[h3][b][u][color=0076a3]Head Scribe Wainwright, Vault 0[/color][/u][/b][/h3]

A pre-war IFV bearing the Brotherhood of Steel insignia approached the heavily guarded entrance to Vault 0.  After passing through the security checkpoints, it rolled to a stop at the vault's massive doors.

"We've arrived at our destination, sir," the driver spoke to his passengers, consisting of Head Scribe Wainwright, a power armored paladin, and two knights.  While you're meeting with the High Elder, we'll be refilling our coolant tank for the return trip."

The ghoulified Head Scribe was grateful to be out of that cramped, uncomfortable vehicle.  The trip had taken several hours, and Wainwright was a bit miffed at having been abruptly pulled from his duties at Buena Vista to come here in person.

Wainwright made his way into the vault, and was guided by a Paladin to the war room.  Normally the High Elder would've just communicated with him over the radio, so whatever Renald wanted to talk about must be pretty important if he insisted on doing it face-to-face.  Or in Wainwright's case, face-to-faceplate.  Given the timing, the most likely subject of the meeting would be the alliance with Caesar's Legion, and it'd probably cover subject matter that Renald didn't want Legion spies to overhear.

"Good to see you made it without trouble, Head Scribe," Renald greeted the ghoul as he walked through the doorway.  "Have a seat, there is much I wish to discuss with you."

Wainwright sat down at the table.  He couldn't help but notice a large pile of papers and photographs lying in front of the High Elder.

"Might I ask what all this paperwork is about, High Elder?" he asked, curious.

"Inquisition reports about an ongoing inter-tribe conflict," Renald answered with a sigh.  "Some of these Colorado tribes have feuds going back decades from before they became Brotherhood vassals, and this bad blood sometimes erupts to the surface.  Two particular tribes have been going at it pretty badly, with tensions boiling over recently.  Several injuries, a few deaths, and destruction of Brotherhood property.  It's gotten so bad that I've decided to post an Inquisition squad in each tribe's land.  If it doesn't deter them, we'll at least have someone on hand to root out the guilty parties in this mess."

"And once you identify the people responsible, what then?"

"It depends," the High Elder answered, picking up a black-and-white photograph. "If it's merely a few select troublemakers inciting this, we'll have them arrested and tried.  The guilty are punished and the rest of them will be reminded that they follow the same laws as everyone else.  If this is a more deeply rooted problem, if a significant proportion of the tribes are involved in this, I'll have no choice but to increase the conscription tithe on the offending tribe for the foreseeable future.  There'll be fewer able-bodied men and women to cause trouble, and it'll send a message that conflict among Brotherhood subjects will not be tolerated."

"You could simply cut off their access to Brotherhood technology," Wainwright suggested.  "As primitive as they are, their quality of life would drop without access to mundane technological amenities like tractors and antibiotics."

"I do not think that would be a good idea, Head Scribe," Renald rebuked his subordinate.  "Tribals are proud, resilient people; if we cut them off, they will adapt to the lack of technology, shaking their dependence on us and giving them an incentive to break off their vassalage.  The last thing we want is a tribe going independent or defecting to the Legion.  But I didn't summon you here to discuss such minor matters of governance.  What I actually want to discuss with you is the Legion, and the deal we have struck with them."

"Very well, High Elder," Wainwright spoke, leaning forward in his chair.  "If I may ask, sir, how do you feel about this alliance that we've made with the Legion?"

The High Elder sat in silent contemplation for half a minute before giving his answer.

"I'm cautiously optimistic about it.  They played up the threat of the NCR to us, but they're not lying that California is a force to be reckoned with.  Compared to the Legion, the NCR is more populated, more technologically advanced, and has more infrastructure.  Their military has extensive combat experience against both high-tech and low-tech foes, and I've heard rumors that they have access to captured Enclave aircraft.  On the other hand, for all their vast resources and military experience, they've got one major limitation: the power of their subjects.  They can only commit their forces in military campaigns so long as the citizenry enables it.  I'm hoping that our Mojave expedition will be able to shed some light on the NCR's failed Mojave campaign, as well as the similarly ill-fated efforts of the Legion to annex that region."

