Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Alyx Vance entered the laboratory, and saw what had become a familiar sight over the past few weeks – Gordon Freeman being a scientist rather than a superhero.
"You've been glued to that microscope for the last hour, Gordon," she said, leaning against the doorframe, "You expecting to see anything new?"
Gordon Freeman straightened up with a groan, rubbing the weariness from his eyes before pulling his glasses back down from their previous position on his brow. "I shouldn't," he conceded, "but this is getting so frustrating. There must be something with these new parasites that I'm not seeing." He tried to work the kinks out of his neck and shoulders, common hazards of being a lab monkey. "We've tried every remedy we could think of to stop them. Our anti-Combine methods don't faze them, and the Vortigaunts don't recognize them from Xen, so that's no help."
Alyx came up behind him and started rubbing his shoulders. "You won't be able to find anything if you blind yourself looking. Take a break for a bit. Your eyes will thank you."
Gordon leaned back appreciatively into her talented hands. "And in the meantime, more people get killed by weird vampire jellyfish." He groaned as she attended to a particularly painful knot in his shoulder. "It's like the universe hates us."
"Hey. You can't expect to save the world all by yourself." She hugged him, leaning against his back.
"I've done it twice already," he returned, closing his eyes and savoring her touch.
"And now I think you've earned a nap. Come on. Kleiner can take over. Hey, Dr. Kleiner!"
Isaac Kleiner, Gordon's old mentor from the days when Black Mesa meant job security rather than the apocalypse (and who Gordon thought bore more than a passing resemblance to Dr. Bunsen Honeydew), glanced up from his notes. "Yes, Miss Vance?"
"Gordon and I are going to take a break from xenobiology for a while. Can you pick up where he left off?"
"I'd be happy to. Gordon, you're not getting nearly enough sleep these days. Nor you, Miss Vance, by the looks of it. Why don't the two of you have a nap and keep each other warm?"
There was a moment's silence, during which Gordon stopped dead, his lab coat halfway off and a slightly hunted look on his face, and Alyx tried (but ultimately failed) to suppress her laughter. It was difficult to tell at times whether or not Dr. Kleiner was even aware of his occasional double entendres.
"Wow, that was subtle," Alyx remarked once they'd escaped into the hallway.
"I just wish he'd get off that 'help repopulate humanity' thing," Gordon sighed, "I know it's important, but he doesn't need to remind us at every opportunity. It's not like we can do it by ourselves or anything."
"Nothing to be wasted by trying," she said, putting an arm around his waist and silencing his red-faced sputtering with a brief kiss. "Oh, hush. You're cute when you blush."
Gordon considered with a shy grin that she probably thought he looked downright adorable right now if that was the case, but then he looked grim again. "If we can't get these new parasites under control, human civilization might be in trouble again, just when we almost have things rebuilt."
Alyx leaned against him reassuringly, and he put an arm around her. "We'll figure something out," she said, "But first, that nap sounds like a good—"
"A Traveler comes," said a voice behind them, a harsh basso rumble beyond the capacity of most humans. They turned to see a Vortigaunt, one of the friendly alien species from Xen, standing hunched behind them, watching them with the central-most of his seven red eyes. They were the closest thing to "little green men" that anyone had seen since this whole thing started, except that they were easily six feet tall.
"A traveler from where?" Gordon asked, running down his mental list of human colonies in this part of the country.
The Vortigaunt unfolded a thin arm and pointed upwards. Presently, they heard the sound of a large projectile screaming down from the stratosphere to impact outside the building with a muffled THWOOM, causing Gordon to pull Alyx protectively close. The building shook as the projectile skidded to a halt, and then there was silence. The Vortigaunt seemed utterly unrattled by the event and, his message sent, turned and headed for the main door.
Gordon and Alyx exchanged a glance and hurried to follow him.
Outside, they saw the slightly abused wreckage of a sleek, gold-colored vessel half-buried in the turf, roughly wedge shaped but with organic curves not seen in any Earth craft. Smoke and dust swirled around the craft.
"Holy shit!" Barney Calhoun said nearby. Gordon glanced over to see the former security guard gesturing helplessly at the wrecked craft, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for the right summary for the scene. "It's… it's… it's a goddamn UFO!" he finally decided. Once upon a time, he might have been excited about a close encounter of the third kind, but nowadays this was tempered with the dread of yet another wave of invasion.
Gordon ventured towards the wreckage, shielding his eyes with his hands to get a better look. Through the windscreen, he saw the silhouette of a passenger within.
