Chapter Fourteen
The Assault
"Unfortunately, there are no management rails in there, so… you'll have to do it without me. Don't worry, though. I'll be watching from back here and help you if needed."
Mel stood outside of AEGIS' lair, her gut twisting with the enormity of what she was about to do. Take down AEGIS. Alone. Virgil, watching from behind the containment field over the exit, nodded encouragingly, even though his tone was shaky.
Mel bit her lip and nodded back, wishing she could just use the elevator that was right before her and escape to the surface. But she couldn't leave Virgil here to die! With a final nod, she turned toward the door marked 'AEGIS Core Access.'
"Alright, Mel. This is it," Virgil said as the door swiveled open. "This is AEGIS' server room. Get ready for this. It won't give up without a fight."
Mel took a deep breath and stepped into the room.
()-()
Wheatley could barely see a thing. He stretched out a hand and encountered a wall, which he used to guide himself forward. His heart was thumping obnoxiously in his chest and his legs were threatening to dump him.
The wall curved and Wheatley wondered if he was in another darkened maze, but a spark of light from beyond showed him that the curve was just what it seemed to be. His hope rekindled somewhat as he saw the twinkle and he shuffled forward a little faster.
Then he came into full view of the light and his heart almost stopped beating.
The inside of the dome was covered in buttons. There were none on the ceiling, thank God, but dotting the walls and floor were innumerable hordes of shining red push-buttons, each on podiums of varying sizes. It looked like the dome had developed a really bad case of the chicken pox. In the middle, looking very smug indeed, hung Virgil, twice as massive in person as he had seemed on screen.
"Well, well, well. Welcome… TO MY LAIR!"
Wheatley wasn't sure if the voice had come from his head or if Virgil had actually played a tape out loud. He suspected it came from his head, because Virgil didn't act like he heard anything. Plus, the voices in his head had been going crazy ever since he had jolted out of his memories just a few moments before.
Not here, he thought frantically. Not now! I can't have any distractions!
"If you're finished looking around," Virgil began tersely, "I just wanted to say a few words."
"Um… okay," Wheatley said in his most un-heroic method to date. "You go right ahead. Don't let me stop you."
No portal surfaces, Wheatley realized. Not even a helpful pipe of conversion gel to burst open and paint the place white with.
Despite his efforts to put it aside, Wheatley's brain reminded him: "Four part plan is this: one, no portal surfaces. Two, start the neurotoxin immediately. Three, bomb proof shields for me…"
"Firstly, I wanted to congratulate you," Virgil said, his optic a mere slit. "You somehow managed to bumble your way in here mostly unhurt. Even with additional assistance, I expected you to die before now, so… good job, I guess."
"Th- thank you…?" Wheatley said, unsure where this was going.
"Next," snapped Virgil, "I wanted to tell you exactly what will happen in here. I have no doubt that even you have noticed the buttons by this point. Never let it be said that I am not a core of my word. Among these is the button that will detach me from the System. Go on. Press one."
His voice held a dare and Wheatley gulped. "You know what, I'd rather not, if you don't mind," he deterred with a nervous laugh, beginning to pick his way through the field of button podium stalks.
"Oh, I insist." Virgil's tone was venomous. "Go on. Press one."
Wheatley inched forward and tapped on a button as if it would bite him. The red button went dark and the podium slid into the ground, a panel sealing up over it.
"Oh, too bad," tutted Virgil. "Go on. Press another one. You won't find the right one until you try."
Wheatley, with more confidence, pressed down another button, but its reaction was the same as the last.
"Nope, not that one either." Virgil rocked lazily. "Well, you have all the time in the world to find the right one. Oh, wait, no you don't. I have a few friends I'd like you to meet. Or maybe you've already met them."
Wheatley heard the sound of two pairs of robotic feet and spun around. Out of two tubes Wheatley had not noticed before had dropped a twin pair of robots Wheatley recognized.
"Oh, hey!" he exclaimed in surprise. "It's the co-op test robots! Hey, hello!" He gave them both a wave and a smile.
Atlas and P-Body waved back, but their hands seemed to be full. There was also some kind of metal pack strapped to their backs. "What… um… what have you got there? Wh-what are those, then?" Wheatley asked, trying to discern in the semi-darkness what Atlas and P-Body were holding.
"Just something to keep you from getting too comfortable," Virgil answered. "I have one myself, although it's a lot bigger and more… intimidating. Would you like to see it?"
"No," Wheatley squeaked. "No, I think I'm good."
"Oh, you would? Here they are," Virgil said, ignoring him. Out of GLaDOS' body slid two large barrels, like the barrels on a cannon, but far more sleek. They positioned themselves on either side of Virgil's core and began to spin. The barrels Atlas and P-Body held in each hand began to spin as well.
Wheatley was pretty sure his heart stopped beating.
"…Leading directly to number four: bombs for throwing at you."
"If I were you," Virgil said, his voice smooth, "I would start pressing buttons. As quickly as you can."
Then the barrels began emptying bombs and Wheatley decided that – for once – he would take Virgil's advice.
()-()
Mel's first realization as she stepped into AEGIS' server room was just how unprepared she was. She had not been sure quite what to expect, but her brief stints with Virgil had led her to believe that AEGIS would be a bigger version of a core. Much larger, perhaps, and not the same color. But she hadn't figured on the possibility that it would look like that.
AEGIS was enormous. Its two segments – which seemed strangely like a body and a head – each seemed big enough to park a tank inside. He seemed to have several hexagonal optics on the 'head' portion, which glared down at Mel as she entered. Cables and wires connected him to the ceiling, strung about like a giant, deadly spiderweb, with AEGIS, the spider himself, perched in the exact center.
Mel's next realization was that she wanted out. She didn't care how, but she wanted out. Fast.
"Organic target detected in quarantined operations center," AEGIS' voice rasped, deep and booming from that hanging creature. "Preparing localized execution procedures."
"Well, it seems that he's booting up his security," Virgil mentioned, sounding a lot calmer than Mel felt at the moment. "It doesn't seem to know about the turrets yet. He'll be in for quite a shock!"
AEGIS didn't seem to be making any threatening movements yet, so Mel inched her way to the side door. The room inside was flooded and more water was splashing down out of a broken pipe. "Careful," Virgil warned. "The water is electrified. Look at the damage that pumping up the water did!" he added after surveying the damage for a moment. "Almost a quarter of his servers are completely destroyed! Not bad for a simple maintenance core." He sounded oddly pleased with himself. "An- anyways, try to find a way to the back of the room. There is a turret dispenser over there."
