The blazing red flare shooting up into the sky served as a wonderful beacon for Shephard, me, and Sofia, but unfortunately, it revealed our positions to the Combine.
However, thanks to the blackout across the entirety of the surface level of the complex, Overwatch's presence in Aldana also appeared to be disabled, revealing that it had been running on the local grid. This rendered the remaining soldiers on the surface without immediate directives. It was quite a change of pace to pass by a wayward squad in the street, desperately scrambling to reengage with Overwatch, which was apparently so taxing that they couldn't notice us. Their crippling dependency on their benefactors was both amusing and tragic; they were utterly helpless without them like a defective Cornerian traffic droid continuously bumping into a speedway barrier.
While their heartbreaking circumstances were pitiful to witness, Shephard and I exploited this blip in their functions and ran down the street back to the base of the command tower, which was fortunately just around the block from the industrial pools. Our reunion with our party was quite a dramatic few minutes with a whole lot happening at once. We arrived at the street corner at the base of the tower where we saw all of our friends, still alive, facing off against several Combine soldiers who, evidently, still managed to retain their primary orders to snuff out the 'contaminants'.
Shephard and I came to their rescue and dwindled their numbers to zero by our respective means. Not but moments later, after regrouping with our friends, a pair of bright headlights flashed their way onto the scene down the street, accompanied by loud frequent horn blasts. Now that the border barriers were deactivated, Sofia managed to speed her way through Aldana to the extraction point presented by Nuri's flare.
We all cleared the way as she spun around to a stop, screaming at us to get in quickly, and we were swift to oblige. The wounded Brittny, the lone survivor from Station Five apart from Hal, was forced to make room as we all poured inside the van. Graciously, the men allowed us women to have the floor, for I too was gravely injured and could hardly sit upright at this moment. I tried to make myself comfortable on the floor of the vehicle while Sofia was speeding for our lives on her way back out of the facility. A series of impactful jerks and thuds rumbling beneath the carriage would have been the only indicators of Sofia running over moving soldiers if my subconscious telepathy hadn't been active to confirm it.
I was not focused on the commotion outside like the others were and just tried to keep as still as I could, trying not to jerk my wounds, for I was sure they had become infected in no small part to taking a dip in that industrial pool. While I did my best to remain calm and soothe my wounds, menial as it was, I was interrupted by a sudden interest that Brittny had in me, making me glance in her direction to find her staring at me. Apart from the obligatory awe and wonder she was still feeling seeing a fox walk and talk like a person, Brittney was appropriately concerned about what transpired with me last we saw each other.
"What did you in?" she asked, sounding considerably better and less flustered than when we first recovered her.
"Granade," I simply said, suppressing a grunt. "Shrapnel's out, but not given any time to heal."
"Ouch," Brittney replied, looking at my midriff sympathetically. "I used up most of our spare kits. Sorry…"
"Don't bother. You needed them," I reassured, trying to steady myself as the van jostled around from the bumpy terrain. "The vortigaunts will be able to help me with their remedies."
"Yeah. They've got a nick for that if you can grab an appointment," Brittney agreed. It wasn't a profound exchange, but the small talk brought some more life back into me after such a monstrous night, which I knew was on the brink of conclusion when Aaron made a grand declaration only moments after.
"And we've made a home run!" Aaron cheered, seconds after apparently crossing over the bridge and back into the open country. I looked up to see Aaron near the front seat, same as Brittney, though everyone looked upside-down thanks to me lying on the floor. He looked back at the rest of us with a wide grin on his face, though all was rather dark in the van now that Sofia had switched off the headlights.
"The mission was a success, everyone! Wonderful, wonderful teamwork by all!"
A tired but triumphant cheer chorused back at him from the others, even rousing a little shout from me and Brittney. Hal, on the other hand, was a bit of a Doberman-Downerman. "Yes, yes, merry days aplenty," he said with a slow unenthused clap. "Now that this whole escapade appears done and over with, let's jump straight to the next order of business, like the Combine being easily able to track us back to Red Bay all because you couldn't let my scrawny ass go."
"Don't mention it," Shephard snidely said after removing his mask and helmet, wearing a face that conveyed the same disdain.
"Don't worry, old friend, regional Overwatch is burnt toast like the rest of Aldana," Aaron reassured with inspiring confidence. "The Combine can't do squat to follow us until the virus eventually runs its course, but we will be miles around the hills by the time that happens."
"You're all still idiots…" Hal crossed his arms and looked out the window, not looking or feeling convinced. While appearing ungrateful for all that we did for him, there were layers to his discontent. Hal had a terrible day overall and was currently having a hard time processing it. Aaron looked like he understood his friend more so than the others, who were all glaring at him silently. Even Brittney, whom Hal expressed affection for, looked at him with dismay for his apparent lack of appreciation.
