2
A Red Letter Day
So Gordon," asked his mother over the phone. "Are there any nice young ladies at Black Mesa?"
"Yes," Gordon answered. "There's one in particular."
"Oh, really?" This was not what she was expecting, but it was everything she had hoped. "What's her name…?"
"Alyx. Spelled with a 'y'."
"How unique!"
"Uh-huh. She's the daughter of my mentor here, Dr. Eli Vance. He and his wife are intellectuals, so they like unique stuff."
"Interesting. So does she work at Black Mesa as well?"
"No, that would violate child labor laws."
A pause.
"Oh…?" his mother inquired warily.
Gordon continued with a dry smile. "She's eight-years-old. I think she has a crush on me. It's cute."
Gordon didn't hear any laughter from the other end of the phone; evidently Mom and Dad did not appreciate his little joke. So he tried to explain it to them. They did not seem to appreciate this either, and he gave up.
He did not feel bad, though. The older he grew, the less guilt he spared for his parents, and their poorly veiled hope for grandchildren. The older he grew, the more certain he felt that their blood was cursed to dry up with him.
"Over here!"
- everything ached -
"Ha! - no you don't -!"
- a fog was clearing - a white mist burning up -
"Hmm."
Gordon was looking up at a woman's face, framed by a decrepit plaster ceiling; he realized he was in the same room that the guards had flanked him in. He had felt a shock in the back that made him black out; he must have been struck with one of their batons. But now there was this woman standing over him, and for a moment Gordon wondered if she was an Overwatch soldier without a mask on.
The woman was coffee skinned, with thin oriental eyes and a flattish nose. Her short hair was pitch black, with a subtle dyed red streak down the middle; it was held back tautly by a bark-brown headband. She was not in Overwatch uniform, nor was she in civilian scrubs: she wore a faded, heavily beaten, beige leather jacket, the right sleeve duct-taped along the shoulder seam. Beneath it was a gray, hooded sweatshirt, and around her neck, as a kind of simple jewelry, was a black, thumbnail-sized square. On her hands: fingerless gloves, and weathered bandaging up her right forearm. A black belt and holster around her waist, and working jeans that looked as old as she was - which Gordon estimated was only a few years behind himself.
Her mouth spread into a wide, kindly smile. "Dr. Freeman, I presume?"
The smile suddenly disappeared as she glanced nervously to the side."We better hurry," she continued. "Another squad will be here in five minutes to find out what happened."
Gordon nodded, and tried to lift himself up, but fell back as spears of pain shot from his leg through his torso.
"Looks like you got a couple of mosquito bites on your leg there," the woman said. "And a bump on the head. Probably some burns from those spark clubs. Here, I'll help you up, c'mon."
She gave him a hand up, and with his arm draped over her shoulders, helped him limp his way along. Several Overwatch soldiers were strewn on the floor around them. Their legs were bent wrong. One's neck was clearly broken, and another's had a piece of bloody wood sticking out of it.
Gordon noticed several batons were pocketed inside the woman's leather jacket. Trophies, Gordon thought. The idea disturbed him, and he became extremely concerned where this murderer was taking him…but Gordon was still disoriented from the shock…he couldn't keep track of where…or when…exactly…Oh, now they were inside a rusted elevator car. Now it was moving. Stay awake, Gordon, stay awake. You've had worse.
And now the woman was speaking. "Dr. Kleiner said you'd be coming this way. Poor man was in a panic. Must not have occurred to him to give you directions, huh?"
Gordon did not answer, and was slumping more and more onto the woman in exhaustion. "As you can see," she was saying, "not exactly the easiest place to find on your own; you did remarkably well, though, all things considered. Hey, pay attention, yeah? Listen to my voice. Stay with me."
"Sorry," Freeman said, trying to perk up a little. She knew Kleiner. She said it nonchalantly. He relaxed a little, and, as sincerely as he could, he said, "Thank you."
"Don't mention it," she replied with a broad smile, shifting his weight on her shoulders. "I'm Alyx. Alyx Vance. My father worked with you at Black Mesa…? Eli Vance…? I'm sure you don't remember me, though."
Gordon was feeling nauseous.
I remember you, Gordon thought. I saw you just a week ago. You insisted you read The Magic Treehouse to me. I had dinner with your family. Your mother told you to close your mouth when you chew, and not to bite your spoon. Now you're sixteen years older, and just broke the legs of several alien soldiers and took their batons as trophies and saved my life.
Kids grow up fast.
"Man of few words, aren't you?" she offered, her smile sly but encouraging. Freeman didn't know how to answer, so he didn't, and her smile faded.
The elevator halted. Its doors stuttered open.
"I was able to hotwire one of the Overwatch locks onto this elevator," Alyx said as she helped him along through a dim service basement. "Makes for a handy secret passage in plain sight; this building is practically rotting now, so I don't think any soldiers or Civil Protection volunteers have even tried using it. And then they'd still have a few more hoops to jump through to get to Kleiner's lab…you still with me?"
"Yes."
"Good, because I need to lean you up against this wall here," which she promptly did, though he just slid down the wall and sat with his bandaged leg outstretched.
"Hey, look at that," she said. "You remember him from Black Mesa?"
Gordon was seated near a poster-plastered wall. He was unsure what it was doing in a basement, or even if they were in a basement anymore; he had not been paying strict attention. In any case, the foremost poster displayed Dr. Wallace Breen, looking into the distance.
"Your old administrator," she was saying, as she fiddled with an electrical box on a different wall. "Don't get my dad started on Dr. Breen. You'll never hear the words 'traitor' and 'opportunist' used so many times in a sentence. You still with me?"
He nodded.
"Good. We've got medical supplies for you at Kleiner's lab: there should be enough Vortigaunt juices ready to heal you up in no time; just need to keep you conscious."
Something clicked in the electrical box, and the wall surrounding the poster suddenly indented. Alyx approached it and pushed it open, revealing a narrow concrete passageway. She immediately stepped over to Gordon, helped him up again, and started down it.
"Funny, you showing up on this day in particular," she offered, as they approached the end door. Alyx input a code into a wall mounted security lock. The door creaked open and they entered what was more clearly a basement: musty, cool, with white bricked walls and incandescent lights. "This is all part of our underground railroad. We've been helping people escape the city on foot, and sometimes have to take a detour to Kleiner's lab in the downtown warehouse, when the main route gets too dicey. And either way, it's such a dangerous route out of the city to my father's lab; they have to go through the old canals…the point is, today we're finally on the verge of having a better way, and we've got your old research to thank for it."
The moment she said it, Gordon already knew: teleportation. They're going to teleport people out of the city.
They entered a more spacious basement room, looking particularly unfrequented. A pair of lonely vending machines stood against the left wall. They were both decorated with the same high definition photograph of a pond ripple, and were labeled in Arial white, "Dr. Breen's Private Reserve."
Old vending machines, old posters…I haven't seen a new poster anywhere. So Dr. Breen was put in charge; he started a propaganda campaign. He continued normal, commercial human practices. Probably said he and the Overwatch, Combine, Civil Protection - whatever they are - were working together for humanity's betterment…and then he must have abandoned the propaganda when he had things more under control.
"Let me lean you up against something…" Alyx said, snapping him out of his reverie.
With Gordon secured, she approached one of the machines. And from over her shoulder, with a wry, if somewhat sad, smile, said, "Here, let me buy you a drink."
She slipped something into the coin slot, hit a sequence of buttons, lightly pounded the side of the machine, and the whole thing swung open on a set of hidden hinges, revealing yet another passageway that ended in a brightly lit room.
"Oh, and by the way," she added, as she helped him walk again. "Nice to finally meet you."
Gordon gave her an odd look.
"Meet me again, you mean," he said matter-of-factly. "You'll have to finish that book for me."
She took greater delight in this joke than he'd anticipated, laughing out loud as she helped him into the bright room. Gordon did his best to offer a reciprocal smile, but then was hopelessly distracted by what opened up before his eyes.
It was a relatively spacious warehouse space: the ceiling was at least twenty feet up, hung with fresh fluorescent lights that sharply illuminated some five hundred square feet of grubby tile floor. The space hosted a great number of extraordinarily cluttered desks and tables: dozens of restored desktop computers running green-graphic simulations, a modified seismograph scribbling on an endless paper roll, collapsed mounds of scratch paper, makeshift control panels with exposed circuit boards and bottle caps for dials, leftover parts and plastic junk, a pair of six foot glass tubes filled with bubbling, clear orange fluid, a formidable pile of cardboard boxes and wooden crates in the corner, a dog kennel, a magnifying glass, a pair of odd, circular machines…
Yes, he's building a teleporter, Gordon concluded. He's recreated my old-set up, just bigger. That's their "better way". They're going to teleport civilians out of the city…it's incredible they got the materials for it, under these circumstances…
"Blast!" cried a voice from behind the pile of boxes. "That little…where did she get to this time? Lamar? Come out, Lamar!"
