Twenty Years Late

by A Very Thirsty Megalomaniac

It's hard for the Ethereals to invade when someone else got there first.

17. Ashes and Blood

Food back at base sucked. At least three people back at base liked to surprise him with their dongs and then shout at him for being gay (he had reported this to his sergeant, who then also accused him of being gay.) The Arizona heat sometimes got so intense that his own breath came in feeling ice cold. Yet Adrian Shephard would have traded all of what he endured now in an instant if it meant another shitty day at Santego.

The food back in Arizona might have sucked (except for the bacon – Jesus he felt hungry) but at least it was plentiful. Most of the marines were assholes to some extent, but at least they all spoke English. At least they were all human. And, as he took his post on the wall in the pouring Bulgarian rain, the beating sun of Arizona became a fond and distant memory. Mist rose from the forest floor below and made his entire watch look like the set of a horror film. And really, was a decommissioned Soviet missile base such a bad location for that kind of film? Hell, they even had monsters. Friendly, my ass.

The new world sucked. The women were all skin and bones, none of them were American, and he suspected that even if he did get down and dirty with them, God knew if they were, um, "clean" or not. His mother had always urged caution with that kind of thing, and, well … hell of a weird way to honor her memory. Think they have rubbers here?

Bradford had tried to reassure him where his parents were concerned, for all the good that did. Even if they had survived – unlikely at best, given what he knew – the odds of them being present on the continent, let alone the country, were slim to none. So, alive or dead, he was most likely not seeing them again. Deal with it, marine. He'd had his time to go crazy about it. Now it was time to get back into it. Watch the skies. Check for UFOs.

Adrian still did not feel like he had quite a grip on the situation just yet. The UFOs were new, apparently, so at least he was as up to speed on that as everyone else. That was nice, sort of, aside from strange British men urging him to come on board their spacecraft. Mom had a few words to say about that kind of thing as well. But the Combine – he hadn't seen hide nor hair of them, beyond his first few moments awake, and yet they were supposed to be in charge of the whole fucking planet.

Until now, at least. Adrian looked down from the watchtower, listening to the flapping of the canopy in the stiff breeze. Looks like I got here at a good time. Or a bad time. I don't know. All I know is that I am in the wrong fucking place.

Below, Adrian heard the familiar clamp of a hand over a metal bar. Someone climbing up after him. Once, when he was greener, Adrian might have peered over the edge and see if it was someone worth shooting. Now, he just sat back against the railing, submachinegun readied, pointing square at where the fucker's head would shortly be.

A few seconds and sounds of flesh padding against metal later, the noise halted. Adrian cocked his head, not sure what they were playing at.

"The Shepherd will desist in his rapt observation," croaked a voice from below. "The scars from Black Mesa are fresh, and this one is concerned at the attentiveness of the Shepherd's trigger finger."

"One of you freaks." Adrian rolled his eyes and lowered his weapon. Bradford had been very clear on how he was to treat the vortigaunts. Seeing as the man himself had wasted about a dozen of the things back in Black Mesa by his own account (and while Uriah was listening in, no less,) Adrian felt it best to heed his advice. He was, after all, Adrian's superior officer. The vortigaunt's red-eyed head popped up over the lip of the tower, and Adrian did not fire, even as his pulse picked up at just the sight of the thing.

"The Shepherd is vigilant in his vigil," declared the vortigaunt as it cleared the ladder. Does … does it realize it just repeated itself? "We who wield the Vortessence were uncertain whether we would ever meet the one who came after the Freeman, and sealed the portal."

"Wait – you guys know about that?" asked Adrian, eyebrows disappearing under his blue beanie. "You saw them too? The big guys who shot electricity?"

"Many opportunists wished to take advantage of the opening created by Black Mesa," said the vortigaunt, inclining his head. "We were pulled without knowledge or warning, then later ushered through at the Nihilanth's instruction. But others looked on with hungry eyes. Combine. And others. Those you fought. We know not their names."

"But you saw them, too?" asked Adrian, feeling more excited than he might have expected.

"As the Freeman penetrated our factories in Xen, we were called back. But for those that remained, yes, we encountered the interlopers as they stalked the steel corridors of Black Mesa. We felt the portal open beneath – a backdoor through which to consume the planet. The being known as the Gene Worm."

"Huh. That's what it was called?" Adrian scratched the back of his neck. "I was calling it Oscar the Grouch in my head. Because it was green and I could only see-" Adrian stopped, realizing he was: A. talking to an alien and B. going to have to explain Sesame Street to an alien. He stopped himself. "Right. Cool. Gene Worm." Adrian paused. "There, uh, a reason you're up here, Mr…?"

"The White Forest staff have not seen the need to give this one a name." The vortigaunt blinked at Adrian. "We who wield the Vortessence recognize each other by resonance – we need not names as you would understand them, for we can sense the many lives dwelled within each husk. Would we call one by the first form they inhabited, millennia ago in a long dead universe? Or by the form most favored by fate, most accomplished in poetry? Or their most recent habitation?" The vortigaunt shook its head. "The Shepherd may choose a name for this one, if he desires. We will serve our purpose regardless. Titles are a matter of courtesy."

"…okay." Adrian gripped his gun tightly to his chest. "So, you're like a race of Buddhists, or whatever? Reincarnating over and over?"

"We lack sufficient context to make a judgment on the validity of the Shepherd's statement," said the vortigaunt. Jesus Christ, these guys speak like Shakespearian lawyers or some shit. "Now – the original question. This one has journeyed up to this point in order to administer instruction as befitting one who might yet wield the Vortessence."

