The Cold Fire Within (Wasteland 3)

October 4th, 2107

The sun had not quite begun its rise across the sky when the electronic bugle call sounded over the speakers, the tunes of reveille echoing through the canyon that had become the latest headquarters for the Desert Rangers. Here they were protected from the heat, harsh winds and occasional radiation storm that still swept through the land, though they were fortunately becoming less and less common.

For nearly five years the Desert Rangers had labored here, clawing their way back from the aftermath of the Second Battle of the Citadel. A battle that had claimed their fortress and a large portion of their numbers, leaving the area awash in radiation. Here in the shadows of the canyon where one of their own had been murdered by a steel monk, the Desert Rangers stood on the cusp of another great undertaking.

Once an organization that had been perhaps three score strong, the Desert Rangers under General Snake Vargas and then General Wade Woodson had expanded dramatically over the last five years. Now they stood two hundred strong, though it was undeniable that the overwhelming majority of their recruits were green, many of them having perhaps a year of active duty and a few patrols under their belts.

Despite this rapid expansion, one thing was clear. Arizona and the Desert Rangers with it, were dying. The loss of Highpool’s water reserves in 2102 was crippling in the harsh desert and the settlement of Ag Center struggled to keep people fed as their own water reserves dried up. New wells were drilled but nineteen out of twenty times they came back dry or irradiated. Something radical had to be done.

Hopelessness was everywhere these days but there was a frantic energy among those in command of the Desert Rangers as they searched for a solution and seemed to find it. Though he was tight lipped about the reasons, General Woodson had the Desert Rangers gather vehicles, weapons and supplies in large numbers, bartering with Damonta and the Rail Nomads like a man possessed. The Desert Rangers were told to research what they could about surviving in snowy mountains, eschewing collecting clothing designed to keep one cool in favor of that which would keep a man warm in a blizzard. All the signs were there but no one was willing to put into words yet.

It was only as September came to a close that General Woodson addressed the Desert Rangers, having recalled everyone he could. He spoke of a chance, something that could save Arizona and the Desert Rangers. Fifty men and women had been selected to go north east, though for what purpose he did not tell them specifically. Unfortunately most of them were not experienced Rangers and a number of them had only ever done logistical work. For some this would be their first real foray beyond the wire. All of them had faith however in his leadership and that of the newly named leader of the Colorado Expedition, Major Vera Prasad.

Now it was time for the Colorado Expedition to begin. There was no great speech in the shadows of the canyon walls, no chest thumping ceremony or dramatic march. The Desert Rangers were a hardy, practical people and each of them knew the score. Those that drove north east sallied forth for the survival of Arizona and the Desert Rangers. They could not fail.

AN: So I’ve recently beaten the excellent Wasteland 3 and decided to write a story about it, as I’m sitting in quarantine with nothing to do and a lot of time on my hands. This will largely be a novelization based on the game itself as the Desert Rangers struggle to find their way through the treacherous paths of Colorado. As such, a warning for spoilers for those who have not played the game, though I imagine this will take a while to get beyond even the first few hours of the game.