Chapter 28: Vanguard

"Come in Overwatch. This is patrol four. Repeat: we've discovered an unlicensed vehicle on the sector outskirts."

Jacques and Knowles didn't really go by their names anymore: they lived by their precinct identifiers and aptitude ratings. But they were just human. The Metrocops lacked the massively technological implants of the military transhumans.

They'd joined up for fair rations and total job security. Both had once been factory workers for City 17's once-flourishing automotive industry. Now every vehicle had been decommissioned except for those that the Combine had manufactured. Everything else had been scrapped, probably ending up as some essential component in a pulse rifle. Any given vehicle would be "unlicensed", if one discounted the hulking armoured automobiles the Overwatch favoured.

This car, however, was clearly custom-built. Only the diesel engine appeared to be factory made. An off-road buggy; bare chassis, elongated air vents for use underwater, perhaps a scout vehicle stripped clean of all excess weight. It was spattered with blood stains, some the rusty red of men, others the fading yellow of Antlions.

"Repeat, Overwatch. Vehicle matches description from Fortress Beta report," Knowles continued talking calmly into his radio. "Requesting scanners and Synth support."

They enforced the Combine's laws to the letter, but they were never brutal, never unduly cruel to the civilian populace. They'd nodded along to the propaganda, once, merely hell-bent on finding a new profession; but over time they'd come to believe that the Union truly wanted what was best for mankind.

And now the damnable Resistance was trying to end it all. There had been heavy casualties on all sides and while the pair was in no doubt as to who would win, they feared for their own lives: despite the increasing hostilities, they were equipped only with SMGs and basic mesh armour. If it hadn't been for their squadron captain's wrangling, they'd probably still be toting pistols.

"It's no good," Knowles terminated his connection. "I can't get through to them. There's some kind of interference."

"Well, we can only hope this isn't his car," Jacques shuddered.

Freeman had indeed driven a scout buggy of this kind before his bizarre disappearance but a Dropship had abducted that abandoned car and impounded it. This was a different transport, but it belonged to a similarly destructive owner: it was said that a humanoid, in strange garb, had obliterated the forces stationed at three of Nova Prospekt's outlying fortress precincts.

He was now thought to be systematically destroying the outposts surrounding City 17, leaving charred corpses and flaming garrisons in his wake. He could not be identified, and the scanners had gathered no cohesive intelligence. But it went without saying that the mysterious wanderer was highly dangerous.

And now a car that could well be his was parked outside their perimeter defences…

"That's my combustion-engine vehicle, thank you very much."

Knowles's head snapped backwards with a sickening crunch, twisted by an arc of energy that crackled from out of nowhere.

Jacques turned, driven mad by fear, and looked into the blank white eyes of the sneering Zealot. The Arcadimaarian's next gesture cleaved him in two, leaving two steaming halves to sizzle on the ground.

"Come in patrol four.. Do not attempt to apprehend the suspect: leave the area immediately and await backup—"

The Zealot glanced at the primitive communicator, and then crushed it effortlessly, sprinkling the shards on its former owner's corpse.

Almost a mile away, atop the massive civil building that was now the Overwatch Nexus, Forty watched a lone vehicle circle the city, patiently trying to locate a gap in their defences.

He made a mental note to eviscerate the driver, and then followed his assigned unit into a Dropship's transport bay.


The Vortigaunt turned away from whatever transdimensional conversation it was holding and addressed the group directly. "Pyotr reports that the oppressor's elite soldiers are in pursuit."

Kat nodded. "Do you still think it's safe to collapse the tunnel, Sam?"

"It will not be safe for anyone still within its confines," Sam closed his central eye in contemplation. "Nevertheless, if our allies can reach us in time, we can crush their pursuers with impunity."

"Don't we need it as an escape route? You know, to get to Stone Well."

"Nah, the north-eastern tunnel's safest. There's a dozen bullsquid living down that way. If anything, Calhoun will be glad we did it."

The two men chuckled and began setting parsimonious amounts of explosives on the sagging wooden shoring, preparing for the planned collapse as they had all agreed.

Kat sighed and rubbed some life into her pained eyes. She couldn't remember their names and although they probably couldn't recall hers either, the fact bothered Kat. She prided herself on knowing much of the community, by title if not personally, and felt that it was a grim reminder of how hectic things had become that there were so many fresh recruits.