"Was that what the British guy was talking about?" asked Adrian, thinking back to the weird-ass UFO. "Colonel Cabbagepatch or whatever?"

"The Colonel Cubbage speaks with scant knowledge and an absence of wisdom." The vortigaunt's, uh, "lip" turned upwards, revealing pointed teeth. "He sensed raw potential coupled with ignorance of that untapped power. He would have taken you to his masters. They would have flattered. They would have cajoled. You would consider yourself a god. Yet, it would exact a heavy price. They would have turned you against those who fight for freedom."

Adrian scratched his chin. "So, you're saying Cabbage and his aliens are communists?"

The vortigaunt stared at Adrian for a few moments, smooth brown face utterly inscrutable.

"Yes."

"Well fuck, we really gotta stop them, then." Adrian laughed and stepped toward his new vortigaunt friend. Well, I mean, he smells less than the humans here. And it sounds like he's gonna teach me to shoot lightning, so…

A few days ago – well, give or take twenty years – Adrian would have thought the idea of anyone shooting lightning from their fingertips was metal as fuck, yes, but also complete nonsense. But now, taking a knee before this three-armed, six(?) eyed, slug-skinned Shakespearian freak, shooting lightning out of his fingertips seemed not only possible, but downright desirable, ASAP.

"Teach me your ways, oh master." Adrian did not shut his eyes, keeping them fixed on creature's clawed feet in case it tried any funny business. Instead it took a single step forward. Then something hard clamped around Adrian's head, making him gasp in surprise.

"The Shepherd will shut his eyes."

"I am supposed to be keeping watch, sir!" barked Adrian, more out of fear than anything. The vortigaunt laughed.

"Heed the words of this one who wields the Vortessence, and soon you will peer through the mists, eyes unblinking, heedful of every leaping insect or slumbering bird." The vortigaunt jerked Adrian's head down, and not gently, either. "The Shepherd will shut his eyes and heed this one's instructions! We have not the time to cater to his misgivings."

"Shutting my eyes, sir." Now he's a Shakespearian drill instructor. Fuck. Adrian preferred the lawyer. The alien's grip loosened.

"Your infants arrive to this world without knowledge of sight, breath, or pain." The vortigaunt spoke, yet somehow the words kept rattling in Adrian's skull, like an echo bouncing off a cave. "Yet, they learn soon enough. Pain begets breath. Breathing eventually begets sight. All becomes clear through experience … yet pain is so oft the first lesson. Does the Shepherd understand?"

"I'm a motherfucking U.S. marine, sir," replied Adrian through gritted teeth. "Yeah, I get you. This is going to hurt."

"Humanity's vortal inputs are impaired," continued the vortigaunt, making Adrian wonder if that was somehow racist. "Corrections can be made, but at cost. Is the Shepherd ready to hear what once he could not, and feel where once he would have been numb?"

"Will I get to shoot lightning out of my hands like Palpatine?" asked Adrian.

The vortigaunt paused again.

"Yes."

"Then let's fucking do this!" roared Adrian.

"Agreed." The vortigaunt's grip loosened again, yet Adrian's head still remained firm in his claws. "The Shepherd will feel a pinch."

That was one way to put it. Adrian winced as a pain, sharp, like the kind he felt on planes when he had a sinus infection, build somewhere deep in his head. It came jabbing in hard and fast, each pulse sending a sharp sliver of suffering through his skull. But it wasn't like Adrian was a stranger to pain. Not like I'm a fucking pussy. You guys gave me worse than this at Black Mesa. Bring it!

"Attuning the resonance frequency," murmured the vortigaunt as Adrian gasped. "The pain will ebb soon. The Shepherd must listen, if he is able."

To what? Adrian mouthed the words, but the question faded almost immediately. Like a radio slowly tuning in to the correct channel, he could hear … everything? The wind picked up in volume, turning something audible only as it whistled past him into a cacophony that bent leaves and grass beneath its relentless breath and made his teeth vibrate.

The canopy's flapping up above became a shifting chorus of godawful snapping, occasionally making the wind cut out at the sound of it. Adrian's jaw clenched harder, and only resisted the urge to scream because oh God, his own breath was deafening.

Do these sounds matter? A voice, low and soothing. You skim the surface, fingers skidding against the glass. Breathe in, Adrian. Breathe in and push the superficial away. Really listen.

Adrian, each pulse a pounding drumbeat, gulped once, making his entire body heave at the effort. Then, a thin breath drawn inwards, he tried to listen past the wind, the rain, and his body's own gurgling processes. What am I looking for, what am I looking, what am I?

It was like seeing his own body, limp in the vortigaunt's stern embrace and periodically blocked by the flapping canopy, disappear far below him, zooming out like through a camera lens. Then the cloud layer, insubstantial and thick with ice crystals, which tinkled like so much fine china as he rose above even that, into the inky blackness.

Adrian Shephard, naked but not afraid, floated in the thin spaces above the planet, where the horizon turned soft, blue, and curved, and the line between atmosphere and emptiness became blurred. Somewhere deep below, the body that housed him breathed in and out, maintaining that tenuous (and now he could see how tenuous it was!) link between himself and his body. So, this is what they meant. Names seem stupid, when you see things like this.

Far below, he could see the Citadels Bradford had mentioned, great blue bones sticking from the surface of the planet. He could feel many threads lead to them, but so few led back out. For all their size and official state of inhabitation, they felt so empty.