"I wouldn't underestimate the ability of a republic to spur its citizens to support prolonged military operations," Wainwright advised.  "The old United States was able to continue fighting wars on multiple fronts over a decade, and the NCR has shown its resolve in its war against the western Brotherhood.  I must admit I'm a bit curious as to what motivates their citizens to push a war for so long."

"That is another question that I hope that the Mojave expedition will be able to produce a suitable answer to," Renald admitted.  "If I had to wager a guess, however, I'd say spoils.  If the Legion is telling the truth, the NCR has been winning its war with the western Brotherhood of Steel, which means that the conflict will have been yielding a steady influx of the technology that the western elders spent two centuries collecting and hoarding in their bunkers.  As long as the war brings such spoils, the citizenry will continue to support it until the well dries up, so to speak."

"I have to ask, High Elder, do you trust the Legion?" the scribe asked.  "They don't exactly have a sterling reputation for upholding their word."

The Elder paused for a few moments before answering.  Wainwright wasn't sure if Renald was contemplating an answer or scrutinizing him for asking such a blunt question.  After what seemed an eternity, Renald gave his reply.

"No.  I do not trust them.  At least not completely." he answered.  "Our nations share many similarities- we both have a strong warrior spirit, we both conscript tribals to fill our ranks, we both utilize crucifixion to punish criminals and warn their fellows, but if they have any honor, it is nothing like the concept that the Brotherhood of Steel upholds.  The Legion only honors its word so as long as there is to be more to gained by keeping it than by breaking it, and will commit any atrocity if it furthers their goals, including the destruction of the very tribes that they subjugate."

"From what I've heard over the years, the NCR isn't any different in that regard," replied the scribe.  "If you have something they want, they take it by force, any previous promises be damned.  Even if you can find an honest politician among them and secure a promise worth anything, their fellows will overrule it, and their successor will not be bound by it."

"That's true, Head Scribe.  The NCR isn't known to keep its word, but their penchant for conscious treachery pales compared to what the Legion is capable of," spoke Renald.  "In a way, it's like that flag of theirs: befriending one head won't stop the other head from devouring you, and both heads will be nourished by the meal.  With the Legion, however, the same man who gives you his word will be drawing up possible plans to break it even as he shakes your hand."

Still," he continued, "The Legion isn't needlessly treacherous, and Caesar is no fool.  As long as the NCR possesses the strength to stand against them, the Legion won't risk a two-front war.  Our goal is the preservation of our brothers and sisters in the west, not fighting the Legion's war of conquest.  As long as we stay true to that goal, we'll be able to stay true to the Brotherhood of Steel's mission.  Speaking of which, I have an important assignment for you.  We're concerned about the haywire pre-war facility that the Legion has uncovered in Denver, and I want the Brotherhood's best, most physically resilient scribe heading the efforts to ensure this threat is dealt with."

"I wouldn't be so bold as to say I was the most resilient," the scribe humbly spoke.  "That honor most likely belongs to Scribe Percy."

"I suppose that argument could be advanced, but he's currently lending his expertise to the Commonwealth Expedition, and he has much less of a scribe's background than you do, so this honor will be yours," Renald stated.

"I am...honored," Wainwright spoke, apprehensive about this mission but unable to admit it.  He was thankful that his facial expressions could not be seen behind his suit's faceplate.

"Excellent," the elder commended him.  "Speak to the Paladin-Commander outside for your briefing.  Dismissed.  Oh, and scribe?  I must admit I envy you, being able to take part in a conflict against a malfunctioning pre-war intelligence just as the Warrior and Barnaky once did."

Wainwright couldn't deny it was an honor by Brotherhood standards, but following in Barnaky's footsteps was not something he had any desire to do.  As much trouble as his ghoulified, radiation-steeped body could be, he would very much prefer to keep his brain inside of it.