Dr. Creighton still couldn't figure out why Greg had helped them with GLaDOS. Other than the possibility that Greg truly considered the GLaDOS unit 'A FRIEND', as the note she had proclaimed, what else could he stand to gain from her unauthorized activation?
And even if he considered her 'A FRIEND', how come he hadn't helped her sooner? Truth be told, no one seemed to know much about the strange little man named Greg, save that he had the wildest fashion sense and was the only one still living who could influence Cave Johnson. It was rumored he had seven degrees, even. She didn't know how a small man named Dr. Fufflemeyer rose to such influence.
In one hand Creighton clutched the paper bearing all the precious info tightly as she peered around a column at the catwalks spanning around. The steel bridges chased across the abyss, leading into a solid-seeming block, and she skittered along them. Panels made up the exterior walls, metal grating serving as grout between the blocks of reinforced panels. Distant shudders of moving freight signaled that she'd entered the Storage Annex. While the mechanizations weren't too close, she didn't want to bump into any cognizant laborers here. The Annex was largely vacant, so anyone, especially a scientist who was typically 'above' this area, would be interrogated as to their presence there.
Creighton had been the one to come instead of her partner in crime Henry. Between her and Henry, she was marginally better at sneaking and quite younger. It wasn't much of an advantage, but it was better than her having to sort through more vast piles of color coded periphery she didn't understand. Henry was better with deciphering colors.
In her other hand was a recalibration device, the Aperture Science Construct Recalibration Tool. It could be used to override certain core functions to facilitate a re-purpose of the construct's functions. This meant that it could be driven into a port on the machine and would deactivate the machine, allowing her to get in and fix the machine… or stop it from hurting anyone. It wasn't as fail-proof as the kill-switch the GLaDOS had been tied to, but it carried the same sort of technology. Dr. Creighton had the privilege of carrying one around, and it was worthier than a firearm in Aperture. The constructs were mostly bullet-proof, but few were calibration-proof.
She hoped her line of defense would be enough. Of course, it wasn't like she could drag her entire lab with her.
In each pocket she had a copy of Greg's notes, and she had memorized the material, knowing it by heart. Speaking of which, her heart was jumping, trying to come out of her body. Perspiration was gathering, making her undershirt damp and her strands of frazzled hair stick to her jawline.
She saw no one, and that was quite possibly worse than seeing someone. In the back of her mind the press of time loomed, and she knew she'd have to move someday.
Dr. Creighton decided that day would be this day and scuttled forward. She was halfway to the first lock before she realized that crouching about made her more conspicuous than not, and decided to try and act casual. Of course, moseying about was also odd, so she decided to walk like a normal person. By the time she'd made her mind up she was a step or two from the door.
She searched along the side of the door frame, and saw its alphanumeric title flashing in yellow. A pinwheel counter, connected to the name by little aperture dots, was ticking down, losing its color. The yellow dial dulled, and then it renewed, a new alphanumeric flashing above the door. All the gates in the Storage Annex were such, being that having timed, changing security codes and door titles would discourage theft of stored Aperture goods.
It really didn't, studies had shown.
To make it worse, Dr. Creighton had been given a fatal hint by Greg. The alphanumeric title was the key for the door… in a roundabout manner. The alphanumeric title contained all the integers and variables necessary for the formula to find its key. She assessed the title, and quickly slotted the sequence into the formula, scratching it down on her pad of paper. Like that Dr. Creighton had the key. The true tricky part for her was entering the code into the keypad correctly and swiftly, as she pressed more wrong buttons or two or three buttons at a time than correct, singular buttons.
Dr. Creighton was thankful that she didn't hit the threshold of 'too many entries try again later'. The door opened, sliding smoothly and quietly. Unfortunately, the door also dinged rather loudly and she felt her blood run cold. Creighton schlepped past the gate, zig-zagging through the many aisles of boxes and crates, and tried to get out of range of the loud gate. She'd have to be certain that no one was around when she opened a gate.
Dr. Creighton idly wondered at all the storage boxes around. The mounds of storage were high and she couldn't see the end of the Annex in any direction save the one she'd come from.
A crate had a lid that hadn't been snapped tight. She couldn't afford detours, but a peek wouldn't hurt. She wondered what would await within the box.
Shower curtains… lots and lots of shower curtains.
She wondered if the entire section was nothing but shower curtains. She saw another box several aisles down. More shower curtains. There must have been miles of them spanning the Storage Annex.
Another crate that was left opened, and actually overturned, was spilling its cargo of… McGillicutty O's? At first she expected them to be much like Spaghetti O's, but upon a cursory examination this was not the case. She readjusted her glasses and bent down to inspect them. These McGillicutty O's appeared to be… shower curtain rings. There was an impressive selection of styles, more than she'd ever thought possible for shower curtain rings. A tag line on the box made her smile, 'Shower curtain rings that'll fight like the Irish!'
Dr. Creighton had her taste of exploration and was onto business. Greg's squiggly map had a red line that supposedly lead straight to GLaDOS' components. She possessed the exact address, but the map helped a million in navigating the twisting reliquary of shower curtains and their accoutrements. Every set of aisles was similar in size and shape, and measured to line up almost perfectly. She could see fairly far ahead before an off-centered aisle eclipsed her view, and she could see so far to either side of her before the aisles consumed the horizon. It was mesmerizing, watching the shelves approach vanishing point and fan out to her perspective.
She started to see more oddball items, like stacks of impounded cars and the drums of gels. Many decommissioned testing apparatuses languished about, some new and gleaming white, some decrepit and rusted as Old Aperture. She took note of an entire section filled with nothing but cubes. Stacks, and stacks, and stacks loomed in crenelated towers, hearkening to giant stone fortresses of yore.
The scientist found herself leaving the menacing towers of cubes and amidst racks of barrels, the kind alcohol could be expected to ferment in. Apparently, from what she gleaned in her madly terrified, casual stroll through them, Cave Johnson had tried his hand in whiskey making. She didn't even want to guess what type of whiskey. The stuff was probably more akin to barrels of neurotoxin than anything else. Dr. Creighton moved at a brisk pace, tripping over her own feet. She drug the toe of her dress shoes and with a yelp of surprise came tumbling down onto the concrete floor… not a pleasant experience. At least her hands had cushioned the fall, but she'd made quite a scuffle that had echoed about.
She stared up, her dark eyes wide with alarm, and her heartbeat ramped up. She scrambled to her feet, causing more sound. Her frizzy hair, upset at being tied up, fluffed into her eyes. Creighton fought with her hair, tripping again and smacking into the side of an aisle. The whole rack shuddered, and she was grieved by the buckling sound echoing in the annex. Dr. Creighton righted her glasses, and caught sight of something… something jagged and mechanical.
Ten aisles down, a purple speck of illuminated optic shone in the drabs of the annex, an optic sported by what could only have been a Party Escort Associate. It's head-spikes were raised in alarm, its optic dilated, and its long, slender arms held up in shock.
It was staring straight at her.
Dr. Creighton's blood was ice, and she stiffly walked behind another aisle, each step fast that the one before. She was jaunting now, listening keenly for the beat of the Escort's electro-magnetic pulse array.
The shelves around her hummed. The wooden crates and metal containers began to vibrate, and Creighton started to feel her diaphragm thrum. She ducked and dodged, trying to remain cool in the face of certain entrapment. Her mind began to work through Plan B. She grabbed her recalibration tool and held it firm, concealed as a thief with their dagger.
