First gen interceptors? Uh, we're talking about the old Raven Mark 1 here? Oh, they were total crap. Too specialized for speed. Fast, I'll give them. Faster than almost any other aircraft in the world at the time they were designed. But in a dogfight? It was a lot like flying a rocket-powered bathtub. Heck, just landing the damn thing was nerve-wracking! And when we got the news we were going to have to take them into combat, well... let's just say the other pilots and I were less than thrilled.
Vahlen stared in rapt fascination at the tiny crystalline shard under her microscope. She still had no idea what it was, and couldn't give even the first guess as to how it could be replicated, but the mystery excited her in spite of the circumstances that brought it about.
"Doctor Vahlen?"
She looked up, swivelling her stool to look towards the thin, balding, middle-aged black man standing at the door connecting her cramped private lab to the far larger primary research centre.
"Yes, Ingwe? What is it?" It came out rather more snappy than she would have liked.
"Doctor, we've discovered something about the genetics of the 'sectoids that you might find interesting."
Vahlen wasn't sure where that name had come from. The rest of the research team had started calling them that partway through the preliminary analysis of her autopsy on the helicopter on the way to base, and whoever had coined the term, (though she didn't know any of them well enough to make more than an educated guess, Vahlen suspected it had been Zema, the rather loud-mouthed lab assistant) the name had stuck. The aliens weren't especially insect-like unless one was talking about their innards, and even then it was only a cursory resemblance, and Vahlen almost winced every time the name was used. Still, it gave them something to call the creatures, and a nonsensical moniker was better than no moniker at all.
She sighed, leaned back from the microscope, and turned off the light under the sample. "Alright. Tell me. What have you found?"
Ingwe was Kenyan, and his voice was heavily accented. It became more so when he was excited, and at that moment it was almost unintelligible. Vahlen's eyes widened gradually in an expression of abject panic as she realized she was barely understanding anything he said, catching maybe every third word. "Alright! Hang on!" she interjected at length, and Ingwe cut himself off mid-sentence, looking at her quizzically. She took a breath, letting the tension ease from her shoulders. "Slower, please, Ingwe. I'm German. English isn't my first language, and I have a hard enough time with understanding it as it is."
"I know what that's like, Mzungu." Ingwe's eyes twinkled. "Alright. I will try to contain my enthusiasm. What I was saying is that, according to my interpretation of the data at least, these aliens appear to be heavily genetically modified. Possibly to the point of having their entire genome tailored. Almost certainly, the original creature this genome belonged to would have appeared almost entirely different."
Vahlen leaned forward abruptly, her elbows resting on her knees, eyes narrowing. "Say more." She gestured to another stool much like her own, not taking her suddenly intense gaze from Ingwe for even a second. Ingwe shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot under that stare but took the offered seat. She was his superior, after all.
"Well, ma'am... as with any genome on Earth there appear to be a certain number of inactive genes in the 'sectoid chromosomes." Vahlen nodded. It was still bizarre to her just how similar the creatures were to creatures here on Earth. They were made of cells; their genes were made of DNA and organized into chromosomes; their cells had a nucleus (of sorts, although its membrane seemed to be structured slightly differently); in a lot of ways, they were very familiar. It was confusing to somebody like Vahlen, with an intuitive understanding of the amount of random chance involved in the development of life. "Now, I'm not certain of this yet, mind you, but like I hinted in my last report to you, there is a possibility that there are more of these... uh... 'junk' genes than one would expect to see from something naturally created."
Vahlen winced at the word 'junk.' "Inactive. Please. We're both academics. You don't need to dumb down your explanations of things for me." Ingwe nodded, waving a hand dismissively. "At any rate," he continued, "I won't know for certain until I can study some living 'sectoid cells, but it seems to me that some of those genes just don't make sense as inactive. The reasons are complicated, they involve the placement of key operons in the chromosome, it's all in my most recent report, but I know you're busy, so to summarize: I think they should have mouths. There are genes in there that code for calcium compounds not found anywhere in the creature's body, and that would make an excellent material for teeth."
"Yes, I was wondering about that. The structure of their head suggests that they should also have hinged jaws. But why would they be purposefully removed during the genetic editing process?"
Ingwe shrugged. "I haven't a clue, ma'am. I don't think anyone really understands anything about the invaders. I'm just telling you things I observed."
"I wasn't asking you. Just musing to myself. You'll have to forgive me this habit."
"Not a problem, Mzungu. I do it myself on occasion, though in my case such musings are usually done in Swahili."
The two exchanged a warm smile and a moment of companionable silence. Finally, Ingwe asked, in his turn, "What are you working on?"
