Gordon turned to Barney, mouth slightly agape. "I thought you said she was…" But even as he spoke, he felt uncertain. When he'd fled the Borealis, his mental priorities had been finding Alyx, powering up his ailing suit, and getting the hell out of there. The wellbeing of the possibly traitorous, definitely irritating Dr Mossman hadn't even crossed his mind. But Barney was looking apologetic.
"I thought she was dead, Gordon. Thought they all were… What I saw inside that bunker…" He shook his head. "That's why I didn't let you go back there. You'd have tossed your cookies for sure."
"Really, Barney," Dr Kleiner clucked. "This is the Mark V Hazardous Environment Suit we're talking about. He doesn't have any cookies to toss." He tutted irritably and moved to stand beside Magnusson. Gordon turned away to hide his smile, aware of Alyx and Barney doing the same beside him. He knew that if their eyes met, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from bursting out laughing. To react in the face of danger with such a petty piece of scientific nitpicking was his mentor all over. Gordon thought he saw a similar spasm of amusement cross Magnusson's face, before he concealed it with a scowl and turned back towards Dr Kleiner with a posture that seemed almost protective.
Two rebels who had apparently been monitoring the situation from further down the compound, tough-looking individuals wielding AR-2s, now approached the group. "Doctors, step this way please." The man was one of the older rebels Gordon had seen, appearing to be in his 50s, although it was always hard to tell. He was respectful, but brusque and no-nonsense as he gestured back towards the door. "We don't believe they'll attack while their main targets are actually inside the building. Too much risk of accidentally taking you out. We're going to evacuate all key personnel through the rear hatches, then lure them into the compound using a skeleton force and blow the traps."
Doctor Magnusson thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yes," he declared, "that makes sense. I'll need a few men to help gather my most essential equipment."
"And to help find Lamarr!" Dr Kleiner declared as he began to follow his colleague into the base.
"Blast that creature! Do you want us to end up back in-" here he sad a word that sounded to Gordon like "zantolger", although as with so many things since he'd arrived in City 17, he had no idea what Magnusson was actually referring to,
Gordon realised that the rebel was waiting for him to follow his colleagues, and he felt his skin crawl as the implications struck him. More people were going to die as he moved on to whatever mission was considered important enough for the One Free Man and left them in his wake. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, the female rebel spoke.
"Actually Dr Freeman, there is something you could help us out with first." Her face was weary as she handed him one of the small black crossbows that simultaneously fascinated and repulsed him slightly with their metallic, alien smell. "I hear you're pretty good with one of these." Gordon took it, puzzled. It was true that since the resonance cascade he'd discovered he was surprisingly good with ranged weapons. He wouldn't have expected it with his poor eyesight, but maybe it was compensated for by his ability to calculate forces and motion. The woman was still watching him. As he hesitated, unsure what she was expecting, she put her hand on his arm. "I know it can be so hard, but... believe me, when you don't manage to reach them in time it actually feels worse." Her face darkened, but she pulled herself together. "I'd do it myself, but with that suit on, you'll have more time to get a better aim. Trust me, Dr Freeman, no one wants to end up a Stalker."
Suddenly Gordon realised what it was they were asking him to do. He dropped the crossbow as an involuntary shudder of horror passed through him. As soon as it left his fingers, however, he regretted it, and time seemed to move almost in slow motion as he saw the weapon tumble and strike the ground. There was a twang and a sizzle, and the glowing bolt went streaking across the compound, causing people to cry out in fear and outrage as they threw themselves out of the way. Some, presumably the ones who were worried that he was some kind of Combine sleeper agent, came up clutching their weapons. Gordon heard a fizzy, crackling sound from behind him that was oddly familiar, and turned to see a couple of Vortigaunts behind him, powering up.