The throbbing pulse jets were drawing near, only an aisle or two away. Her body rushed with energy, desperation parching her throat. She was tensed, waiting for the Escort to show its self. Creighton could practically visualize the construct before her, its management carriage supporting a segmented body that slung back at a crooked angle, two long arms perfected for the art of snatching, and a core for a 'head' that was crowned with defensive, 'ear'-like spikes.
It didn't look away, of course.
Dr. Creighton paused, wondering what she was expecting. The nature of Escort Bots was to wait until their targets were vulnerable, most likely in a coma or generally unconscious, that way less damage was done both ways.
They didn't call it the 'Party Escort Submission Position' for nothing.
Creighton was not sure where to go or what to do now. Maybe it would get bored and leave. A lot of constructs did this. It was part of their programming to grow bored, or else they'd end up in an endless loop of repetitive tasks. Of course, this was atypical behavior for Escorts. But given that they didn't have a proper mark system anymore since the deactivation of AEGIS…
There were a few metallic scrapes, and a clatter rang through the Annex. The thrumming of the jets stopped and left the area eerily quiet. Only the distant crash of steel and rumble of machinery droned. The scientist glanced all around, high up on the shelves and down the aisles. Nothing.
Maybe it had lost interest?
Creighton kept moving, not exactly wanting to find out where it was.
The scientist inched along, still trying to look as casual as a burglar in the middle of town-square. Maybe a good cover story would do on the off-chance they met again. She'd had one memorized, but couldn't help but blank mentally on a few details. One such 'detail' being why she was even supposed to be there. And… what was her false department? Her incognito name? Could she do anything to hide her identity? Maybe she could rub some dirt on her face. She really doubted that would fool a scanner, but Aperture had some finicky tech and she was out of options. There had to be some boxed dirt in this place.
Maybe she… oh. She was in a section where they apparently stored all the old rocket turrets. The shells didn't have Genetic Life-form canisters in them, so she didn't feel quite so bad about them collecting dust. Then again, the GLaDOS still had a core, so… maybe the rocket turrets did have a Genetic Life-form canister in them. That was… an unsettling notion.
Something clicked in her brain. She had a reason to be there! Creighton's story was that she was searching for a misplaced Genetic Life-form canister. That was it! That had actually worked itself out in the en-
A rocket turret opened its optic revealing a purple slit. The machine rose from the row, turning to face Dr. Creighton. The scientist was stunned, mouth ajar. Of course, rocket turrets shouldn't have had pulse arrays, or long arms with delicate, flexible fingers, or sharp hooked spikes adorning their segmented bodies.
This wasn't a rocket turret, this was the Party Escort, performing a textbook ambush.
The Party Escort saw Creighton evading, and reached out with one of its long, lean arms. It took hold of her shoulder, and the scientist spasmed. Creighton held up her recalibration tool, lunging forward and stabbing at the core's interface. The tool missed entirely, skittering off its white shell, and it threw Creighton off balance… not that Creighton ever was balanced to begin with.
"Did you just try to STAB me?!" the Party Escort asked, incredulous. By the drawling sass of her voice, Dr. Creighton knew this was Milly, one of the department's finest Paragon models.
She wasn't any Party Escort Bot, she was the one Paragon who was at the right hand of the Military Android department's leader, Dr. Schalk. In fewer words: Creighton was in trouble.
Fight or flight had kicked in, and the scientist was well past flight, headlong into fight. She wrestled and tore at the machine, her hair snagging in the Escort's sectioned armor. She tried to sound ominous, grunting, but the grunt turned into a squawk as the Escort grabbed a fistful of her coat and held her at bay.
"Hey!" Milly snapped, her tone shifting from surprise to command, "quit waving that thing around."
Dr. Creighton gasped and stabbed at the construct again with the recalibration device.
"Do you want me to smack ya!?" the Party Escort threatened cheekily.
The scientist glared at her. It wasn't a very ferocious glare. It was a more… puzzled glare, as if truly weighing the options.
Milly took the opportunity to nab the recalibration tool, plucking it with her dexterous fingers.
Creighton reacted, many seconds late, and dove after it, but Milly used her long arms to keep the scientist at bay and the recalibration device out of reach.
"Stop," Milly warned, and then did so again with feeling, "STOP."
Creighton bit her, and then immediately regretted it. Constructs like Milly were made out of Portonium, a metal so sturdy it wouldn't melt at even 3422 degrees Celsius.
"Stop acting like an animal!" Milly reprimanded.
Creighton was winded already, but still struggling lamely. She kicked and squirmed, her face so flustered and red she nearly matched her auburn hair.
"Get a grip, girl!" the Escort's voice stepped up. "This is ridiculous. I came over here because I thought you'd hurt yourself!"
"Then why did you hide?!" Creighton demanded an answer breathlessly, "why did you ambush me!?"
"Uh, excuse me? That's what I'm programmed to do," the core retorted, as if this were obvious, "it was the best option at the time. I didn't want to chase ya and have you runnin' all around, planting your face into things. Who knows what you'd knock over. Probably somethin' explosive!"
"I'm not clumsy!" Dr. Creighton cried out, trying to strip Milly's arm off her coat, but only ended up losing her grip and slapping herself.
Milly shook her core, spikes of metal laying down against the top of her shell. "What is up with you, missy?"
"Nothing!" was a flimsy defense and Creighton knew it, "I… I was just trying to find a Genetic Life-form canister. In one of these guys. No need to go scaring people." The scientist hunched up, twisting away from the Escort's grip slightly.
Milly tipped her core, raising a handlebar as if it were a brow. "Didn't look like where that map of yours was takin' ya."
Creighton's glare faltered. "My… map…?"
How had she seen…? Party Escorts could run silent, couldn't they? Honestly, she didn't know what advances the Military Android department had been making, but as she studied Milly's frame, it was apparent that they'd taken strides in robotics. The power to size ratio was fascinating, if only Creighton wasn't on the wrong end of it.
"What's going on, Dr. Creighton?" Milly asked her once again, and then tried to put the skittish scientist at ease, "don't get all messed up. You know I'm not the kinda' girl who goes around hurtin' people."
"Yeah, but you work with people who are," Dr. Creighton mentioned.
"Ow…" Milly inclined her optic, saying, "you got a lil' kick, don't ya?" She reaffirmed her grip on Creighton. "'We do what we must because we can.' That's how the sayin' goes."
Dr. Creighton was scowling. Her last line of defense was to be supremely annoyed and above the mess, but trying to intimidate a construct twice her size and many times her strength was a pretty pathetic plan.
Milly observed the scientist in her custody go from 'severely annoyed' to 'childish pouting'. The construct synthesized a sigh. "I'm not good at all this… 'interrogation' stuff. Guess I should just play by the rules." She shrugged,
"Rules? What?" Creighton broke her tough gal act and turned awfully quizzical, "what are you talking about?"
Milly looked preoccupied, her gaze staring straight ahead as operations churned within her system. Creighton abated in the silence, and then jerked back as a dialing tone emitted from Milly's speakers. The dialing went on, and someone eventually picked up.
Dr. Creighton couldn't quite hear anything, but from the monotone leaking through the speakers she knew only one scientist could sound so bemused.
"Karla, honey," Milly addressed the scientist on the line casually, "could you tell Dr. Schalk that I have her?"
"Her…?" the scientist connected a dot to another, asking again, "…me?"