Dr. Isaac Kleiner rounded the corner, sixteen years older, now nearly bald, with sagging, wrinkled skin and large ears, and walking slightly stooped and quite a bit slower. But, he had the same eyes crinkled from smiling, the same harmless, absent-minded look, balanced with a piercing, analytical gaze. And still wearing, though faded and patched, the same white lab coat he wore at Black Mesa.
"Uh oh," Alyx called out slyly. "Everything alright, Dr. Kleiner?"
Without even looking at Alyx or Gordon, Kleiner continued in his slow-going search for what Gordon gathered to be his pet dog. "Oh, hello Alyx. I'm guessing you didn't find Gordon. So no, not really alright. Not alright at all, because Gordon Freeman is finally returned and may very well be in the hands of the Combine this very moment because of my cursed negligence…and just to add insult to injury, Lamar has gotten out of her crate again! Why, if I didn't know better I'd suspect Barney of trapping and -"
At that moment the doctor looked up, saw Gordon Freeman, and his train of thought jumped the rails. His eyes widened behind his thick spectacles, and his mouth was unsure whether to smile at Gordon or gasp at his bandaged leg.
"My goodness…Gordon Freeman. Thank heavens you're alright… It really is you, isn't it?"
"I found him wandering around outside," Alyx said, letting Gordon sit down on a table. "Bit of a troublemaker, isn't he?"
"We owe a great deal to Dr. Freeman," Kleiner replied, regarding Freeman with great respect, "even if trouble does tend to follow in his wake. Goodness, Freeman…you really haven't aged a day…Oh, don't worry, we have a fresh batch of juices for those wounds of yours. The Vortigaunts have been very generous with us. Which, indeed, is all thanks to your efforts in the border-world…er…terribly sorry to mention…em…well, here, let's get you fixed up and then we can talk as much as you would like -"
Kleiner was interrupted when Gordon abruptly arose from where he sat and firmly embraced the doctor, until both of their pairs of glasses were pushed askew by each other's shoulders, and poor Kleiner was starting to have trouble breathing. But Gordon wasn't thinking anymore. His leg hurt like hell's fire and so did his mind. Everything had caught up with him, everything all at once: finding his friends still alive, the Orwellian nightmare, the people dying for him, the people who had already died half on his account, because he pushed the crystal, because he worked at Black Mesa, because he wanted to teleport human beings so he could do something good for the world, a world that shouldn't want him…a world he single-handedly destroyed…Yes, all he could do, all he wanted to do now, was weep, sobbing thick hot tears and dripping snot onto Kleiner's lab coat.
Gordon's abrupt embrace put poor Kleiner rather on edge; he feared, quite reasonably, that Gordon's mental health had been disturbed by his sojourn on the border-world, and he vainly attempted to submit the tacit scientist to an amateur psychiatric evaluation while Alyx treated his leg. Understandably, Gordon was in no mental condition for such an examination, assuming that he would have submitted to one anyway. He refused to answer any of Kleiner's questions, but perhaps as karma, he was unable to answer any of his own, either. They knew I was coming back, but how? Why aren't they more surprised? They said "Vortigaunts" told them…? What do they think happened? Kleiner, in any case, was only dissuaded from his purpose when Gordon finally admitted in as few words as possible that he had no idea what was going on.
"What is a Vortigaunt?" he said.
Kleiner and Alyx shared a look.
"Vortigaunts told you I was coming back," Gordon added, implying it as a question.
Alyx said quietly, "Gordon…how long have you been back on Earth?"
"About two and a half hours. I was in Xen, and then I woke up on a train in City seventeen."
"Good lord…" Kleiner said, his eyes wide. "No wonder you were so shaken…"
Gordon nodded subtly, and waited.
After a few moments, Kleiner finally began: "I understand, of course, if it distresses you, but whatever exactly you did in the border-world changed the Vortigaunts…em…dramatically. Apparently, the same…I was told that some being was holding open the crystal? Yes? Well, apparently it was also controlling the Vortigaunts' actions…"
"The Vortigaunts are the hunchbacked aliens you fought at Black Mesa," Alyx said abruptly.
"Em, yes, thank you, Alyx…the point is, Dr. Freeman: those creatures you were fighting in Black Mesa, the hunchbacked ones…they are now our most important allies in our efforts against the Combine Overwatch…"
Gordon was already half lost in thought. The Vortigaunts: gruesome looking beings; roughly humanoid: with two legs, two arms, and a head, but with nearly every other variation from humans that is possible. They were hunched over because their spines were like mountain ranges protruding up against the skin of their backs. Their head and neck looked like a tubeworm that tried to swallow a red marble whole, but the ball's girth split the head open from the inside, creating a complex of bulbous, crimson eyes. They had long, ape-like arms with two extended, opposable fingers, and crooked, birdlike bowlegs ending in triangular hooves, like mutant satyrs. Gordon remembered their ugly, burbling tongue; it was how he knew they were around the corner, with electricity dancing on their fingertips, waiting to set his skin on fire. But his H.E.V. suit could act as a crude lightning rod, giving him enough time to crush their heads in with a crowbar…
Kleiner was explaining how they had inhuman forms of perception, which, as far as he could discern, gave them something like a gift of prophesy. This, among other things, contributed to a distinctly alien psychology, so that despite their incredible ability to actually speak human languages understandably, there was still a considerable gap in communication between humans and Vortigaunts, which was only bridged at all by the humans' desperation and the Vortigaunts' surprisingly Buddhist calm and evenness, once their slave driver was killed by Freeman.
The Vortigaunts have a fascination with me, Freeman reasoned. Kleiner's not mentioning it, but that's the only reasonable conclusion: I released them from slavery, so they do everything in their power to track what happened to me.
The Vortigaunts had begun, more and more, to mention in their conversation "the Free Man".
"The Free Man comes again," they would say. "Soon, soon, the Free Man comes again."
"You see, the Combine Overwatch," Kleiner explained, "after the Black Mesa incident, and after the military destroyed the facility, after some several dozen of us managed to escape safely - we can share that little story later, of course; it's quite exciting - ahem…well, the Overwatch were drawn by the original ruckus the portal had made in Xen's galaxy, and so they reopened the portal with ten times the energy originally used, which, of course, caused severe Resonance Cascade storms across the planet…well, at least, that's the closest I can come to categorizing them, they really are beyond anything I've been able to study so far…but the point is, you see, that this caused millions of other tears to open across the Earth, letting all kinds of fauna from Xen crawl through all over again. It did wonders for the ecosystem, as I'm sure you can imagine. And even sixteen years later these original shockwaves are still being felt, albeit far less dramatically. Just a little tear here or there; it was my theory, therefore, that even as late as today, you could somehow fall through one of these tears, if you hadn't already…or else you could summon the energy to…well…evidently you just fell through…?"
Gordon did not deny the idea. He simply nodded.
Gordon learned that the Combine decimated Earth's combined military might within seven hours of their arrival. Somehow, the peace was negotiated by Dr. Wallace Breen, which naturally made him the most important and powerful human on the planet, the mouthpiece of the new gods.
As for the Combine: they were intergalactic conquerors, an alien Roman empire. The menagerie of monsters on Xen was not one species: they were alien refugees from different worlds, all conquered by the Combine Overwatch; they were an intergalactic ghetto-zoo, swept into a corner, with the dead spiders and dust, scrambling on top of each other for survival in the barren crags of the border-world. The brain fetus was the last of its own kind; the rest were killed back on its home planet. And in desperation, it took control of the Vortigaunts to protect itself. When the Combine figured out where the refugees were all were hiding, the fetus took advantage of the portal and held it open, sending a Vortigaunt army through to slaughter any resistance, so that all the refugees could escape to Earth
Xen wasn't invading. They were running away…
"The Vortigaunts do not seem to be clear on what the Combine wants. No more than we are, anyway. And obviously we cannot trust Breen's promises at face value; he is either a puppet or a co-conspirator; maybe both…but some things seem clear enough…draining the oceans, strip mining the rich countries, and otherwise stealing our resources. But none of that requires controlling the human race, given their firepower…I have no doubt they could wipe us out right now, if they wanted…"
"Breen claims that they're here to help us become immortal," Alyx interjected.
"Hmm, yes, and there is intelligence on our end that suggests civilians have been kidnapped and experimented upon…"
Gordon interrupted suddenly. "Where are the children?"
There was an unpleasant pause.
