Sgt. Riley Jones
Sleep was beginning to overtake me, despite the fact that I was ostensibly on guard duty, when my ears picked up a soft rustling from outside. Shaking off the mental cobwebs, I carefully opened the door, ready to call for backup. We weren't expecting any visitors, and the hut that I was inhabiting served as the first gate on the well-hidden dirt path that was the only route to our base of operations. The glow of my lantern barely illuminated enough for me to make out the figure, but they appeared roughly humanoid, with some type of rifle slung over their back.
"Even if we are to die." I gave the first part of the passcode.
"Like a phoenix we shall fly."
I recognized the voice easily. "Well, look who decided to show up. Welcome to Operations Base Neptune, Lieutenant. It might be less cushy than the Avenger, but we've got something nobody on the ship has: outhouses. And cockroaches." I heard a faint chuckle as Lt. Luo's face came into focus in the faint glow of the light.
"Glad you haven't lost your sense of humour out here. Don't want those Skirmishers rubbing off too much off onto you, even if they're combat savants."
"Come on in, it must have been a frigid walk up here."
"Oh, it wasn't that bad. But if you have anything hot to drink, that would be nice."
I filled my kettle with some well water I had drawn earlier, and set it to boil. We took our seats in the cramped space, as I closed the door to let the small self-generating space heater do its job.
"The leg holding up?" I asked.
"Just about. I started the way here as soon as it stopped aching whenever I walk."
"And how are the other two doing?"
"Jack's been in the field with Menace-2 lately, after one of their ops went a bit sideways. As for Karl… the Commander gave him a couple weeks' leave. Let him try and get himself back together again." I nodded. Cathy's death was hard on all of us, but it seemed to hit Karl particularly badly. They seemed close, from what I saw, but not to the extent that he would be having full-on breakdowns about it. Still, I trusted the Commander's judgement, and Tygan's psychoanalysis. I hoped he'd be back soon, or at least before we got back to the ship.
"Mhm. And I assume you know what we've been up to."
"Not in particular. I was just told that you needed support, and the location to find you."
I poured both of us a cup of hot water as I explained the past two weeks. "Well, the Commander got word a couple weeks ago that the Skirmishers had found a lead. Specifically, on the whereabouts of the Assassin that's been hunting us these last couple months, so they sent Sahara and I to lend a hand. When we got here, the Skirms had just begun setting up the FOB. Apparently, one of their double agents had told them about an elite battalion that was setting up major defenses in the middle of nowhere. Info from a couple of small raids afterwards gave us the confirmation that this was the Assassin's ground team, so we've been working on taking out this battalion and getting as much data as we can."
"And how's the work been?" Lt. Luo asked as he took a small sip of the boiled water.
"Educational, to say the least. You might have been joking earlier, but the Skirmishers are seriously impressive when it comes to their guerilla warfare know-how. It's been a good learning opportunity, if a bit rough at times to try and keep up. We spend most of the day sleeping, analysing intel, and drilling our raid and tracking tactics. The night's when we do the important stuff. We've been mainly picking off the scout patrols they send out, capturing as many as we can and getting information on their base and command structure. I mean, we don't have an 'information extraction' chamber for nothing. Though thankfully our friends have been handling most of that. It's all pretty draining, and the living standards are, let's just say, spartan, but I suppose it's what I signed up for." I ended with a wan smile.
"I see." The lieutenant replied, before letting the silence hang in the air. We sat in the silence for a second or two, before I replied.
"Anyways, there's no way you were sent here just to be an extra hand. I mean, I'd hazard a guess Sahara and I were only sent because the Commander wanted to make sure we got whatever info we find out here, and the Skirms have more than enough personnel to keep up the raids. Spill the beans, what's the secret sauce?"
The lieutenant gave a wry grin. "Well, I brought the cavalry. Betos sent an ask for the big guns two days ago, and we've been travelling ever since. Scythe-1 and Scythe-2 are camping at the foot of the hill, but I thought it was probably better to send that message up first before marching a fully armed team to HQ."
"Oh." And it was only then that I realized what Sahara and I had found a couple nights ago may have been more important than I first realized.
-xxx-
My calves were aching, and my eyes watered, as I spent my third shift this night peering out of the cramped tree-top camo-nest the three of us had spent the last four hours in, uncomfortably squatting under the low roof and staring through the unpleasantly bright thermal scope that the Skirmishers used to track their targets during night operations, and which they had graciously provided us with.
"Any contact yet?" Asked Sahara, lying down, reading some novel under the glow from her Mag Light.
"Nope." My voice was curt, but clearly exhausted. I assumed we were all hoping for some combat, to at least break the monotony of scouting.
"You will catch no prey with impatient lures." Came the lecturing voice of our third member, Centurion Corvus. A stoic and philosophical Skirmisher who I had gotten to know well, mainly through his constant quoting of various metaphor-laden texts. He was the leader of Fang Cohort, the elite "hunting" squadron that we had been assigned to when we arrived, and the second highest-ranked individual on this expedition. He made for a good mentor, but a very poor conversationalist.
"What are you even reading, anyways? I've seen you with your nose in that book for the last couple days, every night." I asked Sahara.
"It's called Starship Troopers. Some old pre-war story. One of the others lent it to me. Said it was his favourite book. I don't really know how I feel about it."
"Why? What's it about?"
"War against aliens." She gave a soft laugh. "I guess it just hits a bit too close to home. It talks about war like it's something that's inevitable. Something we gotta just stomach and practice for, eternally. But you know, what if I'm just fighting so that we'll one day have peace?"
"War is not the exception to peace. Peace is the exception to war." Chimed in Corvus.
I grinned. "I suppose that is quite Skirmisher. Total combat, always prepared, and all that jazz."
"But what about after?" Sahara asked. "Eventually someone's going to win, and if it's us, what'll you do?"
"Dreaming of old age is a fool's errand when soaked in blood." Was the cryptic reply. Sahara, though, seemed to be giving it more thought than I was.
"I suppose so. I mean, I don't really know what I'll do after this is all over. I'd love to say I would do something to help others. Maybe start a coffee shop. But all I know how to do is shoot people, and hide from getting shot. Not a whole lot of skills that are particularly useful when everyone's got more to live for than just a far-off dream and tomorrow's meal."
"I mean, there's always going to be a military, and if we make it out of this alive, everyone will probably be scrabbling to get us on their side, seeing as we'll be some of the few still standing with active combat experience. Plus, we'll be heroes, so I don't think we'll need to worry about going hungry. Except maybe right now. Hey, do you have energy bars left?" I said, purposely missing the point of the discussion. I wasn't particularly in the mood to discuss philosophy, at least, not in my current stance. The conversation died down after that