"Hush, now! I'm on a call, Dr. Creighton," Milly reprimanded the scientist and made her feel like a three year old. The construct went back to her louder, more pleasant tone, "yeah? OK, I'll hold her until she gets here. Uh-huh? Yeah. Thanks, sugar. Bye now!"
Milly hung up with a click, scrutinizing the rabid scientist thrashing against her iron grip.
"They're sending someone? This isn't protocol at all!" Creighton clamored. "What do you want from me!?"
"Nothing awful," Milly guessed, then informed her captive, "we're just gonna' hang tight for a second. Ms. Nasedi doesn't take long to arrive. She travels with portals."
Dr. Creighton's eyes were wide. "Dr. Schalk… is coming here?" The head of the Military Android department was coming? "Why?!"
"What can I say? She's hands on," Milly tried to supply her captive a little joviality, but Creighton was on the verge of a panic attack. Milly cringed as the scientist knotted herself up in a last-ditch attempt to escape.
A shot rang out above their heads, and great burst of orange energy loosed and traveled near instantly to its target. When it struck, it struck hard. This wasn't the typical 'splorsh' of a portal. No, the shot ripped apart space-time with a great 'CRASH'. Particles of orange rained down around them, as the quantum tunnel was placed on a white wall above them, gleaming through the rafters, the wires, and the walkways. They watched Schalk's armored form pass through the tunnel and land on the catwalks above. The walkway shuddered under the woman's weight, rattling as she strode along it.
Creighton was stunned into stillness. From the high vantage Dr. Schalk espied the two and found a section of missing railing to jump from. Her Military Grade Long-fall Boots took the brunt of the landing, but still Nasedi Schalk landed with proper form. The head scientist swung her rifle around, letting it hang upon her back. She crossed her arms over her armored vest, her expression amused.
"Just where I thought you'd be," the head scientist sounded amused too.
"What do you want?" Creighton was alarmed.
"Don't worry, Dr. Creighton," Schalk spoke with confidence, "you are not going to… disappear, if you were wondering."
Dr. Creighton wasn't buying it, judging from her scrunched up face.
"Don't look at me like that." The woman shook her head, her pronunciation crisp and distinct as ever. "Believe me, you would know if you were in trouble."
"That's… supposed to make me feel better?" Creighton laughed nervously.
"You'll feel what you'll feel," the head scientist brushed it off, leveling Creighton with a calculated squint. "Let's talk about the important matter."
Dr. Schalk drew closer, her steps slow-paced as she moved beneath stockpiles of her work, of ancient Military Grade shells and machines. What a coincidence this was the section Creighton got caught in.
Schalk's umber skin glinted in the fluorescent floodlights hanging over the Storage Annex, casting ominous shadows across her and her equipment.
The head scientist put forth an inquiry, gesturing formally to Creighton, "you recall that the Military Android department and the Genetic Life-form department used to be very close, correct?"
"Yes?" Creighton answered hesitantly, "we still are, in a sense. Your department's absorbing most of the Genetic Life-form department."
"We're really not," Schalk flat-out disregarded her statement. Without clarification, she went on, "unlike some… well, negative people I believe you still have a lot to offer to us in our department. What were they demoting you to, again, Dr. Creighton?"
"I'm…" Creighton considered clamming up, but in her predicament what good would that do? "…I'm supposed to be transferred to construct rehabilitation, operating under your department."
"You'd be running around the facility." Schalk shook her head, lips pursed. "I have projects for you," she revealed, "dire projects."
"Dire?" Creighton thought the word-choice was interesting.
"Things may seem peaceful right now, but…" Schalk's voice dipped into something dire indeed, "things can change."
"What does that mean!?" Creighton was dually confused. "Dr. Schalk, I don't understand you. I can't decode this. What do you expect from me?! I swear nothing I'm doing is illegal in a strict sense! Why won't you guys just leave me-"
Dr. Schalk held up her hand and stared sternly at the scientist, signaling Creighton to stop talking.
"How exactly were you expecting to get the GLaDOS unit out of the Storage Annex?" the head scientist asked.
"I don't…" Creighton lost her thought as she realized Nasedi Schalk knew what she was doing. "How did you know that?" the question was quiet and desperate. "Did you send them photos of my notes?" Creighton turned and asked the Escort holding her.
"I could've, but today…? Couldn't. Some goober brought the servers down," Milly informed Creighton, "they tried to upload an uncompressed optic capture."
"OK…?" Creighton's focus snapped from that mundane happening to the dark face of Dr. Schalk.
"You're dead in the water on your own, Dr. Creighton," Schalk judged her, and then with a smile said, "we're here to help."
Milly nodded cheerily for effect.
Creighton's lips were drawn back, her brow creasing, "How do I know that you're actually here to help? Seems weird you knew why I was here. Are you trying to steal the GLaDOS, by chance? Because you can't have her!"
"If I wanted GLaDOS, I wouldn't be talking to you," Dr. Schalk replied.
"But how did you know?" the younger scientist pressed.
"Things unseen guide us," Schalk answered, a shrug rolling off her sturdy frame. This omniscient 'unseen' entity wasn't a big deal, apparently.
Dr. Creighton's scowl worsened. "That sounds positively cryptic and… bad."
"Yeah. It does," Schalk agreed. "But it's the good kind of 'guidance' by a nice kind of 'unseen'."
"Right…" Dr. Creighton grimaced.
Schalk didn't let the apprehension faze her. "Milly and I will help you get GLaDOS out of this annex and into our labs."
"Your labs?" Creighton didn't mask her surprise.
"Our labs," Schalk corrected, and then added, "where else would you service a giant machine like that?"
"…somewhere less conspicuous?" Creighton offered.
"You think that the Military Android department, of all departments, has no inconspicuous places?" Dr. Schalk skewed her lips, putting her hands on her hips.
"I… well, I never… considered…" Creighton stared into the head scientist's face, and found it easy to stutter in that gaze. It wasn't a cruel gaze, no. Rather, it was a very weathered one.
Dr. Schalk took a step back, nodding slowly at Creighton. "I need all the good recruits I can get. Something big is coming up, and we want to be prepared. You'll help."
"Big?" Dr. Creighton pondered for a moment, running events through her mind. "As in… Bring Your Daughter to Work Day? Is that really a big deal?"
Dr. Schalk gave her a puzzled look, contemplating, shifting her weight before answering, "yes."
"OK?" Dr. Creighton was looking for a more definitive 'yes' but this BS would do, she guessed. At this moment she wasn't calling the shots anyway.
"You don't gotta worry now, pumpkin! We got you covered," Milly chimed in finally, letting her grip loosen up.
Creighton fell to the ground immediately upon release, scrambling to get on her feet again. Milly zipped back anxiously, waiting for the scientist to bolt. Creighton wasn't bolting. She had a bad feeling about the situation, but she decided that she was going to leave with the GLaDOS' core no matter what happened.
"Give her back her recalibration tool, Milly," Schalk ordered.
Milly didn't seem to like that plan, but acquiesced accordingly. She dropped the the tool into Creighton's palm, adding a warning, "I will break it. Don't do anything weird."
"I'm certain Dr. Creighton isn't that idiotic, Milly," the older scientist chuckled. "But, really, don't try anything."
"I won't," Creighton felt odd that she had to say it.
She… she had to figure out why Schalk was helping her… so, she figured she would ask Schalk point-blank. It couldn't hurt to try. "Why the change of heart?" she inquired of the head scientist in the most stalwart voice she could achieve, which was quite hoarse.
