OVERCAST: Prater's Rebellion

[Lorsh]

Miranda smiles and shakes your hand. "Anyway, we should both get out of here in case more military or infected show up," she says. After releasing your hand, she bids you farewell and goes off with her squad and her share of the supplies.


Zack Young walks over to you. "So uh, what do we do about the gardeners? We're still keeping them over in the building," he says.

 

[cl0ud]

"Do we have enough space to take them back to compound?" Prater asks Zack.

Have the militiamen continue loading the supplies into the trucks and cars and whatnot. Have a handful of militiamen also harvest the crops on the northeastern side of the nursery. Have some other militiamen pack up the tents, we'll be able to use them back at the camp. Finally, while everyone's packing up the supplies, harvesting crops, and putting up the tents.

Send an escort ahead of the rest of the group with Anne Pereire. Have them walk on foot if they won't be able to fit in the cars after everything's accounted for.

 

[Lorsh]

"Well, we brought most of our vehicles, so we should have enough space, yeah," Zack says.

Your men manage to salvage four military-grade tents. The others were ruined during the attack, ripped and bloadsoaked beyond repair.

Anne and a few escorts are sent home early. A sedan is able to be spared.

Tina Miles tells you that she and her men found the bodies of a few NPA sentries that had been stationed on rooftops or deer stands around the camp. They were all taken out by shots to the head, apparently while they were still alive. "The zombies didn't just randomly attack this outpost," she says. "Someone killed their night watch first."


Your troops manage to harvest 41 rations' worth of plants from the nursery's gardens. They also find 3 packets of seeds for green beans. There could've been more, but the seed shack burned down during the zombie attack.

Dr. Nice tells you that he can attempt to perform a life-saving operation on Patrick, but it will cost about 7-10 units of medicine, and he may end up crippled for life or simply dying anyway.

 

[cl0ud]

Have the militiamen who salvaged the tents load them into the sedans. As well as all of the plants that were harvested from the gardens and the seed packets that were found.

When discussing the news of the NPA soldiers found dead around the outskirts of the outpost, Prater’s eyebrows furrow. He strokes his beard with his thumb and index finger. “I’m willing to bet a hefty wager that it was the Leftists up in Misty Dew. The proximity would be a tell enough. You looted the soldiers for their belongings, right? Especially the body armor, considering that they were all dismissed with headshot, it should all be intact. If that is the case, the leftists weakened the outpost, we should leave as soon as possible. They undoubtedly outnumber us and I’m not ready to lose more people today.”

When confronted by Dr. Nice about Patrick’s condition, without hesitation, Prater orders the doctor to perform surgery on Patrick. It’s worth the risk anyway. Even if Patrick ended up crippled, he could still be an asset to the compound, and if he really doesn’t want to live the rest of his life as a cripple, then he can always be euthanized. It’d be the humane thing to do.

After everything’s loaded up and ready to go, see how long it would be to break down buildings like Building 3 and 5 as well as if there would be enough space in the caravan to securely transport the materials from the buildings back to the compound.

After the outpost has been stripped clean of anything valuable, outside of building materials, the attack party is to saddle up in the vehicles and return to the compound and debrief the rest of the camp. Afterward, a grave would be constructed to commemorate the militiaman we lost in battle today, but to acknowledge the bravery and revenge that we, as a group, took against the NPA.

 

[Lorsh]

Your doctor performs surgery on Patrick in an attempt to save his life, using 9 units of medicine. Dr. Nice manages to safely extract a few of the bullets, but opts to leave one of them lodged in after judging it too risky to pull out. Still, he patches up the militiaman's injuries to the best of his ability, and estimates that he will eventually make a full recovery, but only after a great deal of rest. The news brings great joy to Patrick's brother, Tanner. You feel an aura of high spirits in the troops, and their morale has no doubt become slightly raised. You used up a good portion of your medical supplies, but you still demonstrated that you are willing to make sacrifices for your troops, which makes them feel valued, and like someone's got their backs.

The buildings would take a long time to break down, and the vehicles are already stuffed with personnel and supplies.

Your party returns to the compound. It's very late, so you are forced to turn in. Still, your comms officer managed to set up a secure channel with Mason, and your supplies are being logged.

You wake up in the morning.

