Physics of the Crowbar

Calm Before Storm

Someone opened it. He stepped through, and felt the cold steel of a shotgun barrel against his neck. His core went still as his stomach went cold. Blind spots. Always the blind spots. He completed the mental calculation for likelihood of getting his head blown off while redirecting the barrel to the ceiling, deemed it worth the risk-because he was not going to accept capture-and was halfway through the movement when someone shouted "Stop! It's him! It's Freeman!"

He flipped the gun up anyway and yanked it away from his would-be attacker.

Two women, dressed in the grey work uniform of lab techs, were backed into the corner just inside the door. He shook his head and handed them back their shotgun. The door sealed itself behind him and he was in Lambda.

"Freeman! You found us!" A man shouted from behind a stack of crates. "Give me just a moment. Yes, there. We're still packing up all these specimens. Some were destined for your laboratory, of course. I do hope they can be salvaged. The collections team was bringing them back for us when they started to be collected for themselves."

The scientist emerged. White-haired, white-coated, white-skinned, eyes pale blue and watery. Hands wrung to raw-knuckled red. A security guard followed him, or herded him, out into the open. "Freeman. Glad to see you. Sorry for the harsh welcome, we knew there'd been some black ops activity in the area and someone," he glared at the women, "proposed they might take the suit and try to impersonate you to get through the door."

Freeman dismissed his comment with a wave. The women had been braver than most of the guards he'd encountered.

"The collections team is all dead now, I'm afraid, but they said they encountered alien life on the other side." The scientist paced across the room and back. "We believe the connection between our planets is being held open by an organic power source, a life form, if you will, able to create a resonant-matter portal. Freeman, we need you to go over and kill it, whatever it is, or form it may take. You'll know it when you see it. Oh, organic technology on that level must be astonishing! It's such a shame, but it must be done. They do seem intent on their invasion."

"There's spare ammunition if you need it," the guard said. "And power for the HEV. I'd go through myself, but they said the HEV's the only hope someone's got of staying alive over there long enough to make a difference."

Freeman found the ammunition and suit repair station. He found a med box too, but didn't touch it. Self-consciousness and pride both stopped him; no need for them to see the effects the opiates had on him.

The women moved past him through the next door and he stopped himself from flinching at their passing. Four non-hostiles in a room was a crowd. He kept trying to mentally track their movements, not wanting them behind him, and finally gave up. They were civilians, not threats.

He followed the women and security guard into the Lambda-complex laboratories, where data from this "other side" of theirs was recorded and studied. Banks of computers lined the walls, while more sample crates were stacked in the center like a primitive temple. More than twenty people were sitting, standing or sprawled around the perimeter: lab techs, security guards, even a handful of janitorial staff. They'd withdrawn farther and farther until they were here, barricaded into a single laboratory.

They all looked at him as he entered.

"I'll go let Dr. Ryken know you've arrived," the guard said. "It'll take a few minutes for the reactor to warm up."

Freeman looked back at the ring of human faces. Wide eyes. Bloodied clothing on some, pristine pressed lab coats on others. Weapons clutched or near at hand. They'd survived Black Mesa's fall. Fought their way through to Lambda, or started here, and heard the mountain die around them.