Repurposed 16.0 Perseverance

Interval 16.0 – Perseverance
August 26, 2009
1100, City 47
City Planning Nexus / Administrator's Offices



"Are those parasites still waiting outside?" She said, her sneer obvious even on the speaker in the hallway.

"Yes, ma'am," came the reply over the intercom.

Her bony finger continued to push the button though she had little more than a disgusted sigh in response. Finally she yanked her hand away from the com button and clenched her fingers into a rigid fist.

Finally she spat, "fine, let them in. Accompany them." If they hadn't been right there to hear, she would have said far more: I don't want those things getting too close to me, keep the safety off, get them out of here as soon as possible.

"Yes, ma'am," the soldier spoke, then she saw the tall double-doors to her office crack open. The Armacham soldier, as requested, stood slightly behind the pair of Vortigaunts that clopped their way into her lair. Genevieve Aristide didn't think much of those creatures. They were found everywhere, though not in any kind of quantity, arriving as a reminder of the mistakes made over at Black Mesa. She seemed quite willing and able to gloss over her own involvement in their presence here. After all, if not for Alma Wade, none of this would have happened. If not for Origin, and those tremendously annoying children.

If only she'd had that insane girl terminated when she had the chance. But then… if that had happened, would she be here now? Here at the top of the newly constructed Nexus? The view of what she had renamed City 47, what had been Atlanta, was quite stunning. Though there were reminders of the disasters that put her here, even on the horizon. Lumpy ruins, things which her company was now combing through for scrap to assemble right here behind the walls of this safe place.

Aristide's ambitions had always been strong, always set high. The board of directors at Armacham were cowed into silence easily these days. She'd almost single-handedly put the company into every country on the map… And those countries were starting to look to them, to her, for guidance more than their own political leaders. Her connections to the government had been well-established for decades already, she pulled strings. She got in deeper and deeper with them, they took her seriously. Gen Aristide smiled to herself with the thought, but that smile faded almost instantly as the Vortigaunts came closer.

Even now, though, she didn't want to… overstep her boundaries too visibly. She still had to maintain a proper face to the public. The Cities were under construction even as the rest of the urban landscape was being destroyed. Those left out in the cold, they were of little consequence in the long run. The ones that could contribute, of course, were helping save Humanity.

Her small brown eyes narrowed as the Vorts approached her desk. She almost wanted to yell at them not to stand on her extremely expensive and extremely beautiful imported rug. But there they walked, those obscene hoof-feet having trodden who knew where before now, probably leaving a trail of alien germs everywhere. She would somehow have to have it cleaned once they were gone. They didn't seem to recognize or even notice her sneer – she didn't bother to put on a smiling face for these… people.

In their clunky, self-deprecating way, they stood before her. Two-fingered hands curled by their chest, as though trying to hide that third, mutated, vestigial one. She fought back the urge to vomit at the thought that these two creatures were naked, as well: that grey-green colored hide of theirs was probably enough to keep them from freezing or suffering in the heat, but it was so unattractive. And they had such trouble wearing clothing fit for Humans. Not enough of these creatures to make it worth anyone's while to set up a shop for them or tailor anything special.

"Yes," she said, simply, as they approached, "what… is it?" Normally, if her visitors were Human, she would have added a cheery, fake smile and the words that I can do for you. But these were not Humans, she didn't afford them anything more than the basic courtesy of entrance to her City and her office.

The one on the left, distinguished from its companion by a single brighter-grey marking along its shoulder, shifted on its legs and spoke in that gravelly voice they all seemed to share. "Our kinfolk await entry to this fine metropolis," it said, "and our pleas have fallen upon deaf ears."

Its companion swayed gently side to side, "thus we come, to bear our words directly to you, so that you may perhaps overrule the cruel decision makers at the gate."

"They obviously haven't agreed to the terms of entry," Aristide said, curt. "If they don't agree, they aren't welcome." She looked away, but saw the smirk on the soldier's face behind the pair.

"The cost of admittance," said the first in an even more ragged voice, "is indeed very lofty."