 

[cl0ud]

Prater wakes up in the morning, brushing his hand through his hair and then rubbing his face. He was still responsible for seventy-two souls today and he'd be responsible for seventy-two souls tomorrow, God forbid something drastic happened. Putting his arms by his side to push him up from his bed, Prater began to stretch. Touching his toes, twisting side-to-side, and popping his knuckles. It was another day that would be full of important decisions to make sure everyone under his command would be here next week.

First, Prater swung by the infirmary to check on Patrick Bloom. The body has sustained a shot from one of the gardeners at the nursery. Dr. Nice had luckily been able to save his life, yet one bullet was still stuck in him. As Prater materialized in the doorway in Patrick's room, he cracked a joke, "You better hope that none of our enemies ever try to find us with metal detectors, son," Prater then laughing at his own joke. After checking on Patrick's general health, seeing if he was in good spirits, he would make his leave to check on the rest of the compound. Before heading back towards the Leadership Hall, Prater reminded himself of Anna Pereire, the girl who was mauled by one of the infected during the attack on the Nursery. Checking in on her quarantine, assuming she isn't infected, Dr. Nice would become available to treat her wounds.

Nine units of medicine. Nothing we couldn't afford. Prater thought to himself as he left wherever the infirmary was to continue on with his duties as leader of these people. There was plenty to do before daylight was spent. In the leadership hall, Prater ordered one of the idle militiamen to make him a strong, black coffee- given that there was still coffee in the compound. That was the next thing on Prater's agenda - resources.

Summoning Bobby Lambert, Prater's top adviser, he began to discuss the resources in the compound.

. . .​

"We've plenty guns, now," Prater says as his opening, "Anyone who didn't already have a long barreled weapon can now have one. We also have some more armor to protect our men out in the field. Now, here's the issue. We acquired a lot of this gear because the NPA at the Nursery were caught off guard. Miss Miles from Team One reported that the NPA's sentries had been taken out with shots to the head around the Nursery," Prater paused, collecting his thoughts. "Now, my bets were that the communists holed up in Misty Dew were behind the attack. They're already squeezed between three NPA positions- Drewville, Rogerson, and Worth, so I suspect that there wasn't a large force deployed to take out the NPA outpost, if it was the communists."

Prater backed away from the map of Centralia sprawled across the wooden table in the center of the room. He paced around the room for awhile, stroking his beard with his index finger and thumb. Strands of gleaming silver dusted the brown beard that had grown on Prater's face. Most of it was probably from old age, but the stress of leading seventy-two people in an apocalyptic hellscape probably played a significant part in his graying as well. Finally, he spoke again.

"Humor me for a moment, Bobby. Assume the People's Dawn were the ones who were behind the attack on the Nursery. Assume they expertly killed each of the NPA sentries in the cover of night and then lured zombies to the position and sicked them on the unaware bucketheads in the camp. Now, if I were to go through all of that, I'd sure as hell also send out scouts to monitor the progress of the attack, and when a bunch of men with guns and trucks pull up and take all of my resources, I'd be pissed. My scouts would report back to me and they'd tell me of the attack and tell me of how my loot was stolen, but they were able to track the vehicle back to the compound, I'd mobilize and expeditionary force immediately."

Prater stopped pacing around the room and looked at Bobby. He continued, moving an open hand in a circular motion, gesturing to the entire compound outside the walls of the Leadership Hall, "This compound cannot sustain siege. We lack the ammunition, the food, and the medicine. Patrick Bloom, God bless him, used up nine units of medicine, Bobby. Nine. While at the moment we can afford this, assuming we were besieged, we wouldn't be able to save more than four men, given each operation would consume another nine units. We may had have food covered if we had a garden before, but if a siege would blow over the compound tomorrow, we'd only last nine days before the men would begin to starve. Our reserve of ammunition isn't any more than pitiful," Prater said, bringing up a piece of paper from his pocket.