"The citadel…the giant tower in the city…" Kleiner began, "Well, it produces a specialized electro-magnetic frequency…except…well, it's not strictly electro-magnetic…but it blocks certain enzymes…"
"Nobody wants to have sex anymore," Alyx jumped in again, rather impatiently. "And even when people do, it doesn't work."
Gordon looked back and forth between his two friends.
He remembered Breen's speech, broadcasted through the city, stored in the back of his head…let us consider the fact that for the first time ever, as a species, immortality is in our reach. This simple fact has far-reaching implications. It requires radical rethinking and revision of our genetic imperatives…
"Gordon? Are you quite alright?"
"Thank our benefactors," Breen had said, "for giving us respite from this overpowering force. They have thrown a switch and exorcised our demons in a single stroke. They have given us the strength we never could have summoned to overcome this compulsion. They have given us purpose. They have turned our eyes toward the stars…"
Freeman decided. Whatever else the G-man had planned for him, whatever specifically was in store for him in this space and time, Freeman was going to destroy that citadel. He would do everything he could to end the Combine's reign, but if anything, he would level that monstrous structure to the earth. Something primal had finally been threatened in Freeman, something unconscious, something so important to Freeman that he wasn't clearly aware of it…a line had been crossed and the decision was made, almost without Freeman's conscious approval. He was going to destroy it. It was the last straw.
"Gordon," Kleiner was saying uncertainly. "I know you are likely…em…sensitive about this…but I…we…need to know what precisely happened to you after you leapt through that portal."
A chill ran through Gordon again. They don't know about the government man, Gordon was thinking. Do I tell them?
No…everything felt "off". The warmth of seeing Barney and Kleiner again was fleeting, at best. He was glad they were alive. He was glad they were living out their lives with a sense of meaning. But that didn't mean he cared. Was he heartless for that? He didn't know. All he knew was that he felt like a shade, long dead, long faded against a heroic sunset, but dragged back from the grave by the devil in a spotless suit.
He would tell them everything else, even about his stasis, and his waking up on a train. But not about why he was in stasis…why, you see my friends, I have no idea what happened. I killed the monster, I wandered for a while on Xen, but then there was a mysterious flash of light and I was on a train. Time distortion must have happened. How strange. But its par for the course, as far as Xen is concerned. Yes, you can perform some tests on me, Kleiner. I don't mind, I swear.
But he would not tell them about his deal with the devil. Not about what he had really become. It was not their concern, not their business, that he was a lone space cowboy now, ha ha. An intergalactic gunslinger, ha ha. He was only here to save the day, no longer. They'd figure it out when the time came. But now, he would keep his cloak of mystery tightly wrapped around him, and his newest purpose tucked closely to his heart: I am a shooting star; I am cold from afar but hot to the touch, and I will burn the citadel to the ground.
That evening, after Gordon had calmed down, and his wounds had been tended to, and he had received adequate explanations, the dark-haired sharp-eyed M.I.T. graduate reclined on a rugged, lumpy sofa in one of the warehouse's large storage closets, since remade into housing for refugees on the underground railroad. Right now they were unoccupied, so Gordon finally had what he wanted; a room all to himself, a place to think.
It was doubly helpful for Gordon that his leg needed time to lie still; according to Kleiner the quart of Vortigaunt juice they injected into his veins would naturally locate and disintegrate the bullet shrapnel and accelerate the healing process; nevertheless, it worked best when Gordon kept his heart rate down and the wounded body part at rest, so that the juices did not also get too excited and start rupturing the tissue instead of healing it.
Gordon stared up at the ceiling and its ugly fluorescent lights. He imagined the lights were galaxies, and thought about space and portals and the inhumanness of Xen. Then he thought about teleportation and quantum physics and the cold purity of mathematics. He thought,
|Φ±} = (1/√2) (|0}A ⊗ |0}B± |1}A ⊗ |1}B)
First Bell state for two qubits in canonical entangled states. Yes, he could almost taste the equation in his mind, or grip each of its variables in his hand, enjoying their coolness and rigidity and awe-inspiring simplicity of beauty. So much power in just a set of numbers and letters, in just an idea expressed. So much he could wield on a chalkboard. And then to see it peel off the chalkboard and into a laboratory, to see it confirmed, to realize that this little, nearly unintelligible idea has become a very real tool in his hand to change the world.
However, these musings weren't enough to distract him from the real problem: I want to be with Dr. Kleiner, and just to sit and talk and experiment and open up to him like I was starting to…just about little things, stupid things. But I don't want to. Everything is different now. It's been sixteen years…and I want to just go away…that is far easier, and it's just what I'm geared for. Hm. Mom and Dad hated that; it's no wonder why. I just leave. If the government man were to come right now to whisk me away, would I resist? Or would I go willingly? Perhaps I'd even embrace the G-man as my savior? Hug him like I hugged Kleiner?
There was a knock at the door. Freeman didn't feel like making noise, so he waited to see what would happen. After a minute or so, the door opened and Alyx Vance poked her head in. Upon seeing Gordon awake, she casually entered, closing the door behind her, and pulled up a stool near Gordon's sofa.
"How's it feel?" she asked.
Freeman shrugged.
"How are you feeling?" she pressed.
Freeman blinked, but didn't answer otherwise. He considered asking her to leave. He wasn't really in the mood for talking yet. But he kept quiet, perhaps because he didn't feel like saying anything at all, either way. Alyx, meanwhile, did not seem like she would answer to a dismissal at this point. She clearly had things on her mind - Gordon could almost see the thoughts twisting and turning behind her bright, intelligent eyes.
Sure enough, she rather suddenly began speaking, with the tone of a mild storyteller: "I remember that day, when Black Mesa fell apart; Dad went down for work, like usual. I didn't see him because he left early; really early in the morning. And I had Cheerios for breakfast and Mom was really kind of tired because I was being a pain…and we heard sirens going off, and were rushed off by security guards; I didn't know what was happening. It was all still so innocent for me. And…well…I got put with the other children, and Mom was supposed to stay with me but she wanted to get Dad out of there. And I saw Dad again, a few days later, but not her…and, uh, some of the guards loaded all of us on some trucks and hauled us out of there, and I was not easy to deal with, I was screaming and crying because I wanted Mom and Dad…"
She paused, staring off into space, as though to gather her thoughts. Freeman did not take his eyes off of Alyx for a moment, and had not yet blinked.
"Dad told me later that he and Kleiner and a few others got out before the military started bombing…though he's never told me how, exactly. I guess they just mixed luck and determination. He doesn't really like talking about it. Kleiner doesn't remember that much because he had a broken leg and had to be hauled around…anyway, I haven't ever seen Mom since…and…um…"
She took a deep breath.
"I'm trying to make a point; bear with me."
Freeman didn't move his eyes; they stayed rooted on Alyx, and to further reassure her, he gave a deliberate nod.
"A lot of other scientists never came out, either," she continued. "And you were one of them. You know I liked you best because you didn't treat me like I was stupid, and you let me read books to you. And I know this is really weird for you, seeing me all grown up…I'm sorry, it's hard for me to imagine it…because time didn't pass for you, obviously, so you look the same as you did before, but that's what my mind expects…I wasn't expecting an old Gordon, even though that makes more sense…so I don't even notice the difference with you, but you notice it with me. Weird, huh?"
"Yeah," Gordon replied, a little hollowly.
"So good old Uncle Freeman died just like Mom…you know I really thought of you as more of a big brother, though. I thought you were the coolest guy in the universe..." She laughed at that, somehow unabashed in her sheepishness. "And you didn't come back out of Black Mesa, just like my mother. So many people didn't come back…"
…Matthew Ashwell: Killed in the barrel chamber airlock…Bill Guthrie: Transformed into an alien monster in his office…
"Are you getting my point, Dr. Freeman?" she asked suddenly, but continued before he could answer. "Here you are. You're sitting in front of me. You're alive. You're real…but you didn't come back from Black Mesa. Heck, they even had a story for why you wouldn't ever come back: you jumped into a portal and shut it down. You were the hero. Seriously Gordon…a story like that…you don't hear about that kind of heroism, especially not about someone you knew as a kid. That's serious inspiration. Serious inspiration for me as a kid…But look, the point is you weren't supposed to come back, but here you are. It's incredible. So, all I'm saying is…thank you. Because now, maybe, just maybe, Mom might come back somehow, too. And maybe some of the others, even. It's stupid, and unrealistic, and I don't really believe it, but somehow my spirits are lifted anyway. Gordon Freeman came back from the dead. Anything's possible."
She took another deep breath. "I prepped that speech. Could you tell?"