"There's somebody in there!" he called to the others.
"Human?" Alyx asked.
"Looks like it. Maybe. He might still be alive. Come on!" He jogged forward, followed by Alyx and Barney, reaching the craft just as the Vortigaunts pried open a hatch on the side of the vessel.
"The Traveler lives," one of them told him, "But the Free Man must hurry if the Traveler is to survive."
He nodded at the Vortigaunt before climbing into the belly of the craft. Inside the ship, he found himself surrounded by panels of blinking lights and indicators that he guessed he wouldn't be able to figure out in ten years. Further forward, he found the lone command chair in front of a similarly high-tech control panel, occupied by a single humanoid figure in gleaming red and gold armor. The right arm gave way at the elbow to what appeared to be the barrel of a gun of some sort, and the armor was accented with glowing green designs along the arms, legs, and joints. The pilot was still firmly strapped to the command chair, possibly the only thing that prevented him from pitching forward into the controls on impact.
"Hey, wait up!" Alyx called behind him.
"I'm up here!" he called back, "I think I found the pilot. Give me a hand – I can't tell how badly he's injured."
As he investigated the safety straps for the catch release, he heard two people climbing into the vessel behind him. He poked a likely-looking fastener, and the straps unfurled from around the pilot and vanished into the command chair. Gordon caught the limp body as it flopped forward, and then pulled it out of the command chair, handing it off to Alyx and Barney.
"Looks like we found Iron Man or something," Barney said.
"Let's get him to the infirmary," Gordon said, "We might be able to help him."
They carried the limp, armored form out of the crashed vessel and through the sparse crowd of civilians that had gathered, drawn by the sound and sight of the crash. It was natural to be curious, after all, even in the face of potential danger. It was only human nature. As they passed, Gordon could hear murmured questions.
"Who is that?"
"Is it human?"
"Is it Combine?"
"What does it want?"
Barney shoved open the doors ahead of them as they made their way to the infirmary.
"We got a crash victim!" he bellowed, and the medical team (who had once been doctors, nurses, and military medics in a previous life) leaped into action, helping them place the stranger on an empty bed. One of the medics bent close to place his ear against the pilot's chest for a few seconds, listening.
"I got a heartbeat!" he announced, "And he's breathing, but it sounds labored. Let's get this armor off him!"
It was then that things started getting complicated. The pilot's armor seemed to have no visible seams that would allow them to reach vital organs or even perform an examination for injuries. Gordon felt around the bottom edge of the helmet for some sort of catch. When he found the outline of a promising button, he pushed it, and the twin breathing tubes connecting the front of the helmet to the upper chest of the armor popped free of the helmet with a hiss of air. Gordon worked the helmet loose and pulled it off, to reveal…
"It looks human," Gordon announced to the others present, "And… female."
There was no mistaking the delicate contours of the woman's face. She was in her late twenties or early thirties, by Gordon's estimation, and might have once been pretty before a hard life had introduced cynical lines around her eyes and mouth; now, she looked like a soldier. Her blonde hair was long, and plaited in a purely functional braid. She had a fresh gash in her scalp, which oozed red blood into her hair.
Gordon moved aside as a nurse set about cleaning the scalp wound. The gauntlet on the pilot's left hand had some sort of jewel set into the back of it. He bent for a closer look and saw a fine seam around it. On a hunch, he pushed on the jewel.
The armor flashed white and started folding and furling away in a manner not entirely consistent with three-dimensional geometry, revealing a light blue, skintight catsuit underneath. Even the cannon on her right arm slid back and away into some hyper-dimensional pocket, revealing a perfectly normal arm underneath. After about thirty seconds, the whole contraption had been tucked away into the jewel on her right glove.
"Now that's cool," Gordon said with a small grin.
"Something like that would make it easier for you to get that Hazard suit of yours on," one of the medics said.
"Tell me about it," Gordon said, "Let's get those gloves to the engineers and see if they can find a way to duplicate the technology." One of the medics tugged off the pilot's gloves and handed them off to a nurse, who headed off to deliver them. "Let's see what else we've got here."
He stepped aside as the medics moved in, locating a zipper on the front of the suit and opening the front of it, revealing a thin, close-fitting tank top beneath, covering her full breasts. Gordon turned to the supplies laid out on a nearby table, handing them over as needed.
"Looks like we've got a couple broken ribs here."
"Sprained wrist…"
"Dislocated shoulder…"
Gordon noticed that Barney's response time was starting to slow, and he glanced over at his old friend. Barney was staring blankly at the pilot.
