It was a quiet cloudy night.
Only the dog heard the noise of the large blocky object that descended towards the farm. To any human listeners it was as quiet as the night itself.
The dog heard though, and she made her disapproval of the UFO's presence clear.
The loud barks woke up the farmer's wife. In turn she woke up the farmer.
"Honey, could you go check what has Laika so wounded up?" She prodded him
He grumbled, but got up. He was awake now anyway.
He was halfway down the stairs when the barking was suddenly cut off. That made it clear to him something was genuinely wrong. He hurried down, found his shotgun and loaded two shells into it.
He opened the front door and peered out.
There was something large in the middle of his field. He raised the shotgun and started forward slowly.
Suddenly there was movement to his right! In panic he fired off a shot in the general direction.
There were sounds of scuttling, he fired off another shot, but nothing more. He fervently reloaded not even considering that shooting anything that moved may not be the right response to this sort of thing.
It wouldn't have made any difference. He saw a green flash then felt an intense pain in his torso before he collapsed.
The aliens had very clear orders regarding witnesses. Don't have any.
They moved in quiet efficiency to remove anyone who might tell a tale of what happened here.
oOoOoOoOoOo
X-com First to Fight
Episode 1: First into the fight.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Somewhere in Switzerland
The young man stepped out of the cab near the small village next to an unassuming military base. Breathing in the chilly January air he started walking towards the base.
He was in civilian clothes as this was not a regular assignment, and he was carrying little luggage. It had been recommended he travel light. He assumed it was because it was a highly mobile unit, albeit he didn't know exactly what they did.
It was a real hush-hush outfit. There were some nasty rumors about high turnover, but he had no idea who they could be fighting and still cover that up here in the middle of Europe. He presumed it was just hardship duty so they transferred out fast.
In short he had not the slightest idea of just what he was walking into and if he did he'd probably have turned around and left on the spot. As he reached the gate he suddenly without any real reason imagined hearing ominous laughter. He looked around for a moment then shrugged it off.
If there was a Blood God it was overjoyed at the high probability for yet another lamb to the slaughter.
He did get a bit of a hint as he showed his transfer papers to the gate guard.
"Egon Olsen, Norwegian Army 2nd Lieutenant. Transferring to United Nations Special Response Force. Oh another bagwalker eh?"
"Excuse me?"
"Oh nothing, you'll find out soon enough anyway."
He considered himself an optimist, he really did, but now the ominous signs starting even back home when he got offered this assignment had built up to a point even he couldn't ignore them.
He stopped just inside the gate.
"All right, I get it. I've done something amazingly stupid and only now figured it out. Can you let up now?"
His religion (A firm believer in the gods of Irony) would rate that as a very pious prayer indeed.
He headed onwards in a different walk intent on tackling whatever lay ahead. He'd take it in a stride.
Poor bastard had no idea just what he was going to have to take.
oOoOoOoOoOo
"The unit's name is X-com. And we fight aliens."
"Eh?"
"That's right." The disheveled commander of the underground base under the regular military base said. "We go out and kill little ETs."
"Whoa hold on. Are you serious or just drunk?" The young officer could smell the booze clearly.
"Both. But it doesn't make it less true. Surely you heard the stories."
"Well yeah, but I figured they were just experimental aircraft or something." Egon was completely off balance.
"They aren't. Aliens have arrived, and every time we've attempted to make contact they've responded with lethal force. So through the UN they formed X-com to calm the smaller governments down." Nonchalantly, but Egon got the impression that there was a core of bitterness under it.
"Hang on. A covert alien invasion makes no sense. If they got space travel they could do massive damage to earth no problem. We'd have no defense against them fighting from ultimate high ground."
"Given this thought I see."
"Well I like science fiction." Egon shrugged. He still wasn't entirely sure they hadn't sent that ahead and this was some sort of prank on him. Still the commander seemed sincere.
"And that fact is the reason X-com isn't taken very seriously. The aliens may not acknowledge us, and may take some minor actions that could be considered hostile, but if they were here to actually invade and do serious damage they would hit us much harder."