Gordon shrugged. Alyx started laughing, and Gordon suddenly had a genuine smile. She seemed to like that. But just like with the lady in the train station, he started to feel a little nauseous; he was so at a loss about what to do in order to preserve the situation, to preserve the wonderful delicacy of this moment; yet, almost simultaneously, he felt that same near euphoria as he realized, I inspired someone even while being a trillion miles away. My star's light reached her. He wondered, Can I do this? Is it possible for me to be a distant star? Or like Barney said, a hero who rides off into the sunset? When my time is done, when the devil comes for me again?
He realized he hadn't responded to her for a minute straight, and he began predicting what she was thinking, and how to respond to each thought, and then he was backtracking, and then wishing that she would just go away…
"I'm sorry," he said blankly, but quietly. He was rubbing his eyes with one hand, his whole face tensed up and pinched together. "Sorry…just…don't know…I…"
Alyx frowned deeply. "Crap. I'm really sorry Gordon, I thought…I shouldn't have unloaded on you like that…I just - well it doesn't matter. Do you want to be alone…or…?"
"No," he interrupted firmly, if quietly. "I…thanks. Thank-you." He paused for another few moments. "I appreciate it. Very much."
Alyx smiled sadly, before replying, "Well, you're welcome, doc. But I'm still sorry. I'm not registered with the Combine records so I've had to lay low…pretty much my whole life now. I don't get to really meet a lot of people…especially not people my own age, and when I do meet them, they aren't…well, they aren't really that smart, and they aren't tough…they don't wear their own clothes, they just wear those stupid scrubs, and I'm never going to wear those things again. Never. I don't care how much danger it puts me in. We all die anyway…man, sorry Gordon, I can't shut up."
Neither of them spoke for a minute, as they regarded each other with equally sharp, searching, unrevealing eyes. She's staring right through me, Gordon thought. Is this what it feels like when I look at people? What is she trying to find?
Suddenly Alyx broke the moment: "You want to play Shuttle?" She asked lightly.
Gordon's look turned puzzled and he shook his head. A card game? Or even a board game? Because she knows I can't move. But why would she want to play that? She's smart, she's got plans; she does things for reasons but she doesn't show her cards, just like me…nothing malicious intended, she's trying to help, but…
"It's a card game," she replied.
One point for me.
"I made up the rules years ago," she continued. "It's one of my favorites. But no one will play with me anymore because I always win, of course. But your reputation precedes you, doctor; I think you stand a chance." By now she had pulled out a weather-beaten deck of playing cards from her jacket pocket and was beginning to bridge-shuffle them on her knee with great dexterity.
Up until now, Gordon had unconsciously regarded her as a mere stranger, a woman who was only claiming, albeit on reasonable grounds, to be Alyx Vance. But finally he was having flashbacks and Déjà vu; he remembered her less skilled eight-year-old hands trying to bridge the Chance cards for a game of simplified Monopoly that they never finished. The connection between the little girl Alyx and the woman before him was growing stronger, and thus, more disturbing.
Is she trying to get me to remember her? Does she want that big brother relationship again? She's starved for a friend…and she's already attached, she still thinks I'm 'all that' - she's got a bit of hero worship in her, and she's not stupid, she knows it, and has been trying to be nonchalant, but it's hard to hide; she wants to prove herself wrong by beating me in a card game? Or is it really just altruistic; she thinks it will help get my mind off things. There was a knowing glint in her eyes when she looked at me. She at least thinks she knows what's up.
"- represent the Elite Combine teams. If you put one of those down, then you can remove a King from one of my hands so your Civil Protection can search it. If you find a card you need, you show it to me, and I get a chance to take it back before you can -"
Crap. Wasn't paying attention. "- Um. Terribly sorry. Could you go back…?"
She saw through him. "You weren't paying attention, were you?"
"No."
She chuckled, but instead of restarting the rules she said, "I remember way more about you than is probably good for me, and I remember that you think a lot. You thought everything out; you were so smart. And yeah, look, you probably know I'm a little fixated, but I don't think you can blame a girl who doesn't have any friends and grew up knowing the myth and legend Gordon Freeman, who sacrificed himself to save everyone, and fix what he technically started - So just bear with me, I'm trying not to be weird - Um…Gordon…?"
Tears were starting to run down his cheeks."Sorry," he said through gritted teeth. "It's nothing."
She gave him that analyzing stare again. "You still feel guilty for what happened. You think it's your fault."
"Yes. And no."
"Yeah…I know that feeling..."
"But it's…it's just nice knowing that…someone saw it that way…as redemptive…or something…"
"As heroic, doc."
"It was not that; don't lie," he replied with unexpected sharpness.
"No, it was," Alyx said, matching his sharpness. She set the cards down and leaned in closer. "You don't have to feel like a hero to be a hero to people, doc."
Gordon Freeman nodded, eyes shut against more tears staining his glasses. He rubbed his face and wiped them away. "Thanks." He inhaled deeply, sniffing the mucus back in.
Alyx smiled, a wide, wonderfully sincere smile. "Anytime," she said, a little facetiously.
Gordon did his best to smile back. Then, "How do you play this game, again?"
Gordon found that the most difficult part of the game was not winning it - he had apprehended the game perfectly within five minutes of playing it - but rather, deciding whether or not he should let Alyx win. Someday he would explain it all to her as a kind of convoluted compliment; how he was so anxious that, somehow, he was going to fumble their reincarnated friendship; that some wrong move on his end would ruin the whole thing before it could really take root. He was very familiar with this anxiety; it was to Alyx's credit that he hadn't felt it to this degree since his first real conversation with Barney Calhoun.
I lose the first game, maybe two, so she feels proud of herself, but then I just barely beat her, so she feels like she's succeeding as a teacher…
But, he thought suddenly, the game really isn't that complicated…She's very smart, or seems like it…did she choose a game she made when she was younger - on purpose? Knowing that I'd figure it out? Because she wants to see if I'll let her win, or just go ahead and beat her? And if so, what's the right course of action? Does she want me to fake stupidity? Or to be honest? And is there a secret third or fourth option…?
Fortunately for Gordon, Barney came to the lab and interrupted their game.
He and Alyx could hear him arguing with Kleiner outside the door: "Well, is he here or not?" "Yes he's here, but I don't want you being rough with him, Barney; his leg needs the full time to heal -" "I'm not going to wrestle with him, doc! I just want to talk to him - there you are!" Barney cried out as he opened the door. His relief was immense. "Man, Gordon, you stirred up the hive. I had a fun time of it trying to slow Civil Protection down - almost got found out by the - well, they think I'm out with the search parties right now…man, Gordon…you really got shot?"
"Yes, he was shot," Kleiner interrupted, stepping in behind Barney, and straightening his glasses indignantly. "Because for some idiotic reason you and I sent him out alone into a totalitarian police state to find a secret location -"
"I didn't know he'd dropped back into reality five minutes ago!" Barney replied, irritated. "I saw him from a City Scanner getting off of a train! I assumed he knew what was up!"
"Hey, guys," Alyx intervened. "No offense, but we're playing Shuttle. So unless you want to join in…"
"Sure, as long as it means I get to talk to Gordon," Barney replied. "C'mon, Kleiner, hop in."
Kleiner scowled. "Gordon, what would you like?"
Gordon shrugged, so Kleiner gave a little "humph" and went to fetch a comfortable chair.
"I already got the long and short of your story from Kleiner," Barney added. "No need for you to go over it again. As for me, the long and short of mine is: all hell breaks loose, I rendezvous with Dr. Rosencrantz from the Theta Team, we find out about all their experiments and teleporters and what not, and he managed to hotwire one to get a bunch of us out of there just when the bombs started dropping. Then Breen got in bed with the Overwatch, Eli started a resistance, I infiltrated the Civil Protection and there you go. How you play this game, again?"
Gordon couldn't help but smile; this was one of the things that Gordon had come to love about Barney: his ability, even refusal, to take things too seriously; the authority of horrors to claim his sanity he met with a wolfish grin and a foot to the accelerator. Gordon recognized something of what he wanted to be within Barney: utterly unaffected.
"You know what this means, though?" Barney added, as they began playing. "None of us escaped Black Mesa together. Which means I can embellish my story all I want; heck, I can make up heroic parts that weren't there and take out the unflattering bits…"
"I for one," Alyx said, "killed fifty marines singlehandedly."
"How old were you then?" Barney asked, laughing. "Eight?"
"That's right."
"And Dr. Kleiner here," Barney continued, "is just being modest saying he had a broken leg. Really, you learned how to commune with the headcrabs and led an army of them to victory."
"Hm," Kleiner said.
"You had to marry Lamar, though. For political reasons."
"Yes, that's very funny, Barney," Kleiner replied. "I dare say I'll have to cut you down to size in this game of Shuttle. Given I can remember how to play. It was a sophisticated creation for a ten-year-old."
