Chapter 98: Alexei
Steve
Phase Two began at 2:34 PM, July 9th. Extracting Dr. Alexei—the defecting Russian scientist whose knowledge would make or break our assault.
In canonical timeline, Murray and Hopper accidentally captured him. I was accelerating the process, controlling the extraction.
Team positioned: Hopper as authority figure, Joyce as compassionate presence, Murray as translator, me as muscle. We waited at the supply route I'd mapped—predictable, vulnerable, exploitable.
Alexei's transport appeared right on schedule. Two guards, one scientist, standard procurement run.
Hopper created the traffic stop. Lights flashing, authority voice: "License and registration."
The guards reached for weapons. Too slow.
Fight Master Phase 3 engaged. I moved like blur—disarm guard one, nerve strike to guard two, both down in three seconds. Non-lethal but incapacitating.
Alexei stared at me with terrified recognition. "You are... enhanced."
"Something like that. Get in the car. You're defecting today."
Joyce
The scientist was terrified. Shaking, pale, convinced we'd kill him.
"We're not going to hurt you," I said gently as Steve drove. "We need your help. To stop the gate machine."
"You know about machine?" Alexei's English was broken but functional.
"We know everything. The gate, the key, the dimensional breach. We're here to destroy it before activation." Hopper showed him our stolen documents—his own notes. "These are yours. The key operator neural link. We need details."
Alexei's eyes widened. "How did you—"
"Doesn't matter. Will you help us?"
He looked at each of us. Saw determination, not hostility. Made his decision.
"Yes. I help. Machine is wrong. Dangerous. Should not exist."
Murray
Brought Alexei to Bob's safe house—secure location, off-grid, defensible. The scientist studied our stolen intelligence with growing horror.
"This is everything. Complete base layout, power systems, guard rotations." He looked at Steve. "You infiltrated? Twice?"
"Three times after tonight. Need complete intelligence." Steve spread out his tactical maps. "The key operator mechanism. Person turning key becomes bridge. Can that person survive?"
"Not tested. Theory says bridge burns out neural pathways. Death is... likely." Alexei hesitated. "Unless person already connected to other side. Already bridge."
Steve's corruption scars flared red. "What if someone has pre-existing dimensional connection? Residual link from previous exposure?"
"Might work. Might distribute load across existing pathways instead of burning new ones." Alexei studied Steve intently. "You have connection. I see marks. You are already bridge."
"Yeah. From closing different gate. The Mind Flayer tried possessing me, left permanent corruption." Steve touched his scars. "Could I survive the key operator role?"
"Maybe. Or die faster. Unknown variable."
Steve
Russian agents tracked us at 4:17 PM. Base had realized Alexei's defection, sent recovery team.
Two cars, four agents, professional pursuit. They wanted Alexei back or dead.
"Hold on," I warned. Fight Master calculated optimal escape routes automatically.
High-speed chase through Hawkins. I pushed my BMW past safety limits, using Phase 3 reflexes to navigate traffic at speeds that should have killed us.
Hopper provided covering fire from passenger seat. "Left! They're flanking!"
Sharp turn into industrial park. Agents followed. I used my knowledge of back routes—delivery alleys, maintenance roads, paths I'd memorized during four years of paranoid preparation.
Lost the first car at the warehouse district. Second car pursued to the quarry.
Final maneuver—handbrake turn, reverse acceleration, straight at them. Game of chicken.
They swerved. Crashed into drainage ditch.
We escaped.
Alexei
At Steve's bunker, I drew everything. Complete gate machine schematics, sabotage points, power system vulnerabilities.
"These junction points," I marked three locations. "Sabotage all three simultaneously, machine loses power during activation. Dimensional feedback destroys it completely."
"And the key operator?" Hopper asked.
"Must be in place during activation. Must complete neural link. Then..." I made cutting gesture. "Sever connection violently. Either gate closes or operator dies. Sometimes both."
Steve studied the schematics with intensity that scared me. The marks on his skin pulsed—corruption I recognized from dimensional exposure.
"You are thinking you do it," I said. Not question. Statement.
"Maybe. If my existing corruption distributes the neural load, I might survive what would kill someone else." His voice held grim calculation. "I'm already bridge. Just... extending the connection temporarily."
"Or burning out completely," Joyce said. "Steve, this is—"
"Possible solution. Better than guaranteed suicide." He met her eyes. "I'm not asking permission. I'm explaining tactical reality. If key operator role is required, I'm only one who might survive it."
Bob
Monitored the conversation from my equipment station. Steve was planning martyrdom disguised as strategy.
Again.
"There has to be another way," I said. "Remote operation, automated sequence, something that doesn't require human sacrifice."
"Machine requires conscious intent," Alexei explained. "Neural link bridges dimensions because consciousness already bridges. Cannot be automated. Cannot be removed."
"Then someone else—"
"No." Steve's finality was absolute. "If this role is necessary, I'm taking it. I have the corruption, the bridge connection, the best chance of survival. That's the math."
"You're always willing to die," Joyce said quietly. "Always planning your sacrifice. When do you plan to live?"
"After everyone else is safe. That's always been the timeline." Steve returned to the schematics. "Six days until gate activation. We need assault plan that gets me to the key, sabotages the power grid, and extracts everyone before dimensional feedback hits."
"And if the feedback kills you?" I pressed.
"Then Protocol Omega activates and you continue without me. I've prepared for both outcomes." He looked at us. "But I'm not planning to die. I'm planning to win. Close the gate, destroy the machine, survive the process. That's the goal."
Hopper
After everyone left, I found Steve alone with Alexei's schematics.
"You're really doing this. The key operator role."
"If necessary. Not announcing it yet—team would try stopping me. Better to present it as last-minute tactical adaptation."
"That's manipulative."
"That's command. Protecting people from hard choices by making those choices myself." His corruption scars pulsed. "You were going to sacrifice yourself in original timeline. I'm not allowing that. This is my mission, my responsibility, my sacrifice if needed."
"And if you die?"
"Then I die saving everyone. That's acceptable math." He met my eyes. "But I'm not planning on it. My corruption might actually help—existing bridge connection, dimensional resistance, Pain Heal ability to manage neural damage. I might be only person who can survive this."
"Or you're rationalizing suicide."
"Maybe. But it's also tactical reality." He touched the schematics. "Six days, Hopper. Then we assault the base, destroy the gate, and end this. However necessary."
I wanted to argue. To stop him, to find another way.
But I'd seen his preparations. His contingencies. His absolute refusal to accept casualties among his team.
If someone had to take the key operator role, Steve Harrington—corrupted, enhanced, barely human—might actually survive it.
Or he'd die trying. And we'd all live because of it.
Please let it not come to that, I prayed. Please let there be another way.
But I knew Steve. He'd already decided.
And nothing would change his mind.
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