[h2][b][color=a0410d][center]New Austin, The Free Confederation of Texan States [/center] [/color] [/b] [/h2]
[i]"We can NOT remain a nation, that has to survive on expansion. No such nation can survive forever - to do so would be the crown one an Empire. No Empire has stood forever - it is the will of the people, that change, progress and understanding develops. But sadly, that will has been abused...many times over. By people, whom tax one heavily. By people, whom send you to die for reasons you can't understand. By people, whom would spout freedom as an excuse to invade those, that might seem 'different'." [/i]

[i]"Yes, we have nations at our borders who aren't democratic, free or you might say just. But who are we, do tell them so? Aren't we bound by the notion of freedom of speech? The right to hold one belief sacred?"[/i]

[i]"The New California Republic - in its core, will-”[/i]

“Joseph, come give me a hand!”, shouted his pa from the front, breaking his focus on the broadcast. 

“Coming, Pa!”, he shouted back, a little irritated, but completely used to these interruptions. He dropped the knife he had been using to cut the wavy brown onions and moved towards the front. He could still Hsu’s words as he walked away from the cutting board.

“...can longer do that. We have a choice - we can either change with the growing times or go the fate of our predecessor. If one has to wonder what that is - one has to only…”

“Look out the window”, he finished, mumbling under his breath. The statement had been played repeatedly on various radio stations with all the hosts offering their various opinions. It had caused something of a rebirth in politics in the city. And of course, fate would have it that the Confederation Congress was meeting at the same time as this. He wasn't sure what to think. He just knew the world was changing, and that change could mean peace or another deployment somewhere.

Joseph lowered his head to get through the small doorway into the dining area. His Pa and his Grandpa were short half-Mexican men, but his Ma had given him height and a fairer complexion. He expected to see his father struggling with the new sack of brahmin meat that was supposed to come in that day. Instead, he saw him leaning against the open outside door and talking to somebody outside. As he moved closer to see who it was, his heart sunk. The recruiting sergeant. 

The man came by for a burger somewhat regularly. They had always taken extra care with him, giving him a free thing with his meal every now and then. As if an ice cold Dr. Chili on the house would somehow keep Joseph from another deployment.

As Joseph went outside, he got his usual bombardment of novel sights, sounds, and scents. Even though it was cloudy, wet, and a sniff told him another shower was on its way, the hum of business was all around. There was the colorful and junky cluster of shops, coffee houses, restaurants, and street food, which had been refurbished and rebuilt, gentrified and un-gentrified so many times since the 20th century that the supposedly “restored” properties looked nothing like the old holovids. A clammer of incessant instruments and clubs from 6th street could still be heard in the morning, while horse drawn and gas powered vehicles going by competed to be the noisiest. The horses were gradually winning, as gas prices consistently went up and the people up at the Longhorn Institute worked on making cheaper nuclear cells. 

The recruiting sergeant was sitting at the rusty table closest to the door, slurping a coffee he got from down the street. Joseph frowned at the man’s choice, which seemed to say favors were useless today. He was an older, bald man, with thick silvery sideburns lining his face. The leathery and lanky blue clad sergeant rode his bicycle around the city, delivering news of military obligations and stoically facing tears and fists for it. The Confederation’s army was technically a volunteer one, but the last New Austinian Secretary of Defense had sneaked a damnable clause in the old volunteer contract. It effectively made him and others “volunteer” for conscription for a number of years. Needless to say, the man was booted out of office not long after his bullshit was found out. The government was “forced” to uphold the contracts though, so now old non-commissioned officers like Sergeant Harrison spread through the city using flimsy paper to summon men and women into service. The irony was that many of them would have volunteered regardless if  there was an obvious threat, but the compulsive element just made them angry. Although he was as mad as anyone else, making a scene would only cause problems for his Pa’s reputation. Joseph was prepared to do his part for Texas, as much as he didn’t want to get shot at again.

Harrison looked up at him with watery grey eyes and a stoic frown. “Take a seat, Joseph,” he said in his gravelly country accent. He nodded and drew out an ancient metal chair meant for old world people’s porches. The junk dealer he’d bought it from had hastily painted it white, and now the rust was starting to show itself again after last night’s rain. Harrison sipped his coffee deeply, set it aside, and stared at him again with his reaper face. “I thank you and your Pa for your hospitality to me. God knows y’all are better than most of the people I have to wrangle everyday. But your contract came in, Joseph.”

His heart sunk again, though he had known this was coming. Running flashed through his panicked mind before he forced the thought away. Then anger fired up in him. “With respect sir-”

Harrison spared him the trouble. “It’s horseshit, I know, but Congress has good reasons to enact the conscription this time. All the Governors signed off on it.”

That chilled him immediately. If Angela and Bob and Will had actually all agreed to it, that meant something serious was happening. “Sir?”

“It’s the Vault, Joseph. People are saying that they’re coming back online. Then there’s the Keynesian civil war. Bob wants to send some people to help His Serenity. And there’s rumors of something in the north. General Davis already took God knows how many men into Oklahoma.”

Joseph shook his head in disbelief. Everytime he thought Texas had pulled itself into peace from the chaos of the Wasteland, it seemed like the Wasteland came howling back for them. “Do you know where I’ll be sent, sir?”

Harrison grabbed his coffee cup, stood up, and handed him an information packet. “No. But I’ll bet they’ll have you in a leadership position. It’ll be up to you command some kids into the fire. You gotta make sure they only come out singed.” He shook Joseph’s hand and his Pa’s hand, and then he went back to his bicycle.

Joseph was dumbstruck, wondering where he could likely die in the coming months. The first two fronts he knew about already, but what’s up north? And what’s in Oklahoma?