Interlude Steve

If not for the lesser gravity, it would be hard for Steve to tell that he was no longer on Earth. The Moon Base was designed much like the Enrichment Center – an artificial, windowless environment, complete with the same oddly pretty habit of embedding greenery in the walls.

Although Steve had to be careful not to bounce while walking, he didn't feel light. But he didn't want to think about why.

It was the reason he volunteered for this escort mission – even if it meant missing some classes.

How could they do this to him? No. He wouldn't think about it. He needed to focus on the mission – escorting Aperture CMO Jane Smith on her tasks in the Moon Base. Not that there was any danger on the Moon – Aperture was the only one able to reach it. It was just that Moon Base was classified as a yellow zone, and thus regulations stated any scientists needed at least one human security guard as an escort.

At first, his fellow security guards – those with clearance high enough to even know about the Moon – were wary, expecting something terrible to happen. A breach by a meteorite – there were some problems with that. Maybe an attack by aliens. But as nothing happened, they began to treat the mission like a vacation, an opportunity to live out their childhood dreams of being astronauts. And finally, it became just drudge work.

It was perfect for taking his mind off things. And unlike classes, there was zero chance he would run into either Jonathan or Nancy.

Still, the Moon. Steve tried to feel a sense of awe, but it was hard when the only proof of being on the Moon was the low gravity.

The base was buried deep underground, for protection from radiation and meteorites and to hide it. Aperture hid lots of things. Steve wasn't sure he liked it much, but whenever he doubted, he remembered the fat stack of papers he had signed when he first got the job.

He needed to focus. Just because danger was unlikely was no reason to slack at his job. Steve liked his job, and his career was moving upwards.

And he even got into college thanks to having a job at Aperture. It was not Staford – like his father wanted. When Steve's grades had been enough not for Stanford, rather than to finance Steve going to another, less demanding college, his father had forced him to get job.

And what kind of job could one get with only a high school education? Well, if not for Aperture suddenly hiring, Steve would have been selling ice cream in a mall. And considering that mall had been a communist plot…

So, the job mattered to Steve.

He could not let personal trouble get in the way of his work.

He focused on the woman he was supposed to protect. Dr. Smith's every motion displayed unshakable self-confidence. Perhaps Nancy would be like that at the zenith of her career, instead of begging.

Steve was not supposed to think about Nancy. It hurt. But he could not help it. It was like poking at a loose tooth.

Focus. He needed focus. One breath in. One breath out. Slow, methodical. Just like he was trained.

The training had been a lot like boot camp, complete with the yelling and relentless drills. That was probably because their trainer used to be a drill sergeant—until he was caught in a police raid on a gay leather bar, paddling some twink.

The only reason he had made it through was pride. No way he would give his father the satisfaction of quitting and crashing back home. Second was that even others hired by Aperture had to pass similar, although much lighter, training for emergencies. If Jonathan could have done it, so could Steve.

And now he was thinking about Jonathan. No way to win.

The betrayal hurt because it was unexpected. If it was Tommy? Well, Tommy was an asshole. He would question Nancy's taste but wouldn't be so surprised. But Jonathan was supposed to be nice.

Strange sounds drew Steve's attention back to the real world. A series of synchronized 'dings' echoed repeatedly, creating a rhythmic, harmonious resonance. The pure tones filled the air with an eerie, almost otherworldly melody, each strike blending into a continuous, haunting soundscape that seemed to pulse with a strange, ritualistic cadence.

As per regulation, he was wearing a helmet in case of a breach and loss of atmosphere. Not just him, Dr. Smith had one also, as well as a vacuum-rated suit. But he could hear it clearly. Aperture made helmets so they did not muffle sound when worn. Steve had no idea how, and he was very, very careful not to mention it ever to Dustin. The other kid would be more than happy to explain, at length.

"No need to be tense," the doctor said in a calm tone of voice. "It's just the prayers of our volunteers. Well, they wouldn't call it prayers, but it serves the same purpose. They believe that the vibrations will remove human irrationality from their minds. If only it were that easy."

