XCOM: From The Ashes of Temples
Chapter Two: A Portent In Low Places
Corporal Shaojie Zhang sat quietly amongst a hastily assembled squad of XCOM field operatives as the Skyranger made its way westward to France. It was not the first time he'd stepped foot on the supersonic personnel carrier craft. The last time he'd been on board, he'd been dressed in the slick suits favoured by the Hong Kong underworld and he'd been fleeing from the life he had known as a member of the notorious triads. This time, he was dressed in XCOM-issued Carapace armour, and was toting both a heavy laser rifle and a rocket launcher slung over his back.
He fidgeted a little. The silver-blue Carapace armour that he wore supposedly offered protection that was several times stronger than conventional terran armour- the light, overlapping trauma plates had been made out of the aliens' own special alloy, after all. But to Zhang it felt disconcertingly thin and comfortable. From his experience, armour wasn't supposed to be this comfortable or have such clean lines, nor should combat helmets be made out of clear material that allowed a full field of vision and other people to see their full faces. He had heard rumours that due to fears of infiltration units, The Commander had leaned towards a design that allowed whoever wearing them be easily-identifiable, but to him, the things felt flimsy. As for the heavy laser rifle he carried, the thing was unusually light, the design was compact and boxy, and reminded him a bit too much of the plasticky sci-fi guns one saw in old American space shows. He had no doubt that the bursts of energy the things fired were devastating, but after years of dealing with conventional firearms, the recoil-less light weapons also felt almost like toys. The strandard-issue rocket launcher on his back was most comforting in comparison, in a familiar, no-nonsense kind of way.
Zhang cast another look around the hold of the Skyranger. The other big difference here was that everyone who had been on the Skyranger with him the first time round were now all dead. He'd seen their pictures on the memorial wall. In their place now sat untested recruits who probably hadn't seen much action; Zhang could tell by how loudly the one sitting the middle was trying to convince everyone he knew what he was talking about.
"...I heard that the almost the entire team got killed when Ol' 'Sweaters' was last in command," said the rookie. Even if Zhang hadn't been able to see the patch on his uniform, he would have known what country that one came from. Americans. It was in the way they spoke; their voices tended to project into every corner of the room they were in whether they intended it to or not.
"You mean the Delta Team's first contact mission?" another rookie asked. Despite being a new recruit, Zhang suspected this one was a bit more seasoned. He was a sniper, judging by the long-barreled laser sniper rifle in his hands, and evidently he didn't like the shiny XCOM armour either; he'd taken the liberty of muting its overall look with matte black paint. He did not speak much, but when he did, every word was pronounced slowly and richly, as though he liked to give every syllable its own time to shine.
"Yeah that one. I tell you, with him in command again, we're screwed," replied the loudmouthed American.
"Grow some balls, Guzman," one of the other rookies— British, from her accent— snapped back.
The remaining rookie just watched and listened and said nothing.
Zhang tried his best to ignore the ongoing banter. At any other time he might have frowned upon the idea of such disrespect towards a man who was supposed to be their new supreme commander (mainly because that kind of behavior would have gotten you and everyone associated with you killed very quickly back in the Hong Kong underworld), but at the present, Zhang's own position was too shaky to risk pushing the issue. While he knew he technically held the rank of corporal, he also understood all too well that respect was needed for a chain of command to work. And this respect was currently lacking, thanks to his reputation as an unsavoury criminal. He knew he even looked the part; with the bleached white hair, the sinister scars, the tattoos... if it hadn't been for that particular incident with the alien artifact in Hong Kong, someone like him would have never been allowed to get anywhere near an organisation like XCOM, much less be part of it.