"I had Nalts draft up this inventory of ammunition, reserve and in-use. We have 2,026 individual rounds of ammunition total. 60% of our ammunition are handgun calibers, with 9mm being a third of all our ammunition. In total, we have 662 rifle rounds. We have the plans to construct a bullet mill, but we're short 39 scrap and 20 components. Not to mention each bullet will take one scrap, which serves as a segue to my next topic," Prater says, setting down the paper on the table so Bobby could pick it up and look at it if he wished,

"Resources. Given our position in the forest, we have an abundance of wood. However, we lack scrap and components. Yesterday, before we left the Nursery, I wanted to tear down the structures for resources. Recycle them. Though, through my sleep and reflection, I've deemed this a bad idea. The destruction of these buildings would probably result in noise which would lead to investigation. It would also take a long time to deconstruct these buildings, which would mean we would have less men to defend the compound if we were to come under attack. So, my second thought was to trade with our newfound friends, Mason's group. Kleiner set up a back channel using a secret frequency to contact the group. I want you to discuss with Nalts about anything that could be of value that isn't necessarily essential to the group. I'd prefer to stay away from trading rations, ammunition, weapons, medicine, or vehicles, though," Prater instructed. These things would be necessary if the communists, or God forbid, the NPA decided to attack the compound.

"Speaking of rations," Prater started up again, "I want to build a garden or two. Plant the green beans and also harvest the seeds from the vegetables and fruit we found in the nursery and plant them, as well. We need to focus on sustaining ourselves in the future. I also want us to start looking for livestock. Pigs, cattle, sheep, the lot. Like I said previously, we need to focus on the long term. During the foraging expeditions that the men are sent out on each day, they are to start looking for seeds. Berries, vegetables, fruit, anything."

Prater sat down on a wooden chair, placing both of his feet on the table where the map lay. He rubbed his temples. The notion of a siege had wrestled with Prater's mind before, but he hadn't thought it would happen until yesterday with the fighting. It was a daunting task, preparing for everything. Many times Prater wished he could just have a magic wand and make all of his issues disappear. He knew, of course, that this wasn't the way the world worked.

"When we raided the Nursery," Prater said with a sigh, "We found two gardeners the NPA were using. Have whoever plowing the gardens converse with the gardeners. They're more experienced in the craft than any of our men unless I'm mistaken. They also may have tricks up their sleeves to help us grow our crops faster, or even more bountiful. Be kind to them. They probably didn't choose to be affiliated with the NPA." Prater took a sip of his coffee, a wave of disappointment briefly washed over his face. It was cold. Probably because he had been ranting for so long, though.

"Finally. Revenue. If I recall correctly, we have 5,002 scrip in our coffers. Our next step should be creating a way to increase that number. First things to cross off the list are prostitution and slavery. I'd rather be killed by a recruit from the NPA than participate in those affairs. My first thought was cash crops, and even more so, tobacco. Not many people nowadays are probably growing tobacco and making cigarettes. Instead, they probably buy them from smugglers who buy them from the NPA at prices damn-near robbery. We'd grow tobacco, roll cigarettes, and then sell them throughout the wasteland unbranded. I'd like to sell them first to the folks in Arkwright, even set up a contract with Sinclair to have him distribute the cigarettes throughout the CZ in exchange for a small cut of profits. We'd sell the cigarettes cheaper than if you were to buy it from a smuggler, but not so cheap we wouldn't make money. Any other ideas picking at your mind are completely welcome, as well, Bobby," Prater says, thinking he's some billionaire entrepreneur on the verge of making big money.

His face became somber as he sat upright again. He placed his elbows on the table and brought interlaced fingers under his nose, pondering. "Funds will help us in our war against the NPA. Ammunition, weapons, vehicles, and fuel are all necessary commodities in this world. And until we're able to create a bullet mill or construct a factory, we'll have to acquire these things through trade or purchase." With that, Prater waves his hand in a circular motion, indicating it was time to move on to the next topic.

. . .
​

"A significant portion of our militia are recruits. Even those that have made their way into teams still lack proper education when it comes to combat. I want you to find the most deft soldier in the camp and appoint him Drillmaster. After you've completed this, the recruits and some of the members from our squads are to attend classes with the Drillmaster regularly. I want them to master their firearms so well they could disassemble and reassemble them with a blindfold on. I want them versed in ways to clean and maintain their weapons. Their knowledge of survival must also be vast. Knowledge is truly the most powerful weapon, even in the wastes, my friend," Prater said to Bobby, tapping his right temple with his index and middle fingers.

