Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Back on the Von Braun, Delacroix and her crew were now on the Bridge, working at various control systems to finalize all preliminary ship system tests. Marie, at what used to be Anatoly Korenchkin’s station, had a large screen in front of her that showed two hazards. A side view of the ship showed glowing red marks at several points around the ship, labeled “Unknown space anomaly”, and yellow blobs on the ship itself marked “Dead biomaterial – Removal needed.”
In the past hour, Marie was unable to contact her heavily armed comrade because his radio was, in a sense, out of phase with the current time period. She couldn’t even pick up the video feeds from his artificial eyes.
Almost brimming with frustration, Marie banged her fists on the touch-screen keyboard, then on a whim, typed in a random window, “Durandal, I need help.”
After a few seconds of silence, the Marathon’s green logo popped up in a new window yet again, and responded to the first message with, “Yes, what do you need? I have work on my hands already, you know.”
“Of course, this won’t take long. My crew has confirmation that all ship systems are go, but SHODAN’s on the loose and I don’t know where those androids of her are supposed to be. We need some sort of contingency plan.”
The text paused for a few seconds, then it displayed, “Excellent idea. I’ve already told two others that it would be a delight to trash SHODAN’s plans. She’ll never be as good of an AI as I am.” Then the message turned to a serious tone – as far serious as text could be, “But know this: I won’t be coming back once I carry out this plan. Don’t worry, my master self is back on the ship in my present time. Hehe, I’m just an expendable clone! Besides, if it was my master self, I would’ve trashed XERXES in one byte of data. I’m only being careful because this ship is for humans, not alien like we’ve been dealing with for the past few weeks. You all have caught me in a very good mood today.”
Marie typed. “Okay. Goodbye, Durandal. Kick SHODAN’s arse for me!”
“Will do. I’ll see you starside, Ms. Delacroix!”
As soon as the conversation ended, Durandal raced through the streams of cyberspace towards the computer station in Ops. Plugging himself into that machine, he found that the 20 androids had not yet been deployed, because SHODAN had already gone through, and with Elizabeth no longer brainwashed, they had nowhere to go. Durandal attempted to download himself into one of the androids like he initially planned, and found that an open data link was indeed available since SHODAN had not yet sent data to the androids yet. But now he had kept the best part for last, his own secret weapon: Durandal set about writing a powerful virus into every android except his own, which, in a period of two hours, would cause their CPUs to overload and short-circuit the motherboards. This would be just enough time, for he assumed that SHODAN would call upon her minions sooner or later. In the meantime, Durandal flushed himself into the channel leading to the open android and waited casually for the "angel" to call upon them. He really never had anything but time as the stable AI he was.
-----
Passing signs with eclectic content bouncing between propaganda saying things like, “Does a bee take sick days? NO! Does a bee ask for a raise? NO! So I say, ‘Be the Bee! Be the Bee!’”, to standard hazard warnings like, “Wear hard hats in this area.”; Booker and company emerged from the lines of mass-produced machines, onto an open-air walkway leading out from beneath a large sign reading: “Plant #2: Vending Machine production”.
Booker looked at an elevator in a long cylindrical shaft in front of them. Before anyone dared to board it, one of the people noticed yet another sign reading: “We’re sorry, this elevator is out of service. Please use Sky-Lines or local transportation. We apologize for the inconvenience.
“Well, guess my plan is still up for grabs after all, if you know what I mean,” Booker chuckled.
“Wait, what?”
“We have to use these rails overhead, with this,” Elizabeth pointed with her Sky-Hook.
“Uh, we don’t have that kind of tool,” Goggles pointed out with a serious chuckle.
“What kind of tools DO you have, then?”
“I’ve got a crowbar, and this thing that can grab things,” Gordon showed both the former and his Gravity Gun.
“I have a wrench and a...well, I had a laser sword before I let one of my friends use it,” Goggles showed his wrench.
“Nothing but guns and my hands,” Mjolnir added while holding out his armored hands.
“*sigh* Well, guess we’ll have to improvise,” Elizabeth stated before moving under one of the rails. “Okay, just watch me and Booker do it, then use whatever you have to slide along this rail.”
