Loyal to his commitment to helping refugees find their way, Aaron had left back for the estate a day after he brought me to Red Bay.

As much as it saddened me to see my dear friend depart and leave me here in this strange new place, I admired his commitment to the rebellion. He had reassured me that he would be back within a week or more after he finished restocking the estate with supplies―some that he took with himself on his departure, and some that he would certainly find in that abandoned village.

Ben had also vanished from the equation altogether for a little while too as he reconvened with his fellow vortigaunts, who had made a private sanctum for themselves on the other end of the hills to the west and promised to find me again soon. Having been cooped up in those restraints in the estate for as long as he was, I wished nothing more for him to seize the chance to mingle with his kind again. Still, having my friends by my side would have made my integration into Red Bay's residency so much easier for me.

I struggled to fit in with the human community during my first week. Tried as I did to prevent it, rumour did inevitably spread that I possessed telepathic traits―mainly as a result of Doctor Mofuni speaking too much during one of his mild episodes, particularly information that was meant to be confidential between us. Everyone in town avoided me as much as they could, and some even planned contingencies to be rid of me should I become a threat to them. I could not blame Mofuni for this, for he expressed tremendous regret to me when his mind cleared, and Sabrine Grace's stern vouches kept the populous from making a move on me.

I shouldn't have been surprised by this, but it was a struggle being the centre of so much scrutiny. Thoughts are often much more unfiltered than spoken words, and the kind of things some of the more superstitious humans had thought of me were unpleasant at best, and hurtful at worst. I had to be thankful for the humans in my commune, though; they had gotten to know me during the floor's nightly gatherings and quickly became my lovely acquaintances. They reassured me that if I smiled and helped out around town, I would fit in like I were always there.

I took their advice to heart and began helping out on various chores around town, whether it be sweeping the one large street or mandatory sentry duty along one of the outer walls. I also inadvertently became a sort of pseudo electrician by helping to detect faulty power conduits along various grids in town for our experienced electricians to examine, whether it be in buildings or suspended powerlines. My staff's new-learned ability to syphon electrical power from the Combine's confiscation field had in turn made me sensitive to such means.

And since food had become scarce at the time of my arrival, I made use of my fishing skills and made regular trips out into the bay on the town's only working troller. I wanted to show my new community that I used my rumoured telepathy as a force for good, so the fishermen and women got to see me in action as I would leap into the water and beckon everything within a half-mile radius to my bidding (I had learned long ago that my telepathy seemed to travel much more proficiently through water). I practically won over the fishermen and women right on the spot when I delivered them almost three netfuls of fish within minutes of my submersions―and even tossing them up a few snagged crustations for good measure. Everyone ate considerably better that night, and my new fishing friends made sure to attribute the meal to me, which helped with my confidence as well.

Wishing to continue my helpful reputation, I volunteered to assist Doctor Mofuni inspect some of the masking pillars that were positioned outside the vicinity of Red Bay.

I had been instructed to siphon and store some reserved power in my staff in case one of the pillars' batteries was abruptly depleted of their power during the maintenance check. This quick excursion was helpful to me, as it also served as a continuation of an ongoing dialogue that had been formed between myself and Doctor Mofuni. We had been ballparking, as Mofuni put it, potential ways of getting me back to the Lylat System, and all of them, unfortunately, involved getting a hand of Combine portal technology, which was unsurprisingly safeguarded closely and intensely by Earth's apathetic malefactors.

Nonetheless, our dialogue persisted as we arrived at the pillars with Robert Bushnell joining us. The good doctor had erected these pillars in the hills outside the town to mask it from the Combine's detection; they were stolen Combine marker nodes reverse-engineered by Mofuni himself, which would generate a false transmission to Overwatch that registered this general region as clear and of no interest. Such pillars of tremendous importance to the safety of the town were certainly entitled to be routinely cared for, and I was happy to come along to see how they worked.

"And that's the ironically beautiful part of it all, dearest Krystal," Doctor Mofuni said, kneeling by some overgrowth as he tended to an open panel on one of the transmitter spires with an array of tools. "The Combine have been able to conquer as much as they have and as quickly as they have because of how interconnected every part of their networks are. Their armies, their engineering, their infrastructures, their citadels, and everything that they have spawned and erected on this planet are linked on some level or another. Interlinked. Daisy-chained. Barrel o' monkey gripped. You get it."

Rob had been standing close by holding a toolbox in both hands, letting it dangle by his knees as he gazed off into the hills, displeased that his boss had him come here, though one thing, in particular, seemed to redeem it for the most part for him, though I was simply too invested in the doctor's conversation to indulge in it at the moment. "I believe I do," I nodded along, crouching alongside Doctor Mofuni, both to listen better and to watch him work on the panel. "If one major component of their occupational machine is compromised, the others become just as vulnerable."