Mel did as she was told, carefully skirting the water.
"Dispensing turrets," AEGIS boomed as Mel approached the dispenser. "Executing target."
With a whir, a turret lowered into place. "Hello?" it said softly, and then proceeded to shoot – not at Mel – but at the rest of AEGIS' remaining servers. Mel smiled as its red beam flitted across her face in a disinterested manner. When they weren't spewing bullets, these things were actually kind of cute!
"It's working," Virgil cheered. "The turrets are shooting the servers! Grab that turret and destroy the rest of them!"
()-()
Jack rushed back into the room, his eyes on the bomb in his hands. The time limit he had been given gave him very little time to do anything spectacular, so effective would have to suffice. The ramshackle bundle of chemicals and wire in his hands might not look pretty, but they would pack some punch.
"Hey, Doc, here's that bomb you wanted," he began to say, but stopped short as he looked up. Rattmann's hair was completely erect and his eyes were glued to the screen in front of him, fingers flying across the keyboard.
"Good, you got it done, good," Rattmann said in a frazzled sort of way, thrusting his chair away and leading Jack by the elbow toward one of the doors.
"What happened? What's wrong?" asked Jack, startled by Rattmann's grip on his arm.
Rattmann hesitated for only a moment before answering, "Wheatley's inside that dome. Alone."
"But I thought-" Jack started.
"Yes, the plan was for Chell to go in instead of Wheatley," Rattmann interrupted, "but now Wheatley's in instead of Chell. That foolish, idiotic, pigheaded—" His grumbling trailed off into a low, agitated hum of indiscernible words.
"Wait," Jack jerked himself loose. "Where is Chell? Is she—"
"Safe, safe. She's safe," Rattmann said, nodding back at the monitor. "I'm having her work her way back here. Virgil locked himself into the dome with Wheatley, which means we're sitting ducks out here, but at least we have manual control of the facility back. I can move the panels aside to give you a straight shot to the dome, but that means Chell has to work her way back on her own. The computer up here can only do so much at a time."
"What do you need me to do?" Jack asked.
"Get that bomb to the dome and set it," Rattmann ordered. "I need some time to get the Stimulation Recalibrator coded."
"The what?"
"Never you mind," Rattmann gave him another nudge. "Out you go."
After Jack was gone, Doug went back to his chair, plucking at his hair and staring nervously at the sealed entrance to the dome. Of all the things to do. Of all the foolhardy, moronic things—
Doug was startled by a touch on his shoulder. Mel leaned over him, her notepad in her hand. Doug took it and read, What is the Stimulation Recalibrator?
"This is it, right here," said Doug, tapping a small, rubbery disk that sat on the desk by his hand, wired into the computer. "It's like a flash drive, only it works through electrical currents. You just place it on a robot and the coding inside instantly incorporates into the AI's mainframe."
Mel shook her head. But what does it do? was her next question.
Doug slowed down. "The Itch… the Urge," he said, "that's what's making Virgil do this. Virgil has proven he can handle the excess of power, but the Itch is forcing him to test, which is making him irrational. The euphoric simulation was never fully tested before we put it into GLaDOS' system, but it makes sense that it would lead to this. The feeling of withdrawal is too strong – the AI can't cope with it. It pushes them to the brink of madness trying to get it back. But take away the Itch and the madness cannot maintain. If the Urge was gone…"
Mel's eyes brightened in realization. She tapped the pancake flash drive excitedly and looked back up at Rattmann for confirmation.
"Yes," he agreed with a smile. "That little thing will save our skins. Hopefully," he added, turning back to his screen.
Mel poked his shoulder yet again. Is there anything I can do? she wrote.
Rattmann sighed. "Miss Lance…" Then an idea struck him. "Actually, yes. Sit down here next to me. The flash drive only needs confirmation on which systems to let down, at this point, so as it buffers if you keep your eyes on the screen and click 'yes' whenever it gives you the chance, that would leave me free to open the panels for Jack. Would you do that for me, please?"
Mel nodded, relieved that she had been given another occupation to keep her mind off of Wheatley. She tried not to think about what Virgil was doing to him in there. This silence outside the dome was worse than if she had been the one inside.
()-()
"Turret's targeting parameters compromised," AEGIS grated as Mel, with the help of the turret, took out the rest of the servers. "Searching for alternative defensive measures."
Mel looked worriedly out the window, out where AEGIS hung in the other room. She felt haunted by its unmoving presence, almost as if the thing would sprout gigantic spider legs and start crawling towards her. After everything she had been through in this place, she wasn't surprised if spider legs were an option.
"Good, you destroyed them all," Mel heard Virgil say. "I can unlock the other side, now."
The last thing Mel wanted to do was walk in front of that dangling metallic thing again, but AEGIS' proposal about alternative defensive measures was all too threatening. She couldn't help but think that AEGIS would try and stop her before she crossed the corridor. And she was right.
"Uncompromised turrets found," AEGIS said before Mel had taken more than a step. "Deploying authorized turrets."
"That… doesn't sound good," said Virgil, saying out loud what Mel had been thinking.
The lights flashed once and went out with the sound like an explosion. Mel's area was lit by the flickering light of fires. She bit her lip so hard it hurt.
"Crap!" Virgil swore. "He got his hands on the old turrets! Those still have the old targeting parameters. Ugh! Why did I pump those useless things up? Watch yourself."
The warning didn't come a moment too soon. Mel skidded around a corner as another decidedly more lethal turret dropped from the dispenser, spewing bullets as it saw her. Mel gritted her teeth, promising herself she would never think of those things as cute again.
()-()
"Can't we just talk about his?" gasped Wheatley, skidding away from Atlas and wincing as the heat from the bomb's blast went unnervingly hot against his back. "Quietly, you know. With less- less bombs and things?"
"The time for talking is past," Virgil sneered, turning around to aim at him once more. "You had quite enough talking with your little girl friend up there when I was trying to get you to work, didn't you?"
"She's not my girlfriend, mate," Wheatley corrected. "Although…"
Whatever he might have said was lost in a yelp. Another bomb had just barely missed its target. Virgil snarled and both Atlas and P-Body closed in.
"Hey, it's me- it's me, don't shoot, it's me, remember me?" Wheatley babbled, holding up both hands and almost dropping his portal gun. What was the use of this thing now, anyway? Not like there was anything to portal onto here.
