Stasis was like a very long sleep, a dreamless sleep that all in all didn't feel very restful. And twenty years it state had made the commander fairly weary. Since the rescue operation that had ripped him out of ADVENT arms a few days ago, it all had been fuzzy. It took a good twenty four hours for his vision to stabilize and that same amount of time for limbs and balance to clearly kick off. Add to that a few black out sessions, and three trips to throw up any amount of food exceeding the spoonful. Somehow, the alien machinery had prevented decay in the muscles and it was a matter of agility that kept the commander from his former physical glory. During that time, his medical chief of staff kept a close eye on him, and shadowed his every movement via a south African soldier, which was tiresome for both. After those few days of being presented the various spaces and rooms, departments and sectors of the ship, he finally had the authorization to be left alone and not treated as a crippled child. Regarding the chip taken from his skull, Philippe preferred not being bothered by it right now. All he wanted to know, was if there was any remnant of alien tech inside him, and whether he was one hundred percent master of his thoughts and movements anytime. That known, the technicalities had been ordered to be left for some other time.
Now sitting behind his desk, as the Avenger's thrusters kicked off in the distance, he awaited the Major Sutherland for a situational report of the who's who around the ship. The Scottish officer had been looking after the most parts of the survival of XCOM remnants during these years. Looking at his quarters, he smiled faintly. The furniture was pretty much the same he had in the XCOM Europe HQ. The Vigilo Confido banner was all used up, yet still on the wall. Behind him, was a battered assault rifle, his assault rifle: a modified HK 417, harboring a – broken lensed – holographic sight and doubled magazine. It seemed as though no one here had ever doubted seeing him back here. Even his plaque, with a plasma burned corner was there. Central was to be thanked for keeping the place intact. This man always had a remarkable memory for detail.
"Commander Philippe Terreville"
A Museum. That word stuck in his head when he awoke the following morning, still seated in his chair. The spacious room was a living museum to his name. Like a testament to the pre-war era, when XCOM was an obscure international organization and the threat of xeno lifeform a long forgotten idea from the 60's. Before losing himself more into thoughts of the before times, a few knocks rang on the metallic door.
- Come in, he ordered calmly.
And in came the Scottish woman, and her battle fatigues, holding some files under her arm, followed by her right arm, the lieutenant Loiselle, also known as "Frenchy". Time hadn't touched them much. Aside from a large scar on her cheek, and a few wrinkles on Loiselle's face, time had left very few visible marks. The commander did study his major for a second, while she stood at attention. Yes, physically, the scar was new, but psychologically, her eyes were immensely colder than twenty years ago. Stern, or empty was the word. Determined, wounded again and again, hurt but never beaten. The last decades must have been far more terrible he'd thought. Suddenly, he noticed she was at attention and "Frenchy" as well.
- At ease Major. What can I do for you" Axle"?
- Well commander, as asked, I bring a situational report for the Resistance and our operations.
Loiselle motioned himself without another word and displayed a few files. The Scottish woman waited a few moments before taking a step forward. The Frenchman on the other hand stepped back and headed to the entrance door.
- The Avenger's potential is barely scratched so far sir. And there are still quite a few cubic meters of spaces we can nick off that wee hull. That and Shen is confident in the power she can dig up.
- No technical. Not today. Give me the goods, personal wise. Teams, operators, logistics. If we are to act on boots on the ground, the hull is not my main concern.
She smiled, a faint, split second smile, while her eyes went back straight, and off the desk and her commanding officer. She had forgotten, with the passing of time, that there were men amongst leaders, who would put human strength and welfare well before any other. She did remember his teachings, his leadership on and off the battlefield. Souvenirs brought back the major to stand a little straighter, prouder, and fiercer. She missed her commander, as both a leader, and a person. The day he was captured, the weeks, months during which she battled through a winning enemy, trying to find a trace, a faint speck of dust whose name would be her leader's. But then came the losses, the disavowing, the fall and the resilience. The shadow of it all passed through her face, making drop her shoulders. Elizabeth swallowed up the reminiscence.
- Yes boss. Well, concerning R&D, we have Shen's daughter. Few engineers. The loss of EU XCOM HQ has been quite a blow. After you were… Taken, the assault went on in an effort to annihilate the complete count.
- I did hear our departments changed lead. So… No R&D.
- Almost. Concerning our Science and Development... A few months after your disappearance, Doctor Vahlen… Well… Vanished.
- What?
