Sasha walked briskly through the gleaming halls of the Galactic Rangers' headquarters, her mind churning over Barney Calhoun's words.

"He told me he had a hand in what happened there—some kind of experiment gone wrong, I guess."

The weight of those words lingered, fueling her curiosity. If Rosenberg truly had insight into the events that brought these strangers to her planet, it could be the key to understanding their situation—and preventing further dimensional chaos.

Still, she couldn't help but hope that Dr. Rosenberg would prove as calm and cooperative as Barney. She'd dealt with enough chaos for one day.

Reaching the med-bay, Sasha keyed the door open, the panel sliding aside with a soft hiss.

Inside, she paused, surprised by the scene before her. Dr. Rosenberg, an older man with a slightly hunched posture and a kind face framed by glasses, sat on the edge of his bed. He appeared entirely at ease, gesturing animatedly as he spoke with Sheila.

Sheila was listening intently, her blue horns twitching with interest. The Fungoid nurse giggled at something Rosenberg said, her cheeks flushing a faint shade of purple.

"Ah, but you see," Rosenberg was saying, "it's not just the cultural similarities that fascinate me, but the differences. Your people's unique adaptation to environmental challenges—it's extraordinary."

"Oh, stop," Sheila giggled, swatting playfully at him, though she clearly enjoyed the attention.

Sasha cleared her throat, stepping into the room. Sheila immediately noticed her and stood up straight, bowing her head in respect. "Commander Phyronix," Sheila greeted formally.

Dr. Rosenberg turned toward Sasha, his expression bright and welcoming. "Ah, you must be Sasha Phyronix—the esteemed leader my lovely nurse has been telling me about."

Sheila's cheeks darkened further as she waved her hands dismissively. "Oh, stop, Dr. Rosenberg. You're embarrassing me."

Sasha composed herself, straightening her posture. "Dr. Rosenberg, I presume?"

"Yes, indeed," he said, adjusting his glasses. "And might I say, your hospitality has been exceptional under the circumstances. Your staff here—especially Sheila—has been delightful." He glanced at Sheila, who blushed and gave a small, bashful smile.

Sasha gave a curt nod, choosing not to dwell on the pleasantries. "I wanted to check on your condition, Doctor. Are you well enough to answer a few questions?"

"Quite well, thank you," Rosenberg replied. "The accommodations have been most satisfactory, and my health is stable. What is it you'd like to know?"

Sasha crossed her arms, her piercing gaze locking onto him. "I understand you were involved in the events that brought you and your companions here. Mr. Calhoun mentioned you may have played a role in what happened at Black Mesa."

Rosenberg's polite demeanor shifted ever so slightly, a flicker of unease passing through his expression. He adjusted his glasses again, his hands clasping together. "Ah... yes. That."

Sasha gestured for Dr. Rosenberg to follow her, and together they exited the med-bay. The metallic hum of the hallways surrounded them as they made their way toward the interrogation room. Dr. Rosenberg walked at a leisurely pace, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze wandering over the pristine, futuristic architecture.

"This is quite the facility," Rosenberg remarked. "Remarkable engineering—far beyond anything we had at Black Mesa."

Sasha glanced at him but kept her pace brisk. "I'm glad you're impressed. Hopefully, it makes your stay a bit easier."

"Indeed," he replied, his tone calm. "Though I must admit, I'm curious about my assistants, Walter and Simmons. Are they faring well?"

"They're fine," Sasha assured him. "Still resting, but stable. Sheila and the med team are keeping an eye on them." Rosenberg smiled, a glint of humor in his eyes. "Ah, good. They're good lads, if a bit easily flustered. I imagine they've never been in a situation quite like this. Truthfully, neither have I."

Sasha nodded but remained silent, her professional demeanor intact.

After a brief pause, Rosenberg continued, a playful lilt in his voice. "And how did you find Mr. Calhoun? I trust he wasn't too much trouble?" Sasha blinked, caught slightly off guard by the question. "He was... cooperative," she said, her tone measured.