Elizabeth and Booker stretched out their left hands, pushed a trigger to set their hooks rotating, then with one leap and a loud metallic clang, they were screeching down the rail at alarmingly high speed.
Alyx showed nervousness at this, and stuttered, “I’m...I’m scared, Gordon. Do you really want to do this?”
Goggles answered, “Either this or we let SHODAN get what she wants, and we all die in this time period.”
“He’s right. You know what they say, better to die trying than to never try at all,” Mjolnir added.
“Okay, who wants to go first?” Alyx asked.
Everyone stared, and she sighed, “Fine, we’ll go. Gordon, do you want to--”
“Yeah, just grab onto my shoulders. I’m pretty sure this suit can--”
But when Alyx played piggyback and grasped his upper back, he felt the sudden weight drop on him like an anvil and he croaked, “WHOA! Alyx, are you eating all right these days?!”
“Dude, I’ve hardly had anything to eat since we left White Forest! Just so you know, I’m not fat!”
“Okay, but we’ll have to do this another way,” Gordon used his brain to come up with another solution. He tossed her the gravity gun, and jumped with his crowbar held horizontally so that it held like a zip line grip to the rail. He slid a little, but shouted, “Alyx, use the gravity gun to hold onto my crowbar!”
Alyx held up the huge experimental weapon, pushed the secondary trigger, and within seconds she had a grip on the crowbar. Their combined weight set the pair gliding swiftly down the rail, but that couldn’t stop either of them from screaming due to extreme heights right over cloud fields and narrow balconies.
“AAAAAAAAHHH!!! OHMYGOD! OHMYGOD! OHMYGOD! WHYFORFUCK’SSAKEAREWEDOINGTHISSHIT!?” Gordon shrieked in a quick voice.
That scream echoed off the metal walls of the various sub-factory entrances, getting the remaining team’s attention.
“Wow, sounds like Gordon’s not taking it well. Uh...who’s next?” Goggles asked.
Beneath that thick helmet of his, Mjolnir looked flat-out stone-faced as he pointed at Goggles and said, “You’re the soldier here, I say you do it. I’ve got my own method of transportation,” while hauling out his heavy RPG launcher and pointing it so that the barrels faced the floor.
“‘Kay, I’ll try,” was all the soldier said.
Backing up to get a running start, Goggles held out his wrench, tapped a button to engage the sensor grips – a component of the wrench that would detect a surface and lock onto it automatically, and with one leap, Goggles was in the air. Although still freaked out, he didn’t yell like Gordon did. Trying as best he could to keep a grip on the only thing that held him to the rail, over 50,000 feet of nothingness, Goggles swung a bit to kick up some forward momentum, and kept doing so while watching the nearby signs, and seeing their numbers climb from “Planet #3: Furniture”, to “Plant #5: Food packing”. Out of the corner of his mechanical eyes, Goggles saw Mjolnir somehow propel himself in an arc, using rockets of all things. His jump swerved around the elevator shaft and landed precisely where he intended. Goggles almost missed overshot the same destination before finding the release switch on the wrench to let himself down.
Panting and sweating from this traumatic event, Goggles gasped, “Okay, let’s NEVER do that again!” Then he glanced at Mjolnir and demanded, “Hey, how the hell did you get over here using ROCKETS, of all things?”
“I’ve had a lot of practice, bozo,” He scoffed.
“For Christ’s sake, man, I’m a physicist, not an acrobat! Whoever came up with the idea of using THAT as transportation must have been higher than this place on some serious drugs! Yeesh,”
“Probably, yeah. They make cigarettes for KIDS here,” Booker agreed.
“Anyway, we’re here, so let’s go find Paul,” Elizabeth brought the group back to the topic at hand.
Elizabeth faced a roll door secured with yet another padlock. Booker called, “Elizabeth, could you--”
“Allow me, good man,” Gordon sarcastically stated before thrusting his crowbar at the lock. Once it clattered to the floor in pieces, the door rolled open faster than anyone expected, and the team simply rushed inside.