- Vanished boss. She was part of a joint effort with XCOM Asia, to find a trace of you. Along with part of her staff and an operator team, Doctor Vahlen went off the reservation. MIA, but now it is safe to assume she is dead. Thanks to efforts pulled, Research has only slowed but not stopped. Dr Tygan is to be commended for it. Upon his defection from ADVENT regime, his insights have boosted a dormant part of the Resistance. We have grown from guerilla cells to full on operational Resistance, with the Avenger. He, and Shen senior.
It was inevitable, the commander knew it. In war, people would disappear, eventually yet certainly, die. But docs and researchers like Vahlen were not the first to come mind when acknowledging loss of personnel. Looking for Doctor Vahlen for so long, with no vital signs, no proof of life seemed foolish. Foolishness had brought him back tough. His elbows on the table, fingers intercrossed, Philippe leaned his noses against his hands.
Continue monitoring for a vital sign. No expeditions on the ground to find Vahlen without my approval. Any signal, message, proof of life comes directly to me. I want to know where she crashed and burned. I don't believe she can come back from the dead. But burial would be nice.
Yes boss.
Also… I'm back, but what of the other branches? North America, South America… Asia?
The major shook her head.
Every other commander… Died before being captured. Shot themselves, or had ordered their troops to do so in the event of a capture. The Europe Branch example spread like wildfire.
And their remnants?
Still in their sectors. They are hiding, like us, but with far less logistics and help. We get a few messages here and there by the wire. Most of the survivors have become instructors to the rebels. Created cells… Contingency's Standard Operating Procedures.
Pangolin Protocol?
Indeed.
Out of this cluster of grim news, it seemed humanity was still a defiant child, unwilling to bend and fully determined to fight back tyranny and oppression. The commander leaned back in his chair, pondering all this newly acquired information. He would need a plan. A large scale, big picture one. First off there was a need for intelligence, pure, raw material without which he could take no decisions, have no viable war effort.
The Resistance? He finally asked after a few seconds of deep thought.
The French officer, silent until then, laid a few aerial pictures of what looked like a slum, hidden under camouflaged nets and trees. Pointing to some, his thick French accent slice the rustle of paper.
Resistance is struggling. Mostly disrupting the convoys, harassing checkpoints, stealing from ADVENT whenever opportunities come. They built themselves a few havens. We are still discovering new ones during our flights. In the majority, they're secluded, and what they manage to take from the enemy, suffices to keep them alive. Not much more.
That's a radio antenna correct?
Yes sir, answered the lieutenant. This is Croatoan haven. We have them into our "allies" section. The radio pole is joint effort, and we get daily reports. It is not much, but morale is lifted on both our sides by having us in the sky, and them on the ground.
Well then… We need a bigger broadcast signal, and bring together havens. Keep them small, and independent. But they must know they are not alone. Let me think about this. Bring staff tomorrow, eight hundred, CIC. We need a plan… Anything else? How about our troops?
Well… Not many veterans boss, started Elizabeth. We have a few, mostly the Aces, tough Clubs is a newcomer for you. "Superman" is still here, mostly shooting instructor. We have many rookies, a fair number of seasoned soldiers… But operators, military educated is low. Central and us veterans have kept a tight ship, discipline… So far. Twenty years is a very long time boss.
He nodded. Twenty years. That number was just abysmal. Two decades of survival, kicked off less than five ago thanks to the Avenger.
Well then… I guess first orders will be instruction, warfare education and prep'. "Axle", in twenty four hours from now, I want all veterans in whatever bay, or area we can use to set up a program. Do we have any fights so far? How about skyrangers?
Three skyrangers, one operational. One is being revised, and the last one… Well… It takes dust while we muster for parts. Hard one. We have enough pilots. For total personnel, we have thirty six airmen, twelve onboard security, and…
Twenty seven operators, from rookies to us, sir, completed the Lieutenant.
Fine. Anything else?
After a small silence, both officers responded no and were dismissed. When leaving tough, Sutherland laid a hand on the door, head tilted back on Philippe.
Welcome back Phil, she smiled. Good to see you back.
He nodded, with a similar smile and she left, the door sliding back shut. This was going to be hard, long, and exhausting war XCOM was going to have. And was it worth it? Was ADVENT going to bend a knee? Twenty years ago, what had faced humanity was all a vanguard? The knowledge of Earth being under the tight grasp of this new worldwide government was scary. But on reports and public news, it appeared humanity was living decently. Gene therapy seemed to have helped. There was a cost to it, no discussion, and the Commander was still going to identify it.
What if… What if humanity was better off with this? Was the la Hague Tribunal in the right? Was diplomatic way a way that could have led to peaceful introductions?
Somewhere, in the back end of his mind, a voice awoke.
"Fight. Fight, rise and triumph."
Humanity deserved a fight. X-COM was to deliver the champion.