Hal was sitting close to me on the side of the van, so I was able to reach up and hold his knee gently. He looked down at me with a little startled jerk, but I just looked at him in mutual silence. I don't quite remember what I did exactly, but what he saw in my eyes somehow resonated with him, making him press his lips like he had heard something comforting. Perhaps this was an early instance of my blooming empathetic extensions being shared like I could share thoughts.
The vortigaunts truly were miracle workers.
After arriving back at Red Bay well past midnight, I was driven to the Sanctum shortly after Hal and Brittney were dropped off. My wounds had worsened tremendously upon arrival, rendering me incredibly ill, so the vortigaunts prepared potent elixirs from their stock of resources for me. As much as I despaired over the thought of being treated with antlion-based remedies, I trusted my vortigaunt friends' expertise with them.
My treatment was relatively quick but eventful. For an efficient process, the vortigaunts chanted as they worked on me, strengthening the glowing paste they lathered gingerly across my torn-up abdomen as vortal energy swirled around us. I felt fortunate that I wasn't the ticklish type, for I probably would have made this difficult for them if I weren't in many forms of bodily agony.
Eventually, much sooner than I was expecting, a wonderous deluge of relief began permeating throughout my body as all of my muscles finally relaxed. Breathing became a pleasurable ease, and my stomach no longer felt like glass was embedded in them. My tail would often express how I currently felt in some instances, and right now it was gently tapping happily on the floor.
Without being stated to me outright, I received the notion that my infection had now been sterilised, and I was already on the speedy road to recovery. Even though I felt well enough to stand on my own, a couple of my nurses helped me back up to my feet anyway, where they proceeded to begin the process of delicately wrapping a roll of linen coverings around my midriff and lower back with the softly glowing gelatinous ointment freshly coated beneath it, which almost made it look like a little fusion reactor was baking in my innards.
During the entire process from admittance to discharge, Shephard had been sitting nearby on one of the makeshift seats, silently watching me get treated. He had become quite watchful of me after our escapade in the powerplant, and was keen to make sure he saw that I got better through to the end before he could even think about 'turning the towel in'. I found this so fetchingly sweet of him to do so.
"We recommend moderate activity throughout the proceeding day," one of my vortigaunt friends advised, one whom I named Breyer. "While the nectareous properties of your solutions cultivate rejuvenations in a quick amount of time, it is still a meticulous process. Minimal action, particularly variants in which you tenaciously find yourself, is not something you must engage in while your wounds heal."
"Oh, believe me, I'm taking the next couple of days off," I reassured, giving tentative hugs to my friends, careful about how I moved my sensitive torso. Shephard was sitting leaning over while he was sitting, immensely tired, but he smiled at the sight of me getting up.
"And…that's it? She's all better?" he asked them, stirring attention towards himself after being silent for so long. Jerry had been amongst the circle that had been chanting around me, and he approached Adrian with closed hands.
"If she can avoid trouble for the time being," he said while Shephard rose to a stand, dwarfing the hunched vortigaunt by a few feet. "However, in our understanding, that can be a tricky matter for her to secure. If she cannot quell her tenacity, we plead that you do it for her."
Whether I truly liked it or not, there was very little the vortigaunts knew about me now that I was dabbling in the Vortessence, and they witnessed countless instances where my stubbornness often compromised what was best for my wellbeing. The fact they were essentially appointing Shephard as my chaperone should have been demoralising to me on the surface, but I had grown an affection for this troubled marine lost in time, so I found the prospect more endearing than he did as he was modestly put on the spot.
"Well…okay. If you say so," he said with a humoured smirk, putting his hands behind his head.
Jerry squinted his red eyes inquisitively, along with his blind one. "You retain the same trepidation when we last met briefly," he noted.
Shephard lowered his arm, losing that already tiny smile. "I wouldn't call it being trepid. It's just different," he clarified. "I remember a lot of folk like you in Black Mesa―appearing out of thin air. They weren't a very approachable bunch."
"And we remember you, Adrian Shephard," Jerry replied, unfastening his hands. "We remember many more like you who also lacked cordiality. We were all forced into a conflict where there was never meant to be a victor. We have since made peace with your kind; likewise, they have too with us. We all now share a grander existence together as one against the heel of oppression."
Shephard slid his hands inside his dirty white and grey camouflage fatigues. "So…no hard feelings? About, you know…painting the walls with your peoples' blood?"
I was aghast by Shephard's insensitive account, but Jerry curled a charmed vortigaunt smile. "Only so long as you do not harbour resentment towards the vortigaunt," he said. "A desperate tyrant bewitched us, and your comrades were defending your world from it. The blame cannot be put on either of our parties."
Shephard smiled humbly, and the two of them joined hands in shook them gently, seemingly ending a longstanding rivalry that I didn't realise may have needed a form of closure―at least for the only one in the building who was actually present during the Black Mesa Incident. It was a touching moment I felt privileged to witness. I had confidence that Shephard would likely commune with our vortigaunt friends much more often if intuition led me true.