-----
SHODAN was still on The Hand of the Prophet with Comstock, talking to him, discussing the future of Columbia.
“My lady, I must say you made quite an entrance on my ship. For years I thought the archangel was just out of my reach, and now, here you are in person. What else does God have for us?”
Trying her best to keep the act straight until she gained his full trust, SHODAN replied, “Oh, he claims that one day an heir may be yours, by blood or bequest. After all, I will not be around long enough to see those below brought down by our will, you understand.”
“Of course not; In fact, I already have a child of my own to sit the throne, it is only fitting that you have returned today, to tell me more, am I right?”
Not expecting this response, SHODAN searched her database for possible explanations, then a circuit clicked and she recalled those six irritants that she saw on the Von Braun, and replied, “Ah, yes, I recall something: God tells me that there are six people in this city, four men and two women. These are their names,” SHODAN began as Comstock started writing in a notebook, “Booker DeWitt, Elizabeth, Gordon Freeman, Alyx Vance, Soldier G65434-2, AKA ‘Goggles’, and Mjolnir number 54.”
“I know Booker, he has been a thorn in my side ever since he came to Columbia. The False Shepherd who seeks to lead my lamb astray. Elizabeth, that lamb, is my child, and as of this time she has been allied with him. All I want is her back with me. And whoever those four others are, I assure you, they will die at the hands of my men!” Comstock answered with emphasis on the last phrase.
SHODAN chuckled while advancing closer to Comstock. She thought to herself while touching his shoulder, “Enjoy the time you have, insect. For I am the only God you will ever know!”
She stroked his head with her right hand and pinched his neck ever so softly, memorizing where his brain stem connected to his spinal cord.
-----
The group moved quietly through a dim chamber with overhead conveyors hauling suits of armor and various components. A catwalk threaded between them, and to the left, some sick and crippled people were being escorted by guards into a room marked “Candidate Conversion”. (Sound familiar?)
Just before they found a set of stairs leading off to the right, the lights went on, the conveyors stopped, and some of the guards yelled, “Stop where you are! You are breaking and entering on Founder property!”
Booker pulled out his hand cannon and started to aim, but Goggles yelled, “No! Don’t shoot, we need to stay hidden!”
The team scrambled up the stairs, dodging gunfire from the guards below. Finding a particular office labeled, “Custom fittings – Paul Swanson”, Booker burst through the door with his shoulder, and once the team was inside, he slammed and locked it.
Getting up from behind a desk, the man presumably named Paul Swanson was there, shaking in fear. “Y-You’re M-M-Mr. DeWitt, I...I presume?”
Elizabeth stepped forward and tried to calm the man down, “Yes, it’s us. Everything’s fine, there’s...” she paused, trying to think of an explanation, “There’s just been a little misunderstanding with the guards.”
“So, would you mind doing something about those guys that were trying to shoot us?” Goggles inquired.
“You’re...are you wanted criminals? That armor you’re wearing looks mighty conspicuous.”
“That’s exactly why we came here. Now calm down and give us what we want,” Booker ordered. Fumbling in his shoulder bag, he stepped to a table and found a small pouch. Counting out first by tens, then twenties, and Elizabeth helped out, they set about bringing up the promised bribe of $1200 in Silver Eagles; It took several minutes, but when it was all counted, Booker tied the pouch and chucked it to Paul, who nimbly caught it.
“So, do we have a deal?”
“Y-Yes, of course. What sort of fittings do you need?”
Goggles stepped forward and explained, “Well, this is a little hard to swallow, but this armor each of us wears, while protective, is a little garish, if you know what I mean. As security outside showed, we need some sort of disguise before heading into the city.”
“And the best kind of disguise that would match up to that armor is a Handyman suit. Not implants, just a suit. Think you can get us some of those for that amount of money?” Elizabeth added.
Paul looked at the pouch and thought for a few seconds, then answered, “Yes, I think so. Follow me,”
Just before Mr. Swanson opened the door, he moved to a 1912-type intercom and paged the staff, “Attention, some last-minute recruits have arrived. Security personnel, stand down.”