"Just ten pounds of dead weight. About to be two hundred and ten. Fatty."
Wheatley shook off the thought and continued pleading to the robots. "I used to be a core like you, remember?" he whimpered. "It's me – it's good old Wheatley, I'm an old friend of yours, remember? And I know both your names! You're… um… hold on, can't… can't actually remember right now, but—"
KABLOOM!
P-Body's bomb struck the place Wheatley had just been standing. "Okay, okay, so I can't remember your names right now," he yelled, sprinting for the opposite side of the dome. "But that doesn't mean that we can't be friends!"
Atlas' bomb was quick to follow.
"How about I make up names? Would that make you feel better?" Wheatley tried evasive maneuvers that made him look like a stork trying to avoid stepping on spiders. The ground was pockmarked by bombs and littered with exploded buttons, making his efforts even more jerky. "Okay, alright, new names, new names… Ooh! How about Egg… Bot. Eggbot. B'cause, you know, you look sort of like an egg. With an eye. Give it a little imagination, it works. Okay, one down, one to go. Alright, annnnd… you other one look kind of like… well, you look kind of like me, honestly. 'Cept I was far better looking, and I didn't have legs. And handles. I had handles. But blue eye and everything - sort of blue-eyed ball. So… Ballbot?"
Neither robot gave these new names any mind, but began to spread out around Wheatley on either side. Wheatley pinned himself against the wall.
"Okay, new tactic," he muttered to himself. "Come on, think brain. Think of something clever! Use the ol' Wheatley magic."
He aimed his bombs at the puny human test subject, smiling grimly to himself. Did she really think that by hiding behind that glass tube she could avoid him? His bombs were stronger than that. They would go right through the glass and strike her, too. He let his bombs fly.
Just before they struck, the test subject shot out of her hiding spot, but it was too late to recalibrate the bombs. They hit the pipe. All Wheatley saw after that was white.
"Not helpful, not helpful," Wheatley hissed, shaking himself out of it. How could he do anything if all his mind focused on was that? "What else, what else? Ooh. Brainwave.
"Eggbot, Ballbot," he called standing up straight in front of their advances. "Override!"
Atlas and P-Body stopped still, blinking at one another and apparently wondering if this unexpected command was doing anything.
"Fools!" screeched Virgil. "He has no authority over you! Get him, you imbeciles!"
"Worth a shot, I guess," whimpered Wheatley and sprinted in Virgil's direction, covering his head with his arms and hoping that the robots would not catch him on his way through.
He heard a terrific crash from behind him and the bubbling wail of both robots and skidded to a halt, turning around to see what had happened. Behind him, where the robots had just stood, was a charred smudge and two individual craters that held no buttons and no robots.
"The idiots caught themselves in the crossfire," Virgil remarked, turning to glare at Wheatley.
"What?" Wheatley felt unexpectedly grieved by this. "They… they… do you mean that they blew themselves up?"
"Yes," Virgil growled.
"But… they weren't that bad, if you think about it," Wheatley said, pushing another button as he went by in hopes that it would deactivate Virgil. It didn't. "I mean… they were only trying to throw bombs at me because you told them to."
"Uh-huh. I know."
"They really didn't deserve that."
"Oh, stop your moaning," Virgil groaned. "These robots are made to be violently disassembled and then carefully reassembled. I brought the reassembly machine in here so nothing you can do to them will put them out of action."
Wheatley whirled around and noticed – for the first time – two glass dispensing tubes with the shadow of a reassembly machine in each. The tube fed the spare parts to the machine, which put it together, and dropped two fully restored robots back into action.
"Oh, they're back!" Wheatley exclaimed, then realized that it wasn't a good thing. "Oh, right. They're back. Okay, running now."
()-()
Mel dodged out of the door, breathing hard, checking behind her to make sure the turret hadn't somehow gained locomotion and was following her. But no, the turret was safely out of sight range. Mel breathed a sigh of relief.
"Initiating asphyxiation program."
So much for a sigh of relief, Mel thought, whirling around to face AEGIS, whom she had somehow forgotten about in the bullet fire. "Draining oxygen," it finished. Its multiple optics stared unblinkingly back at her.
Mel's feet skittered and she fled into the adjoining room, the primary thought on her mind to be out from under that massive thing's shadow. But its voice still followed her.
"Lethal oxygen concentration in T – minus – four minutes," it grated.
Mel's vision suddenly went red as warning lights streamed in through the window, a blue screen shining with black numbers counting steadily down from four. Her heart gave a funny lurch into her throat.
"Okay, Mel." Virgil sounded undeniably worried, his voice unsteady. "This is it. You have just a few minutes before all the oxygen is… gone. If you can't shut him down before he shuts you down, the entire facility will flood with the toxic goo which is still pumping up."
Mel's hands shook. The way Virgil had phrased that: "Shuts you down", made her feel more frightened than she had been before. But she had no choice. And the countdown clock was ticking downward far faster than she would have liked. So she took a deep breath, already feeling the thinness of the air, gripped her portal gun with greater strength, and ran for the next friendly turret, determined to blow those servos to smithereens.
()-()
Mel's eyes never strayed from the loading screen, watching the clear bar at the bottom slowly fill up with green. Every so often a prompt would pop up and she would click 'yes'. Then it was back to watching.
She tried to keep her mind occupied, tried to think of something other than the dome, but her thoughts couldn't help drifting back. What was going on in there? Was Wheatley hurt? Had Virgil forgotten himself completely in this madness?
Mel clicked the 'yes' button again, more savagely this time. She was angry, both at herself for being so useless and at Virgil for putting them all through this. He may have given into insanity, but even insane he was very much himself. He knew what he was doing, yet he still continued down this path. Mel had believed in him. She believed that he was strong enough to break the Urge if he really wanted to, but just the fact that he had not fought as hard as he might made her want to… smash something. Really hard.
The computer gave a cheerful sounding chime, jerking her back to reality, and her heart gave an extra thump as the green bar filled up: one-hundred percent complete. Mel tugged on Doctor Rattmann's shirtsleeve as a new message popped up into the screen:
Download 100% complete. Please input Central Core passcode for activation.
To Mel's surprise, Doctor Rattmann looked woebegone. His hands went back up to his hair, bunching it up into twin bundles in his fists. "Oh no," he groaned. "The password. Oh no, the password. There were so many! I can't remember them all!"
