Somewhere Outside Rio de Janeiro

Vila Militar

Local Time: 1530 hrs.

"Ma'am!" First Lieutenant Brinker came hurrying into the command cell, his face drawn, sweat beginning to sheen his forehead.

Commandant Demelza Escobar did not look away from her tracking screens, but held up a finger indicating that Brinker should wait. Whatever had her attention passed quickly, for she turned, her hands folded neatly behind her, her silent, undivided attention focused on the lieutenant.

Two words that described Commandant Escobar were 'order' and 'method.'

"It's happening. I think…" It sounded very melodramatic, and Lt. Brinker seemed to realize this very quickly.

"What is happening?" Commandant Escobar asked, unhurried but not apathetic. She was an N7 with more than twenty years' experience under her belt. Approaching retirement age, she'd accepted that the body gave out before the mind, hence why she oversaw Vila Militar rather than try to remain with the ranks of the instructors.

Word had come, less than an hour ago, that communications with Arcturus had blacked out for no reason anyone could identify. That happening, she followed the new procedure for such an occurrence and put the entire facility on standby under the general heading of 'a drill.' Arcturus had insisted, for months, that any cut in communications should be met by certain actions. Losing contact with Arcturus would be, so she understood, just the beginning.

It was a little too much like the early First Contact War: brace for alien contact…there might be aliens out there.

"Vancouver just dropped off the comm-net. When I left communications we were starting to lose Rio," Lt. Brinker articulated. "By now we're probably in blackout."

Escobar pursed her lips at this, quelling her inner misgivings. Vila Militar, for all its shroud of secrecy with regard to its exact location, was surprisingly well-connected with the rest of the world. It was just like the Admiralty suggested: first Arcturus, then Vancouver, then Rio.

The heart of the Alliance Admiralty, the headquarters of the Alliance Military on Earth…and the N-program's major training facility. Or, rather, the general area thereof. Vila Militar was the largest concentration of N-operatives anywhere, and those operatives were valuable, unique assets. Depriving a war of them would be a strategically sound thing for any enemy to do.

And it was her understanding that 'the enemy' in this case would be highly unconventional. Otherwise Arcturus would have let Vila Militar operate under normal conflict procedures: they were to secure the immediate area and wait for orders.

She strode over to the emergency communications unit. Used only in time of war, it would usurp every frequency used by Vila Militar in order to broadcast emergency orders. Using it was tantamount to announcing that war had been declared. "Demelza Escobar, coding in. Keycode: butterfly." The red light showing the unit in lockdown mode turned green. This was the sort of broadcast most officers could live without giving. "All units, this is Commandant Escobar. We have lost communications with Arcturus, with Vancouver, and with Rio. We are now in a state of full alert. This is not a drill. All units in the field are ordered to remove from the Villa's immediate vicinity and prepare for Operations Jaguar and Tree Frog. Local units will prepare for Operation Jaguar. That is all." She severed the connection, then turned to Lt. Brinker. "Shut down the communications facility and prepare for transit, Lt. Brinker. Ladies and gentlemen: begin the lockdown of Vila Militar's headquarters. I am authorizing Cleansweep."

She walked over to her main console, her stomach cold, but her mind clear.

Operation Python was for those farthest afield from the facility: they were to slither into the wilderness and wait for the first wave to pass. Then, they could act as needed: they would strike out of the jungle and vanish right back in.

Operation Tree Frog was for those midrange from the facility or those operatives who were anywhere on Earth but not near the facility: they were to fall back—those to whom it was applicable would get as far away from the Villa as possible—but all would prepare to assist with influxes of refugees. Undoubtedly many would try to escape into the major population centers. Tree Frog's members would organize and direct the civilian aspect. It would increase the civilian population's chances of surviving. And, eventually, these operative-led knots of people might come in useful.

Resistance movements always did.

Operation Jaguar was simple, but the most distasteful: any N-operatives within the facility would be gathered and evacuated. It showed how much this plan was disliked by the number of N-operatives remaining at Vila Militar. No one liked the idea of running from a fight, however nebulous the enemy, but the Brass had been adamant: if the fight came it would not be like any other enemy in history. The N-operatives would be needed more than ever, and there were not very many of them to begin with. They would rendezvous at a planet called Virmire, though most people weren't privy to the exact location.

From Virmire they—hopefully including any survivors from Arcturus—would organize and deploy.

Operation Cleansweep, however, was the nail in the coffin. It was very simple: the Vila could not fall into enemy hands for a variety of reasons, not the least to prevent any of the fresh meat (as the entrants were called) from 'coming home' if it 'seemed safe' or if contacted by this mysterious enemy.

No. The house burned down to keep the operators safe.

And the enemy wouldn't benefit from any of the resources left at the facility.

It was a pity: Vila Militar was 'home' to her. Losing it would be hard…but losing the war that the Brass predicted would follow this severance of communications would be worse.

It was part of being an N7: one had to know how to sacrifice, how to deal with having to sacrifice.

And, because they knew sacrifice, they could force an enemy to make sacrifices, too.