Even if it had not been shown openly, the late Commander had not trusted him at all and Zhang knew it. Of course, Zhang reflected that having been of the same nationality as himself, Commander Liang-Yue Hé did have cultural knowledge the current gwailo commander wouldn't have, and that knowledge meant being extremely leery of accepting any kind of help from anyone associated with the criminal triads. Anyone who understood the way of life in his home country would probably think it was a prudent decision; normally accepting triad aid in any matter tended to lead to heavy debts later or even worse, violent retribution to save face, and he couldn't blame the former commander for wanting to steer clear of all of that.
It did make his current situation that much more difficult, however. But it would not do to think ill of dead, and Zhang pushed away the dark thoughts of of the past and refocused on the present.
"It's not a matter of balls," Private Guzman was explaining to anyone who would listen. "It's about men with balls being sent to die by a bunch of pencil pushers. Hell, look at what happened to Delta team. Almost all of 'em dead and the last survivor, that Argentinian, so fucked up in the head they had to lock him up somewhere—"
"Don't talk shit when you don't know jack about that," came the quiet warning from the soldier occupying the corner seat.
"What's your problem, pretty boy..." began Guzman, only to trail off when he realised who it was who had spoken. The rookie's gaze moved from the other man's angry glare, to the Argentinian flag sewn to his uniform, and then the patch which denoted the man's rank of sergeant. After that, the young soldier proceeded to shut up very quickly.
Evidently, squad leader Sergeant Valdez did not like people running down his fellow countrymen.
Despite himself Zhang managed a smile. It couldn't be denied the appellation of "pretty boy" fit Sergeant Valdez rather well. With his striking looks and a head of overly long hair that certainly wouldn't have passed regulation in the most military outfits, the sergeant did look far more like a Spanish soap opera actor than he did a soldier. In fact Zhang had been rather surprised to see the man as a field operative when they had filed on into the Skyranger. He had previously encountered him as one of the medics staffing the infirmary. He'd been even more surprised to see the man sport a heavy laser and rocket launcher on this mission. Not the standard choice of weapons for a medic. Zhang noted Sergeant Valdez still equipped himself with a medikit, however.
Perhaps the Sergeant had been a reserve trooper, Zhang mused, which meant that him being deployed, together with Zhang himself, indicated XCOM was on reserves... not a reassuring thought.
"Big Sky to Strike Team, we're setting down near the mission site," the Skyranger pilot announced as the troop transport performed a flawless vertical landing.
The ramp of the Skyranger lowered and the squad moved out of the craft. It was just twilight, and they could see that they were in what was left of a city block. It looked like a war had raged there, the nearest building had been riddled with gaping holes and the bricks that had made up the walls lay around scattered in piles. Small fires still burned from what looked to be hulks of military vehicles, the light from the flames throwing the sinister silhouettes of adjacent corpses in sharp relief.
The voice of Commander 'Central' Bradford filtered over the comm. "There's been widespread speculation about this ambush on a French military convoy." He began briefing them about how there hadn't been much information available about the incident, other than indications of alien presence, and possible human involvement.
"So a site recon, then, Central?" Sergeant Valdez responded matter-of-factly before shifting into squad leader mode. "Roger that. Strike-1 moving out. Privates Murray and Guzman, your callsigns are Strikes-2 and 3, and you guys are with me. Kotsi and Jaitely, you're Strikes-5 and 6, and you follow Strike-4: that's Corporal Zhang. I want you guys to take the roof. We'll sweep the building inside. Call out contacts as you see them."
Well, at least Sergeant Valdez seemed to know what he was doing.
It was not all ideal, however. While Zhang considered himself a modern-thinking Chinese, he still wasn't too thrilled about being assigned as 'Strike-4'. In his native tongue, the word 'Four' shared the exact same sound as the word for 'death'— not a very auspicious designation to be given for an occupation where death came all too easily.
But no time to be picky over minor things, so Zhang motioned for Strike-5 and Strike-6 to follow him. He noticed a smirking Private Guzman run his mouth to the other two operatives as they moved out, however.
"So he stuck you guys with the Chinese gangster." The loudmouthed rookie was promptly reprimanded by the squad leader with a command to shut up and follow his lead.