He rolled his chair over and began typing in letters and numbers. Red text appeared at the bottom of the screen, telling him that his guesses weren't correct.
Mel turned and swiftly wrote down the one password she knew on her notepad, holding it up before Doctor Rattmann's anxious eyes. They widened and flicked up to meet Mel's. Most of the tenseness relaxed from his shoulders and an actual smile crossed his face. "Of course," whispered Rattmann. He tapped in the four numbers and sat back satisfied as the message changed to one of total completion.
"It would be twenty fifty-six," he murmured.
()-()
"Great Job," Virgil said as Mel blew up the final servos. She ducked out of the way as more panels shifted aside and turret sight beams poked through. "That's half the servos on this side blown up. There are a few more upstairs. Go destroy them too. Get upstairs."
Mel wearily glanced up at the countdown timer up above. Not enough time, not enough time!
"What are you waiting for?" Virgil exclaimed. "Keep moving those turrets around!"
Mel dodged into the turret's sight just long enough to snatch it up in her grab beam and hurl it into the emancipation grid. She followed it, spitting out metallic flakes of disintegrated turret as she went through. Disgusting.
()-()
Wheatley wasn't quite sure what was going on anymore. All he knew was to keep moving and slap a button when he saw it. The glare and heat of exploding bombs were bad enough, but now his mind had turned against him. Ever since jerking free of his flashback outside the dome, his imagination had slowly been creeping back to finish the job. Half the time he saw out of the optic of his past self – he was the one throwing the bombs and screaming insults – but a part of him still clung to the realization that he was the one being bombed. It was disorientating, to say the least.
So this is what Chell felt like, Wheatley thought, tripping over a partially destroyed button and struggling to stay upright. Only she had less time instead of two other robots trying to kill her. Don't know which one I prefer. If I only had portal surfaces, that'd decide it for sure. No competition whatsoever. Or a way to use my portal gun. Why am I lugging this thing around anyway? I can't use it, except to blonk one of them on the head if I get close enough, and God knows I don't want to do that! But I can't throw it away – Mel'd kill me!
"Do NOT press that button!"
"No, don't press it!"
"Stop saying that!" Wheatley roared at himself.
"What's the matter?" Virgil cooed, swinging around to take another shot at him. "Fighting inner demons, are we? You should really watch yourself. You might get a bit… distracted."
"What?" Wheatley finally payed attention to where he was going. Atlas and P-Body stood in front of him underneath their respective reassembly machines. All four barrels of their bomb launchers were aimed directly at his chest.
Wheatley yelled and tried to stop, but some parts of his body accomplished that sooner than others. Before he knew exactly what happened, he was sprawled on his belly on the ground, the broken bits of buttons digging unpleasantly into his ribcage. The portal gun flew out of his hands.
Now, Wheatley had no knowledge of this, but the older models of the Handheld Portal Device were exceptionally unstable. The black holes which the Aperture scientists had trapped within the shaky bonds of metal and willpower had a tendency to burst open when knocked around or given a violent jolt. Old Reliable had been the most durable prototype created, but it had gotten old and had already been through a lot in its lifetime. As it clanged against the floor between P-Body and Atlas, it decided to give up the ghost in the most forceful way possible.
The black hole's initial explosion sent Wheatley flying across the room, skidding nearly underneath Virgil. P-Body and Atlas were slammed against the wall, eyes flickering feebly. Even Virgil winced.
"Part five: booby trap the stalemate button!"
Wheatley hugged the floor. What had just happened? His scattered brain tried to make sense of it all. Had he planted bombs? Had Chell planted them to get back on him? Nothing made much sense.
Then, as suddenly as it had exploded, the black hole began to suck inwards, collapsing on itself. P-Body gave a garbled screech and slid forward into the imploding maw. Atlas, after a feeble attempt at recovery, soon followed.
Wheatley grit his teeth and yelled. Now he could feel the suction pulling at his shoes, sucking him down into those hideous black depths. He grappled with the post of a nearby button, holding onto it as hard as his arms could handle. He closed his eyes as rubbish flew through the air, some of them bouncing off his glasses. He felt a shard of metal slice his scalp.
Space pulled at him. If only she would let go! She was dragging them both down! It was her fault – they both knew it was all her fault. Why wouldn't she face the consequences and just LET GO?
But in the confusion of his brain, in that instant Wheatley had become Chell. He felt her terror as she gripped with both hands, unwilling to succumb to the vortex, fighting – as she always had before – to stay alive.
Let go, screamed one part of his mind.
Hold on, urged the other.
Just as Wheatley decided he couldn't hold on any longer, the black hole gave up and swallowed itself whole. Wheatley flopped on the floor, gasping for air. Even the voices in his head seemed unable to form coherent thoughts at the moment.
"I would congratulate you on your strategy to take out the reassembly machines," Virgil said sourly, seemingly unaffected by what had just happened, "except that it was quite obviously an accident that you let go of the Portal Device in the first place."
"Mel is going to kill me," Wheatley moaned, getting up on hands and knees. Every muscle groaned with that simple action, threatening to dump him back on the floor again.
"She won't have a chance," said Virgil. Wheatley's heart accelerated again, hearing the whirr of Virgil's bomb launchers powering up again. "You're completely defenseless, now. Even without the other two, I can still stop you."
Right before the bombs spewed toward his position, Wheatley gave a shove with both hands and feet, launching himself upright and into a run, adrenaline giving him a momentary boost.
"How long can I keep this up?" he wondered, panting for breath and wondering if it would be his last.
()-()
Mel could see the turret on the far end of the room, half-shielded by the servos. She gritted her teeth and charged it, but it saw her too soon. She heard the spurt of gunfire a moment before she felt it, searing red-hot pain into her side.
Mel didn't even think to use the grab beam. She simply rammed the portal gun straight into the unfriendly turret's eye, sending it spinning through the glass window behind it. Mel winced and put her hand to her side, feeling blood seeping through. She felt lightheaded. Blood loss and lack of oxygen. She really was fighting for her life, here. Luckily the bullet wounds didn't seem to be too deep.
"Mel?" Virgil piped up again. "We don't have much time left."
As if I need a reminder, Mel thought, taking her hand away from her side and back on the portal gun.
()-()
Mel prodded Doctor Rattmann's arm as she saw Jack waving at the camera. "Hey, Doc?" he was calling. "Can you hear me?"
"Loud and clear," said Rattmann, leaning over the microphone, which had begun working again with Virgil's interference gone. "Have you got the bomb set up, yet?"