The residents of the Sanctum, I e the ones who were awake to treat me, began to trudge off back to their beds spaced throughout the old maintenance bay. Shephard and I were about to head back to our building shortly thereafter, but he found himself enraptured by the murals of luminescent paint flowing across the walls in an almost continuous linear image. I was feeling refreshed after my treatment, so I stayed to help satiate his curiosity by giving him a little tour of history. However, we made it a quiet one―we didn't want to wake up the sleeping residents (Ben being among them).
Mirroring my first perusal of the artwork, I explained the illustrations portraying the vortigaunts' history to Shephard as we walked along them. I had gained a much more thorough understanding of their history having joined them in the Vortessence over the several sessions I already had with them. Points of interest for Shephard were the Combine invading their home world, fleeing to the world between the worlds, their subsequent enslavement by the Nihilanth, and their deployment to Earth when the portals were opened.
While these accounts were immensely captivating by themselves, as well as these corresponding illustrations, there was one part of the mural he took a special interest in, that being the idolizing tribute to Gordon Freeman painted just after the image depicting the Nihlanth's demise.
"Gordon Freeman…" he muttered to himself, staring up at the imposing detailed image of the legendary figure, with his featureless face and eyes glowing like white dwarf stars.
"Do you know of him?" I wondered. I wasn't completely surprised by this notion. Gordon Freeman turned many heads throughout the ongoing incident, especially to the onsite military whom he caused quite a lot of mischief―the same military that Shephard was a part of.
"I think so," Shephard said, rubbing his stubbly chin thoughtfully. "A few of my buddies mentioned a guy named 'Freeman'. I never really found out what the deal was with him, but I got the impression that he might have been the reason we were all there. I can't know for certain; my osprey got shot down before I and my squad could get debriefed on the situation."
"He was a scientist," I explained, going off of what Doctor Mofuni told me about him. "He was indirectly involved with the chain of events that insinuated the Resonance Cascade. An unwitting catalyst."
Shephard cocked an analytical eyebrow at the softly glowing mural. "The vorts appear to venerate him quite a lot," he noted.
"He was said to have singlehandedly killed the Nihilanth; freeing the vortigaunts from slavery, effectively putting an end to the Resonance Cascade," I elaborated. "It sadly was not enough, though; portal storms ravaged the planet afterwards, allowing the Combine to peek through and seize Earth in the process while it was at its most vulnerable."
Shephard sat on this information contemplatively. It was an outrageous series of events to take at face value, but it was the truth. Shephard was coming to realise that the extraordinary was becoming the norm to him now. "Do they know what happened to him? I presume he's dead, right?"
My ears lowered slightly. "We don't know. He vanished after the Nihilanth died."
Shephard continued studying Gordon Freeman's mural for another moment before giving it a two-fingered salute. "Here's to you, doc. You did your best."
We moved on from this section of the mural right after that, where we would eventually find our way to the small section of wall the vortigaunts had begun dedicating to my history. It was substantially shorter than what had already been displayed on the wall during my first visit, for my life was not nearly long enough to outpace the vortigaunts' existence as a species. Shephard received a relatively simplistic illustrative recap of my parents sending me through the garden portal as an infant, my solitude on Fortuna in my youth, my involvement during the Saurian civil war, and my tenure at Star Fox, which was primarily showcased by my first Arwing amongst three others taking on a strikingly accurate portrayal of the Aparoid Queen.
Like before, Shephard took a special interest in one particular image, which was a large representation of the two identical symbols on my legs. I had actually never gotten around to showing him it on me, so this was the first time he had seen it. "What's that sign supposed to mean?" he wondered curiously.
Resigning to letting things speak for themselves, I began ruffling the lower portion of my suit, catching Shephard's attention as I pulled it down one of my legs to reveal my bare fur, where the same symbol adorning the wall could be seen on my outer thigh. Shephard's eyes expanded with great interest. "Huh…" he mused, leaning in a little closer. "Is that supposed to be a tattoo of some kind?"
I suppressed a little giggle. "It's fur, silly. You can't tattoo fur; it would otherwise be dyed," I said, flustering Shephard only somewhat. I then pulled my legging up, concealing the symbol from view. "But in my case, it isn't dyed. It grows naturally within my fur. I've had it for as long as I can remember."
"Same with the ones ringing around your arms?"
I looked at my bare arms and nodded, ruffling them with my hands a bit. "The very same."
Shephard crossed his arms again as he looked back at the mural. His attention honed in on the one featuring the simplistic depictions of my parents, complete with little tails and ears, casting a little four-year-old me into the portal in that garden before our world was consumed by blackness. "I think there's a lot about you I don't fully realise," Shephard said before turning to me again. "I think we oughtta start being more open with each other if I'm gonna try and keep you out of trouble like your nurses said.
I smiled with tickled fondness. "I would like to know more about how you and Sam first met as well."
Shephard looked to the ground, ambivalence filling his distant eyes, but the gaze was not long-lasting, and it grew into something more nostalgic. "Why don't we go back and get some shuteye ourselves, huh? I'm kinda beat I dunno about you."