The ocean might have receded far from the coast, but the morning wind in New Little Odessa always carried the smell of salt. Colonel Odessa Cubbage breathed in deep, remembering similar mornings during family vacations to Deal, back home when he was a lad. Ah, but there it was warmer. Even at this time of year. It sent a small chill down his spine to think what had become of such places, not that he had seen any of England since war's end. No children there, now. That is for certain. We are the last generations of picnickers…
Odessa took another deep breath inward, relishing the scent of the sea, and then began a light jog past the fuel shack, down the hill. The gravel crunched underfoot, and Odessa paid keen attention. A thumper might occupy the base of the hill, but the moment gravel turned to sand, he would be making his merry way back up to base. Even outside of spawning season, antlions could be dangerously territorial little buggers, and the thumper did not always immediately scramble their senses. They already had one man laid up with a bitten leg; it would scarcely do to add their leadership to the mix.
"Morning, colonel." Watts, the medic, already on her way back up the hill. Odessa nodded as she ran by. She usually did three circuits, all the way to the bottom and up to the gate. Odessa could just about make it without stopping, but Watts made it look easy. Lucky to have her here. Odessa breathed in and out slowly, trying not to slide on the slope. The thumper boomed up ahead, kicking up dust and sand every time the hammer came down. Some of the more daring people on Odessa's crew would use the thumper itself as the marker to turn back. Odessa knew better.
The ground ceased crunching underfoot, and Odessa laboriously turned around, preparing for the actually difficult part of the morning's exercise. As always, the hair stood up on the back of his neck as he turned his back to the sand, and he couldn't help nervously glancing back as he began the struggle against gravity. His calves started burning almost immediately, the damnable symptom of encroaching age. Nevertheless, his breaths came slow and easy, even as the muscles began to complain.
"Colonel. Morning." Two more of his crew, Decker and Krakowsky, clad in full combat attire and carrying submachine guns. If anyone in this little hamlet were worthy of serving in her Majesty's armed forces (excusing Odessa himself,) it would be these two. Tough, dutiful, and resourceful. Born squaddies. Or at least, in better times, they would have been. They proceeded down the hill at an impressive pace.
Odessa only began panting as he passed the fuel shack, legs really burning, not relishing the second or possibly third circuit. To his surprise, mild irritation, and privately held relief, someone waved at him from the Odessa HQ, by the entrance to the basement. Adjusting the beanie about his ears, Odessa jogged past the fuel shack and to the ramshackle house that had doubtless once been a fine tourist destination. Annette Durand, radio technician and occasional nurse, held her hands in front of her and did her best to look contrite.
"Sorry to interrupt your jog, Colonel, but we've got Leon on the radio."
"Leon, eh?" Odessa huffed, trying to make the sharp intakes of breath look more like indignation than a failing constitution. "Is Shore Point in trouble? Did he say?"
"I didn't ask." Annette jerked a thumb back to the basement. "Sparks is waiting for you, as well. If you'll excuse me, I'm on tower watch."
"Ah, yes. Of course." Odessa gave her a salute, which she returned rather sarcastically, if he was any judge. It didn't matter. What mattered was the job at hand, whether it was scaling the tower and keeping watch for enemy activity, or assessing Shore Point's status and whether they required assistance.
Odessa trudged down the creaking wooden steps down into the basement, wrinkling his nose at the smell of old mattresses. They did what they could to keep the place clean – they had running water and electricity, which helped – but there was little they could do to slow the aging of the building, or the beds in which they slept. If spawning season weren't right around the corner, I'd ask Shore Point for some help with that. But it would have to wait until next year. Hopefully. It was unlikely Shore Point was in any better shape.
"The Odessa Cubbage." The vortigaunt his troops affectionately referred to as "Sparks," greeted Odessa as he rounded the corner past the mattresses and before the radio. He inclined his head, all red eyes shutting at once in acknowledgement of Odessa's obvious brilliance. "Once the Leon Bello has concluded his discussion with you, we would converse with you."
"Understood. Thank you." Odessa nodded to Sparks before placing his hands against the table the crackling radio rested on. He pressed the transmit button. "NLO to Shore Point. NLO to Shore Point, come in. This is Colonel Odessa Cubbage, do you read? Over."
"Odessa, it's Leon. You read me?" Odessa frowned at the lapse in radio protocol, but it could hardly be helped. Many of the people he worked with were hardly soldiers by career; most of them had never held a gun before war's end. And it was hardly as if anyone was left to train them properly. Well, aside from that Bradford fellow, up at White Forest. But he always struck me as the sour sort.
