I spent the remainder of the morning sitting on the edge of the pier that our fishing trawler was docked in.

The water always served as my mindful retreat whenever I needed to ponder. The fishermen weren't going out in the bay today, so the boardwalk was devoid of people, leaving me the only one here as I dangled my legs over the water. The profoundly low tide was mildly choppy today, lapping tiny ripples up against the pier supports. The light splashing sounds they created were tranquil and helped to put me in a deep state of thought, helped out by the coastal breeze flowing through my fur and hair.

I found myself pondering extensively about my conversation with Edy as I looked and felt my hand quizzically. It was an off-putting idea that I had somehow ascended past the initiate stage of amercing with the vortessence, and especially this quickly. Was I truly at a point where I could tap into it on my own? It was at least worth a shot while I was by myself out here―no friends of mine around to risk breaching their privacy.

Keeping an eye on my palm, I squinted for focus and mentally tuned my equilibrium to the specific frequency taught to me by my vortigaunt mentors, and flickers of green energy crackled along my arm for a brief second, startling me considerably. It looked like I had my answer. That tiny occurrence was enough evidence for me to know that Edy was correct.

All things considered; this was an exciting discovery. Reaching the level of mastery of the vortessence that my mentors possessed appeared quite achievable now, but I feared the potential unforeseen consequences that would ensue after exposing myself to this flavour of transcendence. I was going to have to keep my emotional levels in line until I had a better grip on this new power.

Perhaps the same strategy was necessary for my developing empathetic senses, which were also manifesting at seemingly random points without my intention. This wasn't anything I wasn't used to, but I never had to manage all of these things at once. Oh, I was already longing for the days when telepathy was my only psychic liability.

Before I could find myself defaulting into a dreadful state of perpetual dwelling on all of these new risks, I forced myself to let them go for the time being and ease my mind. I closed my eyes and straightened my back, resting my hands on my lap. I took a long and deep breath, feeling the breeze graze all around me as I defaulted to my old calming rituals instead: reaching out and hearing the telepathic voices in my vicinity.

Under normal conditions when my mind wasn't prepped to withstand the influx of whispers in my head, absorbing so many thoughts at once during a meditative state could be quite therapeutic. I was plagued with hearing voices in my head ever since I was a small child and they frightened me to no end. I had developed an effective method over time to embrace these voices and try to understand them; my juvenile self had benefitted greatly from this same practice, developing crucial management skills that helped my addled emotions grow much more maturely.

Not much has changed. I still found myself returning to this state from time to time. Over the weeks, I found that tuning into the vortessence to be an incredibly sophisticated way of sorting out my stresses, even in these earliest learning stages, but there was something inherently comforting about the method I was using now. It was simple, but it worked.

I could hear everyone in Red Bay mumbling across the cerebral ether as they went about their daily chores to keep our little community thriving. I heard their mutual fears, their anticipations about my Cloud Runner, and even their laughter―which was always a good thing to hear considering the world we were in. It was like I was a part of everyone's conversation even though I wasn't. For a lonely orphaned girl like myself early in my life, being able to do this brought me great comfort in my lengthy times of trial, especially when I lived alone on Fortuna up until early adulthood.

Of course, listening in on conversations for the sake of achieving a peaceful mind regularly came at the risk of hearing something that shatters it. I encountered such a possibility this time around when I picked up something disconcerting coming from the transmission building near the other end of town. 'Oh God, they caught them!'

I gasped awake as my eyes flung open, enveloping my vision with the blinding reflective surface of the bay as it glistened from the noon sun. I rubbed my eyes momentarily to adjust; not only to the brightness but also to my brand-new objective. It was time to see what was going on at the transmission building. If the staff picked up something that scared them, everyone should be scared.

"Station Five to Red Bay! Our holdout has been compromised! A couple of scanners found our junction a few hours ago. We blew them to bits, but they must have relayed our coordinates because we're now picking up chatter that a strike force is mobilizing over by the wastes. We can't take any chances; we gotta tear up this camp and cover our tracks before this leads them back to you. We should be…wait, what?"

The man on the recorded audio feed paused as he listened to someone speaking urgently to him close by, though the background static made it hard to make out. "It doesn't matter how! Burn it all if you have to! We can't risk the railroad going up in a brushfire! Controlled fires stop fires, see? Now move!"

The rebel behind the mic then resumed his distressing message. "I've alerted all corresponding stations of what's happening. We'll all be going dark for the foreseeable future, and for God's sake, you guys better go dark too if you're hearing this. Please, I hope you're hearing this. Tune your transmission to RCSNU; we'll come back online there when we think the heat's off. That goes for all other stations as well. Keep tabs on that and we'll be sure to―"

"Shit―INCOMING!"

"They're shelling us!"

A deafening explosion erupted somewhere close to where the receiver was, making my tail curl inward with dread as the message's volume levels were blown to the max.

"SEND HELP―!"

The audio cut off abruptly, leaving those of us who were in the transmission room amongst the sound of audible static. A lady named Gwyneth was sitting at the table before us that contained a plethora of radio equipment. She was one of Red Bay's radio operators and was desperately fiddling with the dials of her receiver to try and recover the signal.

"Station Five…?" she asked, speaking nervously into her own mic "Station Five, do you copy…?"

There were four other people in the room including myself; Aaron, and a couple of Gwyneth's colleagues. I had arrived just in time to hear this crucial moment of the broadcast play out. Out of all of us who listened to this with foreboding grief, Aaron appeared to be especially mortified. He just stared at Gwyneth's receiver, tugging at his beard anxiously.

"Oh Lord, not Hal…" he muttered in disbelief, his voice low and controlled.

Gwyneth begged for a response on the other end a couple of more times before she finally cut off the feed, adhering to the warning that was given to us from the other end shortly before it cut out.