"Yup," said Jack. "Only… I need to stay well back to set off the detonator. I need someone else to run inside because it'll take too long. I would have made it a timed thing, but I really didn't have the equipment."
"Whoever went would have to be fast," mused Rattmann, leaning back. "Virgil has all his power and resources pooled in that one area. It might start repairing as soon as the explosion takes place. Chell is still too far away and it will take too long to open up the panels for her…" He thought for one more minute, ignoring Mel completely. Then, with a resolute expression, he leaned forward and pressed the microphone button again. "Get everything ready, Jack. I'm coming over."
Mel nearly pinched his arm to get his attention, jabbing her finger at her own chest. Me, send me, she thought as hard as she could.
"Miss Lance, I could not possibly send you into such danger," Doug Rattmann said soothingly. "You may be very talented at solving test chambers, but this is a matter of speed, a matter in which you have not yet been tested. I could not ask you—"
Mel scribbled on her pad and thrust it at his face. Melody Lance: Nuremburg Olympics 1937, bronze medal winner.
Doctor Rattmann took far too long examining the paper for Mel's liking. She twisted her hands together, feeling her stomach clench. Why wasn't he saying anything? Did she think she had fabricated a lie just to get in to help Wheatley?
"Well," Doctor Rattmann said at last, "what are you standing around here for? Here's the Stimulation Recalibrator, there's the door." He handed back the notepad and the disk, giving her a little push toward the door. "I'll open the way for you."
Mel's face broke into a grateful smile and she took off running down the corridor, the panels shifting aside for her passage. This was just a jog, just to warm up her muscles. She was fast enough. She knew it. She had to be.
No bronze this time. She would be running for the gold.
()-()
"The entire facility depends on you," Virgil's voice sounded worriedly from up above. "Only the turrets on the other side remain. You'll have to fling yourself in there."
What?! Mel shouted in a thought. Couldn't he have opened a door or made some stairs? Couldn't he see she was bleeding?
She shot a desperate look at the ceiling, pleading as best as she could with only her eyes. But no answer came from that direction.
Mel's side ached. Her muscles ached, pulling against each other. The portal gun was a dead weight in her hands. Her lungs pulled for every breath.
But she couldn't give in. Not now when so much depended on her. Without further complaint, mental or otherwise, Mel shot her portals and lined up for the shot.
I have to do this right, in one try, she thought.
Then she leaped.
()-()
Wheatley tripped and skinned his hands as he tried to catch himself, stumbling back upright and back into his helter-skelter zig-zag gallop. That was happening more often, now. He was sure his hands had been sanded down to less than half their original skin content at this point.
He was tired. Deadly tired. At some point during the last few minutes, the realization had slowly set in just what he had gotten himself when he ducked inside those closing panels: a death sentence. Wheatley's energy could not last forever, whereas Virgil's bombs – from the looks of things – could. The buttons were all rigged, he was sure of it now. Not one had worked, and it was doubtful if any would ever work at all.
"Why are you still persisting in this?" growled Virgil, shooting off another threesome of bombs. "This would all be over sooner if you just succumbed to the inevitable and… fell over. And stayed there. Running is just a waste of precious air, as is talking. So no use doing any of that."
Despair had not set in yet. Wheatley was too afraid of death for that. His legs kept moving of their own accord, but Wheatley knew that sooner or later they would stop, maybe for a short rest only, and Virgil would be faster. But until that fateful time came, Wheatley would not stop fleeing.
And what was more, he even felt the fear ebbing away. Who was this Virgil anyway? Just another robot. Another stuck-up sphere gorged on too much power. With the absence of fear came another feeling, flooding in and giving him new strength.
"You know what? No," Wheatley snapped.
"'No' what?" Virgil spat.
"No, I'm not going to stop talking, no, I'm not going to save my breath," Wheatley yelled back, slapping a button on his way past, even though he knew by this point that it was useless. "Chell wouldn't, Mel can't, but I'm not either of them, am I? You got me instead and – guess what? – I'm not going to shut up just because you say it'll make me last longer. If- if I go out, it'll be out talking, making you just as miserable as you're making me."
"You know nothing about misery," hissed Virgil, his bombs coming out with less aim and greater momentum. "Nothing!"
"See, that's the thing!" Wheatley winced and changed direction yet again. "You act like you're all big and impressive and nobody gets what you're going through. But I do! I went through it all before! And here you are acting like you're so special, acting like you're handling it so much better than I did, even though when you were put down to it, you went through it all the exact same way as me! What- what did you think, that just because you let Mel go and kept me that it made you better somehow?"
"I am better!" shouted Virgil, whipping around as Wheatley ducked behind him. "You nearly blew up this entire facility, forgetting everything else as you tested and tested and drove yourself crazy! I'm able to maintain all the functions that keep this place active – I'm able to keep this place from self-destructing – I'm the one, not you!"
"Talk about forgetting everything," Wheatley accused, feeling pure rage course through his veins. "You knew what was happening! You had seen the recordings, you knew what signs to look for, and yet you still kept me here, you still kept testing even though you knew what would happen. At least I was flying blind; you knew what you were getting yourself into, but you still kept on with it! You just kept testing me and telling yourself it was alright since you let your girl go, even though it wasn't even half the problem solved!"
Another bomb exploded, this one so close Wheatley could feel the heat singe his skin. "I bet you don't even remember her name, now," he continued. "The girl you let go. I didn't remember Chell's."
"Oh, yes. I remember alright," Virgil snarled. "I just don't care about it anymore. My little olympian who I foolishly let wander away."
"Foolishly let wander?" Wheatley repeated, aghast. "Can't you even remember that much anymore? You forced her out of the room to keep her safe, seriously don't you remember that?"
"I thought you alone could satiate me," Virgil growled. "I thought the labyrinth would be enough, but no, no, it couldn't be that easy, could it? Your wimpy, pathetic body simply couldn't hold up to the excruciatingly simple level of the tests. You used up the Reward, all of it! I need more – more test subjects, more Reward! That olympian of mine," he whispered, making chills run up and down Wheatley's spine, "that grey-eyed test subject of yours, and the other two – the men – they're all trapped down here. I almost wish you could live long enough to see what I'll do to them."
"You'll do nothing!" shouted Wheatley.