"I never got the rules," Barney said. "I just put cards down until Alyx beat me."
"That's why I never played with you," Alyx laughed. "Kleiner took it seriously, at least. And Dr. Rosencrantz did too, before…"
She tapered off. There was an unexpected silence among the three comrades, and their old friend Gordon, who had been soaking up their smiles and laughter up to that point.
So suddenly, he spoke up. "I launched a rocket into space."
They all looked at him, puzzled.
"I had to get a satellite up there. To get the portal to Xen working. I swear it's true."
This dry addition was so unexpected from Gordon that they laughed hardest at his joke. It was even funnier for Gordon, because it was actually true.
Thus the game of Shuttle naturally disintegrated, as the four of them began talking and telling stories to Gordon, who was beginning, for the first in what felt like a long time, to relax, and feel like he didn't need to watch his back anymore. Nevertheless, he had little he felt like contributing, and enjoyed simply drinking in the interactions of his friends.
"Gordon," Alyx said joyfully, "Weren't you and Barney the top rankers from the Black Mesa training course?"
"You mean the one where you had to fire automatic weapons?" Gordon replied dryly.
"You should have seen his face," Barney chimed in, "I was posted in that chamber to make sure people didn't get themselves killed, and scientist after scientist would just talk and talk about how bizarre it all was, but Gordon comes in, and he picks up a gun, and he just gives me this look," Barney started laughing. "You were just looking over at me like, 'Oh, so we're going there.' You just raised your eyebrows a bit - Yeah! Yeah, just like that! And, I swear, I thought he was a surprise inspector, he just looked so…I dunno, like Gordon! He just comes in; I'm like, 'What, did I do something wrong?' I'm like, 'This wasn't my idea! They told me to teach them automatic weapons! Don't blame me!' Well anyway, you were one of the only people who took it really seriously; you kept coming back to practice, and I thought for sure you weren't a scientist, you were some kind of plant…"
"It was part of the training," Gordon explained. "I wanted to get better."
"Well, you certainly did that," Barney replied. "Unlike ol' Kleiner here."
"Hmph, yes, well," Dr. Kleiner countered, "I was busy negotiating with management for my tidy eight-figure salary. I believe my face on the cover of Time magazine helped immensely with that."
"Shots fired," Alyx said. Barney accordingly fell off his stool, clutching his heart like there were bullet wounds. "Hey now," Gordon commented, poking his own, healing leg. "That's bad taste in this company."
They went on like that for an hour or two. Gordon wasn't sure he'd even had this much fun in Black Mesa. It was a night for him to remember. Kleiner came in with some rations of food, and they kept on talking into the night, like friends around a dinner table, in a world sixteen years younger.
Gordon went to sleep at ten thirty; for all the exhilaration of talking with his friends, he had not slept for two or three days, at least, and his eyelids began to drape shut of their own accord. The plan was thus laid for him to lay low at the lab for a few more days, when they might consider moving him to a less precarious location. None of his friends mentioned the teleporter in the lab, just outside his new bedroom's door, and Gordon was very thankful for that.
He dreamed deeply and immediately: he dreamed of Black Mesa.
He had to make his way through the Black Mesa rocket engine test facility. He couldn't remember why…he was in a maintenance hallway that curled around the facility's circumference…he was searching for the control room…it was dark in the hallway, and horrid shadows were cast by the stark fluorescent lights. Gordon was walking cautiously; he had a tactical shotgun constantly trained on every point in front of him. It was fully loaded with twelve shells, another twenty held in the gear backpack he had stripped off a marine's corpse. It still smelled of blood.
The dream was vivid. He felt the density and weight of the H.E.V. suit again. It felt like he was cocooned in Kevlar, and the thick materials and plastics took a gradual but relentless toll on his muscles. It was like the Earth's gravity had increased by a fraction of a degree.
He opened a door. There was a scientist with a spider latched down on their head and face. They turned lethargically, like a slug, towards the noise of the door -
Gordon did not hear the sound of his gun: he simply watched the creature explode, along with most of the scientist's head. Green mucus burst like a paint-filled water balloon. Gordon wiped some of it off the visor of his H.E.V. suit's helmet. His heart was pounding. The creature felt too close, even while it was dead. He thought about shooting it again to make sure, but knew he needed to conserve ammo.
He hurried on - he saw another employee lying in a pool of blood, their gut slashed open.
He leaped back when the man began speaking in a bloody gurgle.
"Fire the test rocket…destroy that…thing…before…before…it grows any larger…"
What thing? Gordon thought. The zombie that I just killed?
BANG…BANG…BANG…BANG…
Ah yes, Gordon remembered the sounds. The sound of something gigantic pounding incessantly against the interior of the test chamber. Something large, something hard, something able to smack against any point of the interior, one moment on one side, another moment somewhere else…
He was opening a door, he was in the control room - Oh yes, he remembered this part. He remembered it too well…there, there was…Gordon didn't know the man very well, but he recognized him, he had a very striking face, very angular and dimpled -
The glass of the control room shattered: a green, muscular scorpion tail burst through, as wide as a full grown man, its blade a five foot scimitar, with several gyrating pseudopods at its base - it crashed right into the scientist, smacking him full force against the back wall. And even then, the man remained conscious, screaming as the tentacle reached forward to embrace him with the little arms, and drag him over the broken glass, out into the test chamber, where two other arms were smacking against the walls, and something like a mouth was hiding in the darkness…the darkness…
And now there were soldiers decked out in gear, filling the air with lead, and the beesting-burn of bullets failing to penetrate the hazard suit, and the horrible spiced heat of leaking radioactive chemicals, green and viscous; green? Green like the portal? He was in the portal and everything was going black and neon green, and everything spinning, spinning, and Xen…Xen…marooned on a floating rock, the size of a baseball field, swarming with Vortigaunts, their hands flickering with electricity…he was tumbling down into a narrow cavity, he had to stay down there for he didn't know how long, before he could hatch a plan to get back on track…he had lived off of a thick, blue soup that welled up inside the alien island like blood from an open wound…the monster, the fetus monster, would not shut up, but kept crooning and groaning his name…he couldn't sleep…he couldn't sleep…
"There, there," said the G-man, with his insidious smile. "There isn't need to…feel fear, Mr. Freeman…I am always watching out for you…"
He awoke in a frozen sweat, and promptly vomited on the floor beside his bed, quaking uncontrollably, his muscles both tight and lax, and his eyes hardly able to see. His brain was nauseous, and he wasn't sure quite what Barney Calhoun was saying to him, as Dr. Kleiner and Alyx rushed in to help…
The next morning - seven thirty, a few hours after he had convinced everyone he had fallen back to sleep - Gordon listened to his friends talking outside his door.
"I found the source of the noise," Alyx said. "Barney, someone's trying to contact you on the vidradio."
"Well, let's have a look." Barney replied.
Gordon rose, more-or-less steadily, to his feet, and went into the lab.
"Oh, Gordon!" Kleiner exclaimed. "You really shouldn't be…"
"I'll be fine. I'm feeling a lot better."
They were standing in front of what looked like a surveillance setup: there were a dozen old televisions stacked inside cubbies. Some were turned off, but most displayed black and white feeds of various urban locations, presumably surrounding the lab. The largest screen was in the center: it was two feet wide, and currently displayed a young man with thick blond hair suited up in the same Civil Protection gear as Barney. Gordon could tell, despite the poor video quality, that large beads of sweat were filling up the man's brow.
"Barney? Are you at the lab?" the young man said. His voice was slightly distorted with static.
"Of course I'm at the lab, Erikson. Doubted me, eh?"
"Shut up and listen!" Erikson snapped, and Barney's face immediately went severe. "Erikson, what's going on…?"
"They got ahold of Gordon's specs; I tried to corrupt the data but…I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"
"Hey, calm down, Erikson: from the top."
"The drone at the train station, it takes full specs on everyone coming off. Civil Protection has everything they need to find Gordon - they're running a drone sweep all over the downtown to locate him…I was able to get them started over on Brunswick Street, so you have some time, but no more than an hour -"
There was a banging sound in the background of the video feed.
"- No more than an hour!" Erikson barked. "Get Gordon out of there!"
"Erikson…what's going on…? Erikson-!"
The feed went dead.
Silence.
There was no smile on Barney's face. "We have to get Gordon out of here."
"But that is out of the question!" Kleiner exclaimed. "He is in no condition to travel!"
"Well we can't keep him here long doc!" Barney yelled back. "It'll jeopardize everything we've worked for! Those drones can identify specs from fifty feet ahead through solid concrete; they will find him and all of this!"
"We can teleport him," Alyx suggested.
"That is out of the question, too!" Kleiner exclaimed.