People screamed, and Gordon knew exactly how they felt. He'd grown so used to thinking of the Vortigaunts as allies, largely incomprehensible but strangely endearing, that he'd almost forgotten the loathing they used to inspire in him. When they'd begun hissing, "Die, Gordon!" at him down the half-lit concrete corridors, he honestly hadn't known what was more frightening – the idea that he'd gone slightly mad and was imagining it, or the idea that he wasn't. He had to confess, he'd taken a special savage delight in killing the ones that had known his name. And in spite of the impression of humanity he'd left on them, they now fought alongside the Resistance, acclaimed him as the Freeman… They were even apparently keeping the Grey Man away from him, and he wanted to keep them on his side for that, even if they were doing it for some mysterious ends of their own; but he didn't want them killing for him, didn't want anyone fighting over him.
All the horrors Gordon had witnessed in City 17 had been made exponentially worse by the pressure of the fact that much of the Resistance appeared to view him as some sort of savior who would make it all better for them. If someone had told him previously that there was another, substantial group who thought the opposite he would have seen it as a relief, only now it appeared to be forming the basis for a nascent civil war. Gordon sighed. He knew he was prone to guilt at the best of times; so this was just the sort of thing he didn't need.
He stepped forward, putting himself in between the two groups. "Uh… stop!" he yelled. In his mind, it had been a lot more impressive. He didn't like to shout a lot, and his voice was hoarse and slightly… well, yelpy. He could picture Barney rolling his eyes, Alyx somewhat disappointed, like that time he'd crashed the car into the tree, again.
It certainly didn't seem to have impressed the Rebel commander. "Ok, people, let's just calm it all down." He sounded almost bored. "We're proceeding with the evacuation. Everything else can wait til we get to somewhere safer."
Alyx had been uncharacteristically quiet. Gordon could hear her, breathing heavily, and suddenly realised she was furious. "We're not evacuating. This is people's home, it's where… Look, we can hold them off! We held off more Striders before… Gordon can do it!"
"We had a reason to hold them off before – the rocket. And a lot of good men died to do so, although not, fortunately, Dr Freeman." Gordon couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic, and decided to optimistically assume that the man was just tired. Alyx folded her arms, her lips thin.
"And those men are buried here now. My dad is buried here. We're not leaving!" Her last sentence rose defiantly, and a few people across the compound took up the cheer.
"Ms Vance, with all due respect, now that your… the science team are no longer in charge."
A woman in a flak jacket stepped forward. Her accent was thick like Father Grigori's had been. "I'm from zantolger" – that word again – "and I say: whoever has the surname Vance is in charge!" People stepped up to stand beside her. Gordon noticed many denim jumpsuits among the Resistance uniforms in this group. "We are the ones who started this; we, and the Opener of the Way!" Another cheer rang out at this.
"Be that as it may." The man was clearly trying to retain a militarily professional façade, despite the sneer that was trying to make its way across his face. "There wasn't a whole lot of actual resistance going on until my unit arrived to reinforce you."
"You jerk," Alyx rounded on him angrily, "there wouldn't be a Resistance at all if it wasn't for Unc- Dr Kleiner!"
Gordon was quite used to not understanding everything that was going on around him, but the image of Dr Kleiner as a revolutionary hero was too much to take. "Alyx, what are they talking about? What's… zantolger?"
For a moment Alyx looked confused, then her face brightened. "I guess you never picked up on the name while you were there, huh? Must've been traveling around a lot back then. St. Olga was the name of that Combine research facility. They brought us there when I was a child; me, my dad, Dr Magnusson, Uncle Izzy… other scientists from all over the world. Maybe you didn't realize we were there?" She looked at him questioningly, and he nodded for her to continue. It was easier than explaining that he had no idea what she was talking about. "Everyone had to work on weapons and technology for the Combine. They used us kids as hostages, to force the adults to work, and we had to assemble the things they designed, in this big factory. Sometimes they gave us these tests, and the people that did the best got taken away and never came back. I used to always try and fail, so they wouldn't take me away from my dad, but it was so difficult to remember… They drugged us, in our food, the water… there was nothing we could do. Then that day you broke in, you destroyed the big cannon up at the church." She was smiling at the memory. Gordon was straining to remember so hard his head hurt. He could very faintly recall a splash, and the shock of the cold. Salt water burning his nose, like that time his dad had thrown him off the pier in an attempt to teach him to swim, on that family vacation they had taken to the little village on the shore with the big white church…
He shook his head, memories too confused, the image fading as Alyx coughed, seemingly a little embarrassed by the gratitude in her expression in the face of Gordon's evident incomprehension. She went on. "There was so much disruption, they didn't bring us our rations, and we started to remember things. Then Dr Kleiner built this machine that filtered the drugs out of the water for us. He didn't drink for three days while he worked on it… he nearly died. Then my dad attached it to the water pipe that was supplying the village below, and it all just sort of… went from there."