"What sort of hostile actions?" He had a cold feeling in his gut. He had two skills he was proud of; one of them was his ability to read people. And there was definitely something more here.
"Oh nothing really:. Weird over flights, cattle mutilations, abductions and disappearances, some of which are returned most of which aren't and were presumably killed to silence witnesses"
"So they kill civilians where they land and they consider that a minor issue?" Egon didn't want to believe that.
"Welcome to the world of large scale politics. Where individual people only matter if they have lots of money or can't be brushed under the carpets."
"So what do we have to deal with them?"
"One base, here in Europe, there was talk of having it in the US, but they felt confident they'd do just as good a job. One combat squad with soldiers who are supposed to be elite, but in reality tends to be those their nations of origins won't miss, and a pair of advanced fighters of Russian design to intercept UFOs with, that just about never flies due to lack of spare times and poor radar coverage of our own as well as poor integration with local systems. Meaning that when we do see one we're lucky to be able to launch anything."
That moment him getting the offer made sense, he had wondered why he got the recommendation for a job that was this highly paid when he had passed as last in his class rankings. He had not even been issued any posting before being offered to transfer to the so called UNSRF with ludicrously high pay.
"Do we have anything going for us?"
"Good pay for soldiers, good equipment, even if nowhere near the aliens gear, and snazzy ranks. That reminds me. You aren't a Lieutenant anymore."
"Eh?"
"We got our own simplified rank structure. There's no Lieutenant in it. You are therefore from the moment you entered X-com service a Captain. Here's your rank bar." He got handed a pair of rank bar with three spherical with Xs in them on it.
"Wait. Just what job will I be doing here?" There was a sinking feeling.
"I thought it'd be obvious. You are the new combat team leader."
oOoOoOoOoOo
He leant his forehead into the locker door. He was sorely tempted to start smashing his head into the locker. That might give him a concussion and get him out of this place.
He didn't think he was arrogant. He knew his limitations. This sort of job he was absolutely not qualified for. And when he'd pointed that out to the base commander the only reply he'd gotten was that he was the only field officer they had so there wasn't much choice.
To summarize the situation their support was poor, their success was minimal and their turnover was immense.
They had tried with Special Forces at first, but when they lost the second team in a week that had been given up, by now they just got poor quality line infantry.
He fought back the urge to harm his brain by means of wrecking the locker with his forehead yet again.
He had barely gotten to pick up his gear before going here and stopping. Logically he should go and meet the troops, get some idea what he was working with.
That really didn't appeal to him right now. That sinking feeling was there in force telling him that he really didn't want to know what he'd find there.
What the hell was he supposed to do?
That's when he heard the door open. He stood up and turned towards the door.
"What are you standing around for soldier? Get a bloody move on!"
A man wearing the X-com fatigues and sergeant stripes on his shoulders entered the room. Egon's first impression was that he was incapable of speaking without yelling.
Egon bit back a response of the lines 'Do you always talk to your superiors like that?' not only would it be rude, but he would be the last person who could with a straight face school anyone on respect.
He took a closer look. The sergeant was quite a bit older than him, but seemed to have an air of irreverence to him. He looked worn, had probably seen actual action a few times. He also for some odd reason didn't have any nametag on his chest as he was supposed to.
"Sorry sergeant. I'm just a bit overwhelmed by the turn of events." Calm in face of this man of noise seemed the best bet. From his accent he guessed that the sergeant was English, he didn't know what sort of décor was normal when an officer out of uniform dealt with a non-com in uniform in Britain, but presumably it was similar to Norway's rule of not saluting when not in uniform or saluting people out of uniform.
He held out his hand.
"Captain Egon Olsen formerly of the Royal Norwegian Army at your service." Voice carefully measured as to not seem like he was disciplining him with his rank. This sergeant probably knew the outfit a lot better than he did so a good first impression would help a lot.
The sergeant stared at his hand for a moment as if it was something offensive, then reached out to shake his hand.
