EP.

[fiveroundsrapid.livejournal.com]

He opens the door, and as it closes behind him he takes a few moments before he realises that he is not in his office as he should be. He is immaculately dressed in an almost-army uniform.

He surveys the bar-room, an eyebrow cocked in mild confusion. He spins on his heel and pulls at the the handle of the door. It fails to open under his hand. He takes a deep calming breath and turns back to face the room.

Now if only he could work out where the devil he was.

Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart heads for the bar.

Comments

[acts_of_gord]

There's a man in civilian clothes at the Bar who hadn't been paying much attention to the front door. Gordon's had a remarkably decent day for once, so he's in a good mood; he looks up and comments, "New here?"

[fiveroundsrapid.livejournal.com]

"I'd say so."

He turns to the cheery looking man and his brow furrows slightly. Gesturing generally at the place he had wandered into he asks a question.

"Where am I?" He thinks for a moment then continues. "And possibly when as well?"

He's not sure where he is, or what he's doing here, but this does look awfully like a bar, and he is feeling the need for something medicinally numbing, if small.

"On the other hand, if you're serving drinks I'll have a small Scotch if you please. I could use one after today."

Alistair surveys the bar, taking in the many different kinds of people, some of whom are quite odd looking, even to his eyes.

"Odd sort of place this," he remarks before looking vaguely up at the ceiling. "Good Heavens!" He exclaims at the shock of what he sees.

[acts_of_gord]

"The location is called Milliways. Most of the other patrons tell me it's at the end of the universe. I'm not so sure about that myself, but it's a hell of a borderworld if it isn't," Gordon says. "I'm not one of the servers. The Bar's voice-activated, though, so you might find your order just off your left elbow-"

He glances up at the startled exclamation.

"Ah. Yeah. That's the display of what's supposed to be going on outside."

[fiveroundsrapid.livejournal.com]

"Outside?"

He shook himself visibly and turned back to the bar-top where indeed his drink was standing by his left elbow.

"I'm not sure I know what to say about that up there." He curls his fingers around his glass, the ice-cubes clinking against the sides. Alistair stares into the liquid intently.

"So... What am I doing here in Milliways?" He tried out the word, then took a swig of his drink.

[acts_of_gord]

"Right now? Probably just acclimating," Gordon says. "The portals that bring people here tend to be purely random on the first encounter. I've heard some of the other patrons talk about it being for some purpose or other, but I've yet to encounter any real evidence of an intelligence controlling the access."

[fiveroundsrapid.livejournal.com]

Alistair's brow wrinkles, then he shrugs off the oddness. Since meeting the Doctor and forming UNIT he's seen plenty of odd things. He might as well get some intel while he is wherever he is.

"I'm Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart. Usually people call me Brigadier. Who are you?"

He takes a sip of his whisky and swirls the liquid in the glass. He is slightly preoccupied.

"How do I leave? I've got work to do you know. I can't just go off to the 'End of the Universe' without repercussions." His moustache twitches, an unconscious sign of irritation.

[acts_of_gord]

It's a lucky thing the man is British. An American accent combined with military regalia and behavior would set off all the wrong responses for Gordon. As it stands, it's only working with Ryan that makes this any less uncomfortable.

"Gordon Freeman, Ph.D., theoretical physics. I work for a research firm called Black Mesa in the southwestern United States." He pauses, then adds, "May, 2001. Time here's not the same as time back home. For anyone."

[fiveroundsrapid.livejournal.com]

Alistair holds out a hand to shake in greeting.

"Glad to meet you Doctor Freeman. I confess I haven't much of a physics background, but I am familiar with a few things." He thinks back over the conversation.

"2001? I'd imagine anything I know is probably obsolete by your time. I've stepped out of March 1965." He paused a moment and considered his words.

"I'm not completely unused to the idea of time travel. UNIT is rather interested in the idea."

[acts_of_gord]

"I don't know if you'd be familiar with the multiple-universes hypothesis in 1965," Gordon says. "Strictly speaking I may not be from your future, just a future. There's more than one possible universe in which Earth exists and has a human population that makes it to the twentieth century. What one of us knows may not necessarily be valid in the other's universe."

