Disclaimer: I don't own Half Life.
(A/N: Many humble thanks to Hhgbh for being a bombastic beta. There aren't many adjectives meaning 'good' that begin with 'b', so I've got a hell of a job ahead of me for future chapters.)
Half Life: The Black Mesa Incident
Chapter Ten: Captive Freight
For what he was pretty sure was the millionth time, Barney wished he had his helmet with him as the blazing sun seared his face. A paranoid hand shielded his eyes, and he smiled at how ridiculous it was that he was worrying about sunburn.
Not that he tanned particularly well. He just ended up all red, blotchy, and unstoppably itchy most of the time. Apparently it was an unusual reaction at least according to Gordon. But then again, Gordon usually resembled a peeling banana after being out in the sun for more than ten minutes.
Barney made a conscious effort to stop his boots from clomping on the gravel beneath him. The noise echoed around the small canyon he stood in. The road bent around the corner in a U shape, each end with a secure access gate. The military, being the nice people that they were, had set up turrets delightfully close to the top of the ladder Barney had climbed up to reach the surface.
The only reason he really had for being alive right now was his own clumsiness. In a panic upon seeing the turrets whine to life and take aim at him, Barney had slipped on a rung and fallen down the shaft, slamming painfully to the metal floor.
Yeah. That had been fun.
Thankfully, he had managed to clamber back up and distract the turrets with a well tossed rock to allow himself to make a quick getaway around the corner.
So that was the south exit out of the question. A large yellow sign pointed him in the other direction, saying 'Train Yard' and 'Freight Warehouse'.
Trains could move fast. He wanted to move fast away from here. It seemed like a match made in heaven.
The secure access door at the other end attracted his attention, and Barney made his way over to the control panel beside it, even the doorframe of the mighty metal gateway dwarfing him.
He punched in his code, and it beeped helpfully before the doors tore themselves away from each other with a load groan.
Expecting more turrets, Barney took cover behind an outcropping of rock. After tossing a few baseball sized stones to test the playing field, Barney stood and cautiously made his way inside, even his lightest footsteps reverberating down the tunnel ominously.
A grey jeep with the Black Mesa logo stood a dozen or so feet ahead of him, its hazard warning flashlights clicking on and off with a regular clarity. The windows were smashed, the front doors open, and a body draped out of the driver's side and onto the floor.
Barney sighed. Looked inviting.
Cursing his boots with every step for being so freaking loud, Barney tried to creep around the car to where the body lay. It was a security guard, a bullet hole in the front of her body armour spreading cracks along its surface. A small pool of blood had gathered behind her head, so Barney decided not to move her.
Something glinted beside her, and Barney crept around her silently to the front of the vehicle where a Magnum revolver lay.
Before he knew what he was doing, Barney had picked up the weapon and whistled appreciatively at the chrome finish. He ducked his head and scrambled to take cover behind the car as the high pitched noise echoed down the tunnel and back to him.
After a few minutes, nothing happened, and Barney cautiously poked his head back out.
Still nothing.
"Mr Calhoun, you are one lucky son of a bitch…" he muttered, wiping some sweat from his forehead.
He looked down at the tightly gripped revolver in his hand, and to the standard issue handgun that nestled comfortable in his holster, caked in the slimy blood of one of those crab things. Using only his thumb and forefinger, Barney carefully extracted the sticky gun from his holster and replaced it with the revolver. A little bit cumbersome, but he could deal with it.
The Beretta was empty, anyway. He placed it where the revolver had been, and, finding now ammunition for the revolver, continued on down the tunnel, his pace slightly more confident.
Ahead of the car on the right was a small room that looked like it would barely allow him to stand up to his full height. Barney spotted a hatch inside which led to the Steam Access Tunnel.
According to the sign above it, anyway.
A brief sojourn down to the other end of the tunnel revealed a very locked blast door, so he returned to the Steam Access room.
A stubborn little shit of a padlock held the grated fence sealing the room tight until Barney hit it a few times with the butt of his revolver.
Breathing heavier than he felt he should have been, Barney sighed and went through. "What I wouldn't give for a crowbar…"
He turned the wheel that opened the hatch and climbed down the ladder, sparing one more paranoid glance around the tunnel before descending.
Much to his pure enjoyment, the accident had managed to rip apart the steam tunnels as well. Scalding hot clouds of steam burst out of pipes at random intervals while also fudging up his vision, making it delightfully easier for the headcrabs to leap out at him without warning.
