Charles Hammond is a very concerned, very nervous man today. Also sweaty, on account of the New Mexico weather and all this damn jogging he's been having to do. I don't know what the hell that marine Colonel has against me, he thinks, we're all just trying our best.
He's flanked by a couple of stony-faced, tight-lipped marines – his escort. It makes him feel like he's under arrest, but as a moaning police officer is carried past him on a stretcher, he remembers the gravity of the situation.
Next, he sees Materials Science, its little courtyard speckled with dead Xenian lifeforms, a trio of human-shaped figures covered with marines' ponchos close to the doors. He sighs. This is awful. He's heading for the Alta Vista Visitor Center, which also doubles as the west-side badge office for the BMRF.
A ProFor officer is there to meet him. "There are some reporters out of Las Cruces and, ah, some curious civilians here, Dr. Hammond," she explains, "that was gunfire earlier, wasn't it? What's going on? Why'd the mobile teams go to the Lambda Complex?"
Hammond struggles for words, but manages to remember her name somehow – out of the hundreds of ProFor officers. He's good with names. "Julie, I can't really talk about any of this right now, but I can say that you're doing a great job," he deflects. "And keep at it."
"Thanks, Doctor."
He asks the marines to hang back here; he doesn't want to be seen with them – too martial, too "scary."
As Hammond arrives at the gate, he finds himself suddenly on-camera: indeed, the Las Cruces-El Paso television news crew is here, along with a few other people dressed business-casual – probably more journos – with around a dozen locals milling about behind them. He hopes that the filming isn't live, as it would buy everybody some more time to get a handle on things as the crew drives back with their tapes; Black Mesa's proximity to the Very Large Array precludes the presence of TV towers in the area – most people in town get access by satellite.
"I believe this is Doctor Charles Hammond," he hears the TV journalist say, turning his back to him. "The Deputy Director of Laboratory Operations."
The print journos start up immediately: Dr. Hammond, what did we just hear? Dr. Hammond, can you comment on the whereabouts of Dr. Breen? Dr. Hammond, is the situation under control?
Hammond smiles, trying to conceal its nervous nature, and makes a downward flapping motion with his arms: quiet down, please, people. "Good afternoon, everyone," he projects. "We're having quite a long day over here. I'm here to field any questions you all may have regarding the current situation. I apologize again for the mix-up regarding the gas leak concern."
The journalists begin to take turns, notepads out:
"What were those popping sounds just now, Dr. Hammond?"
"Someone was shooting!" calls out one of the civilians. "I go to the range three times a week, I know what it sounds like!"
Hammond chuckles. "I can assure you that that's not the case. However, I would like to tell you all that, regarding the nuclear incident, we're looking into a potential national security situation here. Please do not be alarmed; you may have noticed a military deployment – that's why, and it's just a precaution."
"Is this a terrorism concern, Dr. Hammond?"
"I don't have the liberty to comment on that at this time, I'm afraid."
"What can you say about the brushfires burning around Black Mesa at this time?"
"They're unrelated to the incident, of course, but it's a concern of ours all the same," Hammond says, keeping cool. "We're still trying to determine the exact amount of radiological materials released – though we do believe it to be very minor from preliminary readings, I can't stress that enough."
"Why is it then that Governor Johnson has ordered a mandatory evacuation of the Town of Black Mesa?"
The civilians shout in agreement. "What are you hiding?" one calls out.
"Absolutely nothing," replies Hammond. "I think this is a good moment to clear up what I think is on everybody's minds: no one is in any immediate danger. But, you see, because of those fires, we're worried about contaminants in the smoke and ash, as well as on the wind in general. This isn't Chernobyl, and we are not the Russians. We're not hiding anything, and we're not putting people's health and safety at risk in the name of face-saving." A tinge of guilt spreads through him. "We're going to take every necessary measure to ensure the security of the citizens of Black Mesa."
"Have you been in direct contact with the President, as some have reported?"
"No ma'am, not me, though I can't answer for my superior, Dr. Breen, who is trying to get here from Seattle with all due haste. I have been in contact with Federal intermediaries, though, as well as state government officials, of course."
"And can you comment on the state of the evacuation effort at this time?"
"It's early, is what I can say. That's a question better suited for the National Guard or the BMPD."
"What are you hiding?" the same local repeats.
"Please, sir, I'm being honest as Abe Lincoln right now. There are matters I can't discuss due to the sensitivity of the Research Facility and the ongoing situation, of course, but, again – nobody is in any real danger."
"Dr. Hammond," begins another journalist–
No more. "Thank you. I'll be back sometime soon to field more questions." Hammond produces a stiff wave, and turns tail.
You're a goddamn liar, Chuck.