"Barney?" Gordon prodded him, "Don't fall asleep on me, man."
Barney snapped back to reality, blinking a few times. He handed over a medkit, which Gordon passed on to the working medics. "Sorry. It's just…" He sighed. "It's nothing."
"What kind of 'nothing'?" Gordon asked.
Barney kept his eyes on the length of bandages in his hands. "She looks a lot like Lauren, is all."
Lauren McKenzie, Barney's longtime girlfriend, had been the love of the man's life since he was in high school. He'd been planning to ask her to marry him one weekend, but as it turned out, his plans would be derailed by the Black Mesa Incident. Then came the Seven Hours' War, and marriage had to be put on the back burner in favor of sheer survival. The last Barney had seen of Lauren was ten years ago, when they had been split up and sent to separate work camps. He never saw her again.
Gordon knew that Barney was still haunted by her disappearance, and still hoped every day that he would see her again. Gordon never had the heart to offer the (entirely plausible) theory that Lauren might be dead. It wouldn't help, in any case. Barney would mourn at his own pace.
There was a bony pop as the pilot's shoulder was relocated, a slightly gut-wrenching noise even for more experienced Resistance soldiers. She stirred, making a feeble noise. Gordon glanced over to find Barney staring again, with that haunted look in his eyes.
"Barney, take a break," Gordon said.
Barney snapped back to reality. "What? But…"
"Take a break. You look like you need one. We'll talk about it later. Alyx, take over for him."
Barney frowned, but set down the bandages he'd been readying and left the infirmary. Alyx took his place at Gordon's side.
"He looks a bit spooked," she said, once Barney was out of earshot. She handed Gordon some medical tape, and he passed it across to the working medics. The pilot had been partially stripped of the blue catsuit to allow access to her injuries, and she was now wrapped with bandages across several joints and around her head, and she had a medkit attached to her arm. As Gordon watched, the ampoule of green fluid, specially formulated to accelerate healing, slowly drained. At the other arm, a medic was taking a blood sample.
"Bad memories," Gordon said, "of Lauren."
Alyx winced. "He wants her to be alive so much."
Gordon nodded somberly. "I know. She seemed like a sweet girl. She was perfect for him." He glanced at the pilot. "I don't see much resemblance, though."
"Give him time," Alyx said.
The rest of the time was spent in thoughtful silence as the woman's ribs were taped and the rest of her injuries treated and bandaged.
"Okay, I think this is the best we'll be able to do for her," one of the medics said, detaching the spent medkit, "Now all that's left to do is wait for her to wake up." He pulled her catsuit back up to cover her, lay her down, and pulled a blanket over her. "Get that blood sample to the lab. Make sure she isn't infected with anything."
The medic with the vial of blood nodded and headed off.
"Alright," said Gordon, "Thanks everyone. You did great." He sighed. "Now we wait." He glanced at the fallen pilot, considering that someone should watch over her in case she was disoriented when she woke up. It probably wouldn't be him – he was just too worn out. He wasn't going to risk her waking up with him asleep in her cleavage. He considered additionally that he needed to check on Barney.
He decided to combine the two.
Barney glanced up as Gordon emerged from the infirmary.
"Is she okay?" Barney asked.
"She's all patched up," Gordon replied, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine. It was… it was like seeing a ghost, that's all. I'm okay."
"I'm serious, man. We might be in the middle of an alien plague here. I can't have you cracking up on me. Not now."
"I said I'm fine. I've been doing this longer than you have, Gordon. I can handle this."
"If you're sure."
"I'm sure. You, on the other hand, look like you're about to pass out."
"Yeah. Look, I need someone to watch over the pilot while I take a break."
"Hey, I can do that," Barney volunteered eagerly.
"All right. I'm going to get some shuteye. Sit in there with her, and watch over her. If anything changes, give me a yell. If anything gets worse, take care of it."
"Got it." Barney headed back to the infirmary.
Gordon rubbed his eyes. He was going to enjoy this nap.
Samus Aran woke slowly to a symphony of aches and pains. She took mental stock of herself, and considered it a small miracle that she was (relatively) okay. She became aware that she had been bandaged up, under her flight suit. Someone had found her, removed her armor, and performed first aid on her. Interesting. And her gloves were gone. Shit. She couldn't activate her Power Suit without them. Was she in a safe place, though? She might have been taken prisoner by allies of the One Free Man – and if so, she might be in trouble.
She became aware that someone was talking to her.
"… and when the train crashed… well, I thought I was about dead. Somebody found me and dragged me out, though. I'm okay now, I guess."