Then the group filed out slowly. Booker and Elizabeth glanced to the right, and saw that those guards were indeed not firing. They did have looks of suspicion, though. Paul led the 6 “recruits” through a side door into “Candidate Conversion”. Elizabeth remarked, “Funny, I remember someone...uh...elsewhere who went through the same process just to let little girls help him out. They said the process was a ‘one-way street’, something gross.”
“Ewww, I don’t wanna know.” Alyx shuddered.
“You’ll have to line up with the others. They put you into the suits and do the surgery next, but I’ll get you off the line before then...I hope.
“Got it; see you at that point,” Goggles affirmed.
Being careful to blend in, only barely able to because of their clothes, they took their spots in line. An escort muttered, “What the...never mind, just get in position.”
Waiting cautiously for their turns, the fighters could hear loud pounding and grunting coming from the next room. The girls were waiting on the sidelines, claiming some of the men belonged to them, but still seemed nervous.
Goggles, being first in line, got his suit to start. It was easy for him, as his cyber-rig was relatively thin and lightweight, although the jumpsuit over it really needed cleaning. Since the subjects got a mandatory – and uncomfortable, soapless shower – that at least helped. Judging from his optical HUD, apparently the implants were also waterproof. He didn’t realize how greasy his hair had gotten from wearing his U.N.N. beret for a solid day or two – and not having it fall off once! Gordon was next, and he had to unzip his HEV suit, almost forgetting how until the voice surprised him with exact instructions on how to do so. In exchange, he received some thin white pants and a shirt after his shower. Mjolnir came afterward, and he had a bit of trouble cleaning off and getting out of his suit. Everyone had to relinquish their armor and weapons, and one of them had to persuade a worker to put those things in a large bin instead of a laundry chute. This way, Paul could possibly keep them safe. But they were run through a decontamination system and did get cleaned by some degree.
The next step involved the Handyman armor. Each subject was directed to step into sets of ungainly heavy armor with tank-grade ceramic on the gauntlets. Gordon couldn’t help but be reminded of D0G when he realized how heavy this stuff was. Goggles was a little better off since his strength stat was as high as the systems would allow; Mjolnir compensated as much as he could - but hated having no helmet; and Booker didn’t like it at all because he had killed people like this in his excruciatingly long self-defense run all the way up to this point.
Then when everyone was suited up, Paul beckoned the group off the line, to a side catwalk leading to a security booth of sorts. Goggles was relieved by that, as the next process would involve installing the implants, and he feared that the process here, centuries older than his time, would be far more gruesome, dangerous, and probably unsanitary.
-----
It took a while to get used to the new armor, but once Paul drove the men through their paces, it almost felt just like their old armor – everyone included. As for the old suits, Booker just hoped they would be able to get them back, as they didn’t know where that crate was going, but Booker assumed that it was definitely contraband in the eyes of the Founders.
With Goggles being the most nimble with his augmented strength, he formulated a plan using a chalkboard, explaining, “Okay, gentlemen, here’s my ‘grand master plan’: Phase I: We hijack a vehicle, and use it to drop off two or more members at the source of the Tears on this side. The Von Braun’s FTL drive was on my end of the spectrum, but here we have to cut off the other end. That’s Phase II: fully close all breaches in space-time. Booker, you wouldn’t happen to know what this source is, would you?”
“Not me, no. I’m already having trouble figuring out how this damn city stays in the air.”
“Hmm...”
“I think I know what it is,” Elizabeth stated.
“Yes?”
“It’s this...machine that Dr. Lutece built for research. I read about it when I was...in my house before Booker found me. I don’t know where it is exactly, but I can feel it somewhere, very far away.”
“How can you ‘feel’ it?”
“Somehow I can just find tears out of the blue, other times I make them. In this case, I think that machine still has a tear in it that’s partially open.”
“That must be the source, then. We have to shut it,” Booker stated.
“No, more than that. We can’t let this whole disaster over again. Whatever that source is, it has to be completely destroyed,” Goggles stated with a dark look on his face.