They stepped into the next room. While there was some greenery embedded in every wall, this was different. The floor was covered with grass, the walls dense with vines so the metal could not be seen, and there were shelves filled with plants. The room was lit by strong sunlight, making Steve look for windows or a skylight, but there were none. The light came from countless small mirrors scattered all over.

In the open space, three figures sat on the grass dressed in loose, silvery robes that made gender hard to determine. They were rhythmically striking their shaved heads with tuning forks.

Steve recognized them by sight. Heaven's Gate cultists. He had seen one or two, sometimes preaching. He should have recognized the sound, but he had never seen more than one at a time. When they went to recruit in the Enrichment Centre, they usually went alone.

"I am sorry to interrupt you." To Steve, she did not sound sorry at all. "But it's time for your checkup."

The cultists stopped striking themselves with the tuning forks. One of them, with a gentle smile, said, "Of course. We are happy to contribute to freeing mankind from Earth's tyrannical grip. Witness our advancement toward the Next Level."

He sounded so sure of both himself and his place in the world. Steve had never felt that. It made him squirm with an uncomfortable feeling that was almost like envy. But it couldn't be. He couldn't envy a cultist.

The doctor opened a futuristic medical bag and began to remove instruments from it. One of the cultists stood up and approached her. Steve guessed this was routine. Even if it was Steve's first time guarding the doctor while she performed this task, it was definitely not her first time doing it. Well, it was recorded in the security log: regular check-ups for volunteers to monitor the long-term effects of moon gravity.

"Please disrobe," the doctor said.

"Should I leave?" Steve asked. Not that he had a problem with nudity, but it felt wrong to watch someone being examined by a doctor.

"Nonsense," the doctor replied. "You are supposed to guard me. How could you do that if you're not here? Unless you've suddenly developed psychic powers. In that case, you should register at once to get proper training."

"I do not mind," the cultist said. The robes fell down, and Steve could see that the cultist was a she. Except her breasts were surgically removed. "Our vessels are neither a source of pride nor shame. To me, it does not matter if you see me unclothed or clothed."

The matter-of-fact tone in her voice, coupled with her unflinching gaze, made Steve feel a mix of discomfort and curiosity. The doctor continued her examination, the rhythmic dings from the other cultists serving as a strange, haunting background score to the surreal scene unfolding before him.

It was like something out of those indie, artsy movies that Nancy occasionally dragged him and Jonathan to watch together. Steve didn't always get them, but some were fun. And now he was thinking about them again. How long had it been going on? He both did and did not want to know. He was glad for his helmet because he could feel his face twisting into a grimace like he'd swallowed a lemon, and that was just unprofessional.

His personal problems could make him seem like either a prude or some sort of religious nutcase who got bothered by how other people worshipped. Neither was true. Or at least Steve believed it so.

The doctor finished with the first cultist and then moved on to the next one. The female cultist calmly put her robes back on while the next one disrobed. But instead of taking her tuning fork, she approached Steve.

"No need to be so tense," she said. "We are not going to grab the good doctor and perform some sort of human sacrifice. That's not what we believe. We are peaceful people."

"It's not that," Steve said, shrugging. He thought for a moment, considering what to say, but in the end, he decided on the truth. It might paint him as unprofessional, but that was better than a bigot. "I'm having some personal issues. Perhaps I should have taken the day off, but I needed a distraction, and this is considered a milk run."

"So we are considered completely harmless," she said with a genuine smile. "I like it. Abandoning man's violent instincts is a necessary step to the Next Level. Not that I have something against people like you. Until we root out animal instincts, there will always be a need for protection. It's almost admirable—sacrificing your personal advancement for the greater good. But do you want to talk about it? Those problems you have."

Steve hesitated, caught off guard by her offer. The last thing he expected was to have a heart-to-heart with a cultist. "I don't think this is the right time or place," he said, glancing at the doctor, who was now examining the next cultist.

"You talking is hardly going to be a distraction to me," the doctor said in her usual tone. "I have operated under bombardment. If it's going to stop you from fidgeting, feel free to indulge in amateur counselling."

Steve let out a small laugh despite himself. "Well, since you put it that way..." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "It's just... betrayal. You think you know someone, and then they do something completely out of character. It messes with your head."