The question had Schalk by surprise. She tipped her head, wound curls listing and dangling from her tight bun. "Change… of heart?" she drew out the proposition, "you don't even know my heart well enough to know if it changes."
"You're probably right," Dr. Creighton backed off.
"I am right," Schalk wasn't kidding, and she ordered, "let's move."
Dr. Schalk strode forward, her rifle in easy reach, her steps confident as if she owned the terrain. She probably did, in a sense. Not many people could order Schalk around. Cave Johnson tried, but even his steely will was often outplayed. The Military Android department raked in the funding, and not many dared to ask 'how?'.
Creighton had a bad feeling that she'd find out that 'how?' all too soon. She followed Schalk.
"I'm glad y'all worked it out. I was fixin' to get worried," Milly piped up again, her thumbs twiddling as she hovered along behind them as their rear guard. It was still shocking how silently she floated. If Creighton hadn't seen her, she wouldn't have even guessed she was being followed.
Awkward as ever, the younger scientist attempted to bend her shuffling gait into something becoming among the Military Android department. No matter how she tried, though, she just flopped along. She felt like some dumpy sweaty scientist in a wrinkly lab coat next to this woman who might as well have been a soldier.
Wait… was she? That would make a lot of sense if she was military, Creighton surmised.
Dr. Schalk turned a questioning face to her companion with the ever-frazzled auburn hair, asking, "where's Henry off to?"
"Henry… he…" Creighton hesitated on divulging information, on principle, but decided at this point it didn't quite matter and she wasn't clever enough to misdirect them, "he had to go to meet Patrick for an 'interview'. He doesn't want him hanging missing his interview over his head. You know how the laborers are. They're very… fraternal."
"I'd say juvenile," Schalk remarked with bite.
Milly thought aloud, "'…never owe one to a McGillicutty'. That's the saying, right?"
"True advice," Dr. Schalk confirmed.
The trio filtered through the many shelves and aisles, walking beneath the great containment locks and storage bins that dwarfed anything, even warehouses for exceptionally large construction projects. Another gate manifested from the aisles, sturdy walls spanning away to the horizon on either side, sealing the next section within a nestled wall. This was the second gate, so they had to be getting closer the the innermost repository.
"Ugh. I hate these things," Dr. Schalk openly aired her distaste, "I can never remember the-"
"-the formula?" Dr. Creighton supplied as she was punching the key into the pad.
"Oh," Schalk was genuinely surprised. "So he told you about these too?"
"He…?" Creighton stood up straighter as the door of the gate cracked.
"Greg," the head scientist said his name as casually as ever.
"Oh… uh," Dr. Creighton adjusted her glasses, thinking over the name, "yeah?"
"He's such a worry-wort," Milly rolled her optic facetiously.
That made it sound like Greg was Creighton's mother, packing her a very nutritious lunch.
Creighton watched Schalk pass by, scouting ahead for them methodically. Milly waited on Creighton to follow, and when she didn't Milly insisted for the scientist to go on ahead. Creighton hated the Escort behind her, but there were worse things. On their march through the collection of stored oddities the scientist had time to reflect.
She really didn't know what to make of Greg's involvement. And what was Schalk's angle? Perhaps… they were playing at power?
Everyone knew that everyone hated Cave Johnson. His emphatic speeches and glowing personality only lasted for a few days, and then his sickening fascination with progress and glory came to bear, transforming his quaint smile to a devilish grin. The few times Creighton had met Cave in person had been terrifying experiences, because she knew very well how he could… make people vanish.
He was a king, in a sense… a mad king.
Creighton had heard Schalk herself say that she'd rather not run Aperture Science. And Greg… Honestly, he really didn't seem like the guy who'd step up and take charge. So… this had to be about Caroline.
But who on earth would want Caroline in charge?
Creighton meant it as no offense to Caroline. She was putting her life on the line to save this woman from being sealed away forever, entombed between life and death. But from what Creighton had seen and heard of recordings of the woman in her flesh, and the woman that slipped through the code of the GLaDOS project… she was about as unhinged as Cave himself, albeit more smoothly.
Caroline was elegantly insane.
In the end, Dr. Creighton only came to grips with how little she knew. Maybe this endeavor was too much for a programmer to handle? Espionage wasn't exactly in Creighton's job description, but working in Aperture, on the bleeding edge did have its… risks. She shouldn't have been so awkward about it.
"Why do you want to help me?" Creighton asked again, letting the boldness take her.
Dr. Schalk stopped, and the younger scientist feared the worst. She turned and truly looked at the other woman, her expression deliberating. Finally, the older woman spoke, "I grew up in South Africa. It was not easy. My mother and father were torn apart by the color of their skin. My family and my life was split, caught between oppression and privilege. I fought for everything I learned and everything I am," the words were spoken with emphasis, and Creighton believed this was the first time she'd seen a sliver of Schalk's heart, "I came to America looking for opportunities. I found one here, here in Aperture."
"Oh." Creighton had been in a similar position, albeit a plucky, fresh student out of Stanford that'd fallen into the facility, and not an immigrant from a, well… judging by the description, what was a radically racist country.
"My first project with the company… was AEGIS." The name sounded vaguely familiar to Creighton, and from the expression bore by Nasedi Schalk she was a very familiar subject indeed. "…could've been my last if not for Greg."
Greg…
"AEGIS was to me what GLaDOS is to you. I don't want a repeat," Dr. Schalk was firm.
"Are you sure they're the same?" And of course Creighton had to dispute, "they're not even in the-"
"I take it back," Dr. Schalk leveled Creighton with a glare, retracting, "AEGIS was closer to me than GLaDOS ever was to you. But that doesn't mean history should repeat."
Creighton took a step back. "You're right." She scratched at her scalp. "Uh… thanks."
"You are not obligated to thank me until we finish," Schalk set her straight, "once we have GLaDOS secured, you can thank me."
"Got ya…?" The younger scientist nodded slowly, unsure.
Dr. Schalk smirked at her awkwardness and then turned and walked away. Creighton couldn't tell if it was an amused smirk or an annoyed one.
Milly gestured eloquently, as if to say, 'after you'. Creighton bundled herself up and strode forward, her gait loping, but decidedly determined.
They kept traversing the Storage Annex, hitting another gate and yet another in relative silence. The GLaDOS unit was coming closer and closer.
Dr. Creighton couldn't believe she was still up and around. There was a plausible explanation to her lack of drowsiness. Nothing was confirmed, but rumor had it that the work and testing spaces were pumped full of adrenal vapor. She wondered how bad this was for her body, but at this moment she was thankful for it.
The three ladies drew upon the final gate. It was… impressive, in Aperture fashion. The wall disappeared into the rafters, and like the other walls before, stretched either direction as far as could be seen. It was made of pure metal, and judging by its dark, steely tones, was made of Portonium as well. Nothing was getting through this wall unnoticed. The gate itself had three alphanumeric titles, each one glittering in red digital bars.
"I don't think I can figure them out that fast. Maybe a computer…?" Creighton asked, staring at Milly quizzically.
"Oh, I'm locked in that area, if you're asking me to do it," Milly answered the unspoken question, "but I can help you two out. I'm not that bad at math."
A lot of Aperture constructs were limited in their mathematic and memorization capabilities, as this made them more limited and more 'human-seeming'. It also ensured that the constructs would have a harder time surpassing the humans in the balance of power. That plot was failing horribly, but that was inevitable.