“Destroyed?! Are you crazy? That could mess up space and time as we know it!” Elizabeth shrieked.
“There’s no choice. I can’t go back to Earth without the damage being repaired. Marie—er, Durandal only fixed half of the damage. Humans can’t live on a spaceship forever, especially not after having survived an alien attack. And above all, the U.N.N. needs me. I saved the Von Braun in my timeline; it’s only fair that you people help me save the entire universe from an AI who’s learned to play God, and wants to try again. SHODAN. Won’t. Ever. Stop.”
Everyone stood silently, thinking over what the man claimed, then Elizabeth hung her head and sighed, “All right. How do you propose that we destroy the thing?”
“In my experience as a Marine and part-time Navy, our best bet would be explosives. I couldn’t guarantee EMPs would be safe in this time period, so flat-out TNT would suffice.”
“TNT, eh? I had a hard time with that back at Black Mesa. You should’ve seen the time when I had to chuck a grenade into a bunch of explosive crates just so I could go up an elevator,” Gordon shared an anecdote.
“Um...thanks, Gordon. So, who do you think has this kind of ordnance, and where?”
“Not sure. The Founders – Comstock’s men, and the Vox Populi – the resistance have equal firepower against one another. I’ve just been finding ammunition for guns, not flat-out explosives, although I wouldn’t put it past either group to just have some lying around. Ahem, I think I developed some kleptomania when I got here. Don’t know how or why, it just came to me out of the blue,” Booker answered.
“Heh, guess that could come in useful. We’d need all the firepower we can get if we’re to move onto Phase III: The remaining group finds wherever SHODAN and her minions are hiding, and we open a tear to send them back to my time period to dismantle them with no repercussions. Elizabeth, you can do that, right?”
“Yes, but if we destroy the--”
“Already figured that out; When we plant the explosives, one of us carries a remote-control detonator to set them off at just the right time. My best bet is that me, Gordon and...whatever his name is are back at our time periods before they hit that button.”
“I’d be willing to carry the thing. Booker’s got a lot of stuff on him already, hehe,” Elizabeth chuckled.
“Remote control? What’s that?” Booker asked.
“Oh wait. Uh...I guess we could build one from scratch. I think I have the skills to do something like that.”
“Just a heads-up, sir, the way this city flies isn’t half of what the people use right now. There’s stuff everywhere, thanks to Mr. Fink, that shouldn’t be in this time period. Nothing was taken, but he used tears to reverse-engineer stuff from the future. Radios, automated turrets, even Vigors which are called Plasmids in a city 40 years from now. Believe me, I’ve lived it.”
“Guess it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch if they DID make remotes, then. Okay,
Gordon hoped they wouldn’t have to use these disguises for very long, the cumbersome, primitive mechanisms that they used were a pain on his body. Mjolnir couldn’t believe that that soldier had just laid in an elaborate plan and drawn it on a chalkboard while wearing that heavy armor the whole time.
After everything was set in place, Paul escorted the four “handymen” and two of their “helpers” outside. From there, Booker asked for directions to the two key locations, “First, how do we get out of Finkton, and where’s the nearest gunship we can use?”
“There’s an auxiliary sky-line on the complex roof that leads right to the docks. If I know Comstock’s boys, he’s loading up gunships with cargo and weapons right now, so you’ll have to hurry.”
“Oh, and one more thing: My pals here need Sky-Hooks. Um...they said they didn’t like having to improvise,” Booker added.
“And just to be safe, we need to tow that box to the ship. Y’know, the one with our suits and weapons, just as a precaution,” Goggles pointed out.”
“I’m sure the docks have some being offloaded. Wait, your weapons? Oh dear, those are going out to the ships as well, the Founders think they’re contraband. Maybe one of you could...oh, wait...Um...Oh! Just grab onto the rails and you’ll slide right along! Every Handyman that comes out of this place is capable of that!”
“And why didn’t you tell us this earlier?” Elizabeth sternly asked with crossed arms.
“I’m not supposed to be helping people like you, remember? I’m only playing along because...one of you gave me a hefty sum of cash. Fink never says no to cash.”