Adrian could feel his mind flattening out, spreading like water over a flat surface, slowing and getting thinner by the moment. God, he could feel so much – the sharp edges of the minds onboard the alien craft at planet's edge, reaching back but unable to grasp him. The Combine, deaf, blind, but strong, guided by something that practically laughed at his passage. For a moment, Adrian felt the scrabbling of some mad idea, sick and twisted, green with desire. But it faded as soon as it arrived, snaking back into the minds of those it ensnared.

Each of his own thoughts became slow and shallow, the water slowing to a trickle. Adrian forgot the body down below, whose breaths slowed further, each little more than a shaky gasp as even autonomous processes fled.

You are dying. But that seemed irrelevant. The tether that bound him was neither unique nor even the first. One day it would latch somewhere else, and life would begin anew. Nay, it would not even end. He would drift, and listen, and sleep. Deep down, wasn't that all he had ever wanted?

"We all find our own ways of enduring creation," said a voice, rasping and familiar. "To shelter oneself through but a single perspective is simple. You live and die ensconced in ignorance. To take a step beyond that is to freefall, plummet to your body's death as it forgets what it means to exist. It is calming, is it not?"

Yes. Little of Adrian remained cognizant, but he could still think that much. Yes. Everything seems so much clearer, now.

"Look upon my face." The vortigaunt, skin now a livid purple, blue electricity running across its smooth skin. Strange chanting filled Adrian's, well, not ears, but he could hear it well enough. Suddenly, the vastness of the universe felt so very crowded. "What do you see?" The vortigaunt gestured to its center eye, the one that used to be red. It now glowed a deep, mesmerizing blue. Adrian did not know how to respond. The vortigaunt gestured to the smaller eyes that ringed the top of his head, one, two, three.

"Not several eyes. One eye. But different perspectives. Yet it is the same eye, and the same reality." The vortigaunt inclined his head. "We who wield the Vortessence withstand creation by clinging to one another. The All-In-One. We are all connected, a single eye, yet we all see things differently. The human perspective is so lonely in comparison, is it not? Jettisoned into the world in a flurry of fluid, cut free from mother, and then eventually coming loose from your tether without another to guide you." The vortigaunt shuddered. "Would you content yourself with this loneliness? Will you fade away from this place, not to be seen again?"

Not enough of Adrian remained to answer. The vortigaunt sighed.

"First pain. And then the breath. And then slowly…" The vortigaunt stepped forward. The guttural chanting grew louder. "…you see." The vortigaunt intoned something in his own deep language. Adrian screamed.

Oh my God! A billion eyes glaring through three billion eyelids. He was pushing a broom with gangly arms, sweeping aside rubbish in City 17. No – he sung the songs of his people in a lonely drain pipe just outside Black Mesa East, a headcrab roasting on a spit. No – he readied his brothers for battle by harvesting pheromones, preparing the antlion war broods for a defense of a place between the rocks.

Wherever vortigaunts trod, Adrian felt their feet press against grass, concrete, and steel. Wherever they bled, Adrian felt the stabbing pain and rush of weakness. Wherever they sang … Adrian's throat grew raw. Yet, far down below, beneath a canopy flapping beneath a Bulgarian breeze, Adrian's lungs filled with oxygen once more, the vortigaunts guiding his motions. Adrian looked through a thousand, a million, a billion eyes. A thousand, a million, a billion sights, sounds, and sensations. But all one reality. Adrian heaved in another breath. His head throbbed.

"We tether you once more."

Adrian screamed, falling from his knees to his hands. The air came in a great rush of burning cold, lungs working like bellows to take in the oxygen they had been denied. But, worst of all, was coming to and seeing with just one pair of eyes. Adrian's fingers clenched pushed into his fist, and he looked up to the vortigaunt, face contorting with hate.

"Why did you bring me back?" Adrian heaved twice, a small amount of greenish-yellow something trickling from his lip. God – our bodies are disgusting. Take me away from all this! Already, the sense of oneness bled from him. Now he could hear the wind, not as it really was, but through only a single feeble set of ears – a low roar as it buffeted against the sides of his face. The vortigaunt looked down at him, its face once again the familiar tan with a red eye(s).

"The Shepherd sees things as they are, and understands the glory of creation entire." The vortigaunt pressed its two main hands together, while the third curled inward, pressed tight against his chest. "Beautiful, is it not?"

Adrian coughed. "Take me back. Send me up there."

"The sense of loss will subside in time, and the rage will temper with duty." Even as the vortigaunt said this, Adrian's vision cleared a little. His heart began to throb more strongly again, and the lesser sensations took hold. Mouth – dry. Stomach – growling. Head – pounding. The mysteries of the universe could wait – he was on watch duty. "A promising result."

"Ugh. First one's free…" muttered Adrian, rising on shaking knees. Not sure doing that again would be smart. What a rush – wouldn't want to come back from it. "Jesus. Did I almost die? How is that a good result?"

"The Shepherd is not the first to see the All-In-One with the assistance of Vortikind," replied the vortigaunt, eye burning with a curious inner fire. "Yet, he is the first to return after glimpsing it. All others slipped free of their tether. Humanity was not yet ready to perceive things as we do."

"Vortal inputs impaired," muttered Adrian, pressing a hand to his ear, pushing it. Felt like it had water in it. "Great." As you can see, you are not dead. Fucker really is a drill instructor. "So, uh, can I shoot lightning."

"The Shepherd is welcome to try," replied the vortigaunt with what might have been sarcasm. Adrian cocked his head at the alien. "At present, the manifestations of such abilities without consumption of certain reagents appears unlikely. A pilgrimage must be made."