"I've got the title on the right, Milly take the left, you take center, Creighton," Dr. Schalk stepped in and assigned them their jobs.
"Roger," Milly chirped and hovered over to her respective keypad.
Creighton followed suit, arriving at the center keypad. "OK."
All three worked in unison, starting as the timer refreshed and deducing the solution, punching in their acquired keys at the same time. The massive door shuddered, rolling away, steel scraping as it sheathed into the sidewalls. A field of thermal discouragement beams laced the threshold, those shutting off to reveal an emancipation grill.
Milly was wary of the grill, as too many constructs had fallen prey to it before. Dr. Schalk walked through without a word, and with a few inputs to a console within, had the grill disabled as well. "All right. It's clear now."
The Party Escort's hooked spikes fell flat as she waited for Creighton to go ahead. Once she was inside, Milly zipped past the threshold.
Schalk hit a button on the interior with the side of her fist, and the gate shuddered, the emancipation grill and wall of lasers materializing once more with a shimmer and a hiss. Finally, the thick Portonium walls began to draw closed again.
Inside this interior warehouse the flood lights had their fluorescent bulbs replaced with ones that emitted purer light. They were easier on the eyes and on the equipment inside, though their lesser intensity left the interior of the warehouse eerily dark. The silvery-blue tones of Aperture crept in, and the whole place was kept at a barely comfortable chilled temperature.
Creighton really wondered what could possibly be stored in the heart of Aperture Science. Her head whipped around, scouring for anything telling. All she saw were boxes, disappointingly. But instead of wooden crates, these items were stored in secured cubes that were much larger than a standard storage cube. A few Extended Relaxation cargo boxes were stacked, one atop the other. There were large signs posted on the exteriors that read 'DO NOT OPEN' and 'VITRIFIED'. That didn't bode well.
Wait… was that an astronaut suit?
Milly nudged the entranced scientist. "I know. I know. It's hard not to stare. But it's kinda rude. She's been dead for decades."
She?! The scientist's eyes peeled open, and she forced her eyes away before she could see anything within the suit's bubble helmet.
Creighton moved along much like a person who was walking around in diving flippers instead of shoes. Her eyes tracked about the space, searching for security cameras.
"I know the eyes behind those cameras and the ears up to these walls," the way Dr. Schalk said this was so nonchalant.
"You do?" Creighton peered over her glasses, dragging the words out.
"Yep."
Creighton wondered who. Perhaps the Military Android department controlled more than met the eye? Schalk did talk about AEGIS the security construct being her first project. AEGIS… that stood for something. It stood for Aperture Employee Guardian and Intrusion System, didn't it?
Well, things were starting to connect. Unfortunately too late for Creighton, but that was her normal mental pace.
Dr. Schalk had opened up a console over a freight holding bay. She tapped a few buttons, requesting an outsourced core.
"We're using the freight line?" Creighton queried.
"No. We can't," Schalk replied quickly, "I called a core in to help load GLaDOS' components onto that dock." She pointed to a white square of flooring. It was suspiciously portal-able looking.
"Why, may I ask?" Creighton gave the other scientist a sidelong look.
Schalk's eyes were lidded, a mite exasperated by Creighton. "Let's just say… we have 'friends' that are just as keen as you to get at GLaDOS."
Creighton was hushed as she asked, "…spies?"
"Worse," Schalk started explaining, "internal enemies, product of unrest. People hate the project. They'll sabotage it any chance they get.."
"People? Who? Why hasn't this happened before?" Dr. Creighton was befuddled.
"Because GLaDOS was hooked up to the mainframe," the head scientist spread out her hands, scowling as she went on, "one wrong move and she could wipe out all opposition. That would make any predator anxious."
"Also, we were protecting your butts directly," Milly tacked that on, "kicked lots of anarchist tail over the years."
"There were-there are people trying to attack the project?" Creighton didn't mask her disbelief.
Schalk's brow wrinkled. "You sound surprised. Did you think the Genetic Life-form Project was popular? People are very eager to bring about this project's demise."
"It's the first I've heard of it!" Creighton held up her hands.
"Well, now you know," Schalk shrugged it off.
Milly's voice drawled along, "and the good news is we're undetected right now. No one knows what we're doing here."
"For now," Schalk added.
Creighton's brows rose high.
Power surged into the warehouse's loading dock. All the freight machinery and periphery lit up and began to purr with energy. Creighton's muscles tensed, wondering what that could mean.
"What's up, my sisters?" DaRMA's smooth lilt filtered through the speakers.
The voice made Creighton jump. She found herself on the floor.
"Didn't mean to wig you out," DaRMA apologized, "sorry, man."
"Don't worry. Creighton startles easy." Dr. Schalk spoke through the control pane's microphone, "DaRMA, could you gather GLaDOS' components together for us?"
"Sure thing, boss mama. Miss GLaD's one of the warehouse's newest additions. She shouldn't be buried just yet," the core's voice spoke slow and calmly, "give me a minute."
DaRMA was now consciously controlling the many massive freight movers attached to the ceiling of the warehouse. Many boxes were set aside, and finally out came three separate containers, each in ascending size. A few spools of her thick black cording followed, one spool two meters high. Some miscellaneous boxes labeled 'spare parts' sat beside it all. Each was set gently down in a channel cut into the floor that fanned out at the foot of a chamber lock. A massive rail seemed to lead into nothing above the channel, but Creighton figured it could slide forth and connect into another on the other end of the chamber lock.
"We should take a look inside and see if it really is Miss GLaD, boss lady," the cool core suggested, "sometimes those label cats get this stuff all outta' whack."
"Go ahead," Schalk permitted, peering over the freight as it sat below on the floor. Creighton paced to and fro on the catwalk above the containers, waiting as the manipulators pried free the clasped top of the container.
The box opened with a hiss, and their patience was rewarded.
There she was, her head lying in a sturdy foam mold, perfectly cradled. The white shell of her faceplate crackled with age, and the silvery grill of her core housing highlighted the sectioned ventilated compartments in black. The optic housing was neatly nestled into the faceplate, her optic dormant warm gray.
Creighton loomed over the edge of the catwalk, but her hair cascaded forward and stuck to her sweaty face. She yanked herself back and pulled her hair away, a flush of anger directed toward it, but once she had it up again the wrath passed.
She was so busy fussing she didn't notice the blonde woman sitting on a crate beside her on the catwalk. The lady in question crunched loudly on a handful of dried peas. Dr. Creighton started with a yelp, and a laugh escaped from Milly.
"She scares lotsa' people," Milly tried to make Creighton feel better.
This lady was none other than Karla, and as always, Karla wasn't fazed. She sat still on her tiny crate, eating handfuls out of a bag of dried peas. Beside her laid a large backpack connected via corrugated tube to what Creighton could only guess was a longer and sleeker gravity gun.
"Hi…" the assistant deadpanned after swallowing her peas.
Dr. Creighton was just getting a hold of herself, and drug her eyes away from the device on the ground to Karla herself. "Hello…!" Creighton blurted out.
Schalk turned around. "What are you doing, Karla?" she sounded a bit perplexed, even annoyed, "you need to warm it up."
Karla rose up, stuffing the dried peas into her pocket casually and spoke in a flat voice, "I must remind you that the prep time's been halved, Dr. Schalk. I fixed it, remember? I hated how slow it was. I'll begin prepping the cannon, anyway, though. Some people just don't have patience."