"NLO to Shore Point, I read you loud and clear, Leon. What appears to be the trouble? Are you in need of assistance? Over."
"Uh, no. Situation is normal, Colonel." Odessa smiled. So he remembers my rank! Good. And all is well. "Well, sorry, situation is not normal, but we are not under attack. Combine presence is minimal on the outskirts, but we had a scare earlier today. Rachels and Travers swear to God they saw … um…"
"Well?" asked Odessa, growing genuinely irritated at the hesitance despite himself. "Bloody great Citadels dropped from the sky one day in the middle of our cities, and we got over the sight of them eventually. What fresh hell has the Combine brought for us?"
"They claimed they saw a flying saucer, Colonel." Leon sounded defeated at this, and again, despite himself, Odessa found himself choking with sudden surprise. "UFO. Round shape, glowing green and purple lights, complete with weird … alien sounds." Leon cleared his throat. "Uh, thing is, I saw one, too. Out on the pier, and headed roughly your way."
"The … the Combine are employing flying saucers, now?" Odessa could not possibly see the point. They already had the airs secured with their synths, what would flying saucers possibly add to their existing arsenal and capabilities? "Leon, are you certain-"
"Roughly forty feet by forty feet by my guess," said Leon flatly. "Moving at impressive speeds. Not too much headroom, from the look of it. And yes, it was making weird alien sounds. A kind of electronic warbling. None of the Combine's signature style, either. It wasn't a synth."
"Leon," began Odessa, not sure what he was exactly trying to say or how. "Leon, I'm sorry, but this is preposterous. Are you absolutely certain…?"
"I know what I saw. And the others saw it, too." Leon remained firm. "It was headed your way. You got someone on that tower of yours? Maybe give them that RPG. I don't know if that thing was armed or even hostile, but you best be ready if it is. Anyway, that's all I had."
"I … see." Odessa drummed his fingers against the desk. "Well, thank you for the reconnaissance. I shall alert our watchmen immediately to be on the alert for…" Odessa paused. "…well, perhaps not UFOs directly, they would laugh at me, but … just to be on the alert."
"Good call. Everything quiet up there?"
"Yes," replied Odessa, glancing at the vortigaunt. "Yes, all is well. Soon enough the air will be thick with those infernal antlion pheromones, but we are well-prepared for any of their incursions, and we are well-stocked besides. Give my regards to your men. Over and out."
"Same to you, Colonel. Over and out." The radio shut off with a snap, and Odessa rounded on Sparks, frowning. The vortigaunt again inclined his head, this time in a more placatory gesture.
"The Odessa Cubbage would do well, to heed the Leon Bello's warnings. We sense something … new."
"Not the Combine?" asked Odessa, still doubtful over Leon's words.
"The Combine hold this place under an iron grasp. They see no need for further innovation or pressure on the Earth's dominion at this time." The vortigaunt cocked his head. "No. The Vortessence keens with an unfamiliar song. Not since Black Mesa has such discordance rung through our minds."
"Well that is … worrying." Odessa stroked his chin. "What would you suggest?"
The vortigaunt gave him a heavy-lidded stare. "We have heard humanity utter the credence that the enemy of one's enemy becomes a friend. We would urge the Odessa Cubbage to disregard this notion. Humanity does not ally with those who weave the Vortessence purely out of hate for the Combine. Our alliance is one born of want, not need."
"Understood." Odessa dusted off his jacket. "That can be well enough arranged. Assuming these reports are indeed real, I strongly doubt, based on prior experience at least, that these new visitors are friendly. So few of you are."
"The Odessa Cubbage is wise to hold on to his distrust." Sparks again inclined his head. "Now, this one must see to the generator." The vortigaunt began its slow descent up the inner stairs, its form looking so hunched compared to a human's. Odessa still wasn't used to it, the slimy sheen of the tan flesh, the way the legs bent back … still, they were stalwart allies. Good chaps, the lot of them.
That just left notifying Annette to look out for UFOs. The very idea made Odessa cluck his tongue. This is what it has come to. He made his way up the basement exit, the smell of must and sweat once more giving way to salt and sunshine. He breathed it in deep, remembering his days in Kent. Ah. To see home one last time.
The "watchtower," such as it was, was at once a source of both pride and shame. Pride because it did not fall over; the hasty assemblage of wood delivered from further inland outposts had stood the test of time for two years now. Pride because, if nothing else, it really did offer a superb view of the surrounding environs.
Shame, because it was entirely exposed to the elements. Shame, because there were no guardrails at the top and two people had fallen off already. Odessa had seen the kind of watchtowers the Combine set up in their cities, or along the shorelines close to Nova Prospekt. Their pale, wooden imitation was a sharp reminder in the differences in industrial strength between their foes and themselves. Still, we're bloody good shots and we always see them coming.