"Cooperative?" Rosenberg chuckled. "That sounds about right for Barney. Did he share any of his charming wit with you? He does have a knack for defusing tension with a joke—or making it worse, depending on the timing."

Sasha allowed the faintest smirk to cross her lips. "He's... certainly got a sense of humor."

"Ah, I knew it," Rosenberg said with a knowing nod. "He can be quite entertaining in the right circumstances. A good man to have at your side when things go sideways. And, as I'm sure you've noticed, things often go sideways with us."

Sasha suppressed a chuckle, quickly shifting back to her stoic demeanor. "We'll see how entertaining you find my questions, Doctor. I'll need you to be just as cooperative as he was."

"Of course, Commander," Rosenberg replied with a small bow of his head. "I'm at your disposal. I'm sure you'll find my insight invaluable."

As they approached the interrogation room, Sasha keyed in the access code, and the door slid open with its usual mechanical hiss. Rosenberg stepped inside with a measured grace, his curious gaze taking in the stark room and its minimalistic design.

"Well," he said, settling into the chair opposite the one Sasha indicated. "Shall we begin?"

Sasha sat across from Dr. Rosenberg, her arms resting lightly on the interrogation table as she prepared to dig into the truth. "Let's start with your full name," she began, her tone firm but polite.

"Gabriel Rosenberg," he said with a small nod. "Top of my class at MIT, though that was quite some time ago." He extended a hand with a polite smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Commander."

Sasha hesitated briefly, then reached out and shook his hand, her grip firm. "Sasha Phyronix. Mayor of Metropolis City and acting leader of the Galactic Rangers."

"A distinguished role," Rosenberg said with a faint smile. "I appreciate the hospitality you've extended to my colleagues and me, given the circumstances."

Sasha offered a nod of acknowledgment. "And your profession, Dr. Rosenberg?"

"Black Mesa scientist," he said simply, leaning back in his chair.

"Age"

"42"

Sasha exhaled quietly, relieved that the standard formalities were out of the way. "Good. Now, Dr. Rosenberg, tell me what happened at Black Mesa."

For a moment, Rosenberg's gaze drifted, his expression growing distant. When he spoke again, his tone was soft but heavy. "Tell me, Commander, have you ever heard the story of Icarus and his father Daedalus?"

Sasha blinked, slightly caught off guard by the sudden shift. "A myth from ancient Earth? I read books of such things, A cautionary tale of sorts?"

"Yes," Rosenberg replied, his hands folding neatly in front of him. "A cautionary tale. Daedalus, a brilliant craftsman, created wings for himself and his son to escape imprisonment. He warned Icarus not to fly too close to the sun. But Icarus, intoxicated by the thrill of flight, ignored the warning. The wax holding his wings together melted, and he plummeted to his death."

Sasha tilted her head, her expression skeptical. "And how does this relate to Black Mesa?"

Rosenberg met her gaze, his tone grave. "Because Black Mesa was our wax and feathers. We sought to reach heights that humanity was not ready for—to push beyond the limits of what we should have known and into realms we couldn't fully comprehend."

He paused,. "And, like Icarus, we paid the price for our hubris." Sasha leaned forward, her expression sharpening. "Go on."

Rosenberg leaned back slightly, adjusting his glasses again as a solemn expression took over his face. "Very well," he said. "But I must warn you—what you're about to hear is far from ordinary."

Sasha, her sharp gaze locking onto Rosenberg's eyes. "I imagine so. How did it all start?"

Rosenberg exhaled slowly, his hands tightening together as though bracing himself. "It began with what I came to call the curse of teleportation."

Sasha raised an eyebrow. "Curse?"

"Yes, a curse," Rosenberg said grimly. "Teleportation is not the clean, elegant process people imagine it to be. Moving matter from one point to another, even over short distances, creates... complications. Residual energy, dimensional distortions, sometimes even outright anomalies. Things would arrive not quite as they left—sometimes subtly, other times horrifyingly."