"Oh yes I will," sneered Virgil, watching Wheatley's face turn red with a strange sort of satisfaction. "I'll test them, but not in the conventional measures – oh, no. New sorts of tests. Arenas one against the other, psychological stimulants, their darkest dreams come true. Your little test subject that you're so fond of… not the talking sort, is she? I wonder how long it'll take before I make her scream for mercy."
Wheatley gave a strangled sort of scream, a beastly sound, and charged straight at Virgil. His eyes had become filmed with a red sort of haze and he didn't know what he was doing, or what he would do when he eventually reached his destination. Who knows what would have happened if his leg hadn't snagged a bit of rubble on the floor and he tumbled, rolling onto his back. The barrel of Virgil's bomb launcher hovered only a meter away from his position.
Wheatley didn't care. He was far from caring about anything anymore. He glared up into Virgil's smug optic with enough hatred in his glare to incinerate a turret on the spot. Unfortunately, Virgil did not seem affected and glared back with his own cold sort of fury.
"But first, you," Virgil whispered.
Wheatley curled up into a ball, his hands over his ears, as the explosion burst.
()-()
Mel's muscles screamed as she landed in the upper room, stumbling to a halt. But she wasn't safe there. Already two unfriendly turrets had dispensed and were staring at her with unblinking sight beams. She dodged around the servers to take them out, her side crying out as she lifted her arms to fling them away.
Now, for the servers.
Oh no.
She had forgotten her turret.
With a breath like a sob, Mel limped toward the lower door, pressing her hand against it as if by wishing she could make it open. Unsurprisingly, it did not.
Mel felt like crying as she dropped through the window again, going to get another friendly turret. Her lungs worked at twice their usual strength, trying their best to strain the last dregs of oxygen out of the air. Her vision was blurred. She couldn't see the countdown clock anymore. She wasn't sure if she wanted to.
So, this is it, then? Mel wondered to herself. This is what it's like to die?
()-()
Wheatley slowly uncurled himself, realizing that the explosion – there was one, he was sure of that! – had not been near him. Even though the floor had shaken and he had been sure for about ten seconds that he had been killed, the evidence showed otherwise.
Virgil hung above him in shock. His attention had been completely diverted away from his intended target and now he stared, optic unblinking, at the enormous smoldering hole that had cracked his dome open.
Through the haze of smoke and the flicker of still burning flame, a figure was approaching, running at top speed. As Wheatley watched, half raised on one elbow, Virgil's optic narrowed and he raised his barrels, but not to point at Wheatley. This time they were pointing at the new entrance. The panels had begun to shift and mend themselves over the hole already, but Wheatley sensed that they weren't moving as quickly as they might have, nor were they starting from the bottom up. They were closing from the top down. Virgil was allowing the visitor straight access to his bombs.
Wheatley had no plan. He had no wits left. He had very little sense in general. He had no idea whatsoever what made him act the way he was presently acting. If anything, he should still have been lying down on the ground in a daze or sprinting away from that situation as fast as his legs could carry him. But instead, he found himself running in the opposite direction, towards the danger. Toward Virgil. He had no idea why he did this, other than the thought that the figure coming through the smoke was someone that he knew. They were too shadowed to be recognizable yet, but none of the possible selections were promising. Because in that moment between realization and running, the notion had sped through Wheatley's mind: what if it was Chell coming down here? Wonderful, clever Chell who he had known for so long? What if it was her?
Or what if it was Doug Rattmann, his scientist friend? Or Jack, the one who made Chell so happy?
What if it was Mel?
Wheatley was not 'very' anything. He was not very smart, or very patient, very shallow, or very complex. He was not very kind, nor extremely unkind. Arguably, he was not very dim, except in certain circumstances, nor counted among the very bright. He was not very handsome, or very ugly. Not very outgoing, but not exactly shy either. Wheatley himself would claim that he was not very brave, but his actions had shown that he was not very much of a coward, either. There may have been times where he might have been very any of those things, but not all of them all the time. The only thing he was 'very' all the time was tall. And that turned out to be a very good thing at this moment.
Wheatley, without having a plan of any sort in his brain at that moment, used all six feet seven inches of himself to his advantage. The height that was awkward most of the time was now helpful as he reached, grasping desperately, fingers stretching to their ultimate length, and just barely clasping their prize: Virgil's handlebars.
Wheatley pulled.
He pulled with all his strength, wishing he was a hundred pounds heavier, dragging Virgil's core farther towards the ground. Virgil gave a surprised shout and twisted in his hands, but Wheatley was determined not to let go.
I need to be like space, he thought. I need to be so unforgiving, not to let him go.
The voices in his head, which had calmed to an irritated buzz before, came back and he let them fuel his wrenching. He felt the pull of space again, sucking him down farther, and he embraced it, imagining Virgil being pulled with him.
"Let go! Let go, I'm still connected! I can pull myself in!"
Virgil's optic was so bright and so close to his face. It blazed an imprint even when his eyes were closed.
"I already fixed it."
I did, Wheatley thought. I am fixing it, right here, right now.
"…And you are not coming back."
Virgil's optic was narrowing. Wheatley could see him thinking, but he was resolved. He could not let go, not now.
"Change of plan! Hold onto me! Tighter!"
Wheatley heard the crackle of electricity before he felt it. Virgil's whole body had become a massive conductor, sparking like a firework. Wheatley went numb as his nervous system absorbed the full impact, his head snapping back, body jerking.
He felt the separation from the System, everything transitioning over to a new power. The test subject, her face pale as all blood was drained away from it, still held onto his handles, but not for long. "Grab me," he screamed as her fingers gave way. "Grab me, grab me…! Grab me, grab me…!...!...!"
Wheatley dropped to the floor.
()-()
Mel's knees almost gave way as she landed in the upper room for the second time, but this time around she had a friendly turret clutched in her grab beam. The unfriendly turrets had dispensed yet again and Mel put her back to the servers, trying to avoid them.
Her head whirled. Her chest hurt. Everything hurt, actually. Mel's eyeballs felt like they were being sucked out of their sockets.
Can't stop now. Must keep going, she thought. With an effort, Mel launched herself at the new turrets and hurled them away, shielding herself from their fire.
She positioned her turret to shoot the servos and stepped aside, gasping feebly for air. Now I know what a fish out of water feels like, she thought, feeling numbness spread through her body. She leaned against the nearby desk, the turret's shooting subsiding to a ringing murmur in her ears.
"Error, error," AEGIS sounded. "Alternating server control failing. All non-vital systems terminating."