"Annette!" called out Odessa, standing at the foot of the ladder and looking up. "Annette, can you hear me up there?"
"What?" Annette looked down from her post. "Colonel, something to look out for."
Odessa nodded and then sucked in a breath, considering. Anomalous air activity? Possible round synth? Or should I just admit it and tell the woman there's a bloody UFO on the loose, please keep your eyes peeled?
"Shore Point has reported strange air activity in the region," said Odessa, unwilling to let the woman look down on him metaphorically when she was already doing so physically. "Keep an eye on the south. He said it was round shaped, whatever it was. Like a disc."
"Like a flying saucer, Colonel?" asked Annette, her light French accent turning mocking. Odessa gritted his teeth.
"You know, I really didn't think to ask. Just give a shout if you see anything."
"Gotcha." Annette's face disappeared from the top of the ladder. "Yeah, I'll shout if I see any UFOs. Or gunships. Or dropships. Or man-" Annette stopped dead. Odessa waited for her to finish her sentence, but there was only silence from the top of the tower. She didn't fall off. I didn't hear a thump. Is she all right?
"Durand, are you all right?" Odessa craned his neck upwards. "Durand, report!"
"There's something to the southeast. Over the water."
"Southeast?" Odessa rounded on the ocean. "Where? I can't-"
Never mind, he could see it. Over the cliff and across the waves, hovering innocently over the waters teeming with deadly alien leeches. It did not look terribly large from their distance, and the way it was angled, it was not clear exactly what they were looking at.
"Could be a cloud, Colonel," said Annette hesitantly, and Odessa knew denial when he smelled it.
"This isn't the bleeding X-Files, woman! Sound the bloody alarm!"
Annette did not wait a second. The New Little Odessa klaxon sounded, echoing off the cliffs. Watts, fresh from her run, ran into the house, likely to her medical station. The two lads, having just reached the gate, readied weapons and converged on Odessa, shouting for instruction. Sparks poked his head from the house, all three arms readied to use the Vortessence. And Odessa shouted through it all, trying to keep everyone calm.
"Unidentified flying object, southeast of our location!" Odessa pointed to Decker. "Be a good lad and fetch the rocket launcher, would you?"
"You got it, Colonel!" He hurried off.
"Sparks, cover Watts and make sure we do not lose our medic."
"For freedom!" the vortigaunt bellowed before hurrying back inside the house.
"Rest of you, ready weapons and wait for further instructions. Take up positions wherever there is aerial cover."
"And what will you do, Colonel?" asked Annette from above. Odessa bit his lip.
"I shall radio Shore and Lighthouse Point!" he said, aware of the groan from above. "If nothing else, they will not be blind to the threat of this thing, whatever it is. Then, I shall head topside promptly to, if necessary, lend a hand!"
And with that, Odessa trotted back inside, sweating. No need to expose myself needlessly. The smell of must and sweat suddenly became a great deal more welcoming as he ensconced himself below. He hit the transmit button quickly, his nerves getting the better of him.
"NLO to Shore Point!" he said, wiping the sweat from his brow with his free hand. "NLO to Shore Point, come in. This Colonel-"
The radio gave a scream of static, making Odessa jump. The lights began to flicker, making Odessa wonder if there had been truth to those alien sightings all those years ago. The radio continued to hiss, but now Odessa could pick up something beneath. Something … English?
"…come…"
"This is Colonel Odessa Cubbage with the Resistance," squeaked Odessa, thumb still stuck on the transmitter. "Whoever is listening, please, we are not defenseless. Steer well clear of our airspace!"
"…come…"
"Are you listening?" Odessa slammed a moist palm against the table. "This is Colonel Odessa Cubbage, with the Earth defense force. You shall not have New Little O-"
The house shook as the air was rent with a great howl. Odessa steadied himself on a nearby chair as the upstairs filled with the sounds of pictures falling from the walls.
"…second floor…" The radio gave one final crackle and fell silent. Odessa stared at the machine in mute horror, feeling for the butt of his revolver. Feels like a bad dream. He stared up at the interior stairs. Well, if they can reach me down here … He began the climb, feeling half-asleep.
Annette, Watts, and Sparks all peered from around door frames as Odessa passed them by, all of them clearly wondering what the hell was going on. Odessa only motioned them to follow.
"Top floor. Ready weapons." He paused. "And Vortessence, I suppose." He drew his revolver.
The top of NLO HQ had long since given way to the elements. Odessa rose, blinking, into the bright sunshine of the late morning, his free hand shielding himself from the worst of it. Then he turned and looked to the gaping open hole of HQ's second floor.