He shifted awkwardly, the faint glint of his lenses hiding his eyes for a moment. "But within those distortions, we uncovered a deeper truth. Those anomalies were doorways. They revealed connections to places beyond our own—a network of worlds, parallel and alien, existing alongside ours. Entirely new dimensions."

Sasha leaned back slightly, processing the revelation. "And you decided to explore these dimensions?"

"More than that," Rosenberg said. "We decided to exploit them." He hesitated before continuing, his voice tinged with a mix of pride and guilt. "One dimension stood out above the others. A border-world, existing at the crossroads of countless realities. A place where fragments of other dimensions converged. We called it Xen."

"Xen," Sasha repeated, her expression neutral, though a slight crease appeared between her brows.

"Xen wasn't just another world," Rosenberg continued. "It was a nexus. Its environment was... surreal. Chaotic. It defied our understanding of biology and physics. Yet, it was rich with resources—crystals of unparalleled energy potential, unique organisms, flora with properties that defied logic. It was a scientist's dream, Commander. A veritable treasure trove of discovery."

"And your facility wanted these resources?," Sasha stated, her tone heavy with suspicion.

"Not exactly. My government—the ones funding our research—pushed us to move faster, to deliver results. The materials we brought back from Xen were unlike anything we'd ever seen. They were volatile, impossibly powerful, and our benefactors wanted to weaponize them. Every discovery we made was overshadowed by their demands for military applications, enhancements to weapons, and new forms of energy. They poured millions into our work, but it was never enough. They always wanted more."

Rosenberg's voice grew heavier, each word laced with guilt. "And we... we were no better. My colleagues and I, we became obsessed with the knowledge Xen offered. The crystals, the organisms, the possibilities—they consumed us. We stopped asking whether we should and only asked whether we could."

Sasha frowned but said nothing, allowing him to continue.

He paused, staring at the table as if lost in the past. "I was one of the worst. I... I created the Anti-Mass Spectrometer."

"The Anti-Mass Spectrometer?" Sasha repeated. "What is that?"

Rosenberg nodded again. "A machine designed to analyze and manipulate the materials we retrieved from Xen. It was a marvel of engineering, Commander—years ahead of anything else on Earth. But it wasn't just a tool for research. It was, in essence, a gateway."

"A gateway?" Sasha leaned forward, her expression tightening.

"Yes," Rosenberg admitted, his voice quieter now. "We didn't realize it at first, but every time we ran a test, we were tearing small holes in the dimensional fabric. The more we experimented, the larger the tears became. We thought we were observing Xen safely from a distance, but in truth, we were creating a bridge—one we didn't fully understand and couldn't control."

Sasha frowned, her arms crossing. "And this bridge... it collapsed?"

Rosenberg's face darkened. "Not exactly. It was forced open. We were conducting what we thought was a routine analysis—a simple energy cascade test. But something went wrong. One of the crystals we brought back from Xen caused a massive feedback loop in the Anti-Mass Spectrometer. The machine overloaded, and in an instant..." He took a deep breath. "In an instant, the rift opened. Permanently."

"What came through?" Sasha asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

Sasha's brow furrowed in concern as Rosenberg visibly paled, his already faint complexion turning ghostly white. His hands trembled slightly as he clutched the table's edge, his breathing uneven.

"You don't have to rush," Sasha said, her voice softer but still firm. "Just take it slow." Rosenberg nodded faintly, taking a steadying breath. "I was in my lab," he began, his tone low and shaken. "Alone, finishing up some paperwork. Routine stuff. The day had been... normal, as normal as things got in Black Mesa. Then, without warning, the whole place shook—hard."

He gestured weakly, as if reliving the moment. "The lights went out first. Everything went black. For a few seconds, all I could hear was the creaking of the building and distant voices shouting. Then the emergency power kicked in, and the alarms started blaring. The red lights—the noise—it was chaos."

"What did you do next?" Sasha asked curiously.

"I stepped outside my lab," Rosenberg continued, his voice unsteady. "The hallway was dim, lit only by the emergency lights. People were shouting, running. I didn't know what was going on. That's when I saw Maurice."