"Sergeant James Coburn formerly of the Royal Fusiliers of the British army." The slight emphasis on royal making it quite clear that he thought any other army claiming to be Royal in any way was just a cheap knockoff of the proper thing. He put an uncomfortable amount of force into his squeeze. Egon did his best to match it while trying to get a proper read on the man.
As far as he could tell this man was utterly unable to fake respect for somebody he didn't have any for. He also got the read that right now he had low opinion of officers who just came in from nowhere to take command without having any idea of the situation or people involved. Especially one as junior as Egon looked
Given that it was about the same that Egon would have felt if their situations were reversed (Thought he hoped he'd be able to hide it better) he decided he couldn't really fault him for that. Instead set about clearing things up.
"I presume you are the one who's keeping this unit going so you are the best qualified to give me some pointers how to best do my job here. I'll be honest. I don't have as much command experience as I'd like for this kind of job so I'll be relying quite heavily on you to do a passable job."
Some people you best earned their respect by matching their hostility with your own. In this case deferring to his greater experience and making it clear you saw the trouble in the situation too would best defuse hostilities.
The sergeant's features softened barely as he released the hand. It'd have to do for now.
"So I guess I should get to meet the troops. I don't know how you are with formality here so should I bother to change into uniform first?"
"That would be recommended, yes."
"All right then. Give me a minute and I'll be ready to do some introductions."
oOoOoOoOoOo
"How long has X-com fought aliens anyway?" Egon was thumbing through a brochure regarding the base he'd been given alongside the gear.
"Not long. We started late 1998."
"Not that long then, we know any ways to beat them?"
"Only shooting them until they die seems to work." The sergeant answered in a non-comitial tone.
Not what he had meant, but still answered the question. The aliens were difficult to fight. There was no known specific anti-alien tactics.
Not that he was any good with tactics. He blamed tactics for being the reason he graduated dead last. He just couldn't get them right. Anything tactical he sucked at, war games, board games, computer games if it involved tactics he sucked. The only reason he'd passed at all was that tactics isn't that important for an officer anymore. It hadn't mattered much in his one mandatory non-com year, but it had dragged down quite when learning to be an officer.
Still. If there had been any he'd have been reassured.
They entered the mess hall. It looked much larger than what their amount of personnel should warrant. At one table near the middle sat six people in X-com trooper fatigues.
"Good afternoon gentlemen. I have been informed we just received a new fire magnet to lead us in the field."
"This is Captain Egon Olsen. Our new supposed commanding officer. Never faced the aliens before as far as I know."
They stood up getting to attention as best they could.
"At ease soldiers."
"Captain these are your troops. This is Squaddie Andrei Volkov, Russian, has participated in two missions." A nod from one of the soldiers he now knew was the Russian. He looked young, but there was something with his eyes. A bit of hardness that marked him has a veteran of something nasty
"This is rookie Robert Matthews, British, no missions." Another nod, this time from a smiling youngster with blond hair, he didn't look much like a soldier to Egon.
"Squaddie Fhajad al-Ansab, Egyptian, one mission." A friendly smile came together with the nod. It was a bit reserved, but the impression he got was that this was a dependable and intelligent soldier. Far from the stereotypes perpetrated regarding middle eastern.
"Squaddie Dominic Morgensen, Belgian, one mission." He seemed apprehensive as he nodded. Not willing to trust an officer without any missions. Those seemed to matter a lot here. He noticed now when his eyes wandered to the next soldiers that those with no missions and those with at least one mission had different rank badges.
"Rookie Natalya Berovic, no missions" A nod from the units sole female. She looked rough, not exactly what you'd get if this was a TV show. She looked like a warrior pure and simple. Not somebody he'd date, but to back him up she'd do nicely.
"And finally Rookie Devon Archer, American, no missions." Cowboy, that was what he thought when he looked at this guy. He looked confident and cocky, probably a marine. He'd have to wait until a fight until he could figure out if he was dependable or not. Then again, he'd have to wait for a mission to figure out if he himself was dependable in a real fight
His sinking feeling eased off a little. He had expected worse. None of these seemed like disasters ready to go off.