"One of the weapon fragments recovered from the warehouse in Berlin." Vahlen turned the light back on under the wafer-thin sheet of crystal. "The weapons self-destructed as soon as the aliens died, so I have no idea how they worked when they were intact, but my suspicion is that this crystalline substance was used as the energy source. It's infuriating. I don't have any idea what it's made of. It returns negative on every chemical test I run on it, it emits a radiation curve I've never seen before-" she noticed Ingwe lean hastily backwards and added quickly "perfectly harmless, it's mostly in the form of alpha particles, so as long as you don't eat the sample you'll be fine." Ingwe smiled in mixed relief and amusement, but Vahlen simply frowned in frustration. "It's like it's taunting me, Ingwe. I don't know what it is. I don't know where it came from, or how it's made. It's bizarre. It's incredibly hard; I needed to have this sliver scraped off with a diamond cutter, and it went through 2 blades in the process. It's radioactive like I already told you. When exposed to a rotating magnetic field and attached to a circuit, it generates a current as if it was a spool of copper wire. And on top of that, this stuff lases! It's a radioactive energy source and a laser medium at the same time. It's just not fair, Ingwe. Nothing behaves like this! Nothing! Besides that, it glows when exposed to x-rays, and emits beta radiation when UV hits it. Don't worry, the lab lights don't emit any UV, I checked." Again, Ingwe had started to lean away from the material, this time glancing at the light fixture above Vahlen's desk. "I just don't understand it. I've been running tests on it for days, and I have no leads beyond some details about its infuriatingly bizarre behaviour."
Ingwe was quiet for a moment, then said "I'm no materials scientist, Vahlen. I'm a geneticist, and not all of us in the lab can be prodigy polymaths focusing on the study of alien life."
Vahlen smirked, a snort of air escaping through her nose despite her best efforts. "You should get to bed. You should have been off-duty two hours ago, and right at the moment any time you can grab between shifts should be spent in bed. There's little enough time for rest as it is without pulling all-nighters to finish some work you're going to get around to in the morning anyway."
"Yes. I will go sleep once I have gotten something to eat at the mess hall. You should rest also, Mzungu."
"I'm a boss. Bosses don't sleep."
"Look, ma'am, even ignoring the fact that it's unhealthy to stay awake as much as you have been, it's also only a matter of time before it starts to affect your productivity. You are working too hard, and you risk making a mistake."
"I don't make mistakes."
Now it was Ingwe's turn to stare. At length, she sighed. "Fine. I suppose I can get around to this in the morning. I'll go to bed soon. I just had a coffee, though. I won't be able to sleep just yet."
"Yes, well, there was another reason I came in here. Something that might keep you busy for a while."
"Oh?"
"The new landlines to replace the communications satellites have been completed. A lot of people are getting in touch with people outside the base. And I was asked to tell you that there are several messages for you from various concerned people. Parents. Your sister. And some people from 'the bachelorette party' who want to let you know they're okay, and they made it out of Berlin alright. I don't know which bachelorette party specifically, but that's what I was told to pass along to you."
Vahlen stared at the crystalline sample still sitting on the microscope. She switched off the light under it. "Alright. Where are the phones that we can use for personal calls?" she asked, and Ingwe smiled in triumph.
"Down the hall to the left, seventh door. You can't miss it, it's the door labelled 'phones' in eight languages."
The two walked together out of Vahlen's little cubbyhole and through the main research lab, past half a dozen experiments and sample examinations in progress. The labs were never empty and hadn't been any time in the last four days, not since the first contact incident. Shifts 2 and 3 were active now since it was approaching one AM. Vahlen and Ingwe were both members of Shift 1, the researchers who worked straight through the day from 7 AM to 11 PM. Everyone was working 16-hour shifts in the lab. It was true what Vahlen had said about how difficult it was to find time to sleep. It was a constant restrained bustle in that lab. Not the raucous running and constant construction work in the rest of the base, but a busy, tense atmosphere nonetheless.
The two of them wove between the rows upon rows of tables and desks. Ingwe reached the door first and held it open for her, and she nodded her thanks.
"Okay, Ingwe, goodnight. I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well."
"You too, doctor Vahlen. You too."
The two parted ways, him heading for the scientists' sleeping quarters only a few doors down, her heading in the opposite direction looking for the phones.
"Don't even think about it, Central!"
Major Liu Yi stood in Bradford's small, stark office just off the side of the Ops centre. Bradford was sitting behind his desk looking up at the short, lightly-built Chinese trans man who commanded Sahara Base's combat aircraft division. Despite Bradford's seated position and relaxed posture, he was almost as tall as the diminutive Major Liu, and he commanded the room with an air of calm authority. His eyebrow rose in the telltale sign that Yi knew meant he was about to get angry very quickly if something more wasn't said. Yi cursed himself internally and backpedalled. "Meaning no disrespect, sir, but-" "Are you sure? That sounded pretty disrespectful to me." It was a gentle rebuke, but Yi winced. Bradford had tried to make it clear in the past week that things had to change about how the X-com chain of command had once worked. They were a small organization. Yi knew Bradford personally- not well enough to be on a first name basis, but well enough. There had been a time when the two would exchange banter and criticism during training simulations and meetings. But now the Commander was on base. That wasn't going to work anymore.