Dr. Schalk shook her head, muttering something about insubordination. Milly's 'ears' curled back.
"Cannon?!" Creighton was alarmed.
"Calm down," Schalk tried to ease the other scientist, "Karla's a trained professional."
"With a cannon?!"
"I'm a cannoneer," Karla's monotone was a little ominous. She then grinned perfunctorily, as if the expression had lagged behind her thought processes a good ten seconds.
Creighton stumbled closer to Schalk and away from the cannon. "What does it shoot?"
"Nothing orthodox," Schalk was cryptic as ever.
Milly giggled, thoroughly entertained. Creighton threw up her hands in defeat and Milly giggled some more.
"You certainly ask a lot of questions in quick succession. Come here. Let me explain," Dr. Schalk whipped out a map, an overview of the section of facility between the interior of the Storage Annex and the Military Android's nearest point. Many marks and squiggles adorned its surface, and Creighton had another inkling that Schalk wasn't just some… well, scientist. "Here is our plan: DaRMA will get GLaDOS' component containers over this portal-able surface. Karla's Portal Cannon will-"
"We have a Portal Cannon?" Creighton interjected.
"Yes," Schalk humored her, "a Portal Cannon."
"Now, Karla will carve a quantum rift into the surface using the cannon's beam. Stay clear of it," the head scientist warned, "I have a limited window of time before the rift implodes-"
"Implodes?" the younger scientist chuckled nervously.
"-yes… implodes," Schalk brushed off the comment, diving ahead, "I have to portal Karla and her cannon to the other portal-able surface in my department. Once there she can place the secondary portal and close the loop. DaRMA will lower the containers in and we will close the portal loop, ending our operation."
Creighton tipped her head, saying, "you thought that out."
"We should be able to accomplish this in a matter of minutes," Schalk estimated.
"Wow," the younger scientist remarked again, and then felt it important to ask, "are the people trying to get at GLaDOS that rampant?"
"Pretty much. Bandits, burglars, mercenaries, agitators, thugs… you name it," Dr. Schalk went down the list, rolling up her map and storing it in a pouch on her vest.
"How come I've never seen them? Or heard of them?" Creighton was quite the skeptic. "Pretty sure a mercenary would be pretty obvious…"
Dr. Schalk saw through it, "you didn't know we had a portal cannon. Or that the gates had formulaic keys. Or that AEGIS was my project. That's practically company history. Aperture is a big place."
"OK, fine. I get your point," Creighton relented, "so… what do I do?"
"You have a special job when we get to my department," Dr. Schalk informed her, "in fact, without you, we'd be dead stopped in restoring GLaDOS."
"So you're in this to restore GLaDOS too?" Creighton clarified, and the older scientist didn't disagree. "I still don't really understand why you're helping but…"
"We're helping because we all knew her," Karla's monotone rang loud and clear.
"Her?" Creighton checked to see if she'd heard right.
Dr. Schalk clarified, "GLaDOS. Caroline. Whatever you want to call her. I knew Caroline way back. She was responsible for promoting me and seeing me do well in Aperture. Like her or not, she opened the door for a lot of us ladies. And…" the head scientist sighed, glancing around before saying, "I don't blame Caroline for going crazy. Subjected to whatever Dr. Caballero put into the mainframe…whatever atrocious technology was attached to her… all the tests and demands of investors and Cave Johnson… it is a wonder she still exists."
Dr. Creighton felt the keening of responsibility tightening in her chest.
Milly spoke up, her tone somber, "she fought so many cores. She broke so many cores. "
That was right. Milly was… the first… the first core to engage the GLaDOS.
"…thought you didn't like talking about that," Schalk said, unsure, and just as surprised as Creighton, though nowhere near as horrified.
"I don't, but this would be the time to say something," the Escort mentioned, "it's not like I can erase the past. I hope we learned our lesson, though."
Creighton was lost in the thoughts. Her work on the cores had been a blur. She'd forgotten so many. So many had passed through her hands. It was easy to grow detached. But they were all unique. Creighton stepped up the edge of the platform, looking down inside the boxes containing GLaDOS, wincing at how someone could be stored like that…
"I'm sorry, Milly," Dr. Creighton's voice cracked. "Really. What we did to you, to the cores… to Caroline… it isn't right. This… no matter how lame… was an attempt to do her right, and eventually all of you right."
"Oh, I know. And I know you know that you done wrong by us. Else I wouldn't be helpin' ya!" Milly's tone took a detour from happy-go-lucky to disconcerting, "I'd have thrown you off a bridge… or worse."
"But… you-you know what would have happened if the Genetic Life-form department stopped, right?" Dr. Creighton tried to make a case.
"Testing, that's what. I know… I know." Dr. Schalk heaved a breath, snorting at the policy. "They'd have killed you legally. Still that does not make any of this right."
"No, it doesn't, but…" Creighton was sober. "Thank you guys for helping me. I just can't believe you would… after everything…"
"We're natural enemies, we get it," Milly pointed out. "Doesn't mean it's not the right thing to do. Besides, I'm really helping her."
"You'd help…?" Dr. Creighton wasn't used to such charity between cores, but then again this was Milly.
"Of course," Milly answered, almost shocked that anyone would take her for anything other than charitable, "if I was in her position, I'd want help."
Dr. Creighton didn't know what to say. She felt a lot of… respect. It was weird for someone like her, but this construct was the bigger person by far. No… she was the biggest person in the room. Milly was a true morality core. And Creighton was fairly certain this strong morality didn't come from whatever baseless soup of feel-good principles they'd injected into her.
"I'm glad we're all together now," Karla announced, and then clapped… slowly. The device beside her was spinning up nicely, arcs of energy passing betwixt its prongs, and waves of energy bouncing through its chamber.
"Got a question for you, Creighton," Dr. Schalk broke the reverence with her distinct pronunciation, "are you good at jumping, or avoiding falling off things?"
"No." That was the truth.
"You good at guarding?" she asked again.
"Not particularly." Still the truth.
"Good," Dr. Schalk seemed oddly satisfied with those answers, "Milly…" Dr. Schalk motioned for the Escort to come hither.
"Gotcha!" Milly chimed, and swooped toward Creighton.
"Wait, wh-?" Dr. Creighton didn't have time to even finish her simple sentence. Milly took her long, lean arms and gave Creighton a mighty push, sending her off the side of the catwalk. The scientist landed in the packing material beside the GLaDOS' core's face.
She floundered about, crying out, "HEY!"
"You'll be safer in there," Schalk called down to her, "just sit tight. It'll be over in a minute. And don't worry, the container's got air holes."
"WAIT A MINUTE HERE I AM AN APERTURE SCIENTIST AND I-" The lid snapped shut, metal clasps locking into place to silence her.
Great.
"Honestly, I wish I was in there. Less stress, you know?" Dr. Schalk told Milly.
The Escort was giddy. She'd still gotten to shove Creighton off a walkway without any of the collateral of her dying!
"LET ME OUT!" the young scientist screamed, and and she made quite a ruckus within the container. She scrabbled about, seeking a way to worm her hand out of the air holes and onto the latches. Maybe if she could twist her wrist around she'd… nope. The holes were too small.
Creighton readjusted herself, exploring her environment, and then her arm brushed something cold and metallic. She glanced down and saw HER staring at her. Well, not actually staring, but her optic was opened toward her, vacant. Even though she was completely powered down, it was frightening being so… close to her. She had to scrunch up to avoid touching GLaDOS' components.