"On the topic of knowledge, I want a think tank assembled. They are to study the weapons we have. Their shape, their mechanisms, the science behind them, hell, even the taste if need be. I want to be able to produce our own weapons. They don't have to be professional, but they need to be good enough. Preferably the caliber for these weapons would be 9mm or .38, so we could put all those rounds we have to use instead of being in the reserves for pistols. If we're lucky, one of them might even come up with an original gun design that proves better than others," Prater said. A hopeful tone could be found in his voice. In his mind he knew that it was unlikely that the survivors in his group would be able to come up with schematics resembling a professionally-designed firearm, much less come up with an original design, but he didn't want to completely discredit his constituents. They may prove the scientists of the New World, given time.

"I also want more frequent patrols. The attack on the NPA before we arrived has me on edge. I want patrols around the compound every hour. Also, before the sun goes down, dispatch five or six people to sit in the trees around the compound and act as sentries. Any attacker would suspect a guard in a watchtower, not in the foliage above them. Also, though, at night, I want increased guards with alternating four-hour shifts. I also want routine checkups every fifteen minutes. If one of the guards don't respond, the entire camp is to be woken up and put on alert. I will not become subject to the same fate those NPA bastards up north did."

"Lovelace should return tomorrow with Lily Hogg and Ernest Demora from their surveillance mission to Arkwright. When they return, Lovelace is to continue to teach the two the crafts of espionage, as well as one other select survivor from the compound. I will leave this choice up to you, Bobby. The candidate must be savvy, own a silver tongue, and trustworthy. Espionage and subterfuge will be another critical element in moving operations along. Having those trained in the trades will help us greatly."

"That will be all," Prater says, dismissing the meeting.

. . .
​

After Prater concluded the first meeting of the day with Bobby, he walked around the compound more. He made sure that graves were dug to respect those who had fallen during the attack on the Nursery just the previous day, but he tried to keep spirits up all around. He would sit at tables and play cards with some of the militiamen, help wash clothes in the river, and drink a beer with one of the men watching vigilantly over the horizon into the forest, the first line of defense against any who wished to do harm against Prater's people.

Prater also conversed with the people in the compound. He wanted to be able to be there for them at their most desperate times. Morale was just as important as ammunition in Prater's eyes. Ammunition wouldn't hit its target if the handler of the gun couldn't muster up a reason to live anymore. Ammunition was replaceable, human soul was not.

After checking everything was okay in his compound, he dispatched two teams of able-bodied militiamen to venture off into the nearby forest and along the river to forage for food and seeds. He warned them to be more alert though. The commotion caused at the Nursery may have led some onlooker to track the group back to the compound, and there was no need for more men to die. They were ordered to stick closely together and always have their firearms ready, but to use silent alternatives when killing game. He told the hunters who went into the forest to use slings and bows and whatnot. He wanted to move away from the reliance on ammunition, given the shortage that the compound had.

 

[Lorsh]

"It does seem strange how the NPA was taken out at the Nursery. I mean... it could have been the leftists. I can't think of anybody else who might have done it. But for a bunch of university students, or whoever the hell makes up the ranks of the People's Dawn, to go full-on 'black ops' on those soldiers, and not to mention handle and channel the undead so effectively... well, it all just seems a little odd. Plenty of people- at least CZ residents- haven't even seen a zombie in over a decade. Well, aside from zombies on grainy TV screens. I'm pretty sure that a bunch of guys whose only knowledge of zombies comes from the NPA's 'How to Survive the Infected' video wouldn't be able to sic an entire horde on an army outpost and vanish without a trace. You would have thought half of them would have gotten eaten or bit in the process... and we didn't find any zombies with red armbands at the nursery either. But, as I said before, we know of no other groups that could have been the culprit," he shrugs.

"I'm very surprised Patrick is still breathing, I guess he's tougher than he looks. Those holdout soldiers pumped him full of rifle-caliber rounds, and the fact that Doctor Nice managed to save him is nothing short of a medical miracle. We shouldn't expect the majority of our wounded to require that many units of medicine; Patrick was mainly a special case. However, in a large-scale firefight, I suppose we could end up with a large amount of wounded, including ones in critical condition."