By the time he banged his head on the roof of the claustrophobically tight cylinder of a tunnel for about the millionth time, he was well and truly wishing for a helmet.
He was swearing more than he thought he would in this kind of situation. Barney had always considered himself pretty clean mouthed except for a casual 'damn', 'hell' and 'crap' now and then. But now he was coming out with 'bastard', 'shit', 'fuck'… it was an odd experience.
He wondered how long it would take before he uttered the 'c' word that made Gordon blush.
A headcrab managed to insert one of its claws into his mouth before he batted it away.
Ah. There was the 'c' word.
Thankfully, a small elevator allowed him relief from the pain. Although the tiny platform groaned and cracked under his weight, it managed to get him the one floor it was designed to, taking him up to the warehouse basement.
Barney frowned when he saw the sign. Which warehouse? Black Mesa had more than a few. He was a little surprised at how vague it was. However, as he looked up and down the mangy, dank looking corridor, he noted that it looked like a rather old basement, probably from when the facility was being built.
One hand resting on his uselessly empty revolver, Barney journeyed forth into the shadows.
He didn't come across anything that panicked him too much, which was a pleasing sensation after a few hours of being incredibly paranoid and jumpy. Just the usual headcrabs.
Good God, he was getting used to headcrabs. He needed a social life.
An out of control power conduit in the ceiling submerged him in darkness, so he slipped out his flashlight and thumbed it on, feeling even stupider than before. Like those stupid kids in monster movies who only take a flashlight with them when it's painfully obvious there's something in there that can easily eat them.
Stupid kids.
A gurgling noise coming from around the corner made him slam his back to the wall. Slowly, he edged his way towards the corner. Just a few meters away from him, with its back to him, stood a two legged scaly apparition of a monster, hunched forward. It seemed to be studying how the ceiling in front of it had collapsed into the hallway, exposing the ventilation duct that used to reside in it.
Conveniently, a drum of explosive chemicals stood idly beside the creature.
Inconveniently, Barney didn't have a gun to blow it up.
He must have farted without realising or something, because the alien whipped its one eyed head around to look at him and quickly readied itself. For what, Barney wasn't sure, so he took cover.
From around the corner, he saw green electricity lance out, and he heard something not unlike some sci-fi laser pistol charging up before there was an explosion.
Slowly, cautiously, and more than a little curiously, Barney poked his head around the corner to find the scorched remains of the already wrecked corridor. The explosive drum was gone, with only a scorch mark on the floor to say it was ever there. Amazingly, there was no yellow blood anywhere in the corridor.
"That's one stupid alien."
His eyes drifted to the ventilation shaft that bent ominously down from the ceiling, beckoning him to it. He stacked up some crates and clambered in.
Even thought it was dirty, smelly and impossible to see a thing, Barney found himself enjoying it somewhat. He felt like John McClane.
After five minutes and a headcrab attack, the feeling wore off.
And Gordon did this every time they raced to Dr Kleiner's lab? They guy had to be part monkey.
Much to his relief, the ventilation shaft portion of his journey was cut short when he came to a grate in front of him. After some uncomfortable shuffling around, he managed to put his feet in front of it and kick it out of its screws and lower himself into the janitor's closet it led to.
It came out into the middle landing of two stairways, one going up on his right, the other going down on his left. Since he was tired of the constant exercise, Barney decided to go down.
There he found another dead security guard, this one riddled with bullet holes and face down on the ground without even body armour to protect him.
The military really must have caught everyone by surprise. The rest of the corridor was blocked off, so he turned around and went up the other stairway.
Radio and gasmask garbled words made him hit the dirt.
"What were you doing here, you little shit!? Sabotage?!"
"I don't know what you're hoping to accomplish here. I work at the teleportation labs, yes. But I didn't have anything to do with this!"
At the top of the stairway. He could barely see the top of two heads, one wearing a military helmet, the other a black balaclava. They were facing the right, where Barney guessed there was an office. One soldier was further away from him than the other. It sounded like a scientist they were talking to, his voice lower and raspier than he was used to, but definitely a scientist.
"All of you had something to do with this. It's just a matter of when you confess."
Barney searched the area for a weapon. He wouldn't be able to do anything with his revolver, and he didn't want to risk breaking it by hitting them with it. But he'd have to if he didn't find something to-
Ah. A pipe.
"But I didn't do anything! This is insane!"