Of course they'd all prayed for that but now that the Resistance had been flooded with raw human resources (a polite way, Barney had said, of calling them "clumsy civilians") management had become hellish. Granted, that wasn't Kat's calling and never would be; but with so many converging on their position from both outlying Resistance cells and purely civilian districts the huge facility that they'd dubbed "Vanguard" had become a logistical nightmare.

They had supplies aplenty, and fortunately for every new face there was a hugely competent veteran like Barney, but it would never be easy.

A Black Mesa survivor who now bore the rank of the Resistance's commander-in-chief, Barney Calhoun had rallied every group towards freeing Eli Vance. Despite Freeman's inexplicable departure Nova Prospekt had been crippled and with it one of the Combine's biggest garrisons and most foreboding punishments had been removed from play.

But the push towards the Citadel had stalled. Now they lay in wait within Vanguard, exchanging constant fire with the innumerable choppers and Gunships the Combine threw at them. The Civil Protectorate had no wish to crush them just yet, they merely aimed to keep them busy while they dealt with the more urgent insurgencies closer to home.

Barney talked always of assaulting the Nexus, of opening the inner compound's gate and disabling the suppressor unit that rained destructive fire down on anyone within three kilometres, and it was a vision they all shared. Although not all of the Resistance shared his optimism, namely his heartfelt belief that Freeman would return again.

"All done," said one of the nameless demolitionists.

"Yeah," the other slapped his hands together theatrically, "if it's good with you Kat, we'll head back now."

"I'll be fine," she assured them,, "Sam can always tell me what to do."

"Indeed. We are always glad to render assistance."

The two nodded gratefully and went towards the Vanguard's "battlements"- the former processing plant's rooftop, currently an explosion of improvised barricades. They took several stairways and passed dozens of busy rebels en route. Vanguard never slept.

Well. Sam never slept, at least to Kat's knowledge, and neither did she. But unlike the Vort, she needed sleep, and the constant combat was wearing her down. She stifled a yawn, and began thinking of whales. Big, tireless whales, majestic denizens of the deep. Although no doubt the Combine had butchered them all for organic ballast...

"We have arrived!" a Vort cried urgently, "Prepare your charges!"

Kat noted the two twists of wire that the demomen had left on the floor. She gripped them and prepared to act. "We're ready!" she cried down the tunnel.

A large group, far bigger than she had been lead to expect, burst out of the shaft, followed by amplified shouts and bursts of pulse fire. Sam raised a hand, indicating that all were present, and she touched the two cables together: there was a spark of current and two dull thuds in the passage's depths.

For a horrible moment it seemed the tunnel would remain intact but then with a roar of pouring stone and sifting dust the entrance collapsed.

An Elite's Dark Energy orb, trailing particles, zipped overhead and rebounded off some distant support girders before detonating. It caused a rusty portion of gantry way to collapse, but everyone was more preoccupied with what hadn't made it inside. Their relief was palpable.

"That was well planned," breathed a tall man. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. I just activated them, it was Sam's idea."

The Vort nodded modestly.

"You're Katya, right?" The man squinted at her. "I'm afraid I can't remember your surname."

"Orovjek, Katya Orovjek, but everyone calls me Kat. I primarily deal with animal behaviours, but at the moment I feel like the on-site anthropologist."

"I'm Zichekoam," Zyke shook her hand, "but everyone calls me Zyke."

"Zichekoam…" Kat rolled the name over her tongue.

Zyke nodded, resorting to his well-rehearsed arsenal of lies. "It's a Nigerian name. I lived there before they started relocating us to the continent."

"Zyke," Kat's memory twigged. "You're the head of Grassy Knoll? I was sorry to hear what happened."

He shrugged. "Thanks, but it could've been far worse. Most of us made it out."

Gregory was about to say something, but Pyotr kicked him in the back of the leg. This uncharacteristic display of impatient violence left the Aegis leader speechless.

Zyke made a few quick fire introductions as Kat lead them to the upper level. "This is Zosia, Nuri, Charlie, Ruth, Struer, Yuza, Quarir and Gregory. Pyotr, I think, you already know."

There was a chorus of vague "hi"s.