A metallic shriek ushered the opening of the chamber lock, and the warm air of Aperture rushed into the cool, regulated warehouse, Creighton's glasses fogging up quickly. She wiped them off hastily and threw them back on her face, staring ahead through the air holes at the action outside. She espied Karla above, with Schalk moving toward the chamber lock opening and Milly sticking to the control panel. Beyond the chamber lock the silvery abyss of Aperture yawned, a vertigo-inducing reminder that nothing in Aperture was truly solid.
"Portal Cannon charged. Readying to lay down Point Alpha," Karla's monotone carried well as she belted out the data.
And then the container Creighton was in began to lurch… and rise. Mechanical manipulators descended and raised the boxes up into the air, giving Karla clearance to lay down the portal rift beneath them. Creighton grabbed fistfuls of foam to steady herself as the box listed. The motors hummed, the container vibrating and making her very body shiver and her teeth hum when they touched.
Outside the sounds of the charging portal cannon reached their crescendo, and Karla snapped the contacts on it back with a shimmering clack. The lady secured the cannon and its backpack to her person, the device set up much like the original Quantum Tunneling devices from the 50's glory days. Around her the broad straps secured the backpack, and she held the cannon in her left hand, the whole component cradled by her arm. In her right hand the endpoint switch was gripped. Karla aimed the cannon over the edge, switching the button to its alpha position.
Her bun was tussled by the pulses coming off the cannon. "Laying down Point Alpha!"
The portal cannon didn't fire a singular parcel of energy. A stream of hot light poured from its nozzle. Karla painted the ground with the energy, the world caving and warbling as it was turned into the first point of a quantum tunnel. The box shook and hummed from the energy, and great arcs of the spectrum flew, as well as sparks of orange and gold. Creighton saw glimpses through the holes, but had to look away for the beam was so bright.
Finally, Karla had done her job.
"Let's move!" Dr. Schalk ordered, standing beside the first point of her own set of portals. A rifle shot exploded from Schalk's device, and a distant hit pinged back to them.
"125 remaining," Karla reported this seemingly arbitrary number to Schalk, "make it quick," but it really didn't sound very good, even with Karla's lack of inflection.
Creighton honestly felt like she was at a combat site, what with the way the two barked and surged about. They moved through Schalk's portals, disappearing as the loop closed behind them. Creighton might've heard a distant portal fire, but through the dense echoes, she had no real clue where they were now. Below her the portal rift bellowed a deep harmony.
Other than that, it was quiet.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Creighton broke the calm and asked Milly.
Milly sighed, "I'm following Dr. Schalk's orders. Of course they're good."
"Figures." Creighton couldn't hold back the snark.
"Don't be a sourpuss," Milly tried to kid around, "you're riding first class… with the queen!"
Creighton wanted to complain more, but being reminded she was trapped in a box with GLaDOS' head was… unnerving enough to disrupt her thoughts.
"I won't let any burglars get to you," Milly tried to help out her frightened human charge.
Just on cue, something clattered, and then a thunderous roar of metal alerted them both. Milly's 'ears' of metal and her hooked spikes stood on end, and she curiously elongated herself to get a better field of vision.
"Is that the gate?" Creighton inquired, her voice just barely audible.
Milly apparently sensed something Creighton didn't, for she hunkered down and hovered away silently. Creighton didn't have much visibility from inside the box, so she perked her ears, straining to hear.
Creighton strained her eyes and her ears, desperate for details, but the hum of the portal energy below blocked out her hearing and the tiny holes messed with her eyes. She didn't really pay attention to the shuffling, and then something cold touched her. She whipped her head around, wide-eyed as the machine turned her way. It was still dormant, though… no sign of life. Perhaps Creighton had… leaned into the GLaDOS unit by accident?
She gave the construct's facing a dubious squint, and then went back to the air holes.
In the silence an Electro Magnetic Pulse Array thrummed. Was that Milly moving about? But why would she if she could run silently? Creighton inclined her ear to the side of the crate. Something was going on. A loud, shuffling… a loud clicking…
A construct hovered into view. That… was not Milly. This was a rather stripped down construct, but it still featured the segmented arm supported by a management carriage, its 'head' being the core. The marked difference in this construct was that it possessed a bright round and blue optic and a blue pulse array as well.
Who was this? Was it a bandit? A mercenary? A thug? The way the thing teetered around and nearly ran into things didn't exactly sell any 'deadliness', but perhaps…?
And then a distinctly British voice came from the construct. British people could definitely sound menacing, no doubt, but this was not the menacing type of British voice. He was bellyaching, muttering about something.
"I did not think this place was so big. Did you know? What do they even keep in here? Dead astronauts by the looks of it. You know, I'll be honest, I half expected you to be hanging somewhere. I… you don't have to tell me I'm stupid. Remember our agreement? No 'idiots' or 'morons' or… AY! Don't get technical here! I am… bludgeoning heggledougy, where are you?! Help me out, here!"
Creighton's face scrunched up. Who was he looking for…? Who could possibly be…? No. It couldn't be. It… no. Not now.
A bright white burst of light bathed a whole swathe of the containers, blinding Creighton in the process.
"AUGH!" The core clattered to the floor. Apparently he'd scared himself.
"SHUT UP!" he sounded distraught with… something? It was like he was talking to someone who wasn't there.
Creighton peered through a hole, watching the beam of light scan about the warehouse.
"Big boxes… big… big boxes… no you're not fat… um… unnaturally sized boxes, yes… those…" he babbled more to this imaginary person.
The light trained on Creighton's box, blinding her. She blinked and looked away. When she came back to the hole, he was gone. Classic. She felt a thump and… oh, he was up there. Of course he'd be on top of the box.
Hopefully he wouldn't be able to pry his way in. Maybe Creighton could bury herself in the foam? Probably not. Creighton still had her recalibration tool. From the looks and sounds of it, he wasn't nearly as capable as Milly. She might have a shot at getting him, especially since surprise was on her side. Or- Creighton's blood dropped a few degrees.
Something moved.
"I can't… quite tell if you're in there. Sorry," the mystery Brit asked of this person, this person Creighton was beginning to deduce the identity of, "could you? Just this once, do a little something to let me know if-"
The GLaDOS unit's optic came to life, yellow glow pouring out and filling the box.
"I'm right here," the GLaDOS' voice thrummed smoothly from her synthesizer. "Congratulations. You found me."
"Oh, brilliant!" the Brit sounded delighted to actually find her. "Let's get going, then! This is all we need right? Just this box?"
"Try to find my disk compilation, if you can."
The British core remarked, "ahhh, alright. Let's see here…" He hopped off the box and onto the ground beside, hovering terribly close alongside Creighton's end of the container.
The GLaDOS' unit's face plate shifted slightly as her optic housing adjusted focus. Creighton wanted so badly to scream, but she was so scared she found she actually couldn't.
"Don't take too long."
He retorted, "I won't!"
"Are you sure that Party Escort isn't going to-" Her optic blinked and roved about, and then landed dead on Creighton. The yellow pixels shrunk to a fine point. Every process froze within her. "HUMAN."
The core was puzzled, to say the least. "Human?"
GLaDOS was freaking out, she screamed shrilly, alerting everything in the area to her distress. "KILL IT!"
"What?! KILL WHAT?!" the British core was spurred to shouting too. "What is going o-"
The Brit didn't have time to finish his thought either, as terribly long and sharp claws reached from the shadows to grab him.