"Wait, wait," Barney cut in. "You mean the teleport is working? For real this time? Because I still have nightmares about that cat -"
"-What cat?" Alyx asked.
Kleiner raised his hands up defensively. "Now, now, hold on: I will admit that we have made major strides since then, major strides; in fact, under better circumstances I would say Gordon came at a remarkably opportune time to help test it; why, Alyx just installed the last critical piece -"
"What cat?" Alyx insisted.
Gordon was not paying attention. He was staring at one of the grainy surveillance screens, a small one in the bottom left: a man in a dark suit was standing beside a chain-link fence, straightening his tie. His gaunt face turned slowly towards Gordon, and he gave his old, familiar, malicious smile…
The camera flickered and he was gone.
…I am always watching out for you…
"Does the teleporter work, or not?" Gordon asked abruptly. Once again, his voice, by no means loud or aggressive, still halted all other conversation.
"It should teleport a human being," said Dr. Kleiner, "but it has not yet been officially tested in that regard."
"How long will it take to calibrate? Does it work on the same model as my old prototype?"
"The exact same model. Your equations are quite flexible. As such it will take no more than fifteen minutes to prepare it…Eli and I were planning to do more tests with it today, so it is all ready to go; but Gordon -"
"The entanglement will not superstretch proteins?"
"We can't know for absolute certain until we test it on a human, but theoretically yes -"
"Then test it on me."
Kleiner's look became severe. "I will not do that!"
"Doc," Barney offered, "we do not have much time. This is our only shot."
"There is always another shot -!" Kleiner retorted.
"Like what?" Barney barked back.
"He can take the railroad!"
"That's a three day trip on foot," Alyx reasoned, "through a city and countryside he doesn't know, filled with drones looking specifically for him."
"And if they find me here in the next hour," Gordon repeated evenly, "we will all die -"
"No!" Kleiner shouted, slamming his fist on a table so hard it shook. His expression was one of utmost exasperation. "I will not repeat the same mistake that destroyed Black Mesa! I will not charge in like some impulsive, uneducated, unscientific ape! No matter how much I trust or respect the one persuading me…I will not be persuaded from what is prudent! I will not be persuaded to risk you again, Gordon!"
Kleiner was red in the face, his glasses sliding down his nose on a rivulet of sweat. He was shaking where he stood: an old, old man. The room was silent, especially Gordon, who was disturbed to see his friend so old and frail and broken.
Alyx spoke up, "Kleiner…"
"No!" Dr. Kleiner shouted again. "It was my fault…I destroyed you, Gordon…I agreed to run the experiment, let you go into the test chamber that day…I agreed to it, I didn't fight back…I was excited…I was so excited to see you succeed, Gordon…And now look at you! Now look at you…"
Gordon felt nauseous. He didn't know what to do and he hated it.
But Kleiner pushed his glasses back up his nose and wiped his face on his lab coat sleeve.
"I'm sorry, Gordon," he said. "I'm so sorry. I know we have to teleport you. I know…but I'm so sorry…Oh dear: Gordon, you know I'm not a hugging person -"
It was too late; the tall, bearded M.I.T. graduate firmly embraced his aged friend and senior for the second time. It was the only way to overcome his own consternation and nausea: to cut roughly through all the webs of worry, fresh and old.
"There wasn't a single moment," Gordon declared honestly, "that I ever even thought to blame you, Kleiner."
The old scientist squeezed him back as best he could. "I presume you aren't just saying that," he said, sniffing back tears.
"You know I don't lie," Gordon replied.
"Hmph. I recall your resume to Black Mesa was rather unappealing as a result. It was my recommendation that smoothed it over."
Gordon let Kleiner hear him laugh. It was the least he could do for a friend.
"Uh-huh, yeah…" Barney said from elsewhere in the room. "So, unless you two are gonna kiss, we might as well get him out of his civvies."
"What?" Kleiner said, breaking the embrace. "Oh dear, you're right. I almost forgot…well, Barney, while I calibrate the teleport, I will give you the honor."
Barney nodded, and on a panel behind him, he punched in a code. A garage door opened up beside him, revealing a small closet space, featuring a boiler, a complex of pipes, and a tall, glass tube preserving a grey and orange hazard suit.
"You're kidding me," Gordon said.
"I am not," Barney said, his usual humor returning. "Any more than I'm kidding about that beer I owe ya. We heard all about how well the H.E.V. suit served you in Black Mesa, so we went ahead and tried making another one. It's not finished though…there's no helmet, but everything below that is as good as done. It's taken near fifteen years to get it this far, on and off, from what we could scavenge. We figured if we're teleporting you, you might as well take it along so it can get finished at Eli's."
He proceeded into the closet, looking around for the light switch.
"Ah! Here we gooawaaahhh!"
Fleshy spider. Size of a trash can lid. Clamps on your head and makes you a monster -
It was perched on top of the suit's glass case, and when the light turned on, it leapt onto Barney's face, emitting a hoarse, frog-like screech. Gordon had seen it time and time again at Black Mesa. It had four crab legs, and six moist, fleshy fingers that served it like fangs. It was a giant, eyeless frog-tick that leapt from the shadows, burying its claws into the human brain. And now one was trying to clamp onto Barney.
Its front legs pedaled for a grip on his skull. "Get it off me!"
Gordon's heart beat was accelerating faster than a roller coaster: without even looking he seized a book from off the nearby counter and rushed forward to slam it across the crab. Just as Gordon swung, Barney managed to throw it onto the ground, and the book slapped Barney's nose so hard that a few flecks of blood spattered the glass case.
"Crap, Gordon!"
Gordon wasn't listening; he was already drawing the pistol from Barney's holster and shoving him back into some cardboard boxes; Barney was too disoriented to fight back. Gordon now had the pistol out, aimed, finger on the trigger as the little frog-tick scrambled away…
"Lamar! There you are!" Kleiner exclaimed at it.
Gordon didn't shoot. He realized that he was the only person in a state of panic.
"Gordon!" Alyx shouted. "Gordon, Gordon…drop the gun…its okay…"
As Gordon hesitated, the little beast pounced four and a half feet into the air, landing like a grasshopper on the top of a pair of metal lockers. Kleiner, a broad smile on his face, approached it.
"I dought you god rid of dat pest!" Barney shouted as he tried to plug up his bleeding nose.
"Certainly not!" Kleiner replied with fierce indignity. "Never fear, Gordon. She's debeaked and completely harmless. The worst she might do is attempt to…em…couple with your head. Fruitlessly," he quickly added.
The creature was bobbing on its hind legs like a panting dog, its underbelly exposed, revealing a mouth of sorts not unlike a suckerfish. It turned in Barney's direction and gave a little fleshy croak, brandishing its front legs threateningly.
"Get dat ding away fromb me!" Barney barked through his bleeding nose.
Kleiner sighed, but there was a slight tinge of mischievousness in it. "Here my pet: up, up!" he said, patting his head. Gordon reflexively shivered, his hand still on the trigger, and it was only Alyx firmly gripping his arm that reminded him to restrain himself. Times have changed since Black Mesa. Sixteen years of living with these creatures…I shouldn't be surprised, no, I shouldn't be surprised. But I wish I'd gotten more sleep.
Kleiner stood awkwardly for a moment, his bald spot on open display, while the alien creature contemplated its next course of action.
It suddenly leapt, but not onto Kleiner's head: it grabbed hold of a wood storage shelf and began clamoring over the stacks of boxes; it knocked over an old computer monitor that shattered when it hit the floor - "No! Not up there!" Kleiner shouted anxiously to the beast. "No! No! Careful Lamar, those are quite fragile -!" - Lamar leapt into an old, open ventilation duct hanging from the rafters, snaking across the room. They could hear its little body scratch-scratching its way along, until it came to a rest somewhere in the middle.
"Oh fie!" Kleiner snapped. "It'll be another week before I can coax her out of there…"
"Yeah, longer if we're lucky," Barney grumbled. "And I'm fine, by the way."
"Sorry," Gordon said simply, handing back the pistol.
Alyx started laughing. "Barney, you're not an animal person?"
"Bleah," he replied, with exaggerated shivers.
Alyx added in a lower tone to Gordon: "He's had much worse; don't worry about it. But are you alright?"
Gordon nodded, but it was a lie. I haven't been alright for the past few days, Alyx. Nothing new.
"Well Gordon," began Dr. Kleiner again. "my apologies for that. We haven't a moment to lose. Go ahead, slip into your suit now. I'll begin calibrating the teleport."