"This woman," Zyke introduced her, oblivious to her discomfort over the compliments, "was responsible for the discovery of the Antlion's pheromone sacs. She revolutionised the way we travelled the coast-"

"The Vorts were fully aware of the pheropod system," Worborne snorted, somewhat nonplussed that the introductions had skipped him. "I don't see why she should take any credit."

"Regrettably, in ages gone by we were segregated and unable to share our knowledge effectively," Sam interrupted. "Katya Orovjek's research undid the divides, meaning that when we had the chance to coexist we possessed a mutual fact base."

"That," Nalore translated, "means shut up."


"You collapsed the Stone Well tunnel?"

Kat nodded. "Yes, it was the only way to stop—"

"I did not authorise that! Now the residents of Stone Well are stranded!"

"The residents of Stone Well," Zyke explained tiredly, "are currently zombified freaks. The Combine have flattened the place with mortars."

"And who are you to interrupt me?" The man whirled on Zyke, who stood his ground. Dasther wasn't particularly large, but he was vehement and twitchy. An angry, angry person, all bagged eyes and unkempt hair.

"I'm Zichekoam, the head of the Grassy Knoll cell. And so if you want to buy into this 'rank' thing, then I've every right to interrupt you, especially when you're talking absolute shit. And you are?"

"Julian Dasther." The man remembered himself, "This is my base. This base hasn't been destroyed because of sheer negligence! When here you'll obey my rules, and you will not ruin perfectly serviceable escape routes."

"Stone Well was devastated… and there was a squadron of Elites chasing our newest arrivals. Collapsing the tunnel was our only option," Kat said firmly. "There's no point arguing about it."

"You can not tell me what to do!"

"Actually, Dasther, I rather think I can and should." Kat returned his frown. "This hierarchy you take so much pride in is inspired by the military but I'm not a military woman. I'm part of the science team. You know, the core group essential to our efforts? Contains the likes of Dr Vance and Dr Kleiner? I don't answer to you. If I deem something necessary, then it is necessary. And that's the end of the matter."

Dasther gave them a venomous look, and he had venom enough for them all, before slinking off.

Zyke was impressed. "Are you really his superior?"

"Yes and no. Dasther is near-delusional. The only person he doesn't scream at is Barney. I suppose I am more scientific than military, but I certainly don't hold as much sway as someone like Dr Kleiner."

Nalore watched the retreating figure cautiously. Dasther really gave the impression that he could spin round and go for their throats at any given moment. "Not a nice guy. Is he really in charge of the base?"

"No, Calhoun is the closest thing to a leader here. Vanguard is just a big resupply base we can all use when necessary. A safe spot in this hellish warzone we've brought on." Kat pushed aside a rusting door.

Nuri followed after her. "You don't sound like you approve."

"Well?" Kat matched her gaze. "Do you? It's meant to be an uprising, but we have people looting storehouses and then just going home. The other day we had civilians steal one of our ration crates. We're going to be our own undoing unless everyone helps us."

"She's right," Zyke admitted, sounding as if he was apologising for the whole of the human race, "most of the outlying cities aren't interested in freeing Dr Vance. City 17 is the Combine's core settlement. When they can call on reinforcements across the board, well, it's simple."

Kat sighed and waved for them to be seated. "I believe we're doing the right thing, really I do, but if we're not all doing the right thing, then this is just an exercise in futility. Please, sit down."

The three gratefully accepted the folding chairs. They were somewhat incongruous furniture, as they were carefully arranged around a massive oak table. The briefing room itself was a many-windowed observation office, carefully positioned between the gantry ways so as to have the best possible view of what had once been a factory floor. Maps, pin-boards and easels were cluttered at every edge.

"We'll have to wait here," Kat continued, "I'd try and find Carns myself, but he gave express orders that no one should risk leaving the base unnecessarily." She smiled slightly. "I'm not averse to taking orders if they actually make good sense."

Quarir squinted. "Carns?"

"He's an actual soldier. Unlike Dasther," Kat made an expression of disapproval when she mentioned the man's name. "We rescued Carns from the local CP station: apparently he was due for processing. He joined us on the spot and it didn't take long for Barney to promote him. He's one of our best operatives, and since Calhoun's not with us right now he'll have to authorise your presence." Kat absently cleared away some documentation from the table. "Sam told me about where you've been. It sounds like you have quite the tale to tell."