"…what?"

"You require more than simple guidance." The vortigaunt shook his head. "I will contact my brothers at the Victory Mine and inform them of your presence here. Soon, we will make the voyage over and commune deeply with the Vortessence."

Adrian took a glance behind him, over the walls and through the trees swaying in the wind. "I dunno, man. Stuff seems addicting."

"Humanity and Vortikind's plight demands that you master it and yourself," replied the vortigaunt sharply. "Unless the Shepherd feels himself incapable of bringing his formidable potential to bear…"

Adrian stepped forward, finger jabbing at the vortigaunt. "I'm a goddamn marine, freak. I eat danger and shit victory." I just don't feel like doing LSD again.

"Worthwhile endeavors." The vortigaunt turned and began placing his foot on the top rungs of the ladder. "We will consult with the Bradford on your development. In the meantime, we would urge the Shepherd to keep a journal. His mind has loosened from its foundations. His dreams may prove instructive."

"Can you speak plain fucking English, please?"

The vortigaunt, head poking over the ladder, glared at him.

"The Adrian Shephard will keep a dream journal," growled the vortigaunt, "or be prodded with sharp sticks until he complies. Are we understood?"

"What?" But the vortigaunt had already vanished, its feet pounding against the ladder, the sound gradually fading. That just left Adrian, with the trees and the wind. And … the back of his neck prickling.

Adrian could hear nothing that made him turn to the southwest. He saw no flash of light, heard no electronic hum, did not even have a bad feeling. Something just prickled in his brain and he became … aware. He could hear voices on the edge of hearing – chittering, echoing voices. Somewhere in the distance, an engine died. A ramp descended. UFO landing. Adrian reached for his head, pressing against the temples with a gloved hand. What exactly did that fucker do to me?

Could he honestly alert the Captain based on … not even a suspicion, really? Just sensation. Inexplicable sensation. Best play it safe. He turned to the speaker fixed to the side of the tower.

"Menace 1-2 to Central, do we have a base to the southwest of us, over?"

"That would be White Forest Inn – got two guys there keeping watch and doing refueling, over." Captain was prompt. Must be bored.

"Can we do a radio check with them, sir? Think I saw something over their way. Over."

The radio fell silent for a few moments. Then the speaker crackled, just barely audible over the wind.

"No response – possible interference. What did you see, Corporal, over?"

"UFO, maybe. Just a glimpse." Adrian shrugged. No way in hell I'm telling him about that trip I just went on. "Something shining. Looked UFO-shaped. Uh, wasn't sure. Just got its general bearing. About a click away from us, sir. Over."

"Saddle up, Corporal," came the immediate reply. "About time I took you out in the field anyway. I'll grab Jane Kelly and we'll do some recon. Try to make it quick. See you at the main entrance, out." Damn. He must be really bored. Still, Adrian would take a trip out of the base over, well, doing anything else at this point. For all that he hated the climate and the food so far, he would still enjoy seeing more of the country he found himself in. Shit, it probably still beats Afghanistan.

Adrian planted his feet firmly on the rungs of the ladder and descended, making sure each step was as sure as he could humanly make it. Even so, his feet still skidded a bit against the wet metal, making him bite his lip. Even when he reached the bottom, his feet still did not quite touch solid ground; the mud beneath his soles sucked and slid. He walked, bow-legged, up the hill and back into the base.

Two turns to the right, right? Adrian jogged onward, weapon swinging from his sling, leaving a trail of muddy prints behind him. He picked up speed as he saw something he recognized and began booking it for the exit, desperate to be free of the base. He almost ran headlong into Jane Kelly, who darted out of his path with an indignant look in her eye.

"Watch it! Oh, it's you." Jane frowned and folded her arms. Adrian stopped, head still turning to the open blast doors. Sick of this base. Get me out of it. "You need to be on your best behavior on this, all right? Do what the Captain says."

Honey, I'm a marine. I'm a professional. But Adrian liked the way Jane wore her long brown hair, running through the back of her baseball cap. He liked the fact she enjoyed shooting guns as much as he did, and took him along when he was down. And he really liked the big fucking machete she had sheathed on her back. So he held his tongue and just gave a thumbs up.

"All right." Jane took the lead and Adrian followed, periodically glancing at her bony ass. Huh. Vortigaunts didn't quite take that away from me. He joined her in the rain with a grin. First action since Black Mesa. He did not know quite what to expect. Just shoot at whatever needs shooting. Not like I stopped every fucking alien I saw back in New Mexico and requested their resumè. If it bleeds, I can kill it.

"Main thing to worry about out here is hunters," said Jane, not looking at him but instead staring at the ramshackle gate they had set up further down the gravel road. "You saw them when you woke up; dead already, which is how we prefer them."

"They tough?"

Jane whistled. "Oh yeah. And they travel in groups of three, usually."

Adrian grunted. Great. "Any advice?"

"If you can avoid them, do that. If not…" Jane paused, thinking. "Keep moving. They shoot flechettes that will tear you up. And if they stick to a solid surface, they explode. You can't stand still against those things."

"Okay." I'd rather take notes about this than that stupid dream journal. "But they still die when you shoot them, right?"

"Takes a lot of ammo." Jane slapped her bicep. "Armored skin. Explosives work better. They're weak in the eyes, but it's tough to hit them unless you're up close. And you don't want to be up close."

"Yeah." Adrian remembered the way their legs had splayed out after death, vicious talons curved inwards at the tips. "Built like a brick shithouse."