"They're signal's out. And so is ours…" Gwyneth reported grimly, turning a large nob on one of the larger devices on the table, disconnecting Red Bay's signal. She leaned back into her chair with a defeated frown. "There's nothing we can do for them other than pray that most of them escaped somehow. That doesn't feel likely, though…"

"Not if I can say anything about it," Aaron declared with fierce determination. "I'm going out there to help."

"Say what now?" one of the radio associates winced, feeling no more surprised than I was.

"I'm gonna gather a recovery team," he elaborated. "Station Five's a bit of a drive, but we can hoof it most of the way if we have to. Anyone who's up to it can join me."

"You crazy, big man?" one of the other associates pleaded. "The Combine's gutted them out by now, and they sure as hell don't take any prisoners. We gotta hunker down like the guy said."

Aaron made the angriest face I had ever seen him make, which greatly intimidated the one he was glaring at. Even I found him intimidating. "You all can hunker down. I can't. Not while Hal could be out there still."

Aaron then turned to me, and his scrunched face softened to a more pleading one. "What do you say, Lassie? Are you up to helping an old guy save an old friend of his? No qualms at all if you don't."

All of this was happening quite fast, which highlighted its urgency. Aaron's drive to save this friend of his was absolute and would not be deterred by anything. He was willing to go out there alone if he had to.

I related to that much more than I believed I should have. And besides, I had been taught that it was important to have one watch your back out there in the outlands. I had a lot of affection for him, so I found it impossible to decline even if I wanted to.

"Of course," I accepted, making the giant old man smile apprehensively.

"Very well then," he said. "Let's go ask around and see if anybody would like to add to our arsenal. More bodies mean more medkits we can haul along the way." All three radio colleagues looked amongst themselves with a mutual look of resigned acceptance as myself and Aaron made our way out of the small building.

Aaron first announced his proposal to those currently convening in the mess hall given the hour of the day, but word of it quickly spread around town.

Not many were very enthusiastic about the idea and wished to remain put, believing that going out there while the Combine was extensively looking for dissidents was unwise. I would have agreed with them if I wasn't always so stubborn, and also because I sympathised with Aaron. I too would go out of my way to rescue a friend that was in danger, and having help with you almost made the crisis more bearable. Sabrine felt the same way as well and understood the immense risks of the possibility that the Combine did take prisoners this time to extract information that would reveal our location out of them.

When it seemed like the whole town would have declined the rescue mission, Aaron did manage to snaggle a couple of determined individuals―my good friends from the Limpiadores, Sofia Torres and Nuri Akhmetov. The two of them had been spending much time in Red Bay as they looked over René while he still recovered from his crippling wound. They had remained loyally by his side but were itching for a little adventure now. This seemed to be the perfect opportunity for them, especially when René himself pushed them to take it.

Happy with the two others that he recruited, we went to the town's supply depot and armoury to equip ourselves with medical gear and firearms. I had been sensing Shephard closely observing our activities as Aaron and I spread the word of our mission. This was why it did not surprise me to see him roaming around outside the armoury by the time we arrived.

"Hey, what's all this commotion about a compromised station?" he asked Aaron before he could enter the building, though Sofia and Nuri helped themselves in. I remained where I was to listen, inadvertently obscuring myself behind Aaron's wide figure.

"The Combine's ransacked Station Five along the refugee route to here, son," Aaron explained. "The whole railroad had to shut off communications so they don't track us down next. We're going out there to look for survivors."

Shephard pulled a cloth out of his jumpsuit and wiped his grimy hands with it, which looked like residue from crude oil. "You don't say," he pondered with a stoic expression. "When y'all leaving?"

"As soon as we're ready," Aaron said, already understanding what Shephard was trying to imply. "You're not thinking of coming, are you?"

"Why not?" Shephard shrugged. "I've gotten a lot of good R&R since I first showed up here all things considered. I think I'm ready to put my boots back on again."

Aaron was apprehensive, but he seemed unwilling to try and convince another stubborn fighter that he shouldn't jump into danger on a whim when he wouldn't listen. "All right. If you feel you're up to it, son."

"I'm a marine, old man," Shephard smiled confidently. "Once one, always one."

Aaron nodded complacently before stepping inside the armoury, revealing me more openly as me and Shephard remained the only ones in each other's company. Shephard's smile faded. He was more than aware that I was here―it was rather hard to miss me―but he felt as awkward as I did now that we confronted each other again.

"Hi," he said cordially enough.

"Hello, Corporal," I greeted. Desperate to quickly resolve the tension, I initiated my pent-up grief. "Shephard, I'm really sorry about this morning. I had no idea that―"

"Don't worry about it," he quickly dismissed, which caught me off guard a little bit. "I should be the one saying sorry. One of the vorts told me what happened a little while ago. It wasn't your fault."

I wasn't expecting to hear news like this given the implied severity of this morning's error, and especially this soon. Without leaving me a moment to reply, Shephard nodded his head over at the door in between us. "Now, why don't we go save some stragglers, eh? They won't be any more saved if we keep dwelling on misunderstandings."

Shephard then promptly entered the building, leaving me outside to watch him walk in. Duty-driven as he ever was, Shephard was rather forgiving of what I had unintentionally done, but I was barely left reassured. My enhancing empathetic tendencies informed me that Shephard's forgiveness was out of professional courtesy.

He was much more guarded now; more than I had ever felt in the short time I had known him. He regarded me as a potential liability and would try to avoid me as much as he could once our recovery mission was over. If I hadn't felt heartbroken before, I certainly did now. Betraying someone I trusted, even if it wasn't of my own deliberation, was perhaps the worst thing I could bear to endure―worse than any bodily injury. I just hoped I could mask it as well as Shephard could supposedly mask his