Their response was to open fire.
Barney charged up the stairs cracked the pipe into the Balaclava soldier's kneecap, dislodging it and sending him screaming to the floor.
His companion the Helmet soldier, who had been doing most of the questioning and all of the firing, turned to face him, bringing his semi-automatic to bear. Barney swung the pipe up knocking the rifle upwards.
He dropped the pipe and grabbed the gun while Helmet soldier fired uselessly, deafening them both. Barney held it up and away from him while he pushed Helmet left and into the wall.
Over his shoulder he noticed the Balaclava picking up his rifle on the floor and taking aim.
Barney wrapped his arm around the gun arm of Helmet, pressing him into the wall with his back. Helmet continued to fire, and Barney aimed it Balaclava, the bullets slicing through his face.
A few elbows to the face loosened Helmet's grip on his gun, and Barney grabbed his arm and pivoted himself forward, tossing Helmet over his shoulder and onto the floor. The machine gun ended up in Barney's hands and pointing down at the soldier's head.
"…mother fucker…"
Barney fired.
"Ditto."
Not missing a beat, Barney went into the office. A balding scientist leant against a filing cabinet, desperately clutching his profusely bleeding stomach and struggling to breath.
He looked up at Barney. "I appreciate your help, but I'm afraid those bastards did their damage already."
"Try not to talk," Barney said, setting the gun aside and kneeling in front of the obviously dying scientist, trying to find something to stop the bleeding.
"If you're trying to reach the freight yards in hope of escaping, then just forget about it. The military is rounding up everyone and everything they can find, and either killing them or bringing them up here for-" he coughed, and blood came up. "-questioning."
"Listen, you've gotta save your energy." He heard the soldier's radio squawking away for them to report in. He didn't have much time.
"A colleague and I came up with our own plan for escape, and we were on our way to one of the prototype labs when we ran into them. But-"
"Look, Doc, I've gotta get you out of here. Is there a place near here with medical supplies?"
Right, Calhoun. What are you gonna do, slap a band aid on it?
The scientist shook his head. "Listen to me. If you still want to get out of here alive, your only hope may be to find my friend. If you can get past the soldiers, find Dr Rosenberg. With him, you might… have a chance… to get out of this place…" His head slowly fell, and his shoulders drooped.
He was either unconscious or dead from the blood loss. And as much as it pained him, Barney didn't have the time to check which. More soldiers would be coming, and he had to get out of here. Scooping up his M4 and went on his way, heading through a door on the other side of the landing.
Dr Rosenberg, here I come…
Barney continued on down the corridor, the M4 submachine gun weighing down his movements comfortingly. Before long he reached the maintenance staircase going up to the top floor and went on his way, cursing the metal stairs for sounding so loud against his boots.
A radio crackled above him and he dropped to the floor, clutching his weapon for dear life.
"A hostile in the area."
"Do we know who?"
"You think it's Freeman?"
Barney frowned. What the hell kind of trouble was Gordon getting himself into? The frown soon broke into a smile. Gordon was alive, and maybe he'd see him again soon. Barney couldn't wait to crack open a beer with his friend and talk about this whole mess with him.
The thought spurred him on, and he silently crept up the stairs, heading towards the door closest to him. The soldiers were on the top floor. If he was careful, he could sneak past them completely. He closed the door behind him as slowly and cautiously as he could, wrapping his M4 around his shoulder as tightly as he could so it wouldn't dangle and hit something.
The door clicked shut.
"Did you hear something?"
"No. Check it out."
Barney quickly looked around the room and found a door. He went through, again closing the door behind him quietly, although with much more speed. No soldiers burst through after ten minutes, so Barney continued on his way.
A few winding corridors (and scientists who weren't Dr Rosenberg and refused to go another step without more security) later, and Barney found the door leading to the freight yard. If Rosenberg was smart, he would have hidden himself in a train and locked the door. Barney frowned. Wait, he was a scientist. Of course he was smart. Strike that, if he had common sense he would have hidden himself in a train and locked the door.
He pushed open the door far more brazenly than he intended. There were two train platforms, and he was stood on one of them. The other one had supply carriages on either side of it with supply crates tightly bound to them, some obviously added by the military. The doors were closed, so these carriages weren't going anywhere soon, even if they had a train to pull them.
His gaze travelled idly to his right. As it did, the soldier stood next to him idly turned to look at him.
The two stared at each other for a moment.