"Correct," Mofuni complimented as if I were a star pupil of his. "Those of us in the scientific community who have been lucky enough to persist under the Combine's nose have studied their activity from a distance. It took us more than a decade, but we have amassed an abundance of data. It's a long and convoluted series of findings, but they all seem to point to one big, albeit extremely risky hypothesis: when a citadel's portal reactor is destroyed, all portal reactors across the world will become inert as well. No portals, no reinforcements from the overworld―effectively severing all connections with it completely, rendering Earth completely free from the Combine indefinitely. Well, save for the subsequential stranded units, anyway. We'll definitely have to deal with them, and they'll be as flared up as a horny peacock about what we did. But hey, that's a problem for another day."

Rob glanced away in embarrassment, but I couldn't help but feel tickled by Mofuni's attitude. His mental state was thankfully more manageable today thanks to a higher dosage of his precious serum, though it still had to be a minimal one due to rationing. He had spurts of unhinged vocabulary from time to time that day and wasn't aware of it. We had to pretend not to notice for his sake, though that was becoming a challenge for me. Even still, the subject matter kept the conversation serious.

"So, there is hope for this planet yet," I said with careful resolve while Doctor Mofuni closed the panel up on the spire.

"Indeed; that would be the general sensation that spurs the people up," he nodded as he rose to his feet. He gave the mended spire an accomplished pat with his hand before tossing the set of pliers he had into Rob's toolbox without regarding him. "Lots of work needs to be done for that to happen, as well a shit load of scrupulous planning, but it's a plan―and the only one so far that seems methodically possible."

We began to trail down the hill again to move onto the next spire a few kilometres away as Rob trudged behind us, carrying the heavy toolbox with some effort. "I've been told before I came here that there were a few others on Earth who had a profound knowledge of portal phenomena," I mentioned. "Have you been keeping in touch with them in some covert way? How many of these experts are left?"

"There had only been a true handful of them before Black Mesa's little snafu, and that number has fallen drastically since then over the last decade," Doctor Mofuni said, sliding his hands into his coat pockets. "But as for the few that are left, yes, we stay in close touch. We communicate via digital messaging mostly; we can't risk using the airways to chat given the possibility that they're being monitored; only rebel outposts typically use them in dire emergencies."

"Who are the few that are left?" I wondered.

"Mainly former Black Mesa associates; geniuses in their own right," Mofuni said, though a begrudging bitterness could be faintly heard in his voice. "The big ones are Issac Kleiner, Eli Vance, Judith Mossman, and Arne Magnusson. The four of them help make up the backbone of the rebellion―at least the most logical side of it, anyway. They're residing within or near Black Mesa East, an old hydro plant off the outskirts of City Seventeen, where much of our shared research is conducted. Being close to the governing body gives a richer opportunity to monitor their activity, see. However, Magnusson's coped up in an old missile base; it's from there that we will make any drastic move on City Seventeen's citadel should catastrophe ensue―or worse. I doubt that'll happen, though; he's too preoccupied on a rocket project of his own to draw attention to himself should conflict break out."

Having names attributed to the rebellion aided to make it more personal to me. While it was terrific to know that these individuals were still committing to the Combine's exile from Earth, my concern came from the others who were not named though stated to be missing in action. "What happened to the others that aren't present? Did the Combine snuff them out?"

"It's hard to say, dearest," Mofuni shrugged as we approached the next spire. "They've just stopped messaging, which either means they were killed or are in hiding somewhere. Gertie Fremont, Collete Green, Jerry Maas, Alex Vaunt, and Rosenberg to name a select few. These fine lads and lasses left our little geek chatrooms years ago, and the ripples of their absences affect our cause drastically. Can't say for certain if they've befallen to dreadful circumstances, but we tend to assume the worst these days."

Now arriving at the spire, Mofuni knelt and proceeded to open up its panel. "But heavens to Betsy, it's a good thing we still have Laszlo kicking around. Don't know what we'd do without him."

"How does he contribute?" I asked, somehow recognizing that this singular name carried an unusual importance that somehow even resonated in me.

"We'd be here all day if I tallied it all for your mange-ridden ears," he narked, in quite a nasty tone of voice as well. While I had learned to tolerate and accept his random symptomatic fits of bad temper, Rob nevertheless made an appalled sneer behind the doctor's back, who was now speaking insightfully again like he had never inverted. "He's done some incredible field work―though it's work that doesn't necessarily advance the cause, so to say. He's messaged us some time ago that he staging an infiltration of the high-security prison, Nova Prospekt, within the coming months. Laszlo likes to surprise us with his findings, so he's gonna keep us in arguably needless suspense while he―"

Doctor Mofuni was then suddenly forced backwards as a large electrical spark shot out from the panel, falling onto his back with one hand clutching another. Rob dropped the toolbox to aid him, but a particular sputtering sound from the spire withheld my rush to help. The low, persistent droning noise that the spires made then began to slow to a stop on this one, along with a row of blinking blue lights in the middle of its frame, which had also gone dark as the pillar spontaneously deactivated.