"Maurice?" Sasha asked, her tone neutral. "Who is he?"

Rosenberg nodded, licking his dry lips. "A fellow scientist. He was hunched over—at first, I thought he was helping someone. A security guard was lying on the floor beneath him, motionless. I called out to Maurice, asking him what was happening, what he was doing."

Rosenberg's hands gripped the table tighter, his knuckles turning white. "As I got closer, I noticed something... wrong. Maurice was wearing what I thought was a hood—a yellow hood over his head. But it wasn't a hood."

Sasha's eyes narrowed, the faintest tension creeping into her posture.

"I stopped about two feet away from him," Rosenberg said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And I asked him again, 'Maurice, what are you doing?' That's when he looked up."

Rosenberg's face drained of color entirely as he met Sasha's gaze. His voice cracked as he continued. "It wasn't Maurice anymore. Something was... attached to his head. I later learned it was a headcrab. Its skin stretched tight over his skull, which I could see—just barely—through the creature's translucent body."

Sasha's sharp composure wavered, her lips parting slightly as the horrifying image formed in her mind.

"His hands..." Rosenberg whispered, his voice trembling. "They were elongated, bloody claws. And his torso—it was split open, lined with... teeth. It looked like a mouth. And he was—he was eating the security guard."

Rosenberg's breath hitched, and he raised a shaking hand to his mouth. Sasha's eyes widened slightly, but before she could respond, Rosenberg abruptly turned away, gripping the table for support.

"I need—bucket," he choked out, his voice desperate.

Before Sasha could act, he retched violently, collapsing to his knees as he vomited onto the floor. The room was filled with the harsh sound of his heaving, followed by the acidic stench that made even Sasha grimace slightly.

Rosenberg coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, his face pale and glistening with sweat. "I'm sorry," he rasped, his voice hoarse. "I'm so sorry."

Sasha stood slowly, crossing to a console near the wall and pressing a button to summon a cleaning unit. She turned back to Rosenberg, her voice firmer now but sympathetic. "It's fine. Take a moment."

He nodded weakly, collapsing back into the chair, his breathing shallow. Sasha returned to her seat, her sharp eyes studying him carefully.

A few minutes later after the cleaning units had left. Sasha gestured for the Dr. to proceed.

Dr. Rosenberg wiped his mouth with a trembling hand, the color slowly returning to his face as he tried to compose himself. His breaths were uneven, but he managed a weak nod, signifying he was ready to continue.

"I'm sorry for that," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "It's... difficult to relive. But I'll continue."

Sasha remained silent, although her eyes expressed understanding.

"I was shocked," Rosenberg began again, his voice shaky. "Horrified. Maurice—if you could even call him that anymore—he lumbered towards me, his movements jerky and unnatural. He made these noises... a mix between growling and—God help me—laughing. It was... inhuman."

Rosenberg swallowed hard, his fingers gripping the edge of the table. "I didn't wait to see what he'd do next. So I turned and ran as fast as I could. My heart was pounding, my legs felt like jelly, but the fear kept me moving."

He stared at the table, his gaze distant. "All around me, I saw bodies—colleagues, security guards—people I knew. The walls were stained with blood, equipment overturned, sparks flying from broken consoles. It was chaos, pure and unrelenting."

Rosenberg paused, his hands trembling. Sasha's eyes softened slightly, and her voice was calm yet steady. "Doctor, breathe. Take your time."

He nodded, taking a deep, shaky breath before continuing. "I rounded a corner, thinking maybe I'd find safety. But instead, my heart nearly stopped. Standing in the hallway, not twenty feet away, was... a creature. Something out of a nightmare."

His voice lowered, tinged with dread. "It was short, about waist-high, with a body like a spotted theropod—short legs, thick tail—but its face..." He shuddered. "Its face was dominated by tentacles that writhed as it turned to look at me. We called it a bullsquid."

Sasha cocked an eyebrow, "A bullsquid?"