Then why didn't he feel reassured?
oOoOoOoOoOo
The X-com control center was not the sort of huge complex you'd expect from Earth's first line of defense. It was only modestly sized and had only half a dozen people on watch. In theory they got radar feed from every country in the region, in practice this was rather spotty. They had their own radar facilities that did most of the detection, a marvel of engineering able to push up to a tremendous range. Of course it only worked against UFOs which in general flew higher and faster than most planes, it had a far bigger lower altitude hole than most radar.
It also was as reliable as most of X-com's custom gear. Which to date only one exception existed that was actually reliable.
This time though it worked.
"We have a contact. Coming up from lower, accelerating. It's at very least not civilian, but small sized" One of the radar operators reported.
"Confirm with local flight controls that nothing military is in that region." The shift leader said. Standard procedure that they all knew well, but habit insisted he say it out loud.
"Confirming" The communications officer set about doing so. The shift leader turned on his intercom.
"Commander this is CC, we have a probable UFO, working on confirming that. Request that Interceptor team be put on standby."
The middle aged man that was the X-com base commander may be somewhat alcoholic in response to losing so many people for so little gain. But he retained enough presence of mind to try to do his job. And it was routine by now.
"Affirmative CC. Giving the order now. They will launch on your order."
"Understood. Communications the show is all waiting for you."
"Just finishing up sir. Confirmed that it's not friendly, I say again not friendly."
"Interceptor Team you have a go."
oOoOoOoOoOo
The hangar was busy like an ant-hill.
An interceptor was a horrible mishmash of American, Russian and British technology which hadn't been intended to put together. Consequently they were a reliability nightmare. And right now it bit them in the ass again.
"DAMN! Isn't there any way to get me in the air?"
"Not without those avionics. Sorry but you are sitting this one out."
"CC this is interceptor 2. I'm unable to launch. I say again, I am unable to launch."
"Understood Interceptor 2, it looks like this will be all Interceptor 1's show provided that plane doesn't crap out too."
The pilot cursed his fighter under his breath.
"This is Interceptor 1. I'm launching."
Thankfully they managed to get one of them up. It should be enough against a small UFO.
oOoOoOoOoOo
The UFO had finished the scouting mission of the farm region and was heading for home. It just had to stay undetected long enough to get out of Europe and it'd be home free. Not that they worried much. Only occasionally had those infuriatingly fast human fighters been able to pick them up in time to catch them. And even when they went down they had excellent chance to fight off the human response and make repairs provided the damage wasn't too severe.
Still it'd be an inconvenience.
This time they'd be inconvenienced.
As they crossed the rough centerline of Germany the interceptor switched on its onboard radar to engage. Closing rapidly it armed the onboard stingray missiles. He had heard that base commander had clamored for making the heavier and much longer ranged Avalanche standard for intercepts, but had been overruled by his superiors who wanted to shoot the UFO down with as little damage as possible so there was more to salvage.
That in turn meant that the fighters attacking was put at greater risk using the shorter ranged and weaker stingray missiles backed only by the cannon pod. As it was they were sufficient to knock down the small UFOs they had faced to date, but there were reports of far larger craft that could very well be far better armed. Even so the small Stingrays would cut it against this small UFO.
"This is Interceptor 1. Target is a medium scout. Requesting permission to engage."
"Interceptor 1 you have a go. Weapons free."
An UFO engagement was not that interesting to watch. There was no maneuvers, no fancy evasion. It was simply an extended high speed chase where the interceptor blasted away at the UFO until one way or the other the engagement was forced to an end. It was a very simple straight forward engagement.
That didn't make it any less nerve wracking for a pilot going at it alone without support.
The UFO had just picked up the craft closing fast. The sheer amount of commercial traffic made noticing a hostile before the last minute hard. Standard procedure when detected by a military craft was to go full speed and attempt to outrun them, even shooting it down wouldn't be able to hide the contact from earth at this point. Unfortunately while easy in space that couldn't be done instantly in atmosphere. And even then they couldn't retain full speed for all that long with only one Elerium core and pushing against atmospheric resistance. At the moment they needed to hang on long enough to let the core start producing enough power for the engine and then accelerate. The scout carried only minimal armament and had little chance in a long range fight like this. It's only hope was to hang together long enough to escape.