Nalore stiffened, but Zyke seemed perfectly relaxed. "Most of it was just luck," Zyke told her, "and we're thankful for that. I'm just hoping it lasts for us."

What does she know? Quarir shrieked inwardly. What has Sam told her…?

Sam hasn't told her anything, Zyke chastised him, Pyotr informed me that the Vorts just gave her a generic tale of escape. Most of its true, they've just juggled with why we've done what we've done.

Kat started talking again and Zyke withdrew. The severing of the telepathic link made Quarir suppress a shudder. He'd never get used to it. Not when it was a computer doing it, not when it was a friend doing it, never.

"Well, hopefully it'll brush off on us," she continued. "I'm sorry about splitting you up, but far more of you turned up than I had expected…"

Zyke waved a hand and told her it was fine. She'd led them to the dormitory and politely requested that they all stayed there. The other residents had lapsed into silence, and they'd spent an agonising ten minutes being stared at.

Soon afterwards they were rescued by Kat's reappearance but she'd only wanted Zyke and two others. Zyke had selected Quarir and Nuri; Quarir because he was another Domarian— he wouldn't have invited Yuza for all the artefacts in Ucelsia— and Nuri because she was one of the only natives he trusted, and the most informed of them at that.

"I don't want to sound prying, but we really need a little background. Nothing too detailed. Just enough to know about where we'd be best assigning you." Kat produced a pencil, and for a moment she looked like a concentrating psychiatrist. "Experience, skills… that sort of thing."

Zyke shrugged. "I was just a labourer back in Nigeria. After the Resistance sprung me loose I grabbed a gun and just started fighting. I learned pretty quick."

Kat smiled but it was an odd smile, as if she knew something was not quite right. Zyke cursed himself for sounding too eager. "That's fine," she assured him, "but I was really wondering more about your friends. I'm sure they've had combat experience, but if they wanted I'm sure there are support positions open."

"Well, Zosia was a student who's become a damn good mechanic," Zyke hurried on to hide his inner turmoil, "and Gregory, Ruth and Struer were all drivers for the Aegis patrol- which died with Grassy Knoll, as I'm sure you know. They can all use a gun. I'm not sure about Worborne," he lied diplomatically, "as I haven't known him very long. And Quarir—"

"I can talk, thanks," Nalore reminded him. "I'm just a run-of-the-mill citizen. Like Zyke I got caught up in things, but I'm pretty handy in a tight spot."

Nuri nodded. "Yes, I bumped into him back at City 11. The CPs arrested us and we managed to escape the demolition. Things have just unfolded from there."

Kat nodded herself, although she made no effort to write any of it down. "I see you've all brought your own equipment and reinforcements are always welcome. I'm positive Vanguard will do far better with you. But if you ever feel you need to have a less active position, then..."

"Hey, what's with this?" Nalore's eyebrow twitched shiftily. "You trying to put us off joining for some reason?"

"Not exactly," Kat licked her lips. "I was hoping one of you would be a doctor as we have a shortage of medics here but mostly I just want to make one thing clear: if you're on the frontline, it won't be easy. If you're on one of our excursions, it'll be even harder. People like Dasther would have me act like a recruitment officer, grabbing everyone I can and keeping them in the dark, but I think people need to know the risks… the Combine are—"

"Thanks, but we know the risks," said Quarir.

"I know," Kat smiled. This time it looked genuine.

There was a rapping on the door, and then a Vortigaunt head was thrust inside. "The officers are requesting a meeting in the dormitory," said Sam, "We are to inform you of these proceedings." The 'Gaunt turned directly to Zyke. "Zichekoam, your presence is particularly desired."

Zyke nodded and left the room hurriedly- almost as if, Quarir thought, he knew what they wanted him for. Nuri glanced at Kat once, as if she too wondered how much the woman suspected, then went out.

Kat looked across the table at Quarir, and suddenly the Domarian felt very exposed. "Quarir Nalore, isn't that your name?"

"Yeah," Quarir replied cautiously, noisily scraping his chair backward.

"That's an Arabic name, isn't it?"

"Uh," Quarir paused for a century and a half, "yeah…?"

"Hmm." Kat escorted him outside.