"Cash crops are a good idea. We could also see about producing moonshine, although I suppose that would require corn. Some cheap mash liquor could also be made if we use small amounts of fruit and crumbled bread from our rations," he says. "If we start growing tobacco though, we'd better make sure the Parley Cigarette Company doesn't send any corporate death squads after us," he jokes with a small chuckle, referring to one of the corporate entities that managed to survive the outbreak and continue to exist within the Clean Zones. These old companies generally cooperate heavily with the government, or have since become directly state-owned enterprises. Some of these corporations are quite predatory, being able to do as they please due to the fact that they are backed by the military junta. It might have explained why so many leftists started popping up.

Lambert contemplates something for a moment. "What are your thoughts on narcotics? Drug dealing, basically. It could be the more minor stuff, like Wildwood, which we could produce in our gardens if we find the proper seeds for it. I would advise against anything harder than that, though. It'd make us look bad if we ended up getting locals addicted to any bad crap, and producing and selling it would be more complicated anyway."

Lambert takes a sip from his own cup of watery coffee. "We'd need to find some people to buy from. Trading between rebel groups will be unreliable, since we're generally going to be wanting the same things. We'll have to find some independent groups to work out some deals with; arms dealers, smugglers, maybe renegade corporations, that kind of thing. One group that comes to mind is Strayka. They're, uh... you know... the Kazacian Mob. However, I'd wager they're supplying the leftists or something. It's up to you if you want to deal with those guys or not. Though, I heard a rumor that Strayka is part of the reason why so many cheap, foreign-model assault rifles have shown up; apparently they're the ones making them. The ones we're using right now could have even come from them, at least originally."

Lambert agrees to find a proficient drillmaster, bolster the patrols and watch regimens, as well as assemble a few firearms experts into a think-tank. When the meeting concludes, he finishes his coffee and sets about completing the tasks you gave.



Two foraging parties are dispatched.


You receive a report from Doctor Nice. Anna Pereire is not exhibiting any symptoms of Class 1 Reanimatory Necrosis. Doctor Nice thinks she would have turned into a runner by now, so the fact that she has not shown any symptoms essentially clears her of infection. "She was only mauled- infections primarily result from scratches and bites. Still, it is good that we have made sure she is healthy. Most of her bruises are already patched up, so she should be back in action tomorrow, at most. However, I have noted that our patient suffered some psychological trauma from the encounter with the infected. I'm not a Post-Apocalyptic Stress Disorder counselor, so there is little I can do in regard to that. She may have trouble standing her ground against the infected in the future," Nice warns.


You are approached by the older male gardener from the Nursery, who introduces himself as Howard Statler. Same first name as you, coincidentally enough. He decided to join your group after determining that you were of good character, and subsequently convinced the younger female gardener to tag along as well. Apparently, they decided your group wasn't just a bunch of armed thugs based on the fact that, while you may have executed Shadwell, at least none of your men raped or tortured her. Her clothes remained on from the point she was captured to the point she was shot, suggesting there wasn't any foul play in that regard.

"Hey, boss," Statler greets. "We're ready to plant those green beans. Can you mark on the map where you want the gardens to be set up? We have enough seeds for three plots. You should also put down where you want those old army tents, so I can show your other guys."

(copy paste onto map)

 

[cl0ud]

The ideas ran through Prater's head as he listened to Bobby's replies. He laughed when Bobby laughed but in his mind the gears were working and the little technicians that helped maintain them were running around as if there asses were on fire. The word Strayka bounched around in his head from the moment Bobby brought it up. Fucking communists bounced around simultaneously with Strayka. Dealing with them was essentially dealing with Satan himself.

With the morbid thought of a corporate death squad coming to knock on Prater's door with government-issued equipment didn't settle quite well, so he scratched that one off the mental notepad. Although, such a connection with the government gave Prater cause to attack their facilities. They could damage a source of income for the NPA, gain some of their own revenue, and, if lucky enough, maybe even acquire some equipment.

Drug trafficking had raced across Prater's mind but he shook it away. It was too seedy and there could be a lot of public outcry, diminishing the reputation of the rebellion and the cause they fought for. Could you imagine that headline, though? Terrorists Sell Drugs to Topple Government. Jeez. NPA media would have a field day with that one. Propaganda would be through the roof.