Rosenberg nodded, licking his lips again. "It looked at me with these beady, soulless eyes, then let out a guttural hiss. Before I could react, it reared back and spat something at me—some kind of acidic bile. I barely ducked in time, and when the substance hit the wall behind me..." He trailed off, his fingers trembling as he mimed an explosion. "It sizzled, eating through the concrete like it was nothing."

He paused again, his breathing quickening as he relived the memory. His hands trembled so violently that Sasha reached out slightly, her voice steady. "Doctor Rosenberg, please calm yourself. Just breathe."

Rosenberg froze for a moment, closing his eyes as he took a long, slow breath. His hands relaxed slightly, though his face remained pale. "Thank you," he said, his voice quieter. "I'm sorry. It's just... every detail, it feels like it's happening all over again."

Sasha nodded, her tone firm but not unsympathetic. "You're doing fine, Doctor. What happened after?"

"I managed to make it to the Control Room where I met another scientist friend of mine, Dr. Keller. Together, we agreed that contacting the military was our best chance at survival." His lips quirked into a bitter smile. "Funny, isn't it? The military, our saviors. The cavalry riding to the rescue. That's what I thought at the time, anyway."

Sasha considered asking the Dr. to elaborate, but held her tongue. "You reached out to them?"

"Yes," Rosenberg said, nodding. "But the control room didn't have the equipment we needed to transmit a long-range signal. We needed the satellite communications center. That's when two of my colleagues, Gina Cross and Colette Green, offered to escort me. Without them, I never would have made it."

"Tell me about the journey," Sasha pressed gently.

"It was... harrowing," Rosenberg admitted, his voice shaking slightly. "We had to navigate corridors filled with debris, bodies, and creatures from Xen. Headcrabs leaping at us from the shadows, houndeyes howling their bone-shaking cries, and bullsquids spitting acid at anything that moved."

He rubbed his temples as though trying to push the memories aside. "But Gina and Colette—they were incredible. Resourceful, brave. They kept me safe, covering me while I accessed the systems we needed to bypass lockdowns and clear the way."

Sasha's eyes widened momentarily, noting the faint admiration in his tone. "You made it to the communications center alright?"

"We did," Rosenberg said proudly. "The communications center was still intact—by some miracle. I managed to send out a distress signal to the military, requesting immediate evacuation of the facility. It was a relief, knowing help was on the way."

He paused, his voice faltering. "Gina and Colette stayed with me long enough to make sure the signal was sent. After that, they insisted I go on while they held the area. I don't know what happened to them. I'd like to think they made it out safely, but..." He trailed off, his gaze falling to the table. "I never saw them again after that."

Sasha's expression softened for a moment. "I'm sorry, Doctor. They sound like remarkable people."

"They were," Rosenberg said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips before fading. "But it was all for nothing. The signal we sent... it didn't save us."

His tone shifted abruptly, becoming colder and sharper. His hands tightened into fists, his knuckles whitening as his body stiffened. Sasha immediately noticed the change. "What happened when the military arrived?"

Rosenberg's jaw tightened. "I was in the train-yard area by that time, trying to regroup with other survivors. That's when I saw them—the HECU soldiers. At first, it was a moment of hope. A squad of armed professionals, trained for hazardous environments, exactly what we needed."

"HECU?" Sasha inquired, her brow furrowing.

"The Hazardous Environment Combat Unit," Rosenberg explained bitterly. "A specialized branch of the military. Supposedly trained to handle crises like ours. I thought they were there to help us."

He hesitated, his voice faltering as he stared down at the table. "I was hiding behind some debris, watching them march a group of scientists—unarmed and clearly terrified—towards a gate. I thought they were evacuating them."

His voice dropped to a whisper, his body trembling. "I was about to step out, to make my presence known, when... they opened fire."

Sasha's sharp gaze narrowed, her hand raised to her mouth in shock. "What?"