'The Chinese gangster' pushed the unpleasant remark out of his mind and focused on his mission. A dubious-looking drainpipe at the corner of the building proved sturdy enough for his team to clamber up, even if the weight of the heavy laser and rocket launcher strapped to his back sorely tested it. Once they got to the top however, they found they had an excellent view of the surrounding area.
It was not a pleasant view. The scene that was visible from the high ground was one of devastation and desolation. Everywhere they looked, they could see more human corpses strewn across the ruins.
Private Kotsi fingered his laser sniper rifle and muttered what sounded like an oath to some deity Zhang didn't know. "What happened to bring such destruction to this place?" he said as he set up the long-range weapon. A crackle over the comm interrupted him.
"Central, we got more bodies in the buildings. There's something real odd about these corpses." Sergeant Valdez's voice sounded troubled. "At first I thought they were civvies who got caught in the crossfire, but then I noticed they're wearing scarves over their faces, and they've got heavy weapons strapped to them. Then I noticed that the french soldiers who were killed don't seem to have been shot by plasma weapons at all."
"I agree, Strike One. These men were killed by conventional bullets." Zhang noted that Central didn't sound surprised when he replied. An uneasy feeling was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. They were in the middle of a war, and here was another case of humans killing other humans. It reminded him too much of the war-profiteering he had nearly gotten embroiled in prior to his defection.
"Contact!" came a sudden shout from Kotsi. This was followed by a hiss from a laser sniper rifle as the marksman opened fire without hesitation. Zhang turned to see a humanoid figure tumble off the rooftop of the building opposite theirs. Any initial worry about Kotsi having shot another human was negated by the cloud of sickly green mist that had spewed out from the corpse.
"Strike-4 to Strike-1, we have those thin aliens in the area!" Zhang immediately radioed in. "Strike-5 has dispatched the target."
"The infamous Thin Men. At first I thought they were human, but then I recognised them from the training vids," replied Kotsi, his voice even. "I do not see any more on that building."
"Don't relax just yet. Thin Men come in groups. Keep an eye out and your guns at ready. Kill them before they ever get a chance to shoot at you." Sergeant Valdez's voice had taken on an urgent undertone. "Under no circumstances should you engage in a firefight with Thin Men unless you have full cover and they don't. Strike-4, use your rocket launcher if you see any opportunity to."
"Isn't that a bit excessive, Sergeant?" The voice of Private Murray sounded a little incredulous.
"No," Zhang found himself agreeing with Valdez. The Sergeant clearly spoke from prior experience and Zhang himself remembered too well desperately hunkering behind a gravestone in Hong Kong as frighteningly-accurate plasma fire rained down at his position. In fact, the late Major Harris had endorsed the exact same approach for dealing with Thin Men back in that Hong Kong graveyard. Zhang recalled some rather memorable words from the Englishman during his extraction mission, something along the lines of: "To bloody hell with what Dr Vahlen wants, rocket those skinny bastards!"
That Zhang and his entire extraction team had survived the mission spoke well of the efficiency of Major Harris' approach. In fact, after thinking about it, Zhang resolved to adopt the same philosophy as well.
He got the chance to test his resolution out soon enough. Despite Sergeant Valdez's warning, the Strike Team found themselves thrown into a firefight with several more Thin Men barely minutes later. The patrol of the human-like aliens, dressed in black suits and shades, attempted to pin them down with suppression fire while another tried to flank Valdez's fire-team.
Zhang solved the problem of the suppressing team with a well-placed rocket, while Private Kotsi presented himself as a prime candidate for a promotion as he picked off the would-be flanker with a steady, calculated headshot. Much to everyone's surprise, Guzman nabbed the last Thin Man kill by emptying his rifle at the stack of cardboard boxes the remaining retreating alien tried to hide behind. Not a wise decision on its part, since the boxes didn't offer much in the way of stopping laser fire.
