Journal of Honcho Biggs - Chapter 14

Chapter 14 of the Journal of Honcho Biggs, titled "Caravans and Storytellers".

Caravans and Storytellers
We headed up Highway 95 without delay the next dawn, hot on the Courier's trail. I had little fear about the Courier dying - man seemed indestructible - but I had a lot of fear about him showing up to Vegas without knowing a damn about me. I'm his protector, and if he made it here himself - then why the need to pay me. Worse, if I can't do a job, why the need to hire me? My reputation and future was at stake here.

That's why we hauled. We met a platoon of NCR soldiers overseeing construction on the highway. A huge elevated highway hung above the road, looming high. If it continued to decay, who's to say it wouldn't collapse and bury Highway 95 in rubble? So the NCR soldiers were there to oversee supports being constructed, as well as patrolling for potential Legion saboteurs. They told us they did in fact see a courier come through with two companions yesterday night, and the Courier had asked for directions to the Crimson Caravan offices.

So our little detour was now actually justified. Outside of Vegas and Freeside was just like I remembered: rundown prewar homes and buildings, little chem and gang dens, but the streets were now so busy from caravaneers, NCR patrols, and Gun Runner guards that no one was gonna raid up here. West of Vegas was a completely different story with the Fiends. But that's why we're on the east side.

A ring of Pre-War walls surrounded the Mojave Branch of the Crimson Caravan Company. Whatever the Pre-War people needed for the facility was long gone, now replaced by warehouses, offices, brahmin fields that made up the trade empire of the Crimson Caravan.

A guard let us inside. "Cass said we should find some work, let's find someone than can give us something to do," I told the others.

"Quickly, I suppose, before we lose the Courier," Hared reminded us. I had a sneaking suspicion that Hared wanted to meet the Courier much more than I did. I personally don't care what Hared does with the Courier after I'm paid - though I suspect Hared's gonna end up a corpse if he so much as stares at the Courier the wrong way.

The first thing I noticed right away was a big fellow wearing nothing other than Power Armor, God be good. He towered over everyone else, the grey metal armor hissing the occasional steam or whirring. Only ever seen Power Armor once, and let me tell, you don't wanna be on the other side of someone with Power Armor. I had to burn a pair of brown pants after that.

A floating eyebot followed the huge man. He was talking to a short little guy, a trader from the Crimson Caravan. We tried to pass by - just the sight of power armor gives me the creeps - but when the trader saw us, he got all wide-eyed and motioned us over. "Hey, Honcho, come over here!"

How did he know my name. Only people I let know my name are people I don't plan on killing or girls that I'm not leaving the next morning (that last one has been zero). "Uh, hello there," I greeted, doing my best to see if I remembered him.

"Remember me? Ringo, from Goodsprings!" Oh yeah, Ringo. He was hiding out from the Powder Gangers, and I brought food to him once while he was hiding out in an abandoned house. If he had told he moved to the gas station, I would've known about said gas station earlier, I would've gotten gas for Niner earlier...and maybe we would've found the Courier before this whole mess started.

"Oh yeah. What's up, Ringo?" I asked, not all that happy.

"I finally got out of Goodsprings when the Courier helped fight off the Powder Gangers threatening the town. Made my way here, and I actually saw the Courier yesterday!" That Courier. Friend to all. Bet he fucking helps fallen baby ravens back into their nests, too. "He was looking for work, said some girl at the Mojave Outpost directed him here." Oh for fuck's sake, now he's in Cass's pants too? And she was so friendly with me too.

"I got him work, brought him right to Alice McLafferty - she runs things 'round here - and she had him doing jobs right away!"

I thought about the best way to put this without seeming much like a beggar. "Funny, I actually talked to that same girl at the Outpost. She told me come here for work too. Think Alice will got anything for me?"

Ringo hung his head. "Sorry, pal, but only big shots get to meet with the boss." The Courier has only been walking here for what, like a week? And he's a big shot? "Ya know, getting mentioned on the radio all that. Trying to finish a delivery after getting shot in the head will practically have any caravan company hiring."

He remembered he was talking to someone before me and laughed. "Excuse me, where are my manners. Honcho, this is my new friend, the Storyteller!" He pointed at the power armored figure. He extended an armored hand, and I shook it gingerly.

"How do you do?" He asked, in a voice that seemed...traveled, and educated. His eyebot beeped behind him. "This is EDNA, she's a traveling companion and helps record things."

"Uh, Honcho, Niner, Hared," I said, introducing me and the group.

"Records things?" Hared asked.

"Ah, a Great Khan," the Storyteller said as if that was the most interesting thing in the world. "I record things around the Wastes, make them into holotapes. Like a pre-war historian. I'm here to record the history of the Crimson Caravan." He pulled out a holotape from within a space in his power armor. He handed it to Hared. "Here, take this. It's my episode on the Great Khans. The other holotapes can be found at the Old Mormon Fort in Freeside."

"Uh, how we supposed to watch that?" Niner asked.

"Easy. Put it in your Pipboy."

"But me having a Pipboy is an exception," I added. "How do people without pipboy's watch 'em?"

"Just use a television," he answered.

"But televisions are rare in the Mojave," I countered. "What if you don't got a tv?"

The great grey helmet of the Storyteller stared blankly for a moment. "Well...I knew of a man that played a holotape, simply using materials scattered around him. This man was called the greatest repairman this side of the Colorado...but that is a story for another day." With that, he waved goodbye and sauntered off, his feet thundering with each step.

"Cool guy," Ringo said, watching him. You know, with all this talk of Courier this, Storyteller that, I wonder if Ringo swung the other way when he came to bat, if you catch my drift.

"Anyway, if you want some work, I can give you a few small jobs, and if you do good with 'em, maybe I can get your foot in the door so you can meet with the boss." He handed me a few packs of purified water. "A man inside, name's Butch, has contracted us for water to supply to his...associates. You'll meet an associate of his beneath the west water tower in Freeside, bring the caps back and I'll give you a slice and a recommendation. Sound good?"

I was gonna say deal, but then I realized I got two companions with me. "Slice gotta be big enough for three to split."

Ringo never wavered. "Deal." We shook.

Water packs in tow, we left the Crimson Caravan at midday. We've dealt with caravans and storytellers, next stop was Freeside!