The day after the grand banquet, Six sat at his new desk, a glass of water in hand, his eyes staring out of the large window overlooking Shady Sands. It wasn't the view he was used to—the wastelands stretching as far as the eye could see—but it was a strategic vantage point.
The city, bustling with both NCR personnel and new settlers, was a far cry from Goodsprings, but it was only temporary. His true power still lay in the Mojave.
President Kimball had agreed to let Six move his office to Goodsprings—but only on the condition that the NCR would have a say in the future of the territory. A difficult but inevitable compromise.
Kimball was no fool; Six had been clear about his intentions to keep control over Goodsprings, but the NCR had a long reach and a vested interest in seeing the region stabilized under their banner.
The terms of the agreement had been a hard-fought negotiation, but Six knew better than to press too hard at the outset. The NCR was trying to protect its interests, just as he was.
"Secretary Six."
A voice broke his concentration. It was Julie Farkas, standing in the doorway with a datapad in hand. She looked at him with a cautious smile, but even she could tell how much the weight of the agreement had settled over him.
"I assume the deal's been struck?"
Six nodded slowly, setting the glass down and taking a breath.
"Yeah. It's settled. The NCR gets their access to our technology and a foothold in Goodsprings. In return, I keep control of the Mojave and the settlements within it."
Julie arched an eyebrow.
"And the technology?"
"I'll give them the T-45, T-51b, T-60, and X-01 power armors, all old models, none Knightmare armor. They'll also get 11 Graze Knightmare Frames and two Prydwens."
He paused.
"And, I'll also have the railway connecting the Mohave and Shady Sands rebuilt within the week. That'll be the final piece to tie us together."
Julie looked a little taken aback by the scale of what Six was agreeing to.
"That's a lot of firepower you're handing over. And not just the technology, but the actual frames, the aircraft, and a whole railway system. You know this will make us a prime target for any faction out there, right? The Brotherhood, Caesar's Legion, even the followers of the Apocalypse—they'll be gunning for us once they know what we've got."
Six looked back at the view from the window, his fingers lightly tapping against the desk.
"I know. But the NCR knows how to play politics. They'll provide the protection, and in return, they'll have some say over Goodsprings, Shady Sands, and the land we're controlling."
He sighed.
"It's a calculated risk. I'm not doing it out of charity; I'm setting the stage for bigger moves down the line. If I want to make the Mojave a place where people can finally stand on their own feet, I need more than just firepower—I need allies, stability, and the NCR's help is a necessary evil."
Julie stepped into the room fully and placed the datapad on the desk.
"And if the NCR starts pushing you too hard? This isn't just about resources and technology anymore. If they start making demands on Goodsprings, if they want more control or access to your people, what will you do?"
Six looked down at the datapad, considering the information it held. He had been in this position before—pushed to the brink by power-hungry factions—but this time, things were different. He had a city, a family, and a vision that extended far beyond the desert.
"If it comes to that, I'll make my own moves. For now, though, it's about balance. It's about making sure the Mojave doesn't fall into chaos again. If the NCR plays by the rules, they get access to what they need, and I stay in control. We both get what we want."
Julie nodded, still looking a little uneasy.
"I just hope you've thought through every angle. It's one thing to play politics with a few factions, but this? This is the NCR. They won't stop until they have the whole Mojave under their thumb."
Six's expression hardened, the faintest glint of resolve in his eyes.
"Then I'll make sure they don't forget who really holds the power here."
He stood up, gathering his composure.
"Let's get started. The first shipments will be here within the week. And the railway will be running shortly after. By the time Kimball's people get comfortable in Shady Sands, Goodsprings will be untouchable."
Julie gave a nod, though she still seemed troubled by the weight of the deal. She turned to leave, her footsteps echoing softly in the hallway.
As the door shut behind her, Six took another look out over Shady Sands, his mind racing with the implications of everything that was to come.
He wasn't just securing the future of the Mojave—he was setting the stage for a new era, one where the people of the Wasteland might finally have a chance at prosperity. But he knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy. Not with all the eyes on him.
And not with the NCR's intentions still unknown.
By day's end, Six stood at the loading ramp of the Prydwen, its interior aglow with soft amber lighting as it hummed with life above the bleak remains of nuclear-wintered Shady Sands. What had once been the proud capital of the New California Republic now lay beneath a thick canopy of gray snow and frost, its iconic skyline bowed beneath the weight of ash and time.
The sky was a perpetually cold slate, and flakes of irradiated snow swirled through the air like a silent accusation. Shady Sands had survived many hardships—but the latest wave of environmental collapse, brought on by the destabilizing forces of the world-shifting invasions, had reduced it to a shell of its former self.
As Six looked out from the airship's open ramp, he caught one final glimpse of President Kimball, wrapped in an insulated NCR trench coat, flanked by honor guards whose breaths steamed visibly in the air. Despite the harsh conditions, the sendoff had remained ceremonial. Politics, after all, didn't care much for the weather.
Inside the Prydwen, dozens of federal officials took their assigned seats—scientists, military observers, infrastructure planners, and envoys from various NCR departments. Their purpose was twofold: to offer "federal support" and to quietly ensure NCR interests were protected in the rapidly growing city-state of Goodsprings.
Six didn't need to guess which priority mattered more.
As the ramp closed with a metallic hiss and the airship lifted into the swirling sky, Six remained standing, hands behind his back, watching the frozen ruins disappear beneath the clouds.
He muttered to himself, voice low and thoughtful.
"They want to watch. Let 'em. All they'll see is progress."
From the forward deck, one of the Prydwen's officers called out.
"Sir, we'll be crossing the Colorado in twenty minutes. ETA to Goodsprings: just over an hour."
Six nodded.
"Good. Patch me through to Viktor. I want every dome lit, the turrets rotated to full readiness, and the southern rail entrance cleared before we touch down. Let them know the Mojave's heart still beats."
Outside, the Mojave snow stretched like a painting coming back to life—lush, large glass houses hosting fields blooming around Goodsprings thanks to the G.E.C.K., and rail lines carving paths of steel and purpose through the once-forgotten sands.
The Prydwen thundered forward, a ship of war carrying architects of the future, as Six returned home—with NCR eyes on his back and his vision still clear:
Goodsprings would thrive, not just as a beacon of technology, but as a symbol.
The West was no longer wild. It was his.