Jane giggled. "That's a new one. I like it, though. Still, wait 'til you see the striders."

"Keep hearing a lot of about these striders," grumbled Adrian, glaring up at the skies. Had to sleep through the invasion of the tripods, didn't I?

"Yeah, well, you never forget the first time you see one."

A car honked from behind them. A steel-gray van, chassis rusting, headlights broken, and windshield pocked with bulletholes, pulled up alongside them, sending water spraying in all directions. Jane gave a shout of dismay.

"You sure we can't take one of the other vehicles?"

"It's just a short drive down the road!" shouted back Bradford, leaning out the driver window. "Besides, we know this thing can take a bullet or two, God knows it has already."

"Oh yeah, that's a sweet ride you've got there, boss," said Adrian, looking the van up and down with a sinking sensation in his stomach. "Sure we don't wanna walk?" But Bradford only grinned at him. Adrian stepped around to the passenger door.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked Bradford, grin not disappearing, but eyebrows shooting up. "That's Kelly's seat, Corporal."

"You serious, sir?" Adrian stuttered as he realized Jane stood right behind him. Her eyebrows disappeared beneath her cap. "I mean – sorry, I thought, given that I'm a marine…"

"Does it look like we're still in the Corps, Shephard?" Bradford made a shooing motion. "Kelly and I have shared more battlefields than we have digits put together. You can sit in the back. Enjoy the view."

Adrian rolled his eyes and bowed low before Jane, arms outstretched for the passenger door. She tutted and stepped inside without a word. Adrian took up his seat in the back, feeling like a child.

"Mirt says this thing is completely sound, Jane," said Bradford as Adrian fumbled for a seatbelt, realized there wasn't one, and instead grabbed on to the door handle and gritted his teeth. "I mean, it runs and it will keep running. Said we shouldn't ram any more hunters with it if we can help it."

"Does that work?" asked Adrian through chattering teeth as the van bounced up and down on the gravel.

"Uh, it worked okay the first two times," replied Jane with a meaningful glance at Bradford. "Sounds like we're having a bit of a moratorium on any more ramming."

"Hunters can take a good bit of gunfire, Shephard," said John, eyes sticking on the road. He flicked the windshield wipers on. Sorry – wiper. Only one black wiper whipped across the windshield. The other appeared to be absent. "They don't take blunt trauma as well, nor energy weapons. Vortigaunts do a number on them, as does the AR2's mounted weapon."

"That's the gun you have?" Adrian glanced to the weird strip of metal that John had laid to the side of his seat, next to the handbrake.

"Yep. Squad leader or grenadier gets one, to kill at least one hunter with." Bradford paused. "Of course, shouldn't be running into any today. Haven't seen them lately … and they don't traditionally get carted around in UFOs."

"And machetes work okay, too?"

Jane coughed into her arm. "I'm, um, not gonna try that again if I can help it. I really thought that thing was going to kill me. I had to get it right in the eye."

I need a machete. Adrian had made a point of keeping at least three sharp objects on himself at all times when off-base. Felt naked without a few blades. Will have to ask Bradford about getting my knife collection started up again. I bet he has one…

The gravel road ran down the hill and through what would have been a shallow stream, had it not been for the rain. Instead, the van coasted through the water with a loud rush, sending waves in all directions. Adrian, despite his prickled pride, had to admit – the view wasn't bad. White peaks up above, green tress all around, water below … eh, he'd seen worse.

"Tunnel. Hold your breath." Adrian complied, even though Bradford had not sounded that serious when he said it. Still, he wasn't one to turn down a challenge, no matter how minor. Even Jane joined in as the light faded and the view turned to one of concrete whizzing past. When they emerged on the other side, Adrian let out his air slowly. Barely even felt that. What was it – forty-five seconds?

"Another uphill bit," muttered Bradford, patting the side of the steering wheel. Jane shot Adrian a grimace. "Come on baby, hold it together…"

Yet the van held together magnificently. The three of them emerged, triumphantly, at the top of the hill, the rain finally ebbing as they crested the apex. A collection of wooden lodges confronted them – if Adrian didn't know better, they looked a bit like the kind of sky lodges he would have found in Colorado. Same look to them. The van inched forward slowly.

"Gas station is further up the road," said Bradford, glancing towards the curve up ahead, "but they usually stay here, in the basement." He gave Jane a look. "Kelly – you do have that shotgun."

"I do indeed." Jane hopped out. "C'mon, Shephard. I'll be your tour guide."

Hot damn. Adrian swung open the door and hoisted himself out, grabbing his dangling weapon and readying it. Shutting the door, he found himself confronted by what, as a marine, he considered sex itself – a petite woman hoisting a very large shotgun. Nice.

"I got your back." I got whatever you want. But Jane just gave him a business-like nod and proceeded through the ajar front door. Adrian sucked in a breath and followed suit.

The interior of the inn both immediately thrilled and depressed Adrian. Thrilled because, it was clear from the wood interior and large fireplace – this has been a classy joint at one point. Depressed because, well, anything that hadn't been nailed down was long gone. No chairs or tables left. Bare countertops. The vague smell of mold in the air.

"Normal so far." Jane continued on, shotgun at her shoulder. She stopped at a staircase leading downward. Basement. "On me."

Adrian kept close, but made sure to keep an eye on his rear as well as hers. Still, they heard not a sound as they descended the wooden steps and emerged in a dank basement, a few very used mattresses laid out on the floor.