As Bobby leaves the room, Prater raps his knuckles on the table a few times. He heads to his office where he finds the report from Dr. Nice. After finishing the letter, a wave of relief washes over him despite the possibility Anna wouldn't be able to confront the reanimated anymore. He knew that it was rare she would get infected, but it was still a chance and he couldn't risk her being around the rest of the compound with a possible infection. She was safe and that's all that mattered. He made a note to himself to speak with her later in the day, seeing how she felt about the whole operation and if she wanted to continue being a front lines operative.

As Prater made his rounds around the compound and met up with the gardener of the same given name. As Statler introduced himself, Prater produced his hand to shake. He was glad that Statler and the other gardener had decided to join up with the rest of the group. They could prove essential to extend the longevity of this compound. After a few minutes of internal debate, Prater produced a map, marking the locations of where he wanted to plant the garden and put the tents, checking with Statler to see if it was okay.

Spoiler: Map

 

[Lorsh]

Statler says that the gardens could certainly be set up in the locations denoted on your map. He estimates that they should be done by the end of the day, if you have a few teams work with all the shovels you can spare to dig up the necessary space for the seeds. Statler estimates that the first yield of green beans should be done in about two days (1), and should yield 25-50 units of food. Afterwards, he purses his lips slightly and scratches his beard for a moment in though. "Not sure if you want to use 'night soil' as fertilizer, but it could increase the yield to maybe 45-70 units of food. And by 'night soil', I mean we could use the sludge from your latrines and outhouses as fertilizer. Be careful, though, since it could cause a few of your people to get sick," he warns.

Though, after thinking to himself again, he comes up with an alternative option. "Alternatively, I could properly compost human waste first, which would make it safer to use and reduce the risk of disease. But unlike straight night soil, it wouldn't available immediately; it would take around 4 days to properly compost into usable fertilizer. And, of course, if you agree to either method, you will probably have to take a small morale hit among your troops, since the idea makes a lot of people squeamish. Wouldn't be as much of a morale loss compared to if they were starvin', though."


The foraging/hunting parties return. Neither found any game, but one party still managed to forage around and gather 7 daily rations' worth of berries, roots, and fruit. The other foraging party came across a sizable bounty of wild corn-on-the-cob, managing to bring back 30 rations' worth of corn ears in their satchels. The foraged corn could be broken down into 1-2 units of seeds for planting, or simply added to the storehouse for consumption.

(1) See time mechanics on IFRP thread.

 

[cl0ud]

"That won't be necessary. We have enough rations to suffice another ten days, and if it shows that we'll need to slash rations, we'll do so," Prater says, waving away the notion of using straight human fecal matter. It made him shutter at the thought. Plus, the risk of infection would be too high, and that's definitely something that wasn't going to be put out. Cutting corners was effective, but unless absolutely necessary, it's better off doing things the right way. "Go ahead and compost it. I want it to be as safe as possible to use growing our crops."

"Excellent work gentleman!" Prater tells the second foraging group, shaking each of their hands and giving them hearty pats on the back. Since there's still a good amount of food left, the corn is to be broken down into seeds.

 

[Lorsh]

Statler nods, appearing to agree with your decision to use composting for fertilizer. He says that you might need to provide around 50 wood and 5 units of scrap to make some proper composting boxes and a decent storage shack to hold them, however.

The ears of wild corn are broken down, and two units of seeds are successfully extracted from the foraged plant material. You should be able to plant two corn plots now.

Statler approaches you again, showing you an updated version of your map. He asks where the corn plots and compost shack should be situated. In other news, he says that the other gardener, Donna Maves, isn't settling in well. Apparently, Cass McCoy and a few others have been giving the girl a hard time for 'being part of the NPA'... at least their agricultural branch. "They haven't picked on me, yet. Probably because they see me talking to you. Donna's more off on the sidelines, though- more vulnerable," Statler tells you.

 

[cl0ud]

"You have my permission to access whatever resources you need," Prater says, allowing with the use of 50 wood and 5 scrap. When Statler brings up the news, Prater's eyebrows furrow. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention," Prater says, dismissing Statler to get to his projects but before Statler walks off, "Gather a group of workers to help you plant the gardens and construct the compost shack, and you have access to whatever tools you need."

