NO BOUNDARIES CHAPTER 3

THE HUNTER AND THE DOCTOR

	"I'm not sure you understand what this man may be capable of!  You don't know what's been said about what he did during the Black Mesa Incident.  I highly doubt that he presents any real threat to Overwatch, but his mere presence could potentially spark open revolt.  He must be suppressed, by any means necessary!"

	Wallace Breen, human administrator of Earth, gazed at the combine monitors before him. Spread out on multiple screens were the blank smooth worm-like visages of his Advisors.  He knew very little about them, only that they considered him an authority on Humanity.  It was the only reason they tempered their commands to him with respect.  When they had contacted him prior to the events of the Black Mesa incident, he had assured them Earth would accept them as masters, with their promise of such advanced technologies.  

	He had assumed wrong.  Earth's militaries had united for an epic attack against the Combine, and were summarily defeated within seven hours.  It was no easy task, thereafter, to prevent the Combine from wiping out Humanity completely.  Instead, The Combine erected the Overwatch authority.  A suppression field was put in place around the Earth, to prevent human beings from reproducing, causing worldwide population growth to drop to zero.  Many humans were also used as resources, experimented upon and transformed into soldiers.  Or worse.  The populace was subdued via a combination of controlled and drugged rations, and outright fear of violence and death.  

	Breen's office was located at the apex of the Citadel, over a mile into the air.  "What do you mean, 'you've been contacted?'" Dr. Breen never heard their voices, only felt their thoughts, their intentions. Most of the Advisors' decisions seemed made up before his opinion was truly voiced.  "...A specialist? What's that supposed to mean? ...A Bounty hunter?" he considered this a moment.  If this 'specialist' could eliminate Gordon as a threat to the Combine with minimal manpower expenditure on the Combine's own part, the expense would be well worth it.  "Very well.  I will meet with this bounty hunter when he arrives." 
	
	The Combine Advisors silently withdrew their transmission.  Breen deliberated for a few moments and then looked over his shoulder, "Harmon?"

	A pale, wiry man wearing a similiar suit to Breen stepped from the shadows.  Gerald Harmon had unkempt black hair with a wild streak of white, and sunken, hungry eyes.  Hands clasped together, his fingers twitched  as he smiled subserviently, "yes, Doctor Breen?" he offered in his raspy voice.  He had a fake American accent, but Doctor Breen saw no reason why it should matter.  

	"A guest will be arriving soon.  Prepare a welcome detail."

	"Yes, Doctor Breen," Harmon nodded and departed.  

	A few minutes later a small squad of soldiers were lined up inside one of the Citadel hangers.  Harmon stood before the broad metal landing platform, hands folded behind his back.  A small gunship descended into the hangar, a gunship painted metallic red and gold.  It came to a resting point and hovered a few meters above the floor.  A portal on top slid open. 

	And out of it leapt the hunter.   Sleek, gleaming armor, gold plates with tangerine trim, with a bright red chest and helmet.  Behind a green y-shaped visor flashed intelligent eyes.  The bulky spherical shoulder armatures were belied by a slender, graceful form.  One arm was dominated by a large gun cannon.  She landed in a crouch before her new employer and slowly stood, relaxing her posture.  

	A crooked, knowing grin spread across Harmon's face, "welcome, Miss Aran..."

	First there was nothing.  Just sand, crows, a junked car.  Then the sand began to swirl around, blown gently in an invisible breeze.  This breeze emitted a strange sound, a rhythmic whooshing, a metallic inhale, like steel pipes sliding back and forth against each other.  Two meters above the sand, a bright blue light formed, shining and dimming in time to the sound, growing brighter by the beat.  Soon, the light was joined by another image.  Slowly, a box formed, simply materializing slowly from thin air.  A blue box.  Details emerged, opaque windows, a door, wooden framework, lettering.

	"Public Call"
	"POLICE BOX"

	To most bystanders it would be a telephone booth.  Broad and blue, ordinary, but impossible to enter.  But not to exit.  

	The doors opened and out stepped a thin fellow with tousled brown hair and an unearthly bounce in his step.  He wore a blue pinstrip suit, a brown overcoat, and had large, twinkling eyes.  His hands were burrowed in his pockets as he gazed around the desert-like landscape with ravenous curiosity, a manic grin plastered to his face.  
	"Well, it certainly looks like Earth," he intoned, an evident British accent in his voice.  
	From behind him emerged a toned and tanned young woman, with long dark hair, a pair of long eagle's feathers braided in her locks.  She had an aloof but smoldering gaze, and a coiled tension to her movements, the lithe agility of a gymnast.  She wore simple street clothes, a loose jacket and slacks, and carried a simple suede satchel etched with a large eldritch character.  She rolled her eyes.  
	"If it looks like Earth, it probably is.  It's bad enough we had to leave and come back just to wait for night time cuz you were afraid your hair would get dried out or something."
	"Oi, don't be so cranky.  Besides, don't remember any Earth deserts with crows, or junked cars."  
	"I didn't get enough sleep.  And you didn't let me brush my teeth," 
	"Danni, Danni, Danni, your breath is ever-minty fresh," He said with a charming smile.
	"that's only cuz I brush regularly-" she tossed her head back and forth, "stop changing the subject! Where/when the hell are we?"