"Cam?" Jane's voice echoed a bit. "Dustin?" No response. Adrian's neck began to prickle. Close by. Can you feel it? And something else … pounding footsteps.

"Maybe they're up by the uh, gas station?"

"Maybe. Be a little weird if they were." Jane frowned and kicked a glass bottle lying on the floor. It rolled in a half circle and just rested against her foot. "If they were upstairs, they would have heard the van and come and had a look. You sure you saw a UFO?"

"Not sure. But felt someone should check."

"Well. We're checking." Jane jerked a thumb back up the stairs. "Let's hop back in the POS and see if they're waiting for us further up the road."

Back up the stairs they went, and through the bare walls of the White Forest Inn. John Bradford glanced expectantly out the window. Jane just shook her head.

"Well, still have more to check." The two of them clambered back inside. The van lurched forward with a little less vigor than Adrian liked. Humvees. Something else to miss, I guess.

"Everything looked normal, sir, but they weren't there."

"Not much reason to leave this general area. Gives a good view up the road and down it." John kept his eyes straight ahead, but Adrian could see the man's forehead crinkle in the rear-view mirror. "Might have seen something interesting and moved to get a better look. We should-" John stopped. Up ahead, someone on the road waved at them with both arms frantically.

"Cam." John gently accelerated and pulled up alongside the woman, who jumped up and down in a silent frenzy, a finger pressed to her lips.

"Turn the fucking engine off!" she hissed. John complied immediately, and motioned for Adrian and Jane to exit the vehicle. The three of them disembarked in a hurry. "Shit, why are you guys here? I haven't had time to radio in!"

"Saw something back at base," answered Adrian. Cam gave him a suspicious glance.

"New runaway?"

"Foundling. Adrian Shephard." John stepped between them. "Point is, we're here now. Where's Dustin?"

"UFO." Cam pointed further up the road, where it sloped back downwards through the trees. "Landed at the base of the hill. Some things came out. Dustin was out on a run. I don't know what happened, but … I'm not going down there."

"Smart." John clapped her on the shoulder. "We don't know what these things' agenda is."

"It's not that. They were noticed." Cam pointed. Something shifted. Suddenly, framed against the gray skies, Adrian saw them. Tall. Three legs. All staring, intent, down the slope and across the treeline. "They've been watching the whole time."

"Jesus Christ." John motioned everyone to get low, and they did, guns trained on the looming behemoths in the distance. Yet, they did not move. They were not four hundred meters away, yet they did not turn or pay them any mind. They just watched, nearly motionless, the weird ass tube on the back of their bodies pointed perfectly upright. "What the fuck is going on?"

"I've never seen them do that," whispered Jane, transfixed. "Whenever they see an enemy, usually they just go nuts."

"Not today," murmured Bradford, inching forward on his hands and knees. "They've seen something they don't understand." He turned his head to where Cam lay. "How long have they been here?"

"About an hour." Can wiped her dirty nose. "UFO touched down about half an hour before that. Came out, looking for Dustin since he should have been back, saw the UFO down the hill. Then I heard them behind me." She shuddered. "Nearly pissed myself. Ran back here, but they didn't pay me any mind. Just stood there, watching."

"Freaky," muttered Adrian. The things remained perfectly still, their bodies bolt upright. Then, without any apparent stimulus to prompt them, one chirped, and all three scattered, running in different directions further down the road.

"They're done watching," said John, standing. "I've seen that running pattern before. Haven't you?"

Jane nodded. "Yep. Surround and pounce. Leave no room for escape."

"Except for the UFO taking off." Adrian shrugged as he rose. "How do you want to play this, sir?"

"We came all the way out here in the piece of shit van, we're not going back empty-handed." John began jogging down the road. "On me. We're gonna recon, see what we can see – and try to get Dustin back if we can."

"We gonna get our hands dirty?" asked Adrian, privately itching for it.

"Only if I say so." Good enough for me.

The four of them jogged up to where the hunters had stood. Looking down, they could see the top of the UFO's hull – black verging on purple, smooth enough to eat dinner on. Aside from a few tracks, they saw no sign of the hunters.

"Take up positions along the road." John pointed to a spot, close to where cliff met UFO. "Adrian, there." Adrian nodded and complied, not bothering to see where the others ended up. He laid down flat against the wet grass, ignoring the way it began to soak his clothing. What do we have here…

Small, purple creatures dragged bodies along behind them with one hand, the other three limbs used to scurry along the ground. Weird green guns could be seen strapped to their wrists, which terminated in weird elongated fingers. The bodies, from what Adrian could see, were a mess. Guts exposed, hands shredded to the bone, blood all over them…

…a weird yellow thing latched to their head. Hmm. Seen that before. At least I know I can kill those. The little purple guys were dragging the corpses up to the ramp, where a big gorilla fucker in green armor waited. The gorilla guy hauled up the body over his shoulder, disappeared into the ship, and then returned. Taking samples? Field research? Adrian glanced over his shoulder. The others watched the proceedings from their own vantage points, expressions just as confused as his.

Further down the road, towards another tunnel, three of them dragged a large spotted creature by its tail. It had only two legs, a single red maw rimmed with tentacles, and Adrian knew from experience the thing stank like shit and had a temper like a bull. The aliens hauled along Cthulu slowly, slowly enough that gorilla-man left his post, stomped over to them, and slung the thing over his shoulder like a plucked chicken. Well, I know I can kill those things too.