"Sorry, sir." Yi's voice was sullen, though he tried his hardest to put the appropriate level of respect into it. "All I mean is that I'm... concerned about what will happen if we engage one of these yoo-eff-ohs in combat. Especially this early, when we don't know their capabilities."
"It's flying low, within aircraft sortie range of the base, and slower than any we've seen so far. This is our first opportunity to get a look at an alien craft up close and assess their design. And you'll need to launch soon if you hope to catch it before it leaves your engagement range. Major, we don't have time to argue about this." Bradford's tone was level, flat even. His expression was mild. It was clear that if Yi left the room right now, that would be the end of it. Bradford wasn't a vengeful man, and Yi should have felt blessed to have had that outburst happen around him rather than the commander. He wanted to leave the room and scramble the other flight officers. He wanted nothing more than that. But the words kept coming.
"Still, sir-"
"Major Liu, do you know what the chain of command is?" There was iron in that voice suddenly, and Yi cursed himself for making the mild-mannered officer angry.
"Yes, sir, I do, sir." The muscles in his jaw tightened, trying to hold himself back from saying anything further. He was already in trouble, he didn't need more of it.
"And you do understand the simple fact that I'm above you in that chain?"
"Yes, sir, I do, sir."
"And that second-guessing your orders is a punishable-"
Yi couldn't stop himself. He tried. He really did. But as soon as his mouth was open, the words came pouring out. "But it's suicide, sir! We all know we're outmatched technologically, I can only assume-"
"This is not my first choice either, Major Liu! But I have my orders as well!"
Yi's mouth snapped shut. He understood now. More of the commander's work. That didn't give Yi a great amount of confidence. The last time the commander had forced Bradford's hand on something it had caused the deaths of two soldiers, and the third was still comatose in the infirmary on the other side of the base. But unfortunately, it meant he wasn't going able to sway any opinions by arguing with the messenger. He was lucky not to be relieved of duty for insubordination, he realized with a start.
Bradford looked surprised by his own outburst. Then his eyes hardened and he raised an eyebrow at Yi again. Oh, are you still here?
Yi straightened, planted his feet and clasped his hands behind his back in parade rest, fixing his eyes on the photograph of a younger, leaner Bradford in a US marines uniform that hung on the wall above the desk. "Sir, permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Denied. I think you've done quite enough speaking freely today." He pulled a piece of paperwork from the overflowing bin labelled "urgent" on side of his desk and pulled out a pen. "Dismissed, major," he said without looking up. Yi saluted, then turned toward the door. Bradford's cleared throat stopped him on his way out, though, and he looked back.
"Thank you for having this conversation in private," Bradford said quietly, still not looking up. "Nobody else is a witness, so I won't be forced to punish you. Don't ever do this sort of thing in front of the commander. I don't want to see a good pilot like you taken off the front lines; not now, not with everything going on." There was a pause, and then, even quieter, "Take care of yourself, Yi."
Yi stood quietly at the door for another moment, then opened it and stepped out into the Ops centre. It was still a bustle of activity, but it was actually starting to look almost operational now. The bank of huge screens in the centre of the room had been moved to the periphery and had been replaced by a large projector. It was powered down at the moment, but he'd seen the globe hovering above it when he'd come through this room before on his way to somewhere else. It had been quite impressive. On top of that, more monitoring stations had been added to the main floor of the chamber, and more green-carpeted walkways had been introduced or widened between the pits filled with personnel, allowing for efficient movement from one part of the room to another, or through it on the way to somewhere else. To Yi, it looked positively futuristic.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself, then turned on his heel and walked off towards the barracks. He'd best tell the other pilots. That wasn't something he was looking forward to, and he suddenly felt a rush of sympathy for Bradford.
AN: Hey, guys, I've come up with the full plan for this fanfic's plot, and I think I'm finally getting into the swing of it, writing more of it than I had been. If you're liking it so far and you haven't already, consider subscribing. It means a lot to me, and knowing there are people waiting is what keeps me going and makes sure I keep posting chapters. I'm trying to maintain a pace of at least a chapter a month, hopefully more along the lines of one every two weeks or so. So there shouldn't be much of a wait.
Another thing you can do to help out is to leave a review. Tell me what you want from the story, give ideas for improvements and edits you think should be made. (ZKP knows already that I'm perfectly willing to adjust and edit some things when it's pointed out to me that I'm not making things clear enough.) Toss around some ideas for arcs you want to see in the future, and I'll seriously consider them. Thanks for reading this far. I hope you stick around for the long haul.
-Thalgrond