Shit. Prater thinks to himself. He knew something like this could occur- the bullying of the newcomers because of their affiliation with the NPA- but their experience was too valuable just to execute them. Plus, they weren't even armed and volunteered themselves to arrest at the Nursery. If he were to discipline his troops, they'd think he was a NPA sympathizer, and if he didn't Donna Maves would still be subject to the harassment and could prove a security issue if she were to grow detached from the rest of the group.

A light bulb shone brightly in his head. He headed to his office, where he summoned Donna Maves. When she arrives, Prater would motion to the seat across his desk, "Hello Miss Maves. I wanted to talk to you about a few things to hasten your integration into the camp. Tell me about yourself. Where did you come from and how did you end up in the clutches of the NPA?"

 

[Lorsh]

Donna Maves shows up at your office, and the guards shut the door so that you may talk to her in private. She nervously pulls out a chair and sits down across from you. She doesn't look very intimidating, being maybe eighteen to twenty years old. Blonde, a few freckles, and an unassuming demeanor. No wonder she was easily pushed around by the others.

She at least manages to make eye contact when the questions begin, at least briefly. "I'm from Copperdale, sir," she tells you in a small voice. "Well, near there... I, uh..." She pauses for a moment to think back on the events that led to her ending up here. "I grew up on a farm, but they didn't need any extra help in the fields, since I had a lot of brothers... So, uh, I joined the Agricultural Commission(1), and they sent us to the Sturgess Nursery. I was just there to work on the gardens, but a few people were there to research trees... breed them, make genetic improvements, that kinda stuff. And err, there were soldiers there to look after everything," she says. Donna looks back up at you. "I don't agree with how our Marshal had all those protesters shot, if you were wondering anything like that..."

(1) The NPA has different 'Commissions' (ex: Commerce Commission, Labor Commission, etc.) which are uniformed services that manage more civilian-related affairs. The Commissions are subordinate to the NPA's bureaucraticl/administrative branch (Office of Civics) as opposed to the armed forces. Many Commissions still have a para-militaristic structure, and rely on actual military soldiers for security. Despite the martial aesthetic, Commission employees are still civilians for all intents and purposes.

 

[cl0ud]

"What do you know about the NPA?"

 

[Lorsh]

"Like... uh... know what about them?" she asks.

 

[cl0ud]

"How long were they at Sturgess?"

 

[Lorsh]

"Well, they were studying trees there since before the outbreak, and started doing it again about five years ago... I was only working there for two years," Donna says. "But they attached soldiers there a few months ago, when all the troubles started."

 

[cl0ud]

"Thank you, I've heard everything I needed to. You're excused," Prater says, dismissing Ms. Maves. After she's left the building, Prater calls in Bobby Lambert and Trevor Ruger. Once they've arrived, he motions of them to sit down. "Welcome, gentlemen."

. . .
​

"Recently, after our raid on the Sturgess Tree Nursery, we picked up two newcomers, a Howard Statler and a Donna Maves. Gardeners who worked for the NPA. Ever since Howard's been here, he's made himself useful. Donna on the other hand has caused issues internally. The troops are picking on her for being with the NPA. Just before you arrived, I talked to her and was not impressed. She voluntarily joined the NPA. I don't want to kill her. I don't want to discipline the troops lest they think I'm a sympathizer and I'm being soft on the NPA, but I also don't want her to become a threat to the security of the compound."

"We can't ask her to leave in the case she runs back to her NPA buddies somewhere and tells them the location of our compound. If we kill her, Statler will undoubtedly revolt or sabotage our new food supply. Trevor, I called you in here to ask if you think you could sway the public opinion of our new members. And for Bobby, as always, my ears are open for your sage advice. What do you think?"

 

[Lorsh]

"I agree that there's nothing we can really do if people choose to ostracize her. I only think punishing our troops is warranted if anything physical occurs," Bobby says. So far, nobody has laid a hand on Donna, or done anything like beat her up, at least. Still, it could potentially happen at some point, if the relationship doesn't improve.