Gordon felt a surge of pride and affection for his mentor. He hoped that Dr Kleiner and the others had made it out of the base as planned. Because looking at Alyx, with her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing, he knew he wouldn't be following them. If he thought that there was even the slightest chance that she would agree, then he would be begging her to leave as well. But she always wanted to be at the heart of the fight. And the Borealis wasn't enough for her; she wanted to avenge her father, here at the site of his grave. One of the things Gordon loved about Alyx was the fact that she wasn't the kind of woman he, or anyone else, could tell what to do. Also, even when she was covered in mud and blood and hadn't washed for days, she still smelled amazing. So if she wasn't leaving, then he certainly wasn't. He was going to stay here, keep her safe, and buy everyone else enough time to escape.
"Gordon?" Looking up, he was met with a mildly exasperated expression from Barney. He knew his friend had become used to Gordon zoning out in the middle of conversations, before abruptly coming back to himself and blurting out some random words and Greek letters by way of explanation. Gordon wasn't about to tell him what was on his mind now though; he'd never hear the end of it. Instead, he moved his gaze over to Alyx, and allowed himself one deep look into her eyes, before turning back to Barney with a shrug and a nod.
Barney grinned. "My guys stay with me, and I'm staying with Gordon and Alyx," he said to the base commander. The man looked as if he would argue, but Barney placed a conciliatory hand on his shoulder. "Look, we've got 'em cut off from their homeworld." He glanced at Gordon as if to check that this was right, and Gordon nodded. Barney went on. "They can't bring through reinforcements, or any more giant synthetic… bug things. So at some point, we're gonna have to stop hiding from 'em and start trying to wipe 'em out." He shrugged. "Might as well be now."
Gordon couldn't help but smile. His friend had always had a way with words, the gift of the gab, and the ability to talk himself out of any kind of trouble. Or into trouble, the way they were heading now. He could see the commander nodding, a smile spreading across his face in spite of himself. The opportunity to finally begin to fight back against the occupiers was something he'd no doubt been waiting a long time for.
"Ok!" He called across to the assembled rebels. "Vehicle squad to escort the senior scientists plus any essential equipment. Everyone else…" He raised his voice. "You remember what the secondary fire does, right?" Widespread cheering broke out, people were waving their weapons, yelling and screaming in the direction of the Combine. Gordon wondered if this was what it had been like when battle first broke out on the streets of City 17, while he was in the slow teleport; the same exhilaration, the same suicidal defiance. Barney was grinning, his breathing quick, his eyes gleaming; while Alyx was all business as she loaded her gun. Gordon found himself temporarily captivated with the little line that always appeared between her eyebrows when she was concentrating.
The mood was broken and all three of them flinched instinctively as the mournful digitized wail of a Strider boomed out above them, drowning all other sound. Gordon reloaded his crossbow and then used the scope to watch the movements of the Combine as the treetops began to rustle and shake. The skin at the base of his spine crawled, and he felt his testicles rise up by at least a couple of inches as he saw the first flashes of blue between the trees. For a moment, evacuation really didn't seem like such a bad idea after all. His feet felt heavy, and rooted to the ground.
"Alyx?" he called softly, and she glanced back at him. "How old were you? When you were working in that factory, I mean?"
"Oh… well it's hard to remember, cause of the water… small enough that my hands fit inside the casings, I guess. Why?" As she spoke, she rubbed absently at her right wrist.
"Tell you later," he said through gritted teeth, Her words were exactly what he had needed to hear, and he used them as fuel for a kind of cold, burning determination as he broke into a run for the gate. It was a simple equation. The more Combine he could kill, and the longer he could hold their forces off; the greater a chance Alyx had to survive.