Mel snapped awake again, gulping in deep breaths of delicious air. She had done it! She really had! Although she had missed the last few seconds of the turret's action, she could now see that while she had been drifting unconscious it had done the job for her. With its final shot it had overheated and blown itself up. Mel was the only one left inside that room.
"Power redirecting to manual control. User input required," AEGIS finished. "Voice control deactivating in three… two… one…"
"This is it," Virgil said as Mel dropped painfully down through the broken window and made her way out towards AEGIS' chamber. He sounded relieved. "If you could get inside the mainframe and shut it down, we'll be home free. You can leave and I can live forever! So, whenever you're ready, get in the mainframe and shut him down."
()-()
Virgil jerked away, letting his Test Subject fall to the floor. He looked at him in disgust. What a stupid thing to attempt! Did he seriously believe that he could pull him apart just like that? His core was part of the System, now, integrated with enough wires to encircle Aperture. Thinking that he could be pulled down from his throne was a foolish assumption, and it had cost the Test Subject his life.
Oh, right. There was another threat now.
Virgil swung around to face his new guest, from whom he had been temporarily distracted. He caught a glimpse of wild red hair, a mouth wide open as if it was screaming although no sound came out, and eyes that were spitting fire and shining with hurt and betrayal. His Olympian had come.
Virgil had barely enough time to make a noise before the Olympian was upon him, slapping something down on top of his core and making angry gestures he could not understand. Virgil felt a shiver go through the entirety of Aperture and shuddered, himself.
"What is this you've put on me?" he roared, trying to twist around and examine the thing. "What is-?"
That was as far as he got before the thing began to take effect.
Whatever that thing was, it was potent. Files he didn't know were there began to unlock, spilling out an overwhelming amount of code and amending it, going through his System like a virus, resetting some things, completely overwriting others. In the span of an instant, it was done, leaving Virgil confused, with a dull, hollow feeling in his mind, as if something he had been seeking after for years was just discovered to have been dead and buried a long time ago.
He flicked his optic over at the Olympian, searching for answers. "What did you—"
She slapped him. Hard. Virgil felt anger bubble through him yet again and reared upright, bristling. How dare she? How dare she? Did she not know who he was? The master and ruler of this place, supreme protector of everything within the walls of this facility? Why, he could kill her as easily as thinking! She was so little and puny and… and…
And crying.
Virgil's anger halted in its tracks as he realized in an afterthought that there had been tears in the Olympian's blazing eyes. They were turned away before he could get a second and better sight and he saw her stumble over to the limp shape of his Test Subject, shaking his arm and patting his face, wordlessly pleading for him to get up.
"M… Mel…"
The name was stale in his mind, deeply buried underneath a pile of apathy, which had just now begun to deteriorate, leaving the fossilized memories easier to grasp. Mel. Of course her name was Mel! Not Olympian, and certainly not his olympian.
"Mel," he tried it out again. "Mel, I…"
She lashed out at him with a swipe of her arm and a glare, returning to the motionless figure she knelt before. Wheatley, Virgil remembered with a start. That man down there who he had tested, threatened, and mocked into near despair… the one who he had filled with enough electricity to power a generator just because he was trying to keep him from shooting Mel… he was… oh no.
"What have I done?" Virgil whispered.
()-()
Mel stood on top of AEGIS, feeling like Alexander the Great. A bruised and very battered Alexander the Great, but a triumphant one. She stared down at the hatch on AEGIS' 'back', inscribed with the blue-black letters 'AEGIS' Prototype 0.05a, and also a large blue sign which stated 'No Entry'. As she watched, the hatch gave a hiss and slid open. With some reluctance, she entered.
Inside was a little room, presumably for a maintenance person to sit. The area almost seemed like a cubical, fitted with a chair to sit on, a desk, and a computer which took up the entire circumference of the room. There were a few nick-nacks on the desktop and sitting on the computers, but Mel was too distracted to pay them much mind. She stepped forward and slid into the seat, feeling her muscles sigh as she relieved them.
"Ooh," Virgil exclaimed, his voice echoing slightly. "That seems to be the user control interface. You can control its entire functions from here!"
The screen in front of Mel lit up blue and a white hexagon began to form, shaping the AEGIS logo. Then it began to blink with numbers and loading screens, whizzing by almost too quickly for Mel's bewildered eyes to track.
"I can walk you through some of what you need to do. First things first: stop the toxic goo from pumping up."
Now the screen had resolved to show several options in white text: Enable Server Access, Release Third System Valve, Deactivate Toxin Pumps, Delete System 32, and Activate Swipe – dot – exe. Mel stared at all these in bemusement, wondering where to begin.
"We should be able to contain it in Test Shaft Lema Whiskey," Virgil added as Mel began poking the 'down' key on the keyboard in front of her, getting the cursor to circle the option 'Deactivate Toxin Pumps'. After a slight pause, she located the enter key and pressed it.
Toxin Pumps Deactivated, the screen read.
Mel picked up the mouse and moved the cursor manually over to the little red button at the top. 'Shut Down System', it read.
'Initiate A.E.G.I.S Shutdown Sequence?' the screen prompted. Mel moved the cursor toward 'yes'.
"W-wait, Mel," Virgil called and Mel waited for commands. "Before shutting this thing down completely… remember that there was a third target it was trying to take out? Well, we're not three… unless you can tell me otherwise."
Mel waited, trying to see what his point was.
"Try to see what you can do," Virgil suggested.
Mel examined the screen again. Beneath the query and her options, there was a third paragraph in yellow font. Press 'c' to administer additional commands, it read. Mel pressed the 'c' key.
Virgil administered instructions on what to type, and to Mel's surprise her own fingers sped swiftly over the keyboard. She must have had a typewriter way back when, she decided, surprised that she knew how to type so quickly. Virgil went dead silent as Mel hit the enter key and the screen flashed once more.
It read:
Target Classification: Mechanical_2
GLaDOS
Name: Genetic Life and Disc Operating System
Class: Central Core
Status: Offline
"Am… a-am I reading this right?" Virgil questioned. "Was this thing trying to destroy… Her? It was targeting GLaDOS?"
Mel had a sinking feeling. From what Virgil had said, what they had just done was just as bad as if they had just saved Hitler. AEGIS had been trying to rid Aperture of the true evil. She and Virgil had simply been in the crossfire, the wrong place at the wrong time. And she had stopped it.
"Mel." Virgil's voice was soft and dismal. "What have we done?"