The UFO hung silently in place, its hull probably only ten feet or so from scraping against the gravel itself. It did indeed, to Odessa's mounting mix of indignation and terror, resemble nothing so much as the archetypical Gray's spacecraft, complete with blinking lights, rotating chassis, and disc shape. Either all those reports back in the day were true or someone is taking the piss.
"I blame Black Mesa," said Annette from behind him, and Odessa could not help but agree. He would be having words with Doctor Vance about this. If anyone had any experience regarding clandestine dealings with aliens, it would be him.
"I do hope Decker fetched that bloody launcher." Odessa took a hesitant step forward, free hand still shielding him from the sun while his pistol remained pointed at the floor. He looked back to his associates. "Well, form up! Take up positions while I try to establish contact."
"The Odessa Cubbage would do well to heed the words of those who wield-"
"Yes! Yes, I got that." Odessa pointed to the crumbling plaster wall to his right. "Get in position. Sparks, all I am saying is that, would I have it my way, NLO would not be erased from the goddamn map today by some errant hostility!"
Annette took up position behind a half-destroyed cupboard while Watts remained back by the staircase. The vortigaunt dutifully trudged to where Odessa pointed, head bowed and eyes fixed on the floating UFO. It had so far failed to make a sound.
Odessa took another hesitant step forward. Well? What is it going to be? You wanted me here. Do you want me to … play music? Flash my own colors?
As if on cue, two lines appeared at the front of the craft – hinges. A ramp slid out from the previously smooth contours of the ship, touching the lip of the dilapidated house. Luminescent lilac light illuminated the second floor, making Odessa take a step back.
From inside the ship, something stepped – no, simply moved forward. Tall, gracious. Immaculate red robes flowing behind it, a strange ivory(?) mask atop its face. If it had arms, Odessa supposed they must have been folded into the robes. It floated down the ramp with an eerie grace and in utter silence. It stopped at the ramp's bottom, not quite setting foot (well, in a manner of speaking) on the HQ. Despite its face remaining obscured, Odessa noted the way its head turned to face him. He felt … an acknowledgement.
"Well?" he asked, his voice once again a squeak. "What … what have you?"
The being paused, turning its head to where Sparky had flattened himself against the wall. Odessa felt his neck stand up from the static electricity.
"Interloper," hissed the vortigaunt, but the alien did not react. It merely looked back to Odessa, as if reconsidering him somehow.
Slowly, ponderously, the right side of the alien shifted. A single purple hand, the fingers and arm both spindly and of considerable length, emerged from within the folds of the robe. The hand outstretched, the fingers reaching out for Odessa. And then the creature stopped, waiting.
"I … see." Odessa gulped, cleared his throat, and looked back at his associates. Marie and Watts both had their guns trained on the alien being, and Sparks' teeth were bared, his eyes a blaze of fury. This could so easily end in bloodshed.
But the alien did not move. It just waited, almost serene. Odessa looked down at his revolver. Decisions, decisions.
"The Colonel Cubbage will step aside," murmured the vortigaunt, taking a tremulous step forward. "This one will-"
"No!" Odessa held up a hand, stopping the vort in his tracks. "No, no. I am in command here, and it is clear to me that if we can establish friendly contact, we should do so." Odessa stared the vortigaunt down, its red eye livid in fury. "I do not seem to recall as polite a first contact with your kind, nor with the Combine. I relish the change of pace."
"Colonel-" began Annette, but Odessa held up a hand again.
"Enough! Whatever happens, I take full responsibility." Odessa stared the alien down, heart thudding. No need to bomb our little outpost. Yes, yes, nice and easy, going in for a little handshake.
The morning sun shone down on Odessa from behind the UFO. He shuffled forward, leaving a trail of footprints in the accumulated dust, dirt, and sand. The alien waited patiently. As Odessa approached, the hair on his neck stood up again, the static electricity building. He heard Annette muttering from behind him.
Only a few more feet. The sun silhouetted it all in shadow, turning the alien's opulent red robes into a shade of black, framed against brilliant gold. Odessa removed his hand from before his eyes, wincing in the light of the sun. His hand, shaking and sweating, reached out for the alien.
At the building's edge, their hand hung motionless next to one another's, fingers outstretched. Up close, Odessa realized how the alien towered over him, even accounting for how it floated above the ground. It looked down at him through the mask, head tilting slightly.
For a few long moments, there was only the distant sound of the crashing waves. Then, with a strength that surprised Odessa, the alien's fingers fixed on his wrist, clamping him firmly in its grasp.