[color=00aeef][u]Chez Nathan – I-15 – Early Afternoon, October 17th[/u][/color]

The wind ruffled Chez’s hair as the carts trundled along the highway, wheels clattering against potholes in the road now and again. 

He sat by the canvas opening in the rear, staring at the road. He had watched until New Vegas faded into the distance - at least the city proper, not its garish high towers, which reared into the sky like monuments to man’s hubris. 

[i]How apt,[/i] he thought. [i]Here I am, being carried towards the future by other people, staring back at the way we came. I got them Old World Blues, sure enough.[/i]

He could have made the trip more quickly riding one of the horses the Followers had offered him - anything involving the 3rd Battalion’s officers was a priority, and Chez was senior enough to access almost any of the Followers’ resources - but he’d never been that comfortable on horseback. Besides, the prospect of riding into one of Denver’s bases on his own spooked him more than he cared to admit to himself. 

Once he’d indicated his wish to bring a few bodyguards and medics, it had made sense for them to requisition a couple of carts. It wasn’t an unreasonable request – the roads had generally become safer wherever Denver’s men patrolled, especially near settlements, but more remote stretches were always risky. Chez was now one of the higher-ranking members of an organisation that shunned ranks, and sending a small team to protect him as well as indicate his importance had been Julie Farkas’ intention to begin with. 

Chez thought, [i]And if they also make me feel safer around Denver’s soldiers, so much the better.[/i]

The mid-October weather was pleasant: not oppressive, but warm enough that he could feel heat wafting from the bitumen’s surface like heat from a clay oven. Waves shimmered off the plains in the distance. Much as Chez thought himself a city boy, much as he loved the colour and character of Vegas’ concrete jungles, he could see the appeal of the desert on days like this. Just a road, stretching pure and clean into the distance, the wind at your back, blue sky above.

He missed having Ronnie beside him, though he knew the Followers who accompanied him were just as deadly as the Kings’ best men. It was too risky taking their Kings guards into an NCR military base, too likely to spark altercations on either side. The Followers had also lost many people in the Freeside riots, but officially they were neutral. They were always neutral. 

[i]For though I be free from all men, yet have I made myself servant unto all, that I might gain the more… I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some. [/i]

“Cap for your thoughts, Dr Nathan.”

The speaker was Beth Jansen, a farm girl turned combat medic. Chez had worked with her occasionally on both medical rounds and aid shifts, and he always appreciated her presence. She was respectful without being self-deprecating, did her job efficiently, and somehow remained cheerful and kind to both co-workers and the people she helped, regardless of how much stress they were under. 

Chez smiled. “It’s Dr Nathan now, is it, Dr Jansen?”

“All right, I’ll drop your title if you’ll drop mine.”

“Agreed. And my thoughts aren’t worth a cap, I’m afraid. Just enjoying the big open space of the road, and trying to make the space between my ears just as empty.”

“Judging by your face, you ain’t doing too good a job.”

Chez smiled. “All right, you got me.” Concealing his emotions had always been difficult - another reason he always thought he’d make a terrible diplomat. The Followers had always believed in promoting people with expertise, even if they lacked political acumen. The idea that leaders could create effective change by explaining all the facts very clearly, being honest and direct, and fostering an open exchange of information in order to build consensus, was another one of the Followers’ quirks. Despite their scientific bent, there were some hypotheses that died hard with the Followers - mostly those connected to the fundamental goodness of human beings. They had countless data showing that selfish, amoral sociopaths performed well in politics, but they refused to give this up. 

“I’m stressed, Beth. I don’t know what the military wants with us, but I don’t think it’s to sit down and discuss alleviating poverty and recycling sewage.” 

Beth exhaled slowly. “I’m glad to hear you say that. A lot of folks think you’re too trusting with the NCR. I’ve worked with you, Chez, I know you’re not stupid.”

“But you’re wondering why I’ve taken a stupid stance on the NCR?”

“No! I’m the last person who thinks that. I understand the logic of your position precisely. That’s why I’m behind you. I’ve seen you work on patients, I’ve seen you at triage. You know when to take the soft approach, and when to slash and burn. You’re trying to heal the rift between us and the NCR, while Lettie wants to amputate completely. I trust your judgement.”

“I’m not sure you should. Medical decisions are one thing. I can say that I’m confident in my diagnoses. Politics is a different beast. It’s not my area of expertise.”

“Don’t put yourself down,” said Beth. “Listen, I grew up on a bighorn ranch. My folks knew a whole lot about farming and how to live a decent, clean life. They didn’t know about much else, and they didn’t care to. So when I joined up with the Followers and decided I wanted to do medicine, I had to learn everything from scratch. I know how huge the gaps in my knowledge were. 

"I didn’t have a dad like yours. He didn’t just teach you medicine. You had access to his whole library, and it all went into your brain, Chez. You may not think you’ve been using it, but trust me, I’ve seen it in practice. When you speak, when you form opinions, when you explain something, I hear the wisdom of the Old World. That’s not something a lot of folks have, not even in the NCR.”

“Well, that is gratifying to hear. But there’s theory, and then there’s real-world experience--”

“Listen to me. Since we got to Freeside, we’ve almost been wiped out by the NCR. We rebuilt our alliance with the Kings. We’ve negotiated contracts with merchants and trade caravans, we’ve bribed and begged to stay on the good side of the Families, or at least stop them from taking an unhealthy interest in us. We’ve managed to build community, train and educate people, even [i]work with[/i] the NCR. All while managing the dissension in our own ranks. 

"You think you don’t have political experience? Anyone who’s stayed alive in Vegas as long as we have has taken a crash course in politics, Chez. We weren’t just practicing medicine or education or science all those years, we were learning how to negotiate our own survival. And you were there every step of the way. Hell, you were even leading us half the time -- leading from behind, in your own way, not trying to convince anyone else, but just being yourself. And you had no idea how much other people looked to you for guidance, even when you were just minding your own business.”

Chez smiled at her again, a smile of genuine pleasure and warmth this time. “Thanks, Beth. We may be riding into Hell, but I’m glad I’ve got you at my back. And all these other good people, too.”

Beth scoffed and slid a hand down to her holster. “Riding into Hell? Baby, we live in Vegas. Hell won’t know what’s hit it.”