	The Doctor scratched behind one ear, "welllll... This seems to be an alternate timeline I've yet to explore.  Not sure how we ended up here. Wouldn't be the first time the TARDIS has brought us somewhere strange.  Well, strange by my standards. Well, when I say 'us' I mean...me... and... well...someone else... Definitely the 22nd-century, though; definitely probably... maybe ."
	Diana Fireseed leaned against the Police Box and thumped her head against the wood, eyes twitching, "sooooooo... what's the plan?" 
	The Doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out a long thin silver device.  The blue emitter on the end glowed as it made a small high-pitched electronic hum.  He pointed it this way and that before settling on a point to the Northeast, "I think we should head that way, there's some sort of structure, and lifeforms as well, possibly human."
	Danni watched him toy with the device a bit more, "so, what, its a compass now, too?"
	He looked at her, blinking in child-like confusion, "...no, it's a sonic screwdriver," he held it up to show her.
	Danni moved her mouth, swearing silently, then muttered, "nevermind.  Let's go."

	Not very long ago...
	Not very far away...

	Darkness.  That's all she knew.  But she did know something, at least.  She also knew she had a name.  Ia'an Corluna. Jedi Master.  And she remembered...the attack. 

	She heard a voice.  Deep, gravelly, with a subtle underlying insect-like buzz.  "She awakens," it said.  The darkness slowly cleared and she found herself gazing into a quintet of bright red eyes and a circular, fanged mouth, from which the voice addressed her, "The stranger must excuse us-"
	In a heartbeat, the Jedi was on her feet, twirling through the air and igniting her lightsaber.  The cylindrical metal wand speared forth with a flaming shaft of emerald light, energy so strong it could cut through nearly anything.  Ia'an was a Twi'lek, and a fine specimen, at that.  She had olive green skin, topaz eyes, was tall with curves to match, and posessed twin "head-tails" or "lekku" as her people called them.  She kept them wrapped in leather to protect them and wore the brown and white tunic and robes of a Jedi.  
	She was surrounded by an alien race she couldn't identify, after being shot down by the Republic she had served her whole life.  The three creatures further from her seemed to adopt defensive postures, while the one directly before her simply raised its spindly hands in a placating manner.  Ia'an raised her lightsaber, trembling, her body so very, very weak.  She pointed her weapon at the one closest to her, trying to remain erect, finding it more and more difficult to control her fear, "where am I and what faction do you serve?" she demanded.  
	The Xenian shied from the sword's bright energy, squinting its five eyes as it remained in the same position, "The stranger has numerous and understandable inquiries.  We will supply the answers, but most importantly the stranger should understand that I and my kin mean you no harm."
	Their voices seemed masculine, though they lacked gender-specific physical characterisitcs, each of them identical in tone and form, at least externally.  Another one spoke to her, still looking ready to attack, but only in retaliation, "Indeed.  It was we who retrieved the stranger from her shattered vessel, and revived her."  
	Ia'an blinked, and began to ever so slowly lower her saber, shaking a little more than before, "...what are you?"
	The creatures relaxed in time with her, seeming to retreat from some kind of battle meditation.  Ia'an began to realize that she sensed the force in these strange ones, more keenly even than with most Jedi.  A new one spoke, though still with the same sound, "we are called Vortigaunts by our human companions, a title we carry with honor," it folded its hands together humbly.  
	The fourth and final vortigaunt spoke next, "by what title, might we boldly inquire, is the stranger known by?"
	Ia'an hesitated, then switched off her lightsaber, replacing it on her belt, "I am Jedi Master Ia'an Corluna."

	The Vortigaunts all breathed rumbling noises of approval.
	"...aaaahh, The Jedi..."
	"...your coming was anticipated..."
	"...the chords gather..."
	"...The time draws near..."
	
	Ia'an peered about, reaching with her senses to understand what was going on.  She was standing upon green grass, rocks and boulders were strewn about, and beyond that was the sand of a beach.  The remains of her cruiser could be seen, cratered nearby in the surf.  She could tell she would never be able to fix it.  And she had no idea where she had ended up.  She couldn't even remember where she'd tried to escape to when she plotted her hyperspace jump.  She might be stranded here.
	All this was very disheatening for Ia'an, and she placed her hand upon her brow, trying to will away the ache that had sprouted.  She felt the smooth, cool hands of the Vortigaunt on her shoulders, and a hum of energy flowed gently into her, the pain and fatigue dissipating, "The Jedi must excuse us.  The Vortessence surrounded you and your craft.  We were drawn to the crash and did what we could to assist." 
	Ia'an drew herself up straighter, fianlly relaxing as she sensed no threat from these creatures, and allowed herself a small smile.  Perhaps she had found new friends, "well, I am in your debt.  Tell me what I can do to repay your kindness."
	"We require no reward beyond gratitude, but if the Jedi desires, she may accompany us as we continue on our mission." 
	Ia'an was curious now, "what sort of mission?"
	The Vortigaunts began moving away from the coast, and Ia'an followed, "Spawning season has began for a prolific race of insects known as Antlions." 
	"We seek a viable nest in order to retrieve the aromatic pheropods that the hive guardians exude in order to better herd the beasts." 
	"In so doing not only will we better protect our kin and human companions, but we will also better combat the Combine."
	Ia'an was listening intently as she trudged up the coastline with her new comrades, "What is the Combine?"

	The Vortigaunts rumbled displeasedly, "The Combine have enslaved entire galaxies and seek to do so with this planet as well.  Vortkind has offered its assistance in preventing such a tragedy. "
	"Indeed.  Humanity may be a fledgling race, but no species should live in bonds." 

	Ia'an nodded, "I wholeheartedly agree."