“You’re not wrong there, Mr. Swanson,” Booker nodded.
“Anyway, we’d better get going if...if the Vox want to take out Comstock,” Elizabeth added.
“Right, good luck!”
The heroes in disguise ascended an exterior staircase leading to the plant’s roof. Elizabeth and Alyx didn’t like how their heavy footsteps made the catwalks shake like a bell. They were afraid the construction would snap off and fall away, dropping the whole party and leaving them with no way out. Goggles muttered to himself, “Geez, my cyber-rig is way more sturdy than this! Miracle of science, my ass!”
But fortunately, they all made it to the roof. Booker reached out to a thick lever, yanked it, and with a hiss of steam and the ring of a bell, a group of crates slid along the tracks, leaving the rails clear for new passengers. With a hydraulically-powered leap, each armored fighter jumped onto the sky-line, and as sparks flew from the friction caused by their enormous hands, everyone slid forth with remarkable speed. Elizabeth felt somehow reassured while riding piggyback on Booker’s armor. Alyx didn’t share the same feeling as the extra weight endangered Gordon from losing his grip, not that Alyx was overweight in any way.
With smog and wind blowing in everyone’s faces, the tracks swerved and rose, twisted and dipped, stretching ever onwards past the spewing smokestacks of 20th-century pollution that made up Fink MFG. Mjolnir thought the tracks were endless, Gordon assumed they were just going in circles, like his infamous unwanted trips around Black Mesa. But within a matter of 6 minutes, Booker heard the familiar sound of a tinny Chopin tune playing over the loudspeakers and another pre-recorded Fink propaganda message relating to questions regarding being paid in Fink tokens. Somehow that reminded Gordon of Dr. Breen replying to the questions about why the Suppression Field was put in place by the Combine, or how the citizens were given terrible ration packs as food. “Tyrannical minds think alike, I guess,” he thought.
Sure enough, the clouds cleared and everyone dropped with a thud onto the wooden walkways of Finkton Docks. Immediately, the girls put on an act. Alyx cried, “Oh, my brother is looking for recruitment with Comstock’s men! Where can we find the nearest gunship?”
“And this one’s here to bring me back to Monument Island, sirs,” Elizabeth claimed by pointing at Booker.
The guards eyed everyone carefully, somehow glancing over Elizabeth. One of them didn’t take too well a liking to Alyx, and he sneered, “Your skin doesn’t really fit with our herd, miss. Are you, uh...Irish? You don’t look the type.”
Alyx couldn’t answer, she suddenly remembered how cruelly racist this town was, and nudged Gordon, who answered in a false deep voice, “Uh, no, she is American, pure-bred from Virginia!”
The cop held his thumb to his chin in thought, then sighed, “Go on, the ship is dead ahead.”
The rest of the heroes in disguise followed suit. Out of the corner of his eye, Booker saw a crate labeled “Contraband: Weapons and armor. Seized from: Factory No. 7” He leaned over to Goggles and muttered in his ear, “That’s probably our stuff. We’re going to need to persuade those guards to let us have it. If they resist, kill ‘em.”
“Easier said than done with this cobbled-together hunk of scrap, and I’m the one with augmented strength here!
“Improvise, then. I’ve beaten people with this stuff before, and we’re not as crippled as they were.”
“Fine,”
“What CAN that armor do?” Alyx asked. “It reminds me of my old guardian robot, DOG.”
“Let’s...” Booker was stopped by Goggles, “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”
The whole group lined up in single file among guards and other Handymen who were filing onto the gunship. Booker saw that the crane was indeed lowering the crate, but onto a ship to the left, rather than the one in front of them, and the left ship was just now firing its engines.
“Our stuff’s going to the wrong gunship. We’d better go after it!” Booker relayed the news.
The others saw the ship getting ready to take off, so the men nodded, and they lurched forward onto a walkway, screaming with exaggerated rage. A fight ensued within mere seconds of this happening: One guard shouted, “Stop! You’re not supposed to be here!” and that was met with Booker slamming both fists into the man’s body, crushing it into a bleeding pulp. Alarms blared, mosquito turrets rang and fired, more guards broke from their posts and started shooting with machine guns and pistols, and slaves dropped their tools and ran off screaming for their own safety.
Elizabeth started opening tears at Booker’s command, unleashing friendly turrets and artificial walls. Gordon charged upon the guards that stood between him and the gunship, punching, tossing and pounding them out of his way. He somewhat got a kick out of it within the few seconds it took him to leap onto the gunship, feeling his old egoism slipping back from his Black Mesa days. It was gruesomely enjoyable.
Goggles figured out how to work the electrical weapons on the suit, and managed to pummel two guards full of volts. With a huge wave of that energy, he jumped onto the ship. Mjolnir backed away and fended off the security personnel the way he did the Pfhor in close quarters: Punching them, although it wasn’t as fun as using his knuckle dusters. With the sheer weight of these gauntlets, he sent many of the people flying off in 5-foot arcs. Alyx did a pretty fair job of defending herself with nothing but a semi-automatic pistol, although like when Gordon had his HEV suit, he stayed close to him for protection.
Just when it seemed the amount of foot soldiers would be endless, the four heroes in disguise had made it onto the gunship. Booker pried open the cabin’s door, and the pilot screamed and tried firing with a machinegun. As the bullets bounced off the armor, Booker grabbed the man’s shirt with his oversized index finger and thumb and interrogated him, “Where’re you taking this ship, bub?”
“To...To Comstock House, I’m just the pilot, I swear, I don’t know anything, just let me go!”
Booker was taken aback that this man, in comparison to the hostile police force outside that opened fire and were determined to blow Booker’s head off at the drop of a hat, no pun intended, this pilot was scared out of his mind and willing to say anything that would let him live, just like Paul Swanson. He suspected that whatever Comstock and that SHODAN were up to, this was linked somehow.
Booker moved aside and grunted, “Get out, you and your crew. We’re taking this ship, and that’s that. Are we clear on this?”
“Yes, yes sir! Don’t hurt me, please!”
“Good.”
The pilot left the cabin with his hands in the air, and the sudden shock of three other Handymen on deck caused him to run away screaming. The security forces opened fire yet again, bullets ricocheting off the clumsy armor. Elizabeth and Alyx rushed into the cabin and Alyx asked, short of breath, “So, any ideas how to fly this thing?!”
“I flew an airship here...or did, until I got knocked out. Shouldn’t be too hard,” Booker answered. He yanked a throttle back sharply and turned a ship-like steering wheel. With a sudden rumble the craft roared out of the docks, cargo and passengers in tow.
Through the viewport, Booker could see the First Lady still moored at the docks. Apparently the Founders thought that the Vox weren’t on it yet, and who knew how long it had been since they were last here? Booker turned to Elizabeth and asked, “Where-uh, when are we?”
“I think we’re at a point in time just before we went to see Chen Lin’s shop. Daisy still thinks we’re going to find him.”
“And how do you know this?” Alyx quipped.
“I...I didn’t like the place where we came from, so I thought we could go back and try things differently.”
“Don’t jinx yourself if it’s true, then. Gordon’s seen plots like this in old movies a lot on his downtime, and a lot of them fail. Hard.”
Meanwhile, the remaining men decided to shed the disguises. Gordon groaned, “This whole disguise plan was bullshit! Did you see how fast the guards turned on us? Black Mesa and even the Combine had better patience than that!”
"No, not yet. The Resistance could use us like this, we have to blend in until we hit Phase III, and we're on Phase I right now. Besides, with our own suits, it would be a lot harder to get the explosives we need if whoever has them didn't trust us," Goggles warned the man.
Gordon groaned, "Fine, but if those people try to shoot us without any explanation again, I want out of this piece of crap!"
"I don't know, buddy, I kinda like this. Don't know why I hated losing my helmet, my head feels so much better right now," Mjolnir 54 smiled while stroking his hair.
"Whatever. We'd better hope that Booker knows where he's taking us. That's what matters right now," Goggles stated while staring at the floating landscape around them, hoping their destination, wherever it was, wasn't far.