"Unfortunately, all I know about time travel is that the portal that brought me here in the first place returned me to the moment I left, even though I spent several days at this end of time. My field of study was quantum teleportation research. Slightly different."

[fiveroundsrapid.livejournal.com]

Alistair blinks slowly, and raises his glass to his lips. He is trying not to show exactly how far over his head the conversation has gone.

"I'm not... very familiar with the idea. My scientific advisor would probably love to talk to you. He tends not to find too many people who understand exactly what he's talking about." Alistair's dodging the subject.

Feeling a little less stressed about his day and his apparent disappearance from his own reality, the whisky is probably to blame for this, it is very good whisky, Alistair looks around for a chair to sit on. Nearby is a small table and some rather comfortable looking armchairs.

"What do you say to sitting for a bit? If you'd rather not, I'll excuse myself and sit alone, I've been on my feet all day, and it's been quite a long day." He indicates the chairs with a wave of his hand.

[acts_of_gord]

Gordon occasionally has that effect on people. It's part of the reason why he doesn't talk much. He hates having to back up and explain.

Still, he nods. "Fine with me," he says, and heads for the chairs. "I'll answer whatever questions I can. I've been here a while."

[fiveroundsrapid.livejournal.com]

He walks over to the chairs, glass in hand and sinks into one of the armchairs. He's tired and glad of the comfort.

"Will I be able to leave here, or am I stuck? I have work to do, as I'm sure you do."

He's confused about the general workings of the place, but interested. Alistair is quite good at accepting explanations that sound like complete bunk. He's been working with the Doctor for long enough that making a time travel disrupter from bottles, forks and wire is a viable option. Although it's still very over his head. He prefers to give orders and get on with things.

[acts_of_gord]

"Most people can," Gordon says. "I'm stuck here myself for the moment. You'll return to the moment you left, so unless you do something here that has visible consequences, no one will know you were gone."

[fiveroundsrapid.livejournal.com]

Good. He does need to crack on with some work. On the other hand, if he can have a slight rest here for a little while first, and go to do the work later without anyone knowing, then he'd probably feel much better about the work in question.

There's a hell of a lot of paperwork involved in catching aliens and saving the world. It's a pity really, because he really, really hates paperwork, but quite enjoys saving the world. Not that he'd let his men know. Stiff upper-lip and all that.

He considers for a moment.

"Does 'visible consequences' include drinking heavily?" He answers his own question, "I suppose it does. Pity really." He sighs. "So I suppose the pertinent question would be what usually goes on here?"

[acts_of_gord]

"About what you'd expect in any bar with a really diverse clientele," says Gordon. "Only weirder, since so many of the patrons're species other than human. They celebrate all kinds of holidays here, some of which aren't from Earth. Didn't think they could make a holiday for a species of sentient robots work for humans, but they did."

[fiveroundsrapid.livejournal.com]

"Well, at the very least it shows initiative." He's not certain how he'll settle in around here if all they do is have parties, but he'll cope. He's The Brigadier for goodness sake, how could he do anything less?

"Aliens?" He's met quite a few aliens over the years, quite a number of them have been very bad news. On the other hand, by the Doctor's reckoning there were plenty of species out there that weren't just trying to kill people...

"Sentient Robots? Not Cybermen, surely?" This statement carries a worried tone, and is accompanied by a hasty look around the bar, where, reassuringly, no cybermen can be glimpsed. Even so, he's still on edge.

[acts_of_gord]

Gordon's not the Doctor Who fan he ought to be, which is why this conversation doesn't include a lot more gaping and 'you've got to be kidding me'. Thus the mention of Cybermen just gets a blank look. "Autobots," he says. "Transforming robots with the ability to turn into machines. Nothing that you could remotely call cybermen."

He scratches his nose and adds, "One of them uses the target range outside. Doesn't shoot at the same targets as the humans, though. Wouldn't be practical."