Guzman crowed quite a bit about it too, but no one begrudged him his kill.
Sergeant Valdez was all business. "Everyone good? Reload and we'll proceed with the sweep. Strike-5, can you cover our advance from the roof?"
Kotsi spoke up. "This roof is a perfect sniper's perch. I can set up here and cover both teams for a long way."
"Good," approved Sgt. Valdez. "That frees up Strikes-4 and 6 to sweep the other side of the building."
Clambering down from the roof took less effort: a fire escape provided access to the ground level. Private Jaitely, who was not much of a talker, took point, alertly scanning for movement. He was also the first to notice the survivor.
Zhang caught his hand signal and proceeded forward cautiously. The corporal got a good look at the man soon enough— European, upper class, clearly wounded and crouching next to some wrecked cars.
Perhaps it took one to recognise another, but Zhang's time in the triad had ingrained him with the ability to differentiate between civilians and soldiers in civilian clothes. It had to do with the way they carried themselves. He had a gut feeling in this case as well. The man looked like a civilian, and was dressed like an office worker, but he was not just some office worker caught in the crossfire. Zhang spotted a discarded scarf lying at the man's feet, and a wary thought immediate crossed his mind:
Who covers their face unless they were planning to do something illicit?
Central must have been thinking the same thing as well, because he spoke up before Zhang could voice his suspicions.
"It's likely that man was one of the aggressors in this mess, Strike Team. He may be the only one who knows what happened to the convoy. Get him back to the Skyranger ASAP, whether he likes it or not."
The survivor did not. In fact his first words in response to theirs were: "You're wasting your time, you might as well leave me here." He did not even look at them in the face, and continued looking at a crushed syringe he held before Jaitely disarmed him of it and hauled him to his feet.
"I have nothing to say to you people," was the only other words they managed to get out of him.
Since Jaitely generally didn't have much to say either, it was a very silent group that forcibly marched the survivor back the way they came.
''Strike-1 to Strike-4, we're coming to help escort. What is your location?"
Zhang was about to respond to the squad leader when there were several cries over the line, followed by an earth-shuddering boom as the contrail of a rocket-propelled grenade streaked in the distance. Both he and Jaitely turned to see a gout of flame spew from the opposite side of the building. Clouds of green mist hung in the air.
"Thin men pacified," Strike-1 reported. Sergeant Valdez was clearly a member of the 'shoot first with a rocket' club. "Heads up, there's more!"
"Strike-4, you've got a wave of hostiles inbound on your position," came a belated warning from Central. "Get to cover and keep the VIP safe!"
Zhang caught movement from the corner of his eye as he dragged the VIP to the cover of the nearby ruined building. Jaitely dived into cover right behind him as bolts of green plasma rained down from above. The sound of high-tech weaponry firing cut through the air and the comm line filled with profanity uttered in at least three different languages as the recon site became an all-out battlefield.
"We're pinned down!" Zhang called out, laying out suppressing fire in the hopes it would keep the alien from getting a good shot at them. "Thin men on roof!"
There was the hiss of laser fire. Then Kotsi replied calmly: "Thin Men off roof."
"Hang on in there, Strike-4," Corporal Valdez's voice came over the line. ''Just one more bastard on this side keeping us busy. Once we're done we'll— Strike-3, pull back! Pull back!"
"I got him, Sarge! I got him—"
Guzman's voice cut off mid-sentence, followed by a string of colourful curses from Sergeant Valdez.
"Strike-3 is KIA. Strike-2, we need a grenade on that X-ray. Go!"
The situation was getting grim. Their squad had lost a member, and there just seemed to be no end to the waves of Thin Men. Unable to move out of cover, Zhang kept low and defended their position the best he could. Jaitely tried to help cover their rear with his laser pistol, as the assault specialist's scatter laser was no good for long range firefights. But try as they might, it was hard to score a hit on the incredibly agile Thin Men. Neither of them were fortunate to score kills on the skulking aliens.
At the back of his mind Zhang couldn't help remembering they were trapped in the middle of the exact kind of firefights Sergeant Valdez had just warned them against. As it turned out, Sergeant Valdez was right and the fight promptly took a turn for the worse.
"Strike-5, those aliens can jump buildings— one's coming in right on top of your position!" Central's voice was frantic as he called out the warning. A fraction of a second later, there was the hiss of a laser sniper rifle, then a scream of agony filled the comm.
"Strike-5, your cam is out. What's your status?"
"Killed it point-blank," gasped Kotsi after an interval of coughing. "But that poison alien shit got into my eyes. My eyes, I can't see! Can't breathe..." the sniper's voice trailed off into another series of choking noises just as Strike-2 reported a successful grenade kill and their zone clear.
"Your people are not doing too well against the aliens, are they?" the survivor suddenly spoke up. There was an insolent tone to his voice that made Zhang dearly want to hit the man, which was something he would have done without thinking back when he was with the Triad, if just to wipe the smirk off his face.
"Quiet."
"This is pointless. What are you military puppets trying to prove?"
Deep breaths, Zhang told himself. Ignore those taunts.
Out of rockets, but the situation was still manageable. Once Team Strike-1 got here to relieve them, they could move on back to the Skyranger. They just had to keep those aliens down and stay alive.
That plan went to hell when the shell of a building they were taking cover in suddenly shuddered violently. The thundering blast of an explosion nearby drowned out Central's cry of dismay over the comm.
"Central, what happened?"
Central did not answer.
"Strike-1, report! Strike-1, report! Strike-2, do you copy?"
No response.
"Damnit," Central swore. "Strikes 4 and 6, get back to the EVAC point ASAP. We've lost contact with the rest of the team."
With a sinking feeling Zhang realized that he, Jaitely and their unwilling follower, were now on their own in the middle of a very hostile battlefield.
The survivor knew it too, and gave an almost deranged laugh.
"I told you... you should have left me back there. We are all going to die." His lips pursed in a humourless smile. "We are all going to die here."
End of Chapter Two
SUPPLEMENTARY MATERIAL
(Excerpt from the personal log of Commander Liang-Yue Hé)
First sighting of alien type: Thin Men
The aliens have infiltrator units now. We had our first sighting of them today when the Council sent us to extract UN General Peter Van Doorn from an alien attack on a crowded highway.
The sectoids were bad enough, but they were minor grunts compared to these new ones. Cpl. Sharma was killed instantly behind full cover from a shot made at long distance, while Cpl. Douglas and Lt. Mary Harris were severely injured by some sort of corrosive poison mist these things spit. Dr Yi says both of them will recover, and apparently, Cpt. Henry Harris has dubbed the new arrivals 'Thin Men'.
Good Ol' Jack volunteered to write the letter to Sharma's family, but I told him that was my job, and he could add her name to the memorial wall instead.
I spent the rest of the mission post-mortem reviewing the squad's personal cam footage, trying to figure out what went wrong. The worst thing about these new aliens is that they look almost human. They wear human clothing, walk like humans and though they are too tall and the proportions are all wrong, there is enough resemblance there to make the men hesitate before opening fire. I think that is how we lost Cpl. Sharma. She hesitated. She hesitated because I failed to anticipate the aliens would send infiltrators and condition the troops for this possibility.
I must find a way to make sure this does not happen again.
Note: Sergeant Valdez has both 'Field Medic' and 'Fire Rocket' skills because of the wonderful Second Wave Option that is 'Training Roulette'.
I had a lot of fun sneaking gameplay inside jokes in this chapter. I mean, who hasn't itched to say something similar about Dr Vahlen's complaints on the troops being too rocket-happy with Thin Men? Don't know about you, but I found in the first few months of Impossible difficulty, rockets were definitely justified.