From below, Adrian heard something sounding like a goose's honk, only electronic. The big guy turned, Cthulu's lifeless body slapping comically against his massive shoulder. He glared out at the road, piggy eyes scanning for movement. With every deep breath he took, yellow vapor shot out of his gas mask. These guys aren't from around here. Hell, even vortigaunts can breathe our air just fine.

The gorilla pounded his chest once and gave a roar. The remaining smaller guys abandoned their charges, leaving the road strewn with bodies while they returned to the craft, none-too-reluctant to leave. The gorilla departed up the ramp last, casting one last imperious glance back over the road. The ramp began to slide into the craft.

Adrian caught a flash of movement to his right. He looked over just in time to see the hunter leap and land atop the spacecraft with what might have been a highly distorted laugh. From inside, the gorilla roared.

"It's on now," whispered Adrian, a grin creeping on to his face despite himself. He kept his weapon pointed at the hunter. At least I know that thing will kill me if I get in its way. The gorilla brandished its weapon, pointing it upward. It did not see the blue flechettes flying its way from the cliff above.

The gorilla roared as quivering blue daggers pierced its armor and flesh. It wheeled to face its new assailant, rifle waving in its general direction. It pulled the trigger – emerald light ripped free of its gun. Adrian looked over just in time to see the hunter dart numbly to the side, snickering, while the plasma hit the cliff and left black smoking craters. With a roar, it leapt downward, landing on the road with barely bent legs.

The gorilla turned back inside the craft and gave its own roar, tinged with urgency. The hunter atop of the craft laughed again, a deep, reverberating electronic boom. It dropped down from the lip of the craft and ran inside, followed by its fellow. From the other side of the craft, Adrian caught a glimpse of movement – the third hunter going in for the flank, moving in through the aft ramp.

"We're going down there!" called out John, motioning for them to move. "Down the hill, let's go! Clear out the craft!"

Seems a little ambitious. But they did have the element of surprise. Maybe. Still. Today I bag me a hunter.

They charged down the slope. All the while, the sounds of alien weapons discharges and the hunter's godawful screaming ricocheted out of the craft and across the valley. Adrian swore the UFO was bouncing side to side as they ran up to its ramp, like a car with two teenagers after prom night.

"Stack up!" Adrian stacked up on the right, behind Jane. Felt a little weird letting a lady take the lead, but she had a shotgun. A shotgun. And a sword. Adrian rested one hand on her shoulder while the other kept his submachinegun steady. Wish I had a sword.

"Would use grenades, but Dustin might be inside." John grimaced. "I'm going in. I'll vape the first hunter and then … and then we'll see." He turned behind him to Cam. "You good?"

Cam brandished her own submachinegun. "Good."

John gave Adrian a look. "Keep moving. Don't get too crazy. Don't get too brave. Oorah?"

"Oorah."

"Going in." Bradford charged up the ramp. Jane followed suit. Adrian didn't hesitate and followed inside.

Green blood coated the walls of the craft, which was a curiously open affair. It was little more than a vast dome, with chairs and glowing holographic screens arranged around what looked like a flight computer. A flight computer and … a glowing green reactor.

It didn't trigger any claustrophobia. But the bodies strewn about the craft, small and purple and broken, alongside the single hulking corpse of the gorilla man, certainly did not bring back good memories. The three hunters stood in the center of the craft, one on either side of the lead, whose chassis now sported an impressive looking burn to one eye. Standing before them, knees shaking, a rebel held up his hands. The hunter took a step forward, good eye turning to John Bradford. It gave out a chirp that turned up in pitch towards the end. A question.

"Don't you fucking dare!" spat Bradford, pulse rifle held forward. The hunter gave its laugh one final time.

It punched forward, stiff grey appendages beneath its head lashing out like mantis. Dustin screamed as the weird antennae punched through his ribcage and lifted him up, up, the things wriggling all the while. He kicked frantically in the air as the floor thickened with his blood, but the hunter merely tossed him aside with as much force and speed as it had picked him up, ignoring his struggle completely. Then it lowered its head and charged headfirst … into the glowing energy Bradford had just shot at it.

The hunter shrieked as it floated upwards, disincorporating with a speed Adrian barely believed. The other two, however, sauntered to the sides, chuckling. They planted their rear leg firmly on the ground.

"Move!"

Flechettes whizzed by Adrian's head as he booked it, darting behind an alien chair. He peaked out and fired, his rounds plugging against the thick carapace of the hunter, sending up a flurry of grayish fluid. The hunter clicked and chirped, but did not scream as the dead one did. It did not even turn Adrian's way.

"They're after the Captain!" shouted Jane, and Adrian could see that was the case. John swore and backed out of the craft, his rifle firing in spurts. One hunter left in pursuit, chortling. Jane chased it out with buckshot, swearing, following it down and out the ramp. The other made an about face. Cam screamed and let loose full auto at point blank range. Metal and clear fluid flew everywhere.

"Come get some, fu-"

The hunter gave a series of hollow, booming laughs and lowered its head. Cam tried to dart to the side, but the hunter stopped just short of where she was. It lifted a leg and lashed out, talon flashing in the light. Adrian saw a spray of red and Cam went down, eyes wide and glassy, red blooming across her abdomen.

"Get some!" Adrian stood and squeezed the trigger in short bursts, one, two, three, just like on the range. It was like flinging spitballs. The hunter's eyes flashed from blue to red. It turned on him with a howl. The third leg steadied itself, and Adrian turned and sprinted backwards.

