[color=00aeef][u]Sister Genetta Williams – Followers of the Apocalypse – Morning, November 20th[/u][/color]

The rocking movement of the caravan almost lulled Genetta to sleep, as always. The heat of the sun and the steady motion took her back to her childhood. She remembered the comfort of friends and kin huddled around warm campfires at night. Fire had seemed like magic to a little girl, an alchemical trick of orange flame and eerie shadow, fed by her father’s ministrations.

“Atom’s gift,” her father had called it. “By day a column of smoke, by night a pillar of fire. He sent forth his messenger, a great whirlwind of flame, to lead his people through the wilderness.”

They had eked out a living in the radiation-blighted wilderness, sheltering within their circled caravans from raiders, mutants and tribals. Behind her father, rising from the night horizon into the sky, was the blazing Vegas skyline, always casting its neon shadow over them.

“They ate and they drank,” her father proclaimed, “they built their towers and were exceedingly wicked. And atomic fire and plutonic brimstone was rained down upon them. Babylon, the glory of cities, shall be ashes, even as the cities of the plain. We are all that remains of the Old World. We have been as firebrands snatched out of Atom’s fire - but still we have not returned to him!”

A shout from the forward caravan brought Genetta back to the present.

“We’re coming up to the outpost!” yelled Scuppy. “Must be them Vault folk. Ain’t no other civilisation hereabouts for some ways.”

A couple of the Kings bodyguards riding with Genetta tittered. Dash, a well-intentioned young man who could be a little brash, nudged his buddy Clive. 

“Hey Clive,” Dash said, “you heard the rumours about these folks? Somethin’ don’t add up about a Vault handin’ out free stuff. What do you suppose is wrong with ‘em? Five caps says Vault-Tec turned them into super mutants. Half-giant ant, half-ghoul super mutants, brainwashed to fight the Red Chinese.”

“Nuh-uh,” Clive replied, “that don’t make a lick of sense. I reckon they’re maneaters. All that food they provided to Freeside? You ever hear of a Vault sharing its food like that? Like as not, they’ll lure us up there and then we’ll find out all their pies is made of people, only by then it’ll be too late ‘cos they’ll have pushed us into a skillet and turned us into waffles.”

“Now you’re the one talkin’ nonsense. Every knows the -” Dash lowered his voice - “White Gloves have cornered the market on the Devil’s bacon around these parts. They ain’t about to let no Vault compete with them. Slim Johnson told me he saw one of those Vault fellers get wet in the rain, and the feller blew a fuse and sparks came out. Slim says they’re all synths from the Commonwealth, here to steal our faces and memories so’s they can infiltrate Vegas.”

“Slim Johnson couldn’t find his ass with a gotdamn Satellite Assisted Tracking module–”

“Boys,” Genetta interrupted in a low voice, “please mind your tongue when we get near these folks! I know y’all ain’t Followers, but when you’re escortin’ a sensitive mission like this, you gotta abide by our protocols. This ain’t a true first contact, because the Vault’s already reached out to various parties in Vegas. But we know they have superior technology and firepower, and resources to spare. We have to be careful not to negatively influence their perception of the outside world. Please be on your best behaviour.”

“Yes’m, Miss Genetta.”

“Sorry, Miss Genetta. Won’t happen again.”

The caravans pulled up a little ways from the Vault outpost, so as not to alarm anyone. The settlement appeared small and low-tech, but it was safe to assume the Vault dwellers had been tracking the Followers’ approach for a while - at least, they had the equipment to do so. The outpost’s location and its use of supply lines to send goods to Vegas meant that it was likely accustomed to trade caravans. It never hurt to be cautious when intruding on someone else’s turf, though.

Genetta, another researcher, and the two Kings bodyguards broke off from the main group. Genetta flipped a switch on the small recorder at her belt. 

“This is Genetta Williams. We are now approaching the public outpost of the Vault-dwellers identifying themselves as the Pinochle Expedition. This is the first organised contact from the Followers of the Apocalypse. Our primary objective is to establish friendly relations. Given time, and the cooperation of the Vault-dwellers, our secondary objective is to study and document their society. If their values are compatible with ours, we may be able to form a mutually beneficial alliance.”

With Genetta leading the way, they walked towards the Meld. Their boots crunched over sand and undergrowth. 

“The hairs are stickin’ up on the back of my neck,” Clive muttered.

Genetta took a deep breath. Would she end up a data point, a result for or against the Followers’ belief in the fundamental goodness of humanity? 

She stepped across the threshold.