"Yet here you are," she said more brightly, "so obviously it's not too much for some of your… kind."

The pair of Vorts shifted on their bent legs, sharing a moment of mental communion before speaking again. They refrained from using their voices; both of them – though they had no proof – were sure that soon enough, speaking their native language would be forbidden within the Cities entirely.

"It is not… unduly high," the one on the right spoke.

"So it appears," said the scarred one, "and thus we have come with our own meek and groveling offer."

As Aristide glanced back to them, eyes narrow and face showing a guarded expression of loathing, she nodded for them to continue.

"We would offer our own… extended servitude, in favor of our kin's entry to this thoughtfully provided safe haven." Said the other, choosing his words carefully.

"The work is constant, yet toil has been our lot for many generations," continued the first, "though it pains us more to see those in need, refused entry. They are injured, and cannot complete such tasks as we have been… offered."

"But they may yet bring numerous benefits to this settlement's inhabitants, in forms that are more appropriate to their condition," the other spoke.

Aristide knew perfectly well what kind of 'tasks' the Vortigaunts were given. Drudgery, muck. And long hours, contracts for years worth of work. So they were apparently willing to lower themselves practically into slavery to have their extended relatives enter the City. Aristide would have licked her lips, but the smell of the creatures was bad enough: she didn't want to taste them on the air.

"I believe we can make the necessary arrangements," Aristide finally said, tilting her head with a singularly unpleasant smile. The guard behind them couldn't hold back his own unabashed and mocking grin. "I'll see to it that those who are… in need, can be retrieved for you when those agreements are finalized."

The pair of Vorts bowed their heavy, weird heads down low, a remotely Human gesture of respect perhaps. "We shall eagerly await that moment our kin join us, and shall spread the word that the Administrator is indeed a being worthy of her status." The scarred one nodded slowly.

"We are certain," the other said, as the Vorts turned to one another, "that the agreements will be amenable to all parties, and followed duly to their proper ends."

Well at least they weren't stupid. They intended to make sure she held her side of it? Fine – Aristide's taut lips pulled up into a smile. "I would never dream of cheating you," she said, "everyone wins, of course. No one likes to lose, but then," she added with a dangerous and unrecognized glimmer in her eye, "no one likes being left out in the cold. Go tell your… kin," she said the word as though it tasted horrible, "that they will enter once your duties are established. Good day."

It wouldn't be long before they were all under such contracts, she thought to herself as their weirdly ugly bodies vanished back into the hallway. Such a thing would not be entirely unheard of. They were aliens after all. The good jobs should belong to the natives. They were suited to those nasty sewers, chasing down the other alien life forms.

It wouldn't have surprised her to learn that they brought those filthy squid-faced creatures themselves. She'd only seen them a few times, on sight-seeing tours and visits to previously-ravaged portions of the countryside. Patrols of Armacham soldiers kept much of the surrounding city reasonably safe, but still they lost a few each month.

It bothered her to know that the facilities they once relied upon to farm out clone soldiers to other countries had been all but wiped out in the Portal Storms. It galled her, as well, that some of her own people, people she trusted, had abandoned their posts. Their own stored clones might have been of more use here, than helping them slink around in the shadows. Or wherever they were, they might be on a sunny beach in the Bahamas.

It didn't help here. It hadn't just been the Medusa facility nearby that had crumbled under that massive storm-front. It had been the South Carolina locale, the Michigan facilities, even their hidden ones in Florida… All of them were gone. Their power supplies cut, the men and women running the places had barely even had time to get out.

They obviously hadn't had the time or made the effort to salvage any of the contents of those facilities. It was well known, at least she hoped it was, that those clones and their supplies were worth far more than the pathetic personnel that ran the places.

She wondered what, exactly, would happen when they ran out of them. The soldiers after all were the remnants of their clone army, no longer sent to war. Instead, working side by side with the Marines or Guard or whoever else wore a uniform these days. These days would not last.

Soon, there would be one uniform. And it would have her company logo on its shoulder.