"Your expectations have been betrayed. But that is a product of arrogance. You build an image of someone in your head, but that image is not them. Not really. But is the surprise so bad? Unexpected things can be lessons."

"Yes, when that unexpected thing is finding my girlfriend having sex with my friend," Steve almost shouted. It was painful to say it aloud, but also relieving at the same time.

"That is just your animal nature. The thing that compels you to mate, to claim. It is hard to rise above it, but there are ways to make it easier," the cultist continued, serene in the face of Steve's outburst. She pointed at the cultist being currently examined – right at the other cultist's groin.

Steve looked. He didn't see what another man's genitals had to do with anything, but he was curious what point she was trying to make. And then he saw it, or rather, he didn't. The man was missing his balls.

He gulped; his mouth suddenly dry. Resisting the urge to cross his legs or move his hands to protect little Steve, he thought, That was one way to deal with love life problems, but not one he wanted to take.

"It's not about sex." So, snipping was totally not the answer. "Not really. It's that she did it behind my back," Steve said, beginning to pace. Like a broken dam, words began to flood out of him. "If she wanted an open relationship, she could have talked to me about it. Not sneaked around. She knows how I feel about that. I ranted to her about my parents often enough. And Jonathan. If it was a stranger… But Jonathan knows me well enough to know this would hurt. How could he?"

Alarms suddenly blared. Steve's training took over. All thoughts about Nancy, Jonathan, or anything not connected to his role were instantly wiped out. He gripped his gun and immediately noted the position of everyone he was supposed to protect: the doctor and the three cultists.

"Hostiles inbound. All non-essential personnel are to be evacuated immediately to Earth. This is not a drill," the announcement came from both the speakers embedded in the walls and Steve's own comms.

He quickly moved to the doctor's side, his eyes scanning the room for any immediate threats. "We need to move, now," he said, his voice steady and commanding. The doctor nodded, already packing up her medical equipment with practiced efficiency.

The cultists, to their credit, seemed unperturbed. "We will follow your lead," the one who had been talking to Steve said calmly.

Steve led them towards the exit, his mind focused entirely on getting everyone to safety.

As he was trained, Steve mapped in his mind the path to the nearest portal, the one that he and the doctor had come from, and then an alternate portal just in case. He frowned; the second portal was nowhere near. It would be inefficient to have two portals close to each other, but it was inconvenient nonetheless.

Low gravity made moving quickly difficult. One might think it would be easier since Steve felt lighter, but running required firm contact with the ground. Each step caused him to bounce slightly, and he had to adjust his gait to maintain control. Instead of a smooth run, it was more of a bounding motion, with each stride longer and slower than on Earth.

The cultists were more graceful, but they spent most of their time here. Steve struggled to keep up with them, while also ensuring the doctor didn't fall behind. The older woman tried to move with her usual efficiency, but her rigid precision made her stumble occasionally. Steve kept a careful eye on her, ready to assist if needed, all while maintaining his vigilance for any threats.

They nearly made it when the announcement changed, "Imminent impact. Brace yourselves. This is not a drill."

The floor wobbled like they were on a boat during a storm. A few unsecured objects were flung everywhere, and they were also tossed, bouncing like toys on trampolines. Yet, Steve was hardly bruised, just disoriented a little.

"Come on! We must hurry! The portal is just there!" Steve shouted to encourage them. It was even harder now. Although the vibrations were less intense, the floor still wobbled. The base was being bombarded.

"Kinetic attack in progress. Breach expected. This is not a drill."

Steve pushed forward, helping the doctor stay on her feet. The cultists moved with surprising agility despite the chaos. They made their way to the portal, each step a battle against the unstable ground and the looming threat of another impact.

As they neared the portal, the floor heaved again, nearly throwing them off balance. Steve tightened his grip on the doctor, his muscles straining as he fought to keep her upright. The cultists, accustomed to the low gravity, seemed almost to float, their movements fluid and controlled.

"Almost there!" Steve yelled, his voice barely audible over the din of the alarms and the distant rumble of the bombardment. He could see the portal's shimmering outline just ahead, a beacon of safety amidst the chaos.