They had started building power immediately as the enemy was confirmed as tracking them, but they didn't think it would be enough.
They were right.
The entire craft shook as if Thor's personal hammer had hit them as a stingray missile got in a particularily good hit. The overcharging power plant was unable to take it. Suddenly power cut out to the gravity field keeping them in the air. They were going down.
"This is Interceptor 1. Target is trailing smoke and rapidly losing altitude. I will follow it down to confirm the kill then head for home."
"Roger that Interceptor 1. Good luck".
Now the rest of the job was for the bastards in the combat team. The pilot felt sorry for them.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Egon was reading the various files on the aliens and what was known on them when the alarm sounded.
"Why now?" He hadn't even been here a full day and already there was an intercept? He headed straight for his locker to grab his personal weapon then to Hangar 1 as the procedure said he should.
The base was such a maze of corridors that he was afraid he'd get lost, but clearly marked lines on the floor showed him where to go. The base was made for rapid response all right.
Even with what he felt was admirable speed he found he was the last one to arrive, though by the way some of them were breathing it wasn't by much. But he could feel how tense the situation was. Given the supposed mortality rate he could understand that.
"Okay this is going to sound real stupid coming from the supposed ranking officer, but what do we do now?"
It defused the tension a bit, which was the point.
"We board the Skyranger, fly to an UFO crash site. Kill all the aliens, go home." The Sergeant summarized quickly.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"Works for me." He shrugged. He could tell it wasn't that simple, but now confidence mattered, even if it was unwarranted.
"What is your standard procedure for taking out the UFOs?"
"We split into two teams. One goes for the UFO, the other sweeps the area for any hostiles in the surrounding areas. The little buggers love to have sentries in ambush."
"Sounds workable enough."
"It works some of the time yes." The Sergeant nodded.
Egon frowned. This sheer defeatist mentality probably made things worse. If he was to command this outfit he would have to do something about that. He'd have to figure something out when he came back.
'If you come back.' A tiny voice whispered in his ear. This was dangerous work, but he'd work on the assumption that he'd survive. It wasn't like he could do anything if he didn't survive, unless he could come back as a ghost that is. He grinned a bit at that as there were some people he really thought deserved a good haunting.
As he sat down in the skyranger he gave his weapon yet another onceover. The FN FAL wasn't fundamentally different in use from the G3 he was used to from the Norwegian Army, even fired the same cartridge, but even so it felt a bit unusual than his old G3. Still he'd manage.
He felt the vertigo as the elevator in the hangar pushed upwards and the hatch in the surface hangar retracted. Then the Skyranger stood inside a surface hangar and rolled out on the runway.
Technically speaking the Skyranger didn't need the runway, but it saved fuel to take off normally. He heard the chatter with the tower giving them clearance for takeoff and then the sudden acceleration of the takeoff itself and then they were airborne.
The Skyranger was as a typical military transport built more for reliability than comfort, he had flown in military transport planes before so this wasn't something he was unused to. It would be about an hour before they reached their target.
There was no chatter. Just a tense atmosphere, nobody was looking forward to this. Everyone had the feeling that somebody wouldn't be coming back and it may well be them. That was not the sort of atmosphere a combat unit should have.
He leaned over to the person next to him who happened to be al-Ansab.
"You guys are aware that having the sort of attitude this team seems to have is a quick way to have even more casualties right?" Okay it was a stupid way to ask, but it got the point across
"Maybe so, but it's easier to say than to do." The tone was matter of fact, but he didn't like the words.
"Hey I'm managing it even though I'm expecting the aliens to be lovechildren of Arnold Schwarzenegger and the Predator given how you guys are reacting." Al-Asnab had clearly seen that movie as he started coughing which exploded into full-blown laughter.
"You did at least bring the right attitude for the job I hear. Provided you can fight as well I think you'll last as long as any trooper."