Blue light flashed in his vision. Behind, the sound of bursting and tearing metal. He turned just in time to see the hunter take a few steps forward and then steady itself again with a laugh. With a sinking feeling, Adrian realized he would either need to make a complete circuit and end up within melee distance, or leave the craft. Neither appealed. So Adrian did what he did best: he charged back the way he had just came, weapon spraying, every round finding its mark in the creature's red-eyed face. As the gun went click, the hunter shook its head, clear fluid now running down its face.

It's hurt. Adrian ejected the magazine and ducked out of sight behind the ship's flight computer(?), hurriedly slotting in another magazine. "I shit bigger than you!"

The hunter shrieked a response, and Adrian heard it moving, feet like pistons. Adrian looked over the flight computer just in time to see the hunter lower its head again. Adrian darted to his right, only, wasn't that what Cam had just tried to-

Adrian fell back on his ass on instinct. The talon came slicing through the air and missed his neck by inches. It did, however, manage to catch his gun as he fell. The weapon went sailing through the air in pieces, coming to a rest in several heaps well outside Adrian's reach. A sword. My kingdom for a sword.

Adrian backed up, past the green reactor thing, one hand scooting him back while the other fumbled for the pistol at his belt. The hunter advanced menacingly, talons clicking against the floor of the craft. It gave a chortle, lower than any of the others, each distorted vocalization making Adrian's stomach turn. It took another step forward, its bleeding and scorched form silhouetted by the reactor. The reactor…

Adrian lifted his pistol and fired as fast as his finger could squeeze the trigger. The hunter, taking no chances even in supposed victory, lunged forward, ready to do to Adrian what its leader had done to Dustin. But Adrian heard glass crack. Heat and emerald light flashed before him, leaving a hell of an afterimage. And the hunter, just a few feet closer to the reactor than Adrian – did not make a sound. It simply flashed once and then vanished, leaving a single clawed leg, top end smoking, standing in place for a second. Then, with the surety of a cartoon, it fell over with a light clank.

"Hope no one gives me shit for that." Adrian let his head slam lightly against the floor as he took a deep breath. Still alive, marine. Still alive. He rolled over, remembering his duties. He crawled to where Cam lay, still breathing heavily. Both her hands pressed in tight against her abdomen. She looked to him in mute appeal.

"Pretty sure we brought medkits," said Adrian, thinking back to the van. And those things work wonders, I tell you what. "Just don't let anything fall out of you, all right?"

Cam nodded. Adrian left her where she lay. He heard no sounds from outside the ramp, so stepped outside into the dank. Sure enough, Bradford and Jane stood there, dusting off their hands, a hunter carcass sitting in the dust – a machete handle planted deep in its back.

"You got yours?" asked Bradford. Adrian nodded. "Cam?"

"Needs medical attention. Belly sliced open."

This time John nodded, turned to Jane. "Back to the van. Grab two kits, just in case."

"On it, sir." Jane jogged up the hill, legs pumping. Adrian watched her leave. Blood's up, Makes me want her more. He glanced back to the blade planted in the hunter. A lot more.

But not as much as I want a sword.

"Tough sons of bitches, aren't they?" asked John, boot planted on top of the hunter's body. "Yet to have a firefight with them where I don't lose somebody. Poor Dustin."

"Came off better than the aliens did," said Adrian, shrugging.

"Pretty sure that was a scouting party. Looked like they were collecting wildlife for some reason." John removed his boot from the hunter and returned to the ramp, heading inside. Adrian followed him, found him crouched at Cam's side.

"Yeah, this is fixable." The Captain squeezed Cam's shoulder. "Don't fall asleep. I know it hurts like hell, but you will live. We'll get you back to White Forest once you're mobile."

Cam nodded, face turning white as she bit her lip. The pool of blood beneath her was not exactly insubstantial. Adrian looked at the wound through her fingertips with a mix of familiarity, revulsion, and curiosity. Seen plenty of shit like that at Black Mesa.

"So, uh," Adrian began. John looked up at him, expression blank. "What exactly are we gonna do with this UFO, sir?"

"Take over the world, naturally." There was a pause where Bradford clearly expected Adrian to laugh. Adrian didn't quite have it in him. "Uh, gonna take it apart piecemeal, as much as we can, and give the shit to Magnusson. Might ferry some stuff over to Black Mesa East or Kleiner's Lab, if we can manage it." He pointed to the bodies. "I'm thinking those go to Eli, and the reactor and computer go to-" He paused, pointing at the smoking hole where the reactor was. "Huh."

"Had to pop it to kill the hunter, sir." Adrian kept his tone stiff. Better not to leave any uncertainty to the necessity of when a marine fucked something up. We had to drink all of that beer, sir, otherwise the Navy scags would've.

"What's left of that goes to Kleiner," said John, a resigned tone to his voice. "Anything we can find of their weapons go to Magnusson. He's dead set on his strider buster, but I'm sure he'd love to make a plasma gun, if he could manage it."

"Right." Adrian stood in the center of the UFO, nose wrinkling at the smell of ashes and blood. "On the topic of weapons, sir…"

"Yes, Corporal?"

"I really, really need a sword."

John stood, chuckling. He took Adrian by the shoulder and brought his face close.

"I think we can arrange that, marine."

Yeah, but I'll need to look to other avenues to start shooting lightning. Adrian glanced down at the bleeding form of Cam. And not just to protect myself.

Adrian Shephard breathed in deep, trying to feel the pulse of the world the vortigaunt had showed him and then ripped away so suddenly. All he could feel was, many miles above, someone watching him back with hungry eyes.

New One.

Adrian had a feeling his dreams were going to be weird tonight.