"They killed them," Rosenberg said, his voice cracking. "Shot them down, one by one, with no hesitation. No mercy. Those scientists—they were my colleagues, my friends—and the soldiers gunned them down like animals."His hands shot to his face as he removed his glasses, his tears now flowing freely. "I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I—I froze. I couldn't move. My mind refused to accept it. These were the people I called to save us."

Sasha shifted in her seat, her expression hardening as the weight of his words sank in.

"They weren't there to rescue us," Rosenberg said bitterly, his voice thick with grief. "It wasn't a rescue at all. It was containment. A cover-up. They came to erase us—to destroy any evidence of what happened at Black Mesa."

He rubbed his face with shaking hands, his voice faltering further. "And it's my fault. I brought them there. I called them. I thought I was saving us, but instead, I led them to their deaths."

The room fell into a heavy silence, Rosenberg's quiet sobs the only sound. Sasha watched him for a moment, her sharp gaze softening slightly as she leaned forward. "Doctor," she said empathetically, "you couldn't have known. You believed you were doing the right thing."

Rosenberg shook his head, his voice breaking. "But it wasn't the right thing. It was the worst mistake of my life."

Sasha paused, letting the silence settle before speaking again. "You're not to blame for the decisions the military made. They chose to do this, not you. You couldn't have foreseen their true intentions."

Rosenberg's hands fell limp onto the table, his shoulders sagging as he stared at nothing in particular. "Maybe," he said softly, though his tone carried no conviction.

The room was still for a long moment before Sasha leaned forward again. "Doctor, If you wish to stop we ca-

"No!" Sasha jumped slightly from the spontaneous cry from the doctor in front of her. "I wish to… continue." She quickly composed herself and nodded. "Very well. Please continue."

Dr. Rosenberg wiped his face with his handkerchief, his movements slow and deliberate, as if the weight of his memories made every action a struggle. His breaths came shallow, and his eyes reflected both exhaustion and grief.

Rosenberg took a shaky breath, placing his glasses back on his face. "Thank you, Commander," he said softly. He leaned back slightly, his shoulders slumping as he began again.

"I stayed hidden in one of the train cars after... after the massacre," he said, his voice still trembling. "I was too afraid to move. I sat in the darkness, listening to the chaos outside. The sound of gunfire echoed through the facility, relentless and unyielding. And then, I heard something."

Sasha's gaze didn't waver. "What did you hear?"

"Someone climbing on top of the train car," Rosenberg replied. His voice dropped as though the memory still unnerved him. "The sound of boots on the metal roof. I thought it was a soldier, and I... I froze. My heart was pounding so hard, I was convinced they'd hear it. I thought that was it. I thought I was going to die."

He paused, swallowing hard. "Then the hatch above me opened, and someone dropped into the car. For a split second, I braced for the worst. But it wasn't a soldier—it was Barney."

Sasha raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "Barney Calhoun?"

"Yes," Rosenberg confirmed with a faint nod. "He saved me that day, in more ways than one. But the news he brought..." He faltered, his voice thick with emotion. "It was devastating."

"What news?" Sasha prompted.

"Harold, my assistant," Rosenberg said, his voice breaking. "And more than that— a close friend. Barney told me Harold was dead, killed by the HECU." He clenched his fists, his shoulders shaking slightly. "They shot him down, just like the others. But before he died... he managed to tell Barney something."

Sasha remained silent, her eyes maintained on Rosenberg as he spoke.

"He told Barney about a prototype teleportation device," Rosenberg explained. "It was located in an old sector of Black Mesa, one that had been decommissioned for years. We'd built it long before we discovered Xen—a crude, unstable precursor to what would eventually become the Anti-Mass Spectrometer."

He met Sasha's gaze, his eyes glistening with tears behind his glasses. "Harold told Barney it was our only chance. We could use it to bypass the soldiers and reach the surface beyond the base. It was a long shot, but it was all we had."

Sasha's expression softened. "I'm sorry for your loss, Doctor. But if it's of any comfort I'd say Harold died a hero. Without him, you wouldn't be here now."