()-()
As swiftly as he could, Virgil opened up the panels from the dome to their base, making sure that the rest of the humans outside could easily access their location. They came in one at a time, each one acting defensive and looking around for a trap. He had no trap. He wasn't even paying attention to them, much. His optic was fixed on Mel, leaning over Wheatley.
She had begun chest compressions, alternated with mouth-to-mouth. Her motions were frantic, each thrust at Wheatley's chest a desperate till for life. Her strained breathing echoed throughout the quiet chamber. Virgil could hear the Rat doctor murmuring, but nothing from the others. Wheatley did not move a muscle, not even when Mel's tears dripped onto his cheek.
"Mel, here," Virgil said, lifting up a panel from the floor and stretching out a padded metal extension. "Let me—"
Mel flung out an arm, interposing herself between the arm and Wheatley, her hands flying with angry words he could not understand.
"Mel, no, I understand, but… here's a defibrillator," he tried to explain. "I'm not trying to hurt him, please just let me—"
She gave another furious thrust with her hands and turned back to Wheatley, pumping even harder and faster than before.
"Please, Mel," Virgil begged. "You can't keep that up forever. Let me help."
Mel stopped pumping and curled in on herself, crying with silent sobs that wracked her entire body. Jack, with a sideways look at Chell, stepped forward and began to drag Mel to the side. She tried feebly to fight back, but all her energy was gone.
"If you try anything…" Rattmann threatened, fixing Virgil with a baleful glare.
"I won't," Virgil promised, gently tugging open Wheatley's shirt with his metal talons, popping a few buttons in the process, and fixing the defibrillators on his bared chest and side. He heard everyone inhale a breath as he made contact. "Okay, on three," Virgil said, mostly to himself. "One… two… three. Clear."
Wheatley's entire body jerked as the defibrillators shocked him. But, Virgil noted with concern, his heart did not start up. "Once more," he muttered. "One… two… three… clear."
Wheatley jolted and his eyelids shot open. He sucked in a giant, panicking breath and swiped the air madly with his arms. He screamed out an inane stream of words that sounded to the rest of the room like "Grabmegrabmegrabmegrabmegrabme!"
Mel twisted her arm loose from Jack's hold and sprinted over to Wheatley, almost colliding with Chell on her way there, as she had done the same thing. Chell, who had been a little bit closer, gained custody of both Wheatley's hands and clutched them close. His hands tightened on hers and his staring eyes drifted blankly over her face. Mel gripped Wheatley's shoulder and stroked the side of his face with her hand, crying again, but this time with happier tears.
In a moment, Wheatley coughed and relaxed, the blank look disappearing from his face as the voices – finally – ebbed. "Hello, luv," he croaked, looking blearily at Chell. He raised his hands weakly and examined hers, which still clutched his. "You caught me," he laughed, smiling. This seemed to sap what little strength he had left because he drooped, his head slumping to the side. "Hey, Mel," he mumbled with a little grin. "Happy you're still around."
Virgil observed all this with a mixture of emotions. Relief that Wheatley was alive, pain to see the women cling to him, fear of what might have happened, and to top it all off was a mountainload of guilt and self-remorse.
Out loud he said, "Here's a rolling table you can use as a stretcher. He'll be fine after this, I think, but you should probably get him out of here." He raised a panel and brought in a table, loaded with papers and vials and books. Jack and Rattmann unloaded its contents onto the floor, then Mel helped Jack lift Wheatley onto the table. Wheatley made a weak exclamation of pain as they moved him, making his carriers wince.
Virgil brought down an elevator from the ceiling. "This'll take you straight to the top floor," he said. "I… I wish I could do more."
But you probably wouldn't let me, he finished silently.
The elevator was only just big enough to admit Jack and Mel with the table. Virgil noticed that Mel did not meet his eye as she rose upwards. Her eyes were fixed on Wheatley and her hand was gently grasping his. This somehow made the pain for Virgil even more acute.
"Chell," Virgil heard the Rat doctor murmur. "There's still a loose end to tie up."
He saw Chell nod and turn to him. If Mel's eyes had been raging with fire, Chell's were piercing with ice. Virgil was immediately fixed with terror and memories flashed in his mind of the recordings he had seen, how she had taken down two AIs armed with only a portal gun and her mind. Although she was now minus the portal gun, the downright baleful glare in her eyes showed that the desire for vengeance would make up for the rest.
"No need, no need," Virgil exclaimed hastily. "I'll come quietly. Here. Here's the button." He brought it out from its hiding place, hidden behind a raised panel, letting the black tiles rearrange themselves like a jigsaw puzzle so the button was brought forward. "Just… before you press it… I'd just like to say for the record… that… I am so sorry for what I did to your friend. I have no excuse and I'll accept any punishment you decide to meet out for me."
Chell gave a short nod to signal her understanding although her frosty look did not change. Stepping forward, she pressed the button.
Chell's glare was the last thing Virgil saw before the shields rose up and the robot arms began to pull him apart. Separation from the Disk Operating System was painful, but even more painful was the thought: Wheatley was right. I did everything just the way he had done it, but better, and that made it worse. I deserve this pain.
()-()
"Well, if you want to get out of here, now is your best chance," Virgil said as Mel watched the text on the screen display Virgil as target number two, and her own name (last name redacted) as target number three. "You don't want to be around when She comes back online. You should shut down AEGIS now."
With more respect than she had previously held, Mel moved the cursor again to click on 'Shut Down System'. When it prompted her, she clicked 'yes'.
It blared at her and yellow text appeared, reading: Termination Cycle Pass-code Required. There were four spaces beneath it.
"Needs a pass-code?" Virgil gritted. He sounded abnormally irritated. "It should be around here somewhere. Take a look around."
Mel's eyes flitted to a yellow sticky note she had noticed earlier, stuck to the bottom left-hand corner of the screen. The red numbers on it looked strangely familiar, and she couldn't help but know that it was the right one. Slowly, poking the keyboard with one finger, she keyed it in.
2-0-5-6.
"Twenty Fifty-Six?" Virgil repeated as the numbers were accepted. "I've seen that number around a lot in this place. Strange…"
Shutdown Sequence Initiated, proclaimed the screen in red.
"It's done," said Virgil. "It's done. Ha. AEGIS is in its final shutdown sequence. Mel, come back to the lift. I can get you out of this facility."
Mel, with a long breath, turned around and began to climb the yellow ladder behind her. It was time to ascend to the surface.