Prologue – Goodbye, A-Team.
Commander Pournelle slumped in his chair as the footage looped for the eighth time. He'd hoped there'd be something new to discover in those fifteen minutes of chest-cam video, some vital piece of information that would compensate for the loss of his three best soldiers, but it was useless. Grainy images of a shadowed warehouse. A flash of movement. The sudden concussion of a grenade detonating, followed by the meaty thud of Corporal Lebedev's body hitting the floor. Then flashes of muzzle fire, screams, and silence.
Pournelle paused the replay and rested his head in his hands. His breath echoed in his ears. "What'd we get out of Ramirez?"
The men and women assembled around Pournelle's desk looked grim. "Sargent Ramirez is badly injured," one suit finally volunteered. "His version of events is... suspect."
"Tell me anyway."
The suit coughed. "The team landed in Hamburg just after nine pm. They located the extraterrestrial object – what we're referring to for now as pod zero – and followed a series of strange noises to a local auto storage facility. Once inside, the team discovered an unidentified man who requested help in German. However, when approached, the man shot Corporal Lebedev at close range and-"
"The X-rays, damn it! What did he say about the aliens?"
The suit stared at his papers, pointedly avoiding Pournelle's gaze. "Three extraterrestrials. Lieutenant Hashimoto killed one with a grenade but was shot from behind shortly after. Ramirez killed the second."
"And the third?"
"Escaped, we assume."
"Christ." Commander Pournelle ground his back teeth. First contact with an alien race, and what did he have to show for it? Nearly eighty German civilians dead or missing, a first response team cut to ribbons and their backup team reduced to one man – a man who, if their surgeons were correct, would be lucky to ever walk again. On top of that, an extraterrestrial loose in Hamburg, and the XCOM council out for his head on a plate.
At least the dropship came back in one piece. Small mercies, he supposed.
"Our research team is already conducting autopsies on the corpses of the... X-rays," the suit said, as if to break the silence. "That aside, we need to know your instructions in case of a second incursion. We know the current list of recruits is small-"
"We barely have a squad," Pournelle said. "Twelve rookies. They're trained for peacekeeping operations, not hostile contact with extraterrestrials. Maybe if our sponsor nations were willing to donate a few platoons of their best and brightest, we could turn this outfit into something professional. As it is, I'm protecting Earth on a shoestring budget, with barely enough manpower to keep the lights running."
The suit grinned weakly. "What do you expect, Commander? That's politics."
Pournelle was about to reply when the phone on his desk rang. Not the white phone, but the heavy ceramic hardline. He snatched it up, took a quick breath to calm his nerves, and said, "Central?"
"Commander Pournelle?"
He recognised the voice. Jerry King in HQ. He sounded panicked, which was unusual for King, a man who'd been both a military analyst and highschool teacher before joining the X-COM project. That could only mean one thing. "Contact?"
"Touchdown in Calgary," King said. "Abductions and civilian deaths reported. The Canadian government request immediate assistance."
Pournelle squeezed the phone tight. He looked at the circle of suits across from his desk, but none of them were offering solutions. He supposed that if they'd had solutions, they'd be sitting on his side of the desk, and he on theirs.
His best recruits were either in traction or on slabs, Calgary was under attack, and he needed to make a decision.
Pournelle's lips drew back over his teeth in a rictus grin. "Gentlemen," he said. "Your second incursion has arrived, right on schedule.
"And, God help us all, I'm sending the B-Team."