Rosenberg nodded weakly, his voice cracking. "You're right. Harold saved us, even if he couldn't save himself."

He exhaled deeply, as though the weight of Harold's death pressed heavily on his chest. "We made our way to the old sector, sneaking through service tunnels and abandoned labs, avoiding soldiers and creatures alike. I don't know how we did it, but we did. We powered up the prototype and used it to escape the base. When we reached the surface, we found that SUV, got it running, and started driving."

Sasha nodded. "That's when the Xen ship attacked."

"Yes," Rosenberg confirmed. "The ship swooped down on us like a predator, firing plasma bolts that nearly destroyed the vehicle. We tried everything we could to outrun it, but it kept gaining on us." He shook his head, his voice filled with frustration. "And then... you know the rest."

Sasha leaned back slightly, crossing her arms. She remained silent for a moment, processing everything Rosenberg had shared. Finally, she spoke, her tone measured. "One last question, Doctor."

Rosenberg straightened slightly, his expression wary. "Of course, Commander."

"What happened to the Anti-Mass Spectrometer?" Sasha asked. "And the rifts it created?"

Rosenberg's face fell, and his hands clentched up on the table. "The spectrometer... it was destroyed in the initial cascade resonance," he said slowly. "The reaction was so volatile that it tore itself apart. The lab it was housed in collapsed completely. But the damage had already been done."

He hesitated, his voice dropping. "The rifts it created... they're still there, as far as I know. The resonance cascades destabilized the dimensional barriers between our world and Xen. Even after the spectrometer was destroyed, the rifts didn't close. They remain open, like wounds in reality itself."

Sasha's eyes narrowed. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning," Rosenberg said grimly, "that the creatures from Xen can still come through. As long as those rifts remain, our world will always be connected to theirs. And without the proper technology—or the right people—there's no way to close them."

The room fell silent, the weight of Rosenberg's revelation settling heavily in the air. Sasha's expression remained calm, though her mind was racing. Finally, she stood, her gaze steady as she looked down at the exhausted scientist.

"Thank you, Doctor," she said, her voice firm. "You've given us a lot to think about."

Rosenberg nodded faintly, his shoulders slumping as though the act of recounting his story had drained him completely. "I only hope it helps," he murmured.

Sasha regarded him for a moment, her sharp eyes softening slightly. "You've done more than enough, Doctor. And for what it's worth, what happened at Black Mesa wasn't your fault. You made the decisions you thought were right in an impossible situation."

Rosenberg looked down at his hands, a faint, bitter smile touching his lips. "You're kind to say that, Commander. But forgiving myself... that's a much harder task."

Sasha straightened, her voice turning firm yet compassionate. "Perhaps. But you're here now, and you're alive. That means you still have the chance to make a difference."

Sasha gestured toward one of the Ranger bots standing near the door. "Escort Dr. Rosenberg to his temporary quarters. Make sure he has everything he needs."

The bot stepped forward, giving a curt nod as it motioned for Rosenberg to follow. As the scientist rose from his seat, he gave Sasha a faint smile.

"Thank you for listening," he said softly.

Sasha returned the smile, albeit faintly. "Rest, Doctor. You've earned it."

Rosenberg nodded again and followed the bot out of the room, his footsteps echoing softly in the corridor.

As the door slid shut behind him, Sasha remained seated for a moment, her mind racing with the weight of what she had just heard.

The resonance cascades... wounds in reality... rifts that won't close.

Her sharp gaze drifted toward the console in front of her, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. The implications of Rosenberg's story were staggering, and the idea that those rifts might still be open chilled her to her core.

With a sigh, she stood, smoothing her uniform as she prepared to leave the interrogation room. She'd need to speak with the Galactic Rangers and Ratchet and Clank—this wasn't just Earth's problem anymore. If the rifts Rosenberg described allowed these creatures to cross dimensions, there was no telling where they might appear next.

Sasha's jaw tightened as she stepped into the corridor, her mind set. Whatever had started at Black Mesa, it wasn't over—not yet.