"ESCORT!" he yelped, retreated and dove toward the maze of storage containers beyond.
"HUMAN!" the GLaDOS echoed, as if they were in some kind of ridiculous game of Marco Polo.
Creighton was scrunched as far away from the face as she could be, and the GLaDOS unit's head was shriveled, retracted far into her casing. Neither one of them wanted to be there.
Banging and shouting carried through the warehouse. Terrible screeches echoed as Milly's claws skirled across steel and her management carriage was floored, humming violently enough to shake shelves apart.
"CONSTRUCT! OBEY ORDER: STAND DOWN," Milly's voice projected as if on a loudspeaker.
"NO!" the Brit cried in retaliation.
Creighton saw the core speed by on a jet-blast of blue. Whoever it was, they were no fighter. But he was fast enough to give Milly grief. He ducked and wove through obstacles Milly couldn't, gaining distance through his mobility. Unfortunately, he wasn't coordinated enough to keep this up and smashed into the leg of a shelf. The whole structure buckled, leaning and succumbing as containers began to shift their weights.
This shelf came crashing down into the next, and the next, cascading in a domino effect. The rumble was thunderous in the warehouse. Creighton cringed as metal snapped and blocks thudded, and her mind stalled as she heard Milly's voice suddenly cut out after a bellowing crash.
As the mess settled, there was quiet again. That little freak had escaped the chaos, somehow, and not Milly… which was troubling, since it took a lot to stop the Escort. Creighton just hoped Milly was fine.
"GET ME OUT OF HERE," the GLaDOS unit droned in great distress.
"Alright! Fine! Just… give me a second!" the British core snapped. "It's not like I didn't just narrowly escape certain death or anything."
Before GLaDOS could complain again, he hovered over to the control panel and extended the arm of his carriage to get a good look at the controls. He scrutinized the surface for a while.
"Hmm, this could get a bit technical…" he muttered, and then smashed his shell into it. He dragged his handlebars over the interface, annoying the console.
"Hello? Hello!" he talked to it, "I would like to-"
"Who in the name of mother earth are you?!" DaRMA's attention was drawn, as was her ire. She peered through the cameras in the warehouse and a great gasp escaped her synthesizers. "What in-?" the outsourced core was taken aback by the carnage of the warehouse.
"Oh, uh! Sorry about the mess," the core with the blue optic tried to smooth things over.
"Milly?" she called out over the space.
There was no reply.
"Milly!?" she tried once more.
But there was no reply again.
"I am terribly sorry. You see-" the Brit was cut off.
"What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?!" This was the first time Creighton had ever heard DaRMA genuinely mad.
"You see that core was trying to capture me so I had to-" he tried so desperately to plead his case, but it wasn't working.
They could feel the wrath enter the room.
"I will destroy you, little beetle man," the hippie's tone turned venemous, and even the British core backed away.
DaRMA sent the manipulators after him, the heavy hydraulic powered claws digging into the catwalk and twisting its steel like taffy. The core was a blur as he tried to escape the claws of actual certain death.
Creighton started to forget that she was sitting across from the GLaDOS unit's face, and she believed the GLaDOS unit was forgetting it too.
The Brit ducked and dodged amazingly well for such a bumbling core. Perhaps it was the bumbling that made him uncatchable? No one, not even he himself, knew where he was going.
All around the chamber lock DaRMA was tearing down the warehouse's freight operations, ripping at wires and gouging at nooks the core fled into. The whole area was ripped up into a mess, smoke and sparks seeping from the gashes.
A purple optic crested above a few containers, watching the blue-eyed core running for his actual life from the swinging manipulators. Oh, great… DaRMA was on the case, and she was known ubiquitously as the one with no chill. Milly pulled herself from the wreckage, hovering swiftly toward the scene.
Below the dangling boxes, the portal rift began to open. The energy dissipated until the opposite bay came into clearer detail. The great hole in the floor rippled and shimmered, rather unlike a normal portal. It really didn't look stable, and that really didn't set well with Creighton.
"DaRMA! Hey!" Milly wave her long arms around, trying to pick up the motion detection of the security cameras the outsourced core was using.
The manipulators stopped their made dives at the other British core, and several cameras honed in on the Party Escort.
"Milly, it's you!" DaRMA breathed relief, "you're a livin' thing!"
"Of course I am! Now set down that cargo before the portal rift impodes," she instructed DaRMA, "I got the troublemaker. Don't worry."
"I'm on it, sister," and like that, DaRMA slipped back into her tranquil lilt.
The Brit took a moment to collect himself before he sped off again. He was visibly glad he was being chased by the Escort rather than being assaulted by the warehouse guru.
The portal rift fully formed, caustic energy between the two points smoothing to a perfectly flat plane. The points in space were married… but not for long.
"Point Beta complete." Karla moved out of crushing range of the boxes below the portal.
"Ease them down, DaRMA," Dr. Schalk called up through the rift.
And ease them down DaRMA did. The maintenance construct exhibited exceptional precision, the cargo gliding down to meet the floor through the quantum loop.
Creighton and her 'friend' the head twitched about as they were lowered into the new area, the change was negligible as they passed from one plane to the other. Of course, around them the chaos of Milly and the other core's game of chase kept on.
Creighton had a bad feeling about it.
"CONSTRUCT! DESIST!" Milly barked at the Brit, but he only insisted more.
She lunged at him, her long arms closing the distance faster than he could anticipate. The British core was floundering in panic, barely slipping the grasp of her pointed fingers. He caught a glimpse of the boxes getting away, disappearing beneath the scintillating horizon of the portal.
"Wait!" he cried out, as if that made a difference.
The boxes set down softly, the contact almost unnoticeable. Creighton had herself positioned, ready to leap out of the box at the first opening.
Karla was coming forward, ready to clear the portal rift as soon as DaRMA retracted her maintenance arms and Milly came through. A core flopped through the rift without a shred of grace. They conked their shell on the side of a container and flopped onto the ground with a clank. Unfortunately for Milly, that core wasn't her. And even more unfortunately, Karla needed glasses.
Before Creighton could get a word out, Karla had already closed the rift.
The deadpan scientist breathed easier now that the dangerous hole in reality had been mended and wouldn't implode the earth. She thought she might have heard a faint 'NO', but couldn't tell over the humming of the generators nearby.
In the warehouse, Milly slammed into the ground seconds late, her claws scraping white panes where the rift had been seconds ago.
"Darn it!" she softened a curse. The Party Escort sighed, hanging her head low.
"I hate it when that happens," DaRMA's smooth tone lamented through the speakers overhead, and she offered something to her 'sister', "do you want me to clear the freight on the rails between here and there?"
Milly straightened herself up, blades perking. "That'd be… nice."
DaRMA responded, "I'll get it all cleared up."
The Party Escort hooked onto a merger rail and connected into the main freight rail. It would be a straight shot on freight line, considering that it was meant for shipments that didn't do well with sharp turns. She could build speed on this rail, right up to blazing with a powerful pulse array like her own.
The core wouldn't know what hit him.
DaRMA finished clearing the freight and making sure the rails were all connected and unimpeded. "It's clear as a bell, sister. Tell that freak DaRMA said hello."
Milly swung around, staring ahead into the mists. Her management carriage was building charge, ready to deploy at any second.
She thought aloud, "he ain't gettin' away so easy."
"You go, girl."
And go she did.
