls weren't the best craftsmen but their buildings looked sturdy enough withstand more than a small breeze.
A few inquiries had them visiting the Manager's Office. The ghoul in charge was a little different from the others. He looked older, greener, had a lot more bone than skin showing than the other's, but that wasn't what made him... special.
"Hello there, smoothskin," the manager said in a good-natured, if dry and rattling tone as he stared at the newcomers with his one good eye. "The name's Harold. I help keep this town running. Whatcha need, youngster?"
It was rude to stare, but she couldn't help it. "Is that a tree growing out of your head?"
He laughed, touching the leafy branch that sprouted from one side of his skull. "Jealous? His name's Herbert. I talk to him when I get lonely... Heh-heh. Just kiddin'... His name's Bob."
"Well, Harold... What do you do and, uh, Bob do around here?"
Following a nasty coughing fit, he answered, "Wha-whatever it takes to keep this place together. Better job on it than me."
"You don't sound so good."
"Yep, but I'm doing great for being dead!" Harold chuckled, then coughed, then wheezed. But still chuckled. "I never get tired of the looks when I tell that one."
"Ah, right... So you say the place is falling apart?"
"Well, sorta. Our atomic reactor's a mite... sensitive. The people I got running it mean well, but... well, they are not the sharpest tools in the shed. If you know what I mean."
"What do you mean?"
"Need a little time on the whetstone yourself, huh? I mean they are not too bright. Here's an example - The other day I get a report. On it, it says the main coolant valve should be shut down. That woulda caused a meltdown that would make the Grand Canyon look like a pig wallow."
"That... sounds bad."
"Uh, yeah, that would be bad. Now, I got things fixed up in time, but we came close to the end there. They need someone to watch out for 'em."
"Good thing you're here to help them," she said.
"Who'd a thought I'd be making things right?" he mused. "Although if we don't get a Hydroelectric Magnetosphere Regulator pretty damn quick, there is gonna be trouble."
"What the hell is Hydra-magna-whateveraltor?" Sativa inquired.
"Well, technically... it's a thingie," he explained.
"Okay, what does it do?"
"Without a functional Hydroelectric Magnetosphere Regulator we're leaking radioactive coolant into the groundwater. Now that means, anyone using that water is not gunna need a night-light to take a midnight piss. Also, we need more fuel because our power plant is not burnin' it very efficiently."
"Who do you buy your fuel from?"
"We get our fuel from the Broken Hills. That's a mining community some ways south."
"Okay. So, where would you get a Hydro magnetosomething-or-other?"
"Well, I'm certain those ornery bastards in Vault City have one," he hazarded. "Not that they'd share. Hell, even if we had one of those thingies, I'm not so certain Festus could install the dang thing. He's the plant manager - most qualified, but like I said before, with these guys that ain't sayin' much."
"Vault City wouldn't give you the part?" Sativa asked. "Even if it means that the groundwater won't be polluted anymore?"
"Well, they'd only help us if they thought it was in their own best interest to do so," he shook his head. "Huh. Not much chance of that happening."
"Hmm, you may be right. Still if someone could convince them that they should help you..."
"They shoot ghouls on sight. Makes conversation a bit tricky."
"I wonder if someone else could tell them," she suggested. "What happens if you don't get the part?"
"If we don't get it, you can bet those boneheads from Vault City will shut down our power plant, permanently."
"What will you do then?"
"Take dirt naps. Vault City doesn't play nice. They'll just come up here and kill all of us if we don't get that part." Harold shrugged. "Well, at least I'll have a tree for a monument."
"Sounds like trouble. I need to go now, but I'll see what I can do."
"That be much appreciated if y'could. Say, if you need any medical attention talk to my assistant Lenny. He'll be able to fix ya right up. You look like someone's tried skinning you alive with a rusty, dull, old knife and then grafting your still-warm, wet, glistening, oh-so-soft, skin over their crusty-rotten gook."
"Uh, yeah. Thanks," she said, staring at him after that oddly specific example.
"Well, you don't have anything to worry about around here... can't find my knife! Heh-heh- *cough* -heh... ah, that one never gets old."
"Not really," Sativa admitted. "Heard a lot about them, though. You?"
"Sure, a few times. Them and regular people tend to stay out of each others ways most of the time. Those bigots in Vault City can't stand them at all, so me? I could love the walking lumps of radioactive beef jerky cos of that alone. Really, they're okay most of them anyway. So long as you stay upwind..."
"Most of them?" Sativa asked.
"There are exceptions, of course. Some are just the regular bastards they were before the war, but others, their brains just can't handle all the rads they soaked up an..." He was interrupted by a dry, rasping growl from the distance. Cassidy brought up his shotgun, muttering, "Ah hell. I think you're gonna find out pretty soon."
The pack of feral roamers moved deceptively quickly for creatures composed of wasted flesh and brittle bones. Their appearance partially camouflaged by the desert, they came upon the group quite suddenly, brandishing old spears, dull knives and their own bony hands.