Trevor agrees to try and convince the ordinary troops to get along with the newcomers. "Cass McCoy, however, will be doing the opposite of what I am trying to accomplish. She really doesn't like Donna for some reason, and she's already convinced a bunch of her friends to follow along with her- I can get back to you with an estimate on the numbers later. I guess it's because she's always been one of the more zealous ones in our militia, since her kid got killed in those initial riots and all. Can't blame her, but she's being toxic towards our newcomers right now, so we might have to figure out a way to deal with her while I try to smooth things out," he says. "If things don't improve, Donna could end up snapping and getting into a fight, or trying to run away. Since she hasn't had much time to settle in, it could happen relatively quickly. She probably doesn't feel at home here right now."

 

[cl0ud]

Prater presses his nose to his hands, which are palm-to-palm. After clapping, he starts, looking at Bobby, "What do you think we could do with miss Donna while Trevor smooths things over? I don't think McCoy will go out of her way to look for Donna and bully her, so if we remove Donna, then we remove the issue until Trevor's found a way to get everyone to like each other."

 

[Lorsh]

Bobby scratches the skin above his right eyebrow for a moment. "Well, we could do our best to arrange her lodging and work shifts so that she is around more empathetic folks, or at least ones that just don't care enough to pick on her. We could also see about modifying things on the other side; Cass is a bit of a go-getter, so she probably wouldn't mind being sent out on a task or two, which could take her out of the picture for awhile," he says. "Though... if we push it too hard and send her on something like an 'ink run' for two weeks, then she might start to get suspicious," he chuckles.

"Speaking of which," Ruger begins, "I think Katie O'Leary should be arriving back shortly. Lovelace visited her a few times, and has cleared her; she isn't being followed by any government spooks."

 

[cl0ud]

"Yeah yeah. Whatever. I needed to make sure she wasn't gonna get followed back. I'm looking out for your ass, Bobby," Howard says, laughing alongside Bobby. If it were anyone else he'd probably snap and berate them with harsh words, but he'd known Bobby. They were friends.

"That's good. I'm glad," Prater said, excited to get his agent back. "That means Lovelace is back tomorrow, as well!"

 

[Lorsh]

"Yep, the gang'll be all back together tomorrow," Bobby says. Though, his face grows somber as he remembers the events of yesterday. "We'll have to inform them of the losses we received, but I'm sure that they'll be happy to hear that we're starting to make progress regarding sustainability."

Ruger nods. "And at least we'll have ink and paper again. The old printer I have in the command office stopped working a few days ago, but I think Andy can fix it up without that much effort. Then, I might be able to start printing out some propaganda posters, or things along those lines." Pursing his lips, he held up his hands. "Not that it's 'propaganda'- but you know what I mean."

Bobby looks at you, and lays out the map of the base. "Where did you want to put those farm-related places again? Corn fields and compost shack, I think it was."

 

[cl0ud]

Acknowledging Bobby's comment with a nod, Prater then addresses Ruger, "Don't worry, I gotcha. I'm glad though. Hopefully we'll get in some more recruits. Fresh blood and especially young blood ready to fight against the NPA will always raise general morale."

As Bobby scrawls out the map of the base, Prater maneuvers his fingers to show where he wanted the cornfields and the compost shack placed.

Spoiler: Map

 

[Lorsh]

Ruger nods. "Yeah, god knows we need as many people as we can get, though it might be hard to recruit the right folks without advertising our location. Our main compound ought to be kept a close secret, in case the government tries to drop a fuel-air bomb on us or something," he shrugs.

Bobby rubs his chin. "That'd be a really, really worst-case scenario, yes... but I don't think we're that much of a problem to them. If they could just bomb the hell out of every single little outpost, Tosaco, Arkwright, and all of those places would be gone. The Army Air Force (1) in this sector probably doesn't really have that many planes to spare."

Ruger agrees. "I guess you're right. Still, they can attack us in other ways. We could try to set up a separate outpost to accept recruits, perhaps."


Bobby says he'll update the map and relay the orders to your workers once the meeting is over.

(1) Many Air Force assets were lost during the outbreak, or were simply rendered obsolete by the precedence of zombies. The Central Republic Air Force ceased to be an independent branch after NPA leaders signed the Armed Forces Reorganization Act about nine years ago. The remaining Air Force elements were tacked on as a new component of the army, and reorganized as the Army Air Force. The Army Air Force also includes all helicopters, which were previously managed by the Army Aviation branch (now merged as well).