The suit took a good ten minutes to put on. Alone in the room, Gordon stripped down to his underwear, and ran through the memorized motions of layering the whole thing on. He felt like he was about to go into the barrel chamber, like it was another day at the office…he could smell the coffee and hear the equipment humming…
First, a layer of specialized interior padding, which helped reduce sweat and bolstered against breaking bones. Then, a layer of reinforced Kevlar, with special padding against radiation. Then the inner layer of reinforced plastic armor, and then the outer metallic shells. Overall, the suit gave him an extra inch of skin.
A knight in tarnished armor, he thought. Orange and grey armor, with the lambda symbol printed on the chest. The Lambda Complex had developed the suit from experimental military armor, and they loved to put their signature on everything.
So the G-man did let me keep the suit, Freeman thought. In an indirect way, at least.
Gordon was feeling a little nauseous, but he fought it back. He held his gloved hands out before him, flexing them beneath the material, and then finally balling them into tight fists.
The gunslinger was suited up again. It was time.
Gordon Freeman stepped back out into the lab, the suit dully shining in the lights. Everyone turned from what they were doing to look at him.
"Well, Gordon," offered Kleiner, "I see the H.E.V. suit fits you like a glove! Or…at least the glove parts do…?"
"It feels perfectly fine; thank you, doctor."
Kleiner nodded. "I've made a few modifications to the design, but…er…I will just acquaint you with the essentials here…" He rather shakily fumbled for a nearby clipboard with a stack of papers secured to it. "My little guidebook I cooked up," he said with a nervous pride. "Now let's see…er…'The Mark Five Hazardous Environment Suit has been redesigned for comfort and utility -"
An alarm sounded, faintly but audibly, from outside: deep, groaning, like the gravely clang of an old Church bell, drawn out as one long tone.
"Doc, we don't have time for this," Barney said sharply.
"Oh dear…"
"Just get Gordon juiced up and let's get going. We've got less than a half hour."
"Yes, yes…good idea," Kleiner said, setting the clipboard hastily down and stepping closer to Gordon. "There is a charger on the wall, there. I have modified your suit to draw power from Combine energy outlets, which are plentiful wherever they patrol. If you recall, the power is channeled through the outmost layer of the suit and provides a form of defensive…well, anyway, you know how it works…"
He showed Gordon a slightly rusted device bolted to the cinderblock wall. It was a flat, somewhat artistic complex of dark metal, totaling about the size of a human head and neck. It formed a rough arch, with a circular indentation in the center and a small tube of neon orange attached just below that. A small button was available above the tube. A small connector was dangling from the bottom by a family of thin, black wires.
"Just plug the connector into the chest piece on your suit, and begin pumping the button - that will restore the suit's power. There should be enough juice left in this old one we stole to last it a little while. Just in case, of course."
Gordon acted accordingly. The Combine charger gave off a low droning hum as the little syringe pushed the orange fluid up into the stomach of the mechanism. Then Gordon felt the familiar, ethereal tension of static electricity and magnetism, as the suit absorbed and maintained the energy. After a minute the sensation faded.
Meanwhile, Dr. Kleiner, via another computer panel, unlocked a large sliding door half disguised as a wall; it drew back to reveal - "The teleportation platform, designed specifically for human beings," Kleiner explained, as he ascended a ladder onto a control panel on one side of the room. Opposite to him was the platform: it looked like an old, open grate elevator, installed between two vertical tracks of metal beams. But it was a circular elevator instead of rectangle, and it featuring four metallic half hoops attached to a rod on the back of the platform: it resembled a spine with open ribs. The rest of the room was dedicated to computers and large, makeshift blocks of technology and power cables, all linking back to the teleport platform.
Alyx headed straight past Gordon to an array of devices and monitors set in another wood cabinet near the teleport platform. She began typing on the keys and tuning certain dials. The largest screen sprang to life, featuring a snowstorm of static like a radio without a channel.
"Let's get this show on the road," she said.
"Alright, Gordon," Kleiner said, "Step onto the teleport platform, please."
Gordon looked over at the open metal ribs.
"Em…Gordon? Step onto the platform, would you? Then we can get started -"
He felt nauseous.
"If you would be so good as to climb up and start the rotors, Gordon; then we can bring the anti-mass spectrometer to eighty percent…"
"Gordon -?"
"All right, Gordon: your suit should keep you comfortable through all this…"
"Gordon, we cannot predict how long the system can operate at this level or how long the readings will take. Please, work as quickly as you can."
"Overhead capacitors to one zero five percent."
"Uh…it's probably not a problem…probably…but I'm showing a small discrepancy in...well, no: it's well within acceptable bounds again."
"Sustaining sequence."
"I've just been informed that the sample is ready, Gordon…"
Gordon keeled over: a leftover swash of vomit erupted in his mouth, slopping onto the floor.
"Gordon!"
His hands were shaking and he couldn't focus.
"Gordon!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said to everyone - Barney and Alyx were both at his side - "Just…just a…I'm fine. I'll be fine."
"You're scared out of your mind, aren't you?" Alyx said forthrightly.
Freeman took a deep breath. "Sure."
"Fair enough. I'm scared too." She looked around the room, eyes sharp, seeing everything.
"Alyx," Barney asked, "What are you thinkin'?"
"You're worried something will go wrong," Alyx suggested to Gordon. "Just like at Black Mesa."
Gordon nodded. Close enough.
He started curling over to help ease his stomach. He was sweating profusely, yet felt waves of heat and cold fluctuating within his arms and legs and head. The barrel chamber…he couldn't get the imagery out of his head. It was all too similar: he was wearing the suit, and it was associated with his research, and Kleiner was there and…
Alyx looked up at Kleiner. "How long is the cool-off, doc?"
"Nearly zero, once it's up and calibrated and so forth. There is no reason we couldn't teleport a hundred people before it started running too hot. Why do you ask?"
"Because I'm going to get teleported before Gordon."
Kleiner and Barney gaped at her. "I beg your pardon…?" Kleiner asked, compulsively adjusting his glasses.
"Seeing someone else go through first will help him calm down."
"What?" Gordon exclaimed rather weakly.
"And besides," she continued, "I need to lay low from cities for a while. I've been getting a bit too much attention. And I want to see my Dad in person again. It's been a while -"
"We have twenty minutes!" Barney shouted. "We don't have time! Just load him in and do it!" Gordon nodded in agreement, trying to stand up, but a little more throw-up came out and he fell to his knees.
He remembered…over the barrel chamber's intercom: "Oh dear!"
"Gordon, get away from the -"
"Shutting down…no, attempted shutdown…It's not…it's not…it's not shutting down!"
Lightning arced into the control room. Shattered glass, shattered bodies…
"He can't even stand up straight!" Alyx shouted back. "What happens if he keels over right as he's teleporting? He'll hit the edge of the field with his head; it'll rip it clean off!"
"Alyx is right," Kleiner agreed, albeit reluctantly. "We need a way to calm him down…but Alyx…I don't think…well…"
Suddenly, the large screen in the cabinet found its channel. The snowstorm rapidly reordered itself into a coherent scene: a familiar face to Gordon, Eli Vance.
"Isaac, are you there?" Eli called out through the scratchy audio. He was a grandfatherly African American man with short spongy hair turned silver and gray. He had a Van Dyke similar to Gordon, a prominent but flattish nose, and eyes that seemed perpetually squinted with profound, good-natured curiosity. He wore a button down shirt under a blue sweater vest, and a green cargo vest-jacket over that.
"Yes, yes, Eli…a bit of a hold up on this end…terribly sorry for this short notice and confusion…well, just see for yourself! Look who found his way into our lab yesterday!"
Eli leaned forwards into the screen, and then split into a brilliant smile. "Uh heh - that's not who I think it is, is it?"
"Indeed it is, and it is our intention to send him packing straight to you through the teleport as part of our test session today…erm…though we may have a bit of a problem…"
"Long time, no see, Dr. Freeman!" Eli was already saying. "Looks like you're already back to firsthand experimentation…!" Eli's voice quickly grew concerned. "What's happened? Gordon, are you alright?"
No, not really at all, Gordon thought.
"Are you ready for us, Dad?" Alyx called back.
"We're all set on this end," Eli replied. "But what about Gordon? Are you sure he ought to be doing this? He doesn't look well…?"
"Don't worry, he's going after me," Alyx replied, as she stepped onto the circular platform. "Let's do this."
"What is going on over there?" Eli said urgently. "Isaac? Barney? What's the big idea?"
"Eli, I'm so terribly sorry, but there is no time to explain…"
"Are we really doin' this?" Barney asked.
"Yes, we're really doing this, Barney," Alyx replied.
The platform where Alyx stood began to rise.
"Let's see," Kleiner muttered anxiously. "The massless field flux should self-limit and I have clamped the manifold parameters to include CY Hilbert and GC orbitfold inclusive. Conditions could hardly be more ideal."