Barney kicked him in the crotch and ran. He leapt off the platform onto the railroad tracks as machine gun fire spattered haphazardly around him.
"We have hostiles!"
He turned the corner around a carriage carrying two food crates and barrelled straight into another marine, knocking him on his back. Barney rolled with it, ending up kneeling on the other side of the gas mask wearing soldier.
Barney had blown several holes in his head before he could get up.
A grenade clanked to the ground between his feet. Finding nowhere to run, he kicked it away and ran in the other direction. The explosion still managed to knock him off his feet, and he could have sworn he smelt his hair burning.
The sound of a shotgun being cocked drew his attention to the soldier in front of him. The military man cocked his head.
Oh, screw that.
Barney glanced over the soldier's shoulder and nodded, indicating for his imaginary ally to attack.
Overly jumpy, the soldier glanced over his shoulder, and Barney dived for his legs, knocking him on the ground. After some scuffling, Barney pointed the shotgun in its owner's face and fired, turning his head into a spray of red, pink and white.
One of the freight yard train doors began to groan open, slowly moving upwards. The soldier who Barney had kicked in the crotch must have called them in.
He scooped up his M4 and considered his options as he peeked under the carriage to watch their feet run towards the slowly ascending door. There at least ten of the, fifteen at most. Two or three he could handle, but ten? He had no chance.
He stood up and cocked hid M4.
Might as well go out-
Hazel eyes finally took in the crate that was strapped to the carriage in front of him; a .50 calibre mounted machine gun.
With a grin that bordered on psychotic, Barney blasted off the locks and straps with his gun and managed to smash the wooden crate apart with the butt. By the time the door was open, Barney had clambered up on to the carriage and taken aim.
He smirked. "Who wants a piece?"
It took less than nine seconds to obliterate the soldiers. One soldier managed to squeeze off a shot that hit him in the right shoulder, but he managed to keep on firing until they were all down.
After making sure that no more soldiers were coming (at least for the moment), Barney hopped off the trailer and tended to his arm. The bullet had gone straight through, so he didn't need to take anything out. It was still bleeding a lot, though. And the hurting, but Barney was trying to be easygoing about the whole 'pain' thing right now.
He tore off some of his sleeve and made a tight bandage around his arm, hissing through his teeth when he tied the knot with his teeth. That done (and after blinking the tears away), he headed down the tunnel whence the fifteen soldiers had come. His feet slipped once or twice in the train tracks that he walked on in the tunnel, and he tried not to curse too load.
On the way, he found ammunition for his Magnum beside a fallen soldier. With relish he didn't know he had for weaponry, he loaded it up and went on his way to the light at the end of the tunnel. The door was only half open, this one opening from left to right as opposed to the down to up door he had just come through.
Weird.
The railroad track in front of him lead outside, but there weren't any carriages on it, only a military supply van. He slowed to a crawl as he reached the opening, and poked his head around to the left.
There was another train track on his left, this one with carriages. The first just had supply crates, like in the other yard. The other had a tank on it.
That was pointing straight at him.
"Oh, shit."
With a long yell, Barney turned and ran, slamming into the wall hard when the force from the explosion hit him.
He tried to catch his breath.
That was a tank. A freaking tank. True, it was parked, but still.
A FREAKING TANK.
What the hell could a security guard do against that?
He heaved himself to his feet. A security guard couldn't do anything against that. So instead, he would do the secure thing.
He would run as fast as his legs would let him. If that wasn't fast enough, at least he would be able to tell the man upstairs he tried.
Reluctantly, he tossed away his M4. No way he would run properly with that thing flying around all over the place. A few cricks of his neck and a few curses later, Barney tore out into the yard, eyes darting around instantly for an exit. He ran straight towards the tank as it attempted to get a bead on him.
He dove beneath the carriage the tank rested on. Barney quickly looked around. There, behind the tank and hidden from his view from the entrance he had used before, was a small stairway leading to a door. He checked that the tank's cannon was facing the other way before rolling out and running to the door, slamming it shut behind him with such force he was worried it would fall off its' hinges.
He needn't have worried. The explosive shell from the tank did that for him, as well as propelling him down the small corridor and into a wall.
He hissed through his teeth as he got his feet, clutching his back. After a few attempts, he managed to stand up straight, although he would be seeing spots for a week.
Barney limped onwards until he entered another rail tunnel. It was sealed to the right, so he went left, the act of keeping his feet from slipping between the wooden rungs of the tracks oddly fascinating.