"Um... Thanks."
He felt the pitch in engine tune before the signal over the radio bead that they were approaching their target zone.
"Well. Here goes." He got himself ready to get up and move out. Having deliberately taken a seat near the door he'd be the first one out to get a view on conditions on the ground, as he'd been taught back in the army.
He liked the ideal that implied; that the officers should be the first to fight.
The craft landed with a thump and the hatch dropped quickly down. He got up and darted down the ramp into the nearest concealment he could see and put his FAL to the shoulder to look for hostiles.
Nothing he could see in the darkness of the night. The rest of the squad fanned out and set up positions around the skyranger ramp.
Suddenly his radio crackled.
"I recommend you take Al-Ansab, Beronvic and Morgensen and sweep the area for hostiles." The sergeant again.
"All right. You'll handle the UFO then?"
"Of course I'll handle the UFO rookie. What are you? Bloody deaf?"
Egon grinned.
"Keep this up and I'll recommend you for a commission you know."
Sudden silence answered him and then.
"You wouldn't dare!" The tone was so acidic it could make a hole straight through a tank.
Egon just grinned like a maniac as he signaled his element of the squad to move out.
"Where are the civilians? Do we have to worry about hostages?"
"Negative. The aliens seem to minimize witnesses. The old fashioned way."
Egon's grin died instantly at that comment. He retained his focus though.
"Well then it's time to show them how we feel about that eh?"
"If you say so sir."
They moved forward slowly trying to make themselves harder to see in the darkness.
There was complete silence. Egon wished they were able to use night goggles, but it seemed alien energy weapons fire interfered with them and effectively made them useless if you looked in the general direction of plasma fire. This meant that only more old fashioned tools like the MK1 eyeball would work. They had flares for this, but of course he had forgotten to pick some up from the armory before they left.
They had almost completed their sweep and were walking through some dense bushes when it happened.
Suddenly there was a flash of green and what looked like a green beam lasting just the briefest of instances slashed from the opening to a barn out and hit Morgensen in the chest dropping him like a smoking sack of potatoes. Simultaneously green flashes came from the direction of the UFO.
"Morgensen is down!"
"Archer is down!"
"They are everywhere! Oh god we're all going to die!"
"Cut the chatter and get some flares in their direction!"
"Roger."
Egon aimed at what appeared to be the origin point of the green beam and fired off a few shots. Berovic tossed a flare. Suddenly he could see the little bastard.
"Tango spotted!"
It was a grey. Just like those so popular in fiction it was a big headed small grey man with big black eyes. It squeezed off another shot, this one blowing up some bushes next to him.
Right then he didn't care where it was from. Just that it was going to die.
Egon and Al-Ansab opened fire simultaneously hitting him repeatedly. But it didn't seem to do anything even as they saw small splatters of a dark liquid from his body. It raised the weapon to fire again before suddenly collapsed. One of the dozen or so bullets that had hit it had finally hit something vital.
"Tango down!"
"Oh Godohgodohgod."
"Matthews come back here!"
More green flashes came from over at the UFO. Egon though he saw a profile in that direction in the flash through a window. It was roughly humanoid with a large head.
"Matthews is down!"
Egon got up and rushed forward to get out of the bushes then dropped to his knees. This would be a difficult shot under night conditions.
"Captain what are you doing?"
He didn't reply. He squeezed off four shots in rapid succession shots and was rewarded with an alien cry.
"Tango down. Who got him?"
"Olsen I think."
"Good shooting then. We're preparing to enter the UFO."
Egon felt rather than saw the rest of his fire team taking positions around him.
"There's usually not much more than a few on these crash sites. We should be almost done now." Al-Ansab said from behind him.
"Entering the UFO now. There's a lot of smoke and I can't see anything." Suddenly the noise of one of the aliens energy weapons, then several rifle shots.
"Volkov is down. Tango is down."
"Any tangos left?"
"Unknown, be on your guard."
"Tango! AAARGH!" Suddenly a plasma weapon fired from behind him.