"That's what you said the last time," Barney noted.
"Uh…" Alyx hesitated, "Yeah, about that cat?"
Kleiner actively ignored them. "Initializing primary process in three…"
"I can't look," Barney said.
"…two…"
Gordon couldn't take his eyes away.
"…one…"
The half-hoops began spinning around Alyx as if on invisible tracks: slowly, then quickly, then so fast that they looked like full hoops. I can see why I wouldn't want to bend over in there, Gordon thought. Thena laser turned on from across the room, shining into a hole in a special machine hanging from the ceiling above the teleport. And around Alyx's body: sparkling lights of blue and white began to accumulate in misty globules…
Alyx's eyes widened in fear as she watched the light gathering onto her skin. She offered a joyless laugh to comfort herself...but then…
"Uh...uh…! No…! Ohhhhhhhhnooooooo-!"
Flash of light. Flash of light. Flash of light - the sound of crashing waves - and she was gone.
The lights dissipated. The half-hoops slowed down.
Gordon was frozen. He felt his pulse nearly bursting in his temples.
"Well…?" Kleiner called out with a quivering voice. "Did it work…?"
Eli gave a half smile. "Huh! See for yourself!"
"Hey doc!" said Alyx through the television screen. She leaned down in front of it, deliberately cheerful, her mouth made wide by her broad smile.
"Thank goodness," Kleiner was saying, clutching at his heart. "My relief is almost palpable…"
"Fantastic work, Izzy," Eli said.
"Oh, don't thank me. It was Gordon's designs. I swear, I didn't make a single adjustment to his original theories."
"Huh," Barney said, starting to grin at Gordon, trying to be a bit more comforting. "I can see your M.I.T. education really pays for itself."
It worked, Gordon thought. It worked for Xen but…this is what I had intended…teleportation on Earth…my idea worked…
"We have fifteen minutes," Barney warned, turning serious again. "Are you gonna throw up on us again, Gordon?"
No, Gordon thought. I don't think I will. He felt something relieving all the tension in his chest and shoulders and head. What was it? It was gradual, but fast enough to notice. Everything was calming down. It worked…it worked…Just that thought…maybe…maybe he could trust his old work. Maybe it wasn't all cursed by the universe to fail. Maybe he could calm down.
He rose to his feet, wiping a bit of leftover vomit from his mouth and chin.
"I'll take that as a 'yes'," Barney said.
Gordon nodded. "Sorry about the mess," he said. Barney started laughing.
The platform had already lowered again; Gordon stepped onto it. Barney grinned at him, and then, with the same twinkle in his eye that he had last evening: "Good luck out there, Gordon."
Gordon nodded, and gave him a thumbs-up.
"Indeed," Kleiner said, "best of luck in your future endeavors, Dr. Freeman. Bon voyage! Eh…initializing in…three…two…one-"
BANG.
"What the hell?"
"What is it?"
…fizzle…fizzle…BANG.
"It's your pet the freakin' head humper!"
"Lamar? How did you get in -? Those ventilation shafts aren't connected -!"
"It's in one of the machines!"
BANG.
"Izzy? What's going on?"
"There's a severe malfunction -"
"Look out!"
BANG.
Flash of light. Flash of light.
Gordon was on a beach. He could not blink.
Globules of light enfolded him. The sun was hot.
Flash of light.
He was back in the lab.
"There he is!"
"Oh dear Lord -! Lamar -?"
"Forget about that thing!"
Flash of light.
He was in another lab. Eli was there. Alyx was there. A hunchbacked alien was looming in the background…there was a tallish woman in a sweater…
"He's coming through, Dad! It's okay! It's okay…!"
"What is going on Judith?"
"I'm not sure - there's some kind of interference -"
"Gordon, stay put…we will get you out of there…!"
"Something is drawing him away -!"
Flash of light.
He was in a spacious office. There were long thin windows looking out over a cityscape from as high as an airplane. Then there were advanced monitors, alien technology, black and deep blue metals, an industrial sarcophagi in the corner…
A man was sitting at the large desk, wearing a black sweater and a grey suit.
It was Wallace Breen.
He started from his desk, clearly surprised.
"What the -! What is the meaning of this -? Who are you? How did you get in here?"
Flash of light.
He was back in Kleiner's lab.
"I see him! He's back!"
"What are you doing, Barney?"
"I'm going to get him out of there!"
"You can't just wade into the field! It will peel you apart!"
"We just lost Gordon again - what is going on?"
"I wish I knew…I'm encountering unexpected interference -"
"Don't worry, we'll -"
Flash of light.
Eli's lab.
"There he is!"
"No! No, no, we're losing him ag-"
Flash of light.
Breen's office: he was speaking to something…a giant grub on a computer screen…
"The man I saw!" Breen exclaimed. "I'm all but certain it was…"
He turned around and saw Gordon, floating above the ground, body devoured by writhing lights -
"…Gordon Freeman…" Breen said solemnly.
Flash of light.
Gordon was underwater.
Something was swimming towards him.
It's jaw unhinged to swallow him whole but -
- Flash of light -
He was outside, in an empty industrial enclosure. Old towers and power cables and generators surrounded him. The ground was cement, but weeds and ivy were pouring up from the cracks.
The globules were dissipating from his skin. And with them flew all of his strength: Gordon Freeman collapsed in a quivering heap on the ground. He could not move, and could hardly breathe.
He lay there for a few minutes. He could still hear the deep groaning siren from further into the city.
"Gordon!"
Gordon moved his eyes. He could feel his strength returning, bit by bit. He willed it to go faster, until he was nearly able to push himself up from the ground.
"Gordon!" It was Barney Calhoun. Gordon saw him standing on a low rooftop to his left. "There you are! You're not dead! How are you not dead?"
Gordon shrugged.
Barney looked out towards the source of the alarm. "I've never seen the citadel on full alert like that! Man…this ain't good…"
"How soon until the drones get here?" Gordon asked.
Barney ruffled his own hair in exasperation. "Five minutes -?"
"I have to get to Black Mesa East another way, then."
Barney stared at him. "…yeah, I guess so…" he admitted. He bit was biting his lip until it nearly bled. "Alright, alright: take the old canals. You head out of this enclosure, down the road a ways until you hit an old train yard. Go straight through the gate to car 76: you'll see a lambda symbol spray-painted on it. Near there should be a doorway leading into the first part of the canals. Some people run one of the safe stations down there. They can help you. And pray you don't run near to drones…I don't know if all of them have you as a priority target, though…they shouldn't know that you're Gordon Freeman yet so maybe it'll cool down in a bit…But I don't know…Listen, I'd come with you but Kleiner's been injured. Some shrapnel got in his side…I shouldn't have left him…"
Gordon was on his feet again.
"Get back to Kleiner. Tell Eli I'm coming to his lab on foot."
Barney nodded. "I will let every station on the railroad know you're coming. They'll give you all the help they can." He was about to turn away, but suddenly: "Oh, and, uh, before I forget -" he pulled something up from the ground. "I think you dropped this back at Black Mesa."
He dropped the object over the side of the small building. It clanged against the cement ground with an ugly ring.
It was a crowbar.
As Gordon picked it up, Barney asked, "How are you going to be okay doing this? You were throwing up a minute ago."
Gordon looked up at his friend. He made a grim smile.
"Someone's watching out for me," he said.
Gordon knew it was a G-man's fault: somehow, someway, he let Lamar into the teleportation lab. Somehow he manipulated the teleporter just so. Somehow, someway…Gordon had suspected something would happen, from the moment he saw the G-man on the monitor. His malicious smile seemed to say, Don't get too attached, Dr. Freeman. You're on call.
He was jogging through an urban industrial labyrinth: through chain-link fences and ivy-grown concrete walls, all under the ugly, looming clouds, inflamed with the yellow and pink of the early morning sunshine. The area was deserted, likely because it was not residential.
He rounded a corner, and there before him was the citadel again, still in the distance, but so large it could not help but oppress the entire cityscape. The clouds circled and blanketed its higher walls, so that its peak disappeared in mist. The alarm was emitting from its direction, and Gordon could just barely discern thousands of tiny black dots flowing out of its sides like gnats.
Drones, Gordon thought.
Yet he wasn't scared. Not even frightened, at least not yet. Because he was alone now; his friends were safe and he only had himself to worry about. And now he had his suit; without the helmet, of course, but he could manage. He always managed, with or without the G-man.
Well, then: bring it on, Dr. Breen.
He could feel a second wind rushing up through him. Adrenaline pumping, tenacity and determination…
Bring it on, Combine.
He was breaking into a full-on sprint.
Because I'm coming for you, and I'm gonna raze your citadel to the ground.