While vicious and terrifying to behold, weapons brought them down as easily as they would any man. Sulik lay into one with his giant hammer, leaving only a messy splatter of wasted flesh and bone fragments in the sand. Even Vic didn't have too much trouble picking them off with his hunting rifle. Only one got close enough to nearly take out Sativa's eye with claw swipe that left a nasty pair of gashes down one side of her face.
The ghoul was too close to get a shot off but a quick shove sent the ghoul staggering backwards, giving Cassidy, who was proving to be a welcome addition to the team despite his heart condition, the opportunity to end its pitiful existence with a blast of both barrels.
"Thanks," Sativa said.
"No problem. Hey, careful with that," he warned, stopping her from touching the wounds on her face. "Don't wanna let those get infected. Can you still see all right?"
She nodded. "Just stings a bit, is all."
"Well, it don't look too bad, but you should get it looked at. Anyway, sometimes these guys get like that. They should be a lot friendlier in this town of theirs, just as long as we act friendly."
Sativa nodded and holstered her pistol, resisting the urge to touch her face. "I think we can manage that. Let's go."
Gecko was not so much a town with an atomic power plant so much as it was a power plant with a town that has popped up around it. The ghouls weren't the best craftsmen but their buildings looked sturdy enough withstand more than a small breeze.
A few inquiries had them visiting the Manager's Office. The ghoul in charge was a little different from the others. He looked older, greener, had a lot more bone than skin showing than the other's, but that wasn't what made him... special.
"Hello there, smoothskin," the manager said in a good-natured, if dry and rattling tone as he stared at the newcomers with his one good eye. "The name's Harold. I help keep this town running. Whatcha need, youngster?"
It was rude to stare, but she couldn't help it. "Is that a tree growing out of your head?"
He laughed, touching the leafy branch that sprouted from one side of his skull. "Jealous? His name's Herbert. I talk to him when I get lonely... Heh-heh. Just kiddin'... His name's Bob."
"Well, Harold... What do you do and, uh, Bob do around here?"
Following a nasty coughing fit, he answered, "Wha-whatever it takes to keep this place together. Better job on it than me."
"You don't sound so good."
"Yep, but I'm doing great for being dead!" Harold chuckled, then coughed, then wheezed. But still chuckled. "I never get tired of the looks when I tell that one."
"Ah, right... So you say the place is falling apart?"
"Well, sorta. Our atomic reactor's a mite... sensitive. The people I got running it mean well, but... well, they are not the sharpest tools in the shed. If you know what I mean."
"What do you mean?"
"Need a little time on the whetstone yourself, huh? I mean they are not too bright. Here's an example - The other day I get a report. On it, it says the main coolant valve should be shut down. That woulda caused a meltdown that would make the Grand Canyon look like a pig wallow."
"That... sounds bad."
"Uh, yeah, that would be bad. Now, I got things fixed up in time, but we came close to the end there. They need someone to watch out for 'em."
"Good thing you're here to help them," she said.
"Who'd a thought I'd be making things right?" he mused. "Although if we don't get a Hydroelectric Magnetosphere Regulator pretty damn quick, there is gonna be trouble."
"What the hell is Hydra-magna-whateveraltor?" Sativa inquired.
"Well, technically... it's a thingie," he explained.
"Okay, what does it do?"
"Without a functional Hydroelectric Magnetosphere Regulator we're leaking radioactive coolant into the groundwater. Now that means, anyone using that water is not gunna need a night-light to take a midnight piss. Also, we need more fuel because our power plant is not burnin' it very efficiently."
"Who do you buy your fuel from?"
"We get our fuel from the Broken Hills. That's a mining community some ways south."
"Okay. So, where would you get a Hydro magnetosomething-or-other?"
"Well, I'm certain those ornery bastards in Vault City have one," he hazarded. "Not that they'd share. Hell, even if we had one of those thingies, I'm not so certain Festus could install the dang thing. He's the plant manager - most qualified, but like I said before, with these guys that ain't sayin' much."
"Vault City wouldn't give you the part?" Sativa asked. "Even if it means that the groundwater won't be polluted anymore?"
"Well, they'd only help us if they thought it was in their own best interest to do so," he shook his head. "Huh. Not much chance of that happening."
"Hmm, you may be right. Still if someone could convince them that they should help you..."
"They shoot ghouls on sight. Makes conversation a bit tricky."
"I wonder if someone else could tell them," she suggested. "What happens if you don't get the part?"
"If we don't get it, you can bet those boneheads from Vault City will shut down our power plant, permanently."
"What will you do then?"
"Take dirt naps. Vault City doesn't play nice. They'll just come up here and kill all of us if we don't get that part." Harold shrugged. "Well, at least I'll have a tree for a monument."
"Sounds like trouble. I need to go now, but I'll see what I can do."
"That be much appreciated if y'could. Say, if you need any medical attention talk to my assistant Lenny. He'll be able to fix ya right up. You look like someone's tried skinning you alive with a rusty, dull, old knife and then grafting your still-warm, wet, glistening, oh-so-soft, skin over their crusty-rotten gook."
"Uh, yeah. Thanks," she said, staring at him after that oddly specific example.
"Well, you don't have anything to worry about around here... can't find my knife! Heh-heh- *cough* -heh... ah, that one never gets old."