She opened her eyes just a fraction, peering in the direction of the speaker. He was… decent-looking, she supposed, though he had that "stared-down-the-barrel-of-hell" look she'd seen on so many soldiers and bounty hunters, so that even his cheerful tone seemed a bit off. He had dark hair, starting to go gray at the temples, and he needed to shave. She saw him starting to turn, and immediately shut her eyes again.
"I bet you feel the same way, surviving that crash." She felt him clasp her hand, with a level of familiarity that galled her. "You should thank Gordon, really. He was the first one in. Always the hero. Even after everything that's happened since he came back, he's the first into any sticky spot. You look like you've been through a lot, too." She felt him brush his fingertips over a scar on her cheek. She fought down her initial outrage and continued to lie still. She peeked at him again and saw that he'd glanced pensively away. "Of course, with these parasites, this might not have been the best time to show up," he continued.
Parasites? What kind of…
She noticed something in the corner, past the man, a tall glass tube filled with formaldehyde and containing a specimen. Her eyes widened as she recognized the thing floating within, no longer as mindful of the man guarding her. She could hardly mistake the gelatinous creature, about twice the size of a man's head, translucent green, with four red quadripartite nuclei suspended within. In its underside it had two pairs of curved fangs in its underside, the inner pair smaller than the outer pair. It was a Metroid larva! They were studying Metroids – she had to get out of here!
She exploded into action, her hand striking like a rattlesnake to punch the man in the face as he turned.
*****
Gordon was sound asleep, with Alyx nestled in his arms. Since they were both fully clothed, he considered this gesture to be chaste enough and quite practical for keeping warm and conserving sleeping space, despite the occasional ribbing he got. However, regardless of how comfortable he was (very, given the context), he woke instantly when he heard the commotion in the infirmary down the hall, sitting up alertly to listen.
He heard a heavy impact, followed by a familiar male voice swearing.
Oh God. Barney!
He snatched up his glasses from the bedside table and leaped from the bed, grabbing a handgun from under the mattress, and was out the door before Alyx had awakened enough to ask what was wrong. He paused just long enough to put his glasses on, before sprinting down the hall to the infirmary and skidding to a halt in the doorway to see what was happening.
Barney was grappling with the previously injured pilot, having wrapped his arms around her shoulders and waist from behind to try to restrain her. His nose was bleeding and looked like it might be broken. She brought one heel sharply back between his legs, and Barney let out a strangled cough, letting her go. She broke for the door, but collided with Gordon, who grabbed her. She struggled to get away, and Gordon made sure to hold her slightly to one side so she couldn't kick him like she had Barney.
"Easy, easy, easy," he said, trying to calm her, "Nobody here wants to hurt you. Just… calm down. Calm down. Calm down. Shh." As her struggles eased, he glanced past her at Barney, who was doubled over and leaning heavily against the bed. "Barney, you okay?"
Barney glanced up, red-faced. "I will be in a minute," he managed, sounding strained, "God DAMN she's got hard heels." He finally managed to straighten up, clearing his throat, and regarded Gordon. "What is it about you that just calms people down, huh?"
Gordon shrugged. "I guess I just look harmless."
"Bullshit, Gordon – you just charged into an infirmary with a handgun."
"Because a brawl broke out in here. What did you expect me to do, huh?" He sighed. "First things first, though."
Gordon carefully released the pilot, holding her at arm's length. She scowled and refused to look at him. "Good to see you up and about," he said, keeping his tone light, "You're definitely in better condition than that ship you arrived in. What's your name?" She frowned and didn't answer. "My name's Gordon. The guy over there with the nosebleed is Barney." He stopped and winced as Barney set his broken nose with a loud crack. "What's your name?" He paused, waiting. No answer. She just looked up at him, as though gauging his trustworthiness. Gordon made a face, starting to feel awkward. Maybe she didn't speak English. His knowledge of Russian was a bit dodgy – he could read it fine, but speaking it was another matter entirely.
Finally, she spoke. "Samus."
Gordon brightened, relieved at the progress. "Samus – that's your name? Samus?"
She nodded, still watching him carefully. "Samus Aran." She scowled at Barney. "And tell your friend Barney that the next finger he lays on me gets broken."
Gordon and Barney exchanged a glance.
"She speaks English," Gordon observed, "That'll make things easier."
"Unless she decides to try to kill me again," Barney returned, gingerly investigating his swelling nose.
Gordon sighed. So much for getting some rest.
End of Part 2.