He spun around as best he could from his kneeling position and saw one of the greys having somehow snuck up behind them to virtually point blank and just blown Berovic away.
Before he could do anything the alien also shot Al-Ansab. The plasma bolt vaporizing a large part of his chest.
The alien started turning towards him and instincts took over.
The other thing apart from his ability to read people Egon was proud of was his personal combat skills. He was damn fast and damn hard to hit.
Just as the alien started squeezing the trigger Egon threw himself flat on his back and brought to FAL up to across his chest roughly at his right shoulder and fired repeatedly into the alien.
The position was awkward and uncomfortable and actually hitting something beyond point blank was near impossible.
Thankfully the alien was point blank.
It took several hits to its chest that knocked it back, but didn't knock it down, then Egon flipped his thumb up to the fire selector, flipped it down to auto and fired all that remained in his magazine into the alien's big head. Near impossible to keep on target it still hit it enough to take it down for good.
"What's happening over there? Anyone alive? Report?"
Egon brought his breathing under control.
"This is Captain Olsen, Berovic is down, Al-Ansab is down, Tango is down."
There was silence when he realized what that meant.
Everyone but him and the sergeant was down. And given how destructive the alien weapons were they were probably dead.
Virtually the entire squad had been wiped out in one mission.
"I see. Hold your position and I'll link up with you to do a final sweep. I think we got them all though."
oOoOoOoOoOo
The mess hall was quiet. Theoretically they should have just gone back to bed and written a report in the morning
James didn't feel like abandoning his commanding officer yet though. The young captain had done a very good account of himself out there, but on paper the team was his responsibility. And the older sergeant was rapidly becoming aware that the captain took responsibility seriously.
Captain Olsen was sitting there with his head face down on the table. It looked slightly comical, but it was the sign of him taking it as complete defeat.
"Look kid. There was nothing you could have done out there. Night fights are hell. And this isn't the first such disastrous mission. And it won't be the last."
No response.
"This was my third mission, and while it was the worst one yet, we lost four guys the last mission and five guys the mission before that."
The officer lifted his head and stared at him.
"You'll have to get used to this. X-com is the most dangerous combat assignment anywhere on earth right now. You will lose most the men you lead in a matter of weeks." The young officer looked like he needed some encouragement, shame he couldn't think of any to give him. It just was too dark a situation to offer anything but consolation.
"I refuse to accept that." That statement was quiet, but you could feel the steel under that statement. Either the captain was made of sterner stuff than he thought or he was cracking already.
"This slaughterhouse situation is going to end. We're not going to sit here and take this crap from those ET bastards." The officer pulled something out of his pocket and slammed it onto the table.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?"
It was the leaflet somebody had printed up to introduce newcomers to the base. And right now it was laid down open on the map of the facility.
"I'm the most dangerous damn thing on the battlefield. I'm a Junior Officer with a map and an idea and I'm about to act on it."
For the first time in his life James was left utterly speechless.
oOoOoOoOoOo
"Next time on X-com. First to fight"
"This idea is insane." James said.
"Hey if you have any better ideas I'd love to hear them. In the meantime we're going to try this because just going on as we are is unacceptable." Captain Olsen said.
"You can't seriously believe this will work."
"Quite possibly not, but it can't make things worse. And if it doesn't and I survive we try something else. And we'll keep trying new things until we either die or we find something that works. Is that clear sergeant!"
It was rapidly becoming clear that James had underestimated the captain quite a bit.
"We usually don't allow advance payments here. Just what do you intend to use the money for?" The base commander asked Egon
"Training equipment that I don't believe I'll be allowed to requisition." Egon said with a grin.
"Just why wouldn't it be allowed."
"Because it's too unconventional sir."
"Do I want to know?"
"No sir you don't."
The pilot burst into the mess hall.
"Who the HELL painted my Interceptor pink!"
"Die ET bastards!" He yelled as the torrent of HE shells from his autocannon rapidly reduced the small farmhouse to cinders and the alien that had been laying in ambush within it to pulpy green bits.
X-com First to fight: A Map and an idea.