"Gordon!" Barney called, and threw him an AR-2. "If me and Jimbob here can get in close enough, then him and his Vort buddies can deep-fry those Shu'ulathoi bastard while they're still in their shells." He ran towards his group of Rebels and Vortigaunts, leaving Gordon wondering at what point that particular nickname had been bestowed. "Clear us a path!" Barney called back over his shoulder.
Gordon ran with Alyx, out into the forest. People were behind them, fanning out, spreading into defensive positions. Alyx turned to him. "Just you and me again, huh Gordon… next time, how about you take me on a proper date?" He grinned, and she winked at him. "So what's the plan?" She seemed somewhat taken aback by his lack of response. "How did you take care of the one on the Borealis?"
Gordon rubbed at the back of his neck. "I guess you could say that was kind of… inadvertent."
Alyx sighed. "Ok, well, let's just… improvise when we get there."
"Yeah," Gordon sighed back, "that sounds like us." It was a happy kind of sigh, though. He liked that word, "us".
Alyx abruptly dropped to one knee and began shooting, and Gordon joined her a moment later as Combine soldiers began to emerge along the paths. All around them were the sounds of gunfire, people calling advice and encouragement to one another as they tried to make out their targets through the trees. The unearthly shriek of the synths echoed across the clearing, making them all tense up. Gordon ran towards it, trying to get his HEV suit between it and the others. A Rebel was pinned against the tree, impaled on a Hunter's tusks, his face contorted with fear and pain. Gordon ran forward and raised his rifle, lining up the secondary fire. He had to hit it first time.
He fired, and the projectile stuck the creature dead centre, dispersing its unearthly energy across the Hunter's surface as it began to fall apart. Gordon ran forward to help the man, now freed, but he fell forwards as the tusks that had restrained him faded from view. Blood was gushing from his mouth, and from the twin wounds in his abdomen. "Sorry," Gordon whispered, as he took the man's rifle and used it to reload his own weapon. He felt sick again, a buzzing sound in his ears. Turning back to check on Alyx, he became aware of an upcry behind him, people fleeing. He heard the sudden "chow, chow, chow!" sound of a Strider's cannon, aiming in his direction. It struck the base of a tree, which fell sideways, cutting him off from the people behind him. "Alyx!" he called, and began looking for a way round. The buzzing sound became louder, it was changing to a sharp thud, directly overhead…
"FREEMAN!" Gordon turned, and he sw the helicopter, hovering off the ground in the clearing behind him, Jarrod in the cockpit gesturing furiously through the broken window. "Get to the chopper!" Gordon felt outraged as he ran towards the helicopter. "I can't believe you just said that," he complained as he reached the door.
"Yeah yeah, get in," Jarrod replied. "The cargo hold's piled up with Magnusson's, and you're the only one knows how to use 'em." Gordon pulled himself into the helicopter as it began to rise. There were indeed a large number of the spherical devices, with a fresh one seemingly just arriving in the dispenser that had been fitted to the craft before they left for the Borealis.
"Let's go bust some Striders!" the pilot called over the intercom. Gordon knelt in the open doorway, wedging himself into a stable position as he took the Grav gun in his right hand, his rifle in his left. Fucking let's, he thought to himself as he peered anxiously over the edge, trying to catch a glimpse of Alyx through the dust and smoke.
A/N: As Chekhov himself (might have) once said, "A Magnusson Device dispenser that appears on stage during the first act must be fired before the curtain falls…"
People who have played / are aware of the Lost Coast will realise that I have taken some non-canon liberties with it here, as I have moved it to take place several years before Half-Life 2, and changed what was just a headcrab shell launching site into an entire research facility. I have also referenced some of the other cut content (mainly children working in factories).
To me this produces a satisfying explanation of how the entire Black Mesa faculty seemingly ended up in Eastern Europe, as well as why so many people have heard of Gordon before the game even begins.
Thanks once again to KRSONMar for betaing!
28/4/11 - edited for minor grammar and changing Hitchcock to Chekhov - thanks for pointing that out ;)