I was left a little surprised and unsure of what to do until Mofuni sprang to life and delivered a series of compelling instructions to me. "Z-z-zap! Zap the pole-pole! Pole?!" he yelled, convulsing sporadically, though maintained a steady finger pointing at the spire. His mind had been flooded with neuronal misfires, turning his thoughts into that white noise again, but the words, 'jolt', and 'quickly' were amongst the several words that managed to cross my mind from his, and I knew instantly what he meant.

I unclipped my staff from my belt and deployed it. I pointed the speared end at the panel and expelled a few hundred volts that I had been storing in it into the now-depleted spire. It took a whole second for the spire to flash to life as my staff's spearhead closed up.

The pleasing hum of the spire was restored as Doctor Mofuni staggered to his feet with Rob's assistance, holding his head as he endured the strain that electric shock put on him. "Okay… Inspection's done. Time to go back to the cave…"

Doctor Mofuni then began to stumble back towards the west-side gate, appearing to believe that he could make it back to his lab without any escort, which was concerning given how his hands wouldn't stop shaking. "Doc, don't go wandering off like that," Rob pleaded. "Just lie down for a minute, would you? I'll go get someone―"

"N-No! Robert! Let me walk home for once! Weakling!" Doctor Mofuni shouted, which was rather startling given its ferocity. Had Rob possessed the power of telepathy like me, he would have sensed that Mofuni had truly been referring to himself, though his cognitive state was so shocked and strained it did not come out sounding like it. Rob seemed to take it a little personally as he watched Doctor Mofuni stumble towards the gate decently enough, though the difficulty in keeping his balance was evident.

Rob sighed as he rubbed his forehead, the stress of the episode beginning to weigh him down. "Sorry you gotta put up with him when he's like that," he said, which surprised me a little, as I was not affected by this the way he was. "I'm gonna go follow him. Don't want him to get hurt."

I gently closed my hand around his forearm before he could walk away, which made him freeze on the spot. "We can keep an eye on him, but we don't have to follow," I recommended. "Besides, perhaps all he needs to do is to walk this one off. We'll intervene when his mouth begins to foam."

Rob continued to hold my gaze for another moment before he seemed to relent himself. "Sure. If you say so. You're the mind-reader after all."

I smiled as I let his arm go. "I am, and Mofuni is trying to give you some space believe it or not. He knows you put up with a lot."

Rob looked over at slightly stumbling, though determined Doctor Mofuni approaching the confines of the town. He shrugged with a bit of understanding given his relaxing posture. "Wish he was stable enough to at least take the toolbox with him. Getting kind of tired of lugging it around."

"Oh. Would you like me to help you carry it?"

"Nope. I got it. I always got it," Rob quickly insisted, hoisting the thing up in his arms and jingling the assortment of tools stashed inside. I had never been skilful at suppressing laughter, so Rob was threatening my efforts to project that I wasn't aware of his endearing antics that only seemed to occur when he was around me.

We kept a close eye on Doctor Mofuni and stayed a lengthy distance behind him as we monitored his lone journey back to his garage, which wasn't far from where we had parted anyway. Once he descended beneath the floor, Rob deposited the toolbox on one of the shelves in the garage before we both did a little stroll together around town.

It was still late in the morning, not quite noon, so business was rather quiet at this hour. While many people who were out and about tended to stay clear of me, their intentions seemed to indicate a yielding of passage rather than of general distrust and fear. It looked like my talent for fishing was doing its wonders in changing the hearts of these inherently skittish and disillusioned people.

Rob appeared to take notice of this also. "Well, they're not really bolting for their doors anymore. I guess that's an improvement," he noted with his hands in his vest pockets.

"Quite so," I agreed. "I suppose all it takes is an honest day's work to win over even the most superstitious of neighbours."

"A homemade pie would help too, but we settle for dump cakes now."

Hearing this made me snort a little. "What's that?"

"Oh, they're kinda good if done right," Rob elaborated, an eager smile etching on his lips. "So, you know what cake mix is, yeah? You basically just dump it in a pan and put eggs and butter on top of that―then presto, you got yourself a lazy excuse for a dessert."

"Interesting. I think that sounds divine in its own right," I offered, but Rob didn't seem persuaded.

"Eh―they're the best you can scrounge up if you got the stuff you need," Rob said. "It's just a shame that things like fresh butter and eggs are all but gone from the world, retroactively making things like dump cakes a luxury item. Canned margarine and pigeon eggs are the way to go."

"Well, I know a thing or two about living off what you can find."