The abandoned observatory stood sentinel against darkening sky, its damaged dome catching final rays of sunset. Two delegations approached from opposite directions with matched caution – weapons visible but not aimed, stance alert but not aggressive.
Commander Roth led her group personally. Even at distance, her distinctive silhouette was unmistakable – tall and imposing in modified military uniform with red cape that served as her signature. She moved with authority that required no formal title, power emanating from capability rather than designation.
Alexei observed her approach with combination of familiarity and uncertainty. He recognized her completely despite never having seen her before – at least, not in this reality. The stabilization compound kept fractured visions at bay, but couldn't explain this recognition that transcended immediate experience.
The delegations met at observatory's main entrance – a massive doorway long since stripped of doors. Standard security protocols engaged automatically – visible weapons check, position establishment, professional assessment of threats and escape routes.
"Commander Merrick," Roth greeted, her voice carrying peculiar resonance for Alexei – simultaneously familiar and foreign. "Thank you for agreeing to this meeting."
"Commander Roth," Merrick responded with equivalent formality. "Your interest in our guest warranted consideration."
Her gaze shifted to Alexei, eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. Whatever she saw caused minute change in her expression – recognition tinged with something like confusion.
"Alexei," she acknowledged. "You missed our rendezvous."
"Pod crash," he explained simply. "Off-course landing."
"So I've been informed." Her tone revealed nothing of whether she believed this explanation.
The delegations moved inside the observatory's main chamber – circular room beneath the damaged dome. Stars became visible through the dome's gaps as darkness deepened, casting fragmented patterns across worn floor tiles.
Formal introductions proceeded with ritualistic precision – each leader presenting key personnel, establishing relative positions without surrendering advantage. Throughout, Roth's attention repeatedly returned to Alexei, her evaluation continuing beyond initial assessment.
When formalities concluded, she addressed him directly. "Walk with me," she instructed, gesturing toward side chamber visible through archway. "Private conversation."
Merrick tensed visibly. "We agreed to maintain group integrity during discussions."
"Within visual range," Roth clarified. "But with acoustic privacy. Standard protocol for extraction debriefing."
The term "extraction debriefing" carried weight beyond its literal meaning. Both commanders understood this referred to established practices when recovering personnel from hostile territory.
After brief consideration, Merrick nodded. "Visual contact maintained at all times," he stipulated.
Alexei followed Roth to the side chamber – close enough for observers to see but far enough for conversation to remain private. His stabilized mind calculated potential scenarios without the chaos of fractured visions, though he sensed the compound's effect beginning to wane at edges of perception.
"You're not what I expected," Roth stated without preamble once they reached relative privacy.
"In what way?" he asked, studying her with equal intensity.
"Your neural patterns are degrading at unprecedented rate," she replied, the observation catching him off-guard. "Nyara's scan showed severe fragmentation. Yet you're still functional. Interesting adaptation."
Her knowledge of his condition without his disclosure was alarming. More disturbing was her reference to neural scanning – technology beyond what should be available to Dead Zone factions.
"Who are you really?" he asked, the question emerging from deepest uncertainty about his own identity as much as hers.
Something like amusement flickered across her expression. "I might ask you the same. Your credentials verify, your biometrics match records, yet your behavior pattern shows significant deviation from predicted responses."
"Predicted by whom?"
"That's not relevant to immediate concerns," she deflected smoothly. "What matters is your current status and capability."
"As what? Asset? Ally? Experiment?"
"All of those, potentially." Her directness carried strange reassurance. "You escaped Babel Tower with critical information. Information that could fundamentally alter power structures across all territories."
Another fragment clicked into place – memory of data crystal hidden in his evacuation suit, containing something of immense value. But what specifically? The details remained frustratingly beyond reach.
"The stabilization compound is temporary solution," she continued, apparently reading his confusion. "Elder Voss's formulation buys hours at best. What you need is proper neural realignment."
"Which you can provide?" he asked skeptically.
"Yes. But not here, not under these conditions." She glanced toward main chamber where delegations maintained careful distance from each other. "I'm proposing extraction to our primary base. Medical facilities, technical resources, security parameters appropriate to your status."
The offer hung between them – tempting in its promise of answers and stability, dangerous in its requirement of trust he wasn't certain was warranted.
"And if I decline?"
"Your neural degradation continues accelerating. Within weeks, possibly days, fragmentation reaches critical threshold. After that..." She left the consequence unstated but clear.
Alexei felt the stabilization compound's effect diminishing. Reality began showing hints of fracture at periphery of his vision – subtle now, but growing stronger.
"Why me?" he asked, the question cutting to core of his uncertainty. "Why this effort to find one escaped NCD operative?"
Roth studied him with recalibrated assessment. "You really don't know."
"Would I ask if I did?"
For first time, something like genuine concern crossed her expression. "The neural degradation has compromised your episodic memory more extensively than we anticipated. You don't remember your actual role in Babel Tower."
Before he could respond, alarm sliced through the tense atmosphere. Shouts erupted from outside the observatory, followed by the distinctive sound of weapon discharge.
Both delegations reacted instantly, security personnel moving to defensive positions while leaders assessed threat parameters. Merrick and Voss retreated toward prepared exit route, guards forming protective formation around them.
"Ambush," Roth stated with cold certainty, drawing sidearm with practiced efficiency. "Not mine," she added, correctly interpreting Alexei's expression.
The stabilization compound's effect collapsed entirely under surge of adrenaline. Reality fractured around Alexei, possibilities bleeding across his perception in overwhelming cascade. Blood streamed from his nose as competing futures crashed through his consciousness.
In this moment of crisis, something extraordinary happened. The fracturing personalities within his mind didn't compete for control – they integrated in response to immediate threat. The Analyst calculated probabilities, the Soldier assessed tactical options, the Poet perceived patterns in chaos, all functioning as unified system rather than competing fragments.
With sudden clarity, Alexei recognized the attackers through fractured perceptions – figures in distinctive armor moving with mechanical precision. Not Crimson Truth, not Liberation Front, not any Dead Zone faction.
"Void Stalkers," he identified aloud, the knowledge coming from somewhere beyond his conscious memory. "Wolf's elite hunters."
Roth's expression sharpened with renewed interest. "How do you know that designation?"
Before he could respond, the observatory's main entrance exploded inward. Combat erupted in chaotic intensity – professional soldiers on both sides engaging with lethal efficiency in confined space.
"Decision time," Roth stated, positioning herself beside Alexei as fragmentation lines formed between various groups. "Come with me now, or take your chances with deteriorating neurology and Wolf's hunters."
Blood streamed freely down Alexei's face, but his mind had achieved temporary, crisis-induced clarity. The fractured aspects of his consciousness spoke with unified purpose for first time since entering the Dead Zone.
His response would determine everything that followed.