Sunlight blared through a hole in the train door at the end of the tunnel. Barney didn't even want to think about what kind of alien thing could blow a hole in a metal door. His leg aching, he leapt up and managed to scuttle through the hole, landing surprisingly gracefully in the outdoors.
He was in another train yard, this one with a turntable in the middle. A train door on his right was open, a freight train parked inside. Barney walked over to it quietly, pulling out the Magnum and clicking back the hammer.
A banging suddenly came from the train, and Barney fell and rolled to the wall.
"Hello! Can anyone hear me?"
Barney's head perked up. That didn't sound like some heartless killing machine.
"Is anyone there? Preferably not the military!"
He smiled. Definitely not a heartless killing machine. He got to his feet.
"Dr Rosenberg?"
A pause. "Yes. Who is that?"
"Barney Calhoun, Doc. I'm a security guard."
His sigh was muffled by the train. "Thank God for that."
"I'll have you out in a sec. Just gotta sort out the turntable here."
"Yes, I set it myself so that military would think my train wasn't occupied."
"Good idea. The banging and the yelling? Not so much."
He could have sworn he heard a small laugh, but he decided not to hang around. With a spring in his step, he lightly jogged over to the turntable control booth and rotated it so it was facing the correct way. After a few more button presses, the train was on its way out of the garage and into a waiting train platform on the other side.
Feeling like a kid on Christmas morning, Barney ran up onto the platform and waited impatiently as the train pulled up to a stop at the platform.
With a grunt, he pulled down the large bolt holding the door shut and slid it aside. He stepped in and gave Rosenberg a wave as he entered, a greeting on his lips.
Then the doors shut behind him, the bolt loudly sliding into place on the other side.
"All right, we got that bastard."
"What's the status on Freeman?"
They walked away as they continued speaking, and Barney lost the rest of the conversation. He turned his attention to the sitting form of Dr Rosenberg at the other end of the trailer. With a sigh of resignation, Barney's shoulders drooped and he made his way over to him, sitting down next to him.
"So. You're the Doc I've been looking for."
He sighed, as though tired of the question. "Yes, I'm Doctor Rosenberg. Although I'm not too proud to admit it, seeing as I'm partially responsible for all of this," he said irritably, throwing a piece of torn nametag against the wall. He didn't seem too ready to elaborate, so Barney didn't push it.
Rosenberg turned towards him, his thin rimmed glasses barely reflecting in the dull light.
"How did you know my name?"
Barney opened his mouth, but then closed it, suddenly unable to look at the Doctor. For the first time since the whole mess started, Barney started to think about all the dead bodies he had seen and caused today.
And he thought he had kept on moving out of duty. Ha. It was distract him from all the bodies lying around him.
Rosenberg got the picture. "Oh… I see."
His head dropped, and he buried it in his hands, covering his ears. His fingers barely managed to get his short cut hair between them.
"Poor Harold."
Barney looked around the train for any escape route. There was a grate in the ceiling, but it was too high for him to jump. Maybe if Rosenberg gave him a boost…
He shook his head. What was he thinking? A scientist? Helping with something physical?
"So… Doc. You had a plan to get us out of this mess?"
There was a pause for a moment. "Yes…" he cleared his throat quickly. "Yes, our plan was to get to one of the old prototype labs. It involves something very few people within the facility are authorised to know about." He smiled wryly. "The same technology that brought about this catastrophe could very well be our only way out."
"Okay…"
With a sudden (but small) burst of energy, Rosenberg shifted so he could face Barney more fully.
"You see, I was involved in the very early work on teleporter technology, long before the Lambda complex was even built. There may be enough equipment in the old lab to allow us to… piece together a device that would allow us to teleport outside the facility."
'Piece' together? Barney didn't like how haphazard that sounded.
Rosenberg smiled. "As improbable as that might sound to someone like yourself," he said, a slight chuckle in his voice. Barney went along with the laugh, even though his head said to kick the condescending smartass in the crotch.
The scientist heaved himself to his feet, dusting himself off. "Of course, none of that does us a whole lot of good while we're stuck in here." He looked around the train, and his eyes settled on the grate above them. The way he adjusted his glasses seemed oddly familiar to Barney.
"Hmm… maybe I'll be able to give you a boost through that vent in the ceiling."
Barney got to his feet. "A… boost?"
"Yes. If you're lucky, maybe you'll be able to catch those soldiers by surprise."
"…right. So… a boost."
"Yes. Is there a problem?"
"Uh, no. I just… didn't expect you to…"
Rosenberg blinked cluelessly.
"…never mind."
With far too much energy in his smile, Rosenberg squatted and cupped his hands together in front of him. "Let's try this."
Feeling slightly wary, Barney stepped up onto the waiting hands and hopped up, reaching up for the grate and pushing it open far louder than he wanted to.
No response from the soldiers outside. They must not have noticed.
Or they were just playing possum so they could blow his head off. He shrugged and grasped the sides of the opening, pulling himself up. With a grunt, Rosenberg fell to the ground in the trailer, looking exhausted from the effort.
Barney smiled. At least his heart was in the right place. With relish, he pulled out his Magnum and thumbed back the hammer.
There was a soldier directly below him, his helmet placed on a nearby crate while he enjoyed the shade from the hot New Mexico sun. Barney leapt down on top of him, smashing the butt of the Magnum into the back of his skull. He fell like a ton of bricks and with about as much subtlety.
"Shit! He's out! Move!"
Barney looked around a few times before leaping behind some large metal crates. Two soldiers were around the corner instantly. Barney hoped that was all there were in the immediate area.
He peeked through a gap between two crates. Their backs were to him as they checked out their fallen comrade. It would only be a few seconds before they started searching for him, and probably executing Rosenberg as punishment, too.
He slammed into the pile of crates in front of him as hard as he could, and they toppled, completely crushing one soldier while the other barely managed to roll away in time. Barney pulled out his revolver and ran from his hiding position, firing blindly at the soldier.
Puffs of powder popped off the soldier as the bullets hit his bullet proof armour, and he took aim with his semi automatic. Barney ran and dove behind some wooden crates, knowing they wouldn't be able to stop machine gun bullets.
But instead of the roaring hail of gunfire, all he heard was a dull thud and a quick groan. Carefully, he looked around the corner to see the soldier on the ground, Rosenberg lying on top of him in a very uncomfortable looking position.
"I managed to climb out myself. I was going to jump him, but I fell."
Barney just smiled as he walked over and helped him up. "Fine by me, Doc. But, uh…" he nodded to the train. "You made that jump all by yourself? The grate was up twice as high as you."
"Yes, but there was a nearby sheet of construction wood, and I managed to carefully balance myself on it and-"
"Okay, okay," he said, scooping up the fallen soldier's M4. "You might want to look away, Doc," he said, point the gun down at the soldier's head.
"Why, I- oh. Yes, of course." Rosenberg turned away, and Barney pulled the trigger. He was sure he saw Rosenberg cringe.
"So… Doc," Barney began cautiously, leading Rosenberg away from the dead body. "Where to next? You're the tour guide on this little journey of ours."
"Yes… all right. All right. We'll need to head back to the area where you… met Harold. The access to the old lab should still be there but we may need to break through some of the newer construction to get to it."
"Okay. But we can't go back the way I came because… there's a tank that way, and I don't think you're in good enough shape to dodge that."
"Indeed. No, there should be a door leading through the office area of the building that can take us to the stairway. That should take us to the basement where the old lab is based."
"Oh. Okay, then. Let's get the heck out of dodge."
It didn't take them long before Barney realised they were going to go down the stairway where he had barely avoided the soldiers earlier. Except this time he was going to come out on the top floor.
Right where the soldiers were.
He sighed and put a hand on Rosenberg's shoulder before he opened the door and introduced himself to hot, lead-y death.
"You might want to let me do this," he whispered.
Rosenberg, obviously not understanding but deferring to his experience anyway (it was a nice feeling, respect from a scientist that wasn't Gordon), backed away from the door and hid beside it.
After silently psyching himself up, Barney kicked the door down and fired, blasting a few holes in the clueless soldier who was stood there. Another soldier, this one stood on the stairs below Barney, brought his weapon up to bear. Barney did the same, and they both froze.
"Calhoun? Is it safe now?"
Rosenberg popped his head around, and the soldier opened fire on him. With a yelp, the scientist fell back inside, giving Barney his opening. Within a few seconds, the soldier below them was dead.
Barney turned to the open doorway.
"Doc, you can-"
The previously felled (and thought dead) soldier behind him sliced out with his machete, catching Barney in the leg. With a yell of pain, Barney dropped his gun and fell to one knee, turning to face his enemy.
The knife darted towards him as the soldier aimed for his belly. Barney dodged to the side and drove his palm upwards into the soldier's nose, smashing it flat and pasting blood on his hand. With another punch, the soldier was out.
Trying his best not to wince, Barney got to his feet. "Doc. You can come out now."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. Can we please go?"
"Of-" Rosenberg popped his head out and looked around. "-of course."
They continued on their way.
"You could have let me help, you know."
"Sorry Doc, but I need you alive to take me to the lab. And, y'know, it is kinda my job."
"Do you really think anyone would begrudge you for abandoning your job now?"
Barney thought about it for a moment. "…I would."
They walked in silence down the stairs, Barney barely managing to keep in the gasps of pain as he stood on the cut leg.
"You look like a mess, Calhoun."
"Thanks, Doc. You're pretty, too."
"No, I mean… you have a gunshot wound in the arm, bruises and cuts seemingly everywhere, a knife wound to the left thigh and… it looks like the back of your body armour has melted."
"It has?" Barney idly looked over, trying to see his back. "Neat."
"I don't think it's anything to joke about, Calhoun."
"You got a point, Doc?"
"You need medical attention."
"Do we look like we have the time for me to see a medic?"
"At least let me take a look at your leg. It could become infected if we don't do something. It's bleeding profusely."
"Uh… yeah. Let's get to the lab, first, huh?"
"…very well."
Rosenberg didn't sound happy with the compromise. Neither was Barney, really, but he was stuck for time. He wanted to get the hell out of here before any more soldiers or aliens arrived. God knows he'd seen enough of them today.
Fifteen minutes later, they were facing a wall seemingly blocked off by a wooden construction wall.
"We'll have to break through here to get to the elevator," Rosenberg said simply.
"Okey dokey."
Barney hit it a few times with the butt of the M4, cracking its surface. He cursed under his breath, not wanting to offend the Doc any more than he needed to. With his arm all shot to hell, he couldn't get enough leverage. He'd just have to blast it apart.
Rosenberg gently took the gun from him. "Perhaps you should let me do that while you rest."
"Uh…"
The reply had barely left his lips before Rosenberg had smashed the wooden partition to splinters and wandered inside. He ignored the sign erected in front of the open elevator there.
"Hey, Doc," Barney said, following him into the sparsely lit elevator, "is this safe? I mean… you said we were piecing this together or something like that, right?"
The scientist shifted uncomfortably as he pushed the button to take them down. "We should have chosen the Lambda reactor for an escape… but the crew there is bent on fighting the creatures, with all their hopes set on someone named Freeman."
"Freeman?"
"Yes. God knows why. He was the one who started this whole mess." He shrugged. "Let those fools try to fight a battle they can't win. I just want to get out of here."
"Right…"
They descended in silence. There were no doors to the elevator, so Barney stood as far back as he could as he saw the walls move in front of him. They eventually slowed to a halt outside a dark, dank corridor that looked like it hadn't been used by anyone in decades, let alone years.
"Doc… how long has this lab been here?"
Rosenberg looked uncomfortable, but said nothing. "I hope the old security system is still active. With any luck my old fingerprint ID is still valid and on file," he said, pointing to two doors on their right, both bent horribly out of shape, as though crushed.
They went through into what Barney assumed had been the reception area of the lab. On his left was a very secure looking door with a fingerprint reader next to it. Looking somewhat concerned, Rosenberg put his hand on it. After a few breathless seconds, it bleeped affirmatively, and they quickly went through before it changed its mind.
So far, Barney wasn't too impressed with the look of the lab. Anomalous Materials looked swankier and smarter.
A white haired scientist with hair so thin around his temples Barney wondered why he bothered growing it was hunched over a device at the side of the room. He glanced over at the two newcomers, smiling as he recognised his colleague. He barely registered Barney.
"Dr Rosenberg, thank God you made it. We've managed to piece together some of the larger equipment, but you'll need to oversee the rest of the construction."
Rosenberg smiled like an old pro as he put his hand on the scientist's shoulder. Barney presumed he was used to being a leader in these kinds of situations. Well, as close to an 'alien invasion with the military thrown in for flavour' situation as one could get.
"Excellent Walter. Finish aligning the power cell matrix and I'll see if I can get the system online in the main room. Now," he said, looking at Barney and nodding down a corridor, "there's no time to waste." After another fingerprint reader, they were through into the lab. It didn't look too bad. It was no Anomalous Materials test chamber, but it looked complicated enough for Barney to put his faith in it's scientific aspects.
Beside him, Rosenberg looked up at the emitter, his hands on his hips as he nodded. "Well, looks like the equipment is in better shape than I expected." Lost in his work, he left Barney to stand around idly while he darted around the chamber, pressing buttons and adjusting settings on seemingly every control panel he passed.
"Unfortunately, this older technology does not have the ability to target an Earth destination in its' current state. You see Mr Calhoun," he said, looking over at him as he moved to another panel, "teleportation is not as easy as going from point A to point B. We discovered a strange border world that was somehow involved in the process which kept us from predicting where any given teleportation event may lead to back on Earth."
The machinery above his head was beginning to whirr and thrum. Barney stared up at it.
"Is that border world thing where all these aliens are coming from?"
"That's right. As I was saying, some of the more promising research on the matter led to a device that could be attached to the strange crystalline structures we found on this border world," he said, moving over to a control panel behind Barney, pushing two very plain looking green buttons.
"Crystalline? Like those yellow things they experimented on at Anomalous Materials?"
"Exactly. Now," he said, turning around and nodding up at the equipment "this device would then be used as a focal point and a relay that would assist in the teleportation." He shifted uncomfortably. "Well, in theory, that is," he mumbled.
Before Barney could even mutter a sarcastic reply Rosenberg was off to the other side of the room, fiddling with something over there. Barney made his way over, keeping his eyes on the ever louder machinery in the center of the room.
"We lost contact with the survey group shortly after the device was in place. We later found other methods of aiming the field, but all of the equipment in this lab uses the older technology."
"So… that means what?" Barney said, catching up to Rosenberg. He noticed a booth tucked away behind the teleporter that he didn't see when he first entered. Yet more complicated equipment and control panels lay inside.
The scientist took a large breath before turning to face him. "In order for any of us to get out of here alive… someone is going to have to go to the border world and activate the device."
Barney stared at him for a moment. "I'm not gonna like this, am I?"
"I'm sorry, Mr Calhoun, but… I'm afraid you're the only one who can do this, seeing as everyone else will be needed to operate the equipment," he managed ashamedly, moving behind the booth and starting some work there. His voice went up a bit as he moved on from the subject of sending Barney to certain death.
"We should be able to get you fairly close to where the survey team had set up, but I fear the likelihood of running into alien creatures is very high. Once you find the equipment, simply power it on and align the emitters until the signal reaches maximum strength." He looked up at Barney through the glass, resting forward on the panel. "We'll re-open the teleporter for your return, but you must hurry back, as we can only keep it open for a short amount of time."
"Right. Gotcha. Power on, align, maximum, hurry back." He paused. "Am I gonna be able to breath over there?"
Whether Rosenberg ignored or missed his comment, Barney didn't know. "All right, I'm going to initiate the teleporter charging sequence now. Be ready, Mr Calhoun; once the field is open it will become unstable very quickly." He tilted his head to look at something above and behind Barney. "Simmons, can you hear me? Get ready!"
Barney looked up and around and saw a small room on the floor above them, overlooking the chamber. From a distance, the guy kind of looked like Dr Vance, if a bit weightier in the midsection.
Barney wondered if Vance and his family were okay. And Dr Kleiner. What could that old guy do against hordes of aliens and marines?
"We're almost there."
He brought his attention back the loud machinery hanging above his head. It was point down at a slightly raised platform in the middle of the room.
"I'm serious, Doc. Do I need a space helmet or something?"
"The primary capacitors have reached full charge…"
"What about dialects? Is there some universal greeting I can use?"
"Simmons, release the damping locks and open the fields!"
Energy snaked out of lights that stood at the four corners of the square platform and the teleporter itself, all of them converging in the middle. The room shook.
"Do you at least have a handbook?!"
The rumbling stopped. An orb of pure green floated silently in front of Barney. He stared at it.
"The field! It's open! Calhoun, enter the teleporter!"
"What about all these cuts and stuff? Do I need-"
Rosenberg tossed him a first aid kit and pointed to the field. "Go! Now!"
He glanced back and forth between Rosenberg's fevered expressions and the orb.
"I better be getting overtime for this." He took a deep breath and ran forward. "OhSHIIII-"
Barney dove headfirst into the orb, and everything went green around him.
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(A/N: Hope I didn't leave my readers waiting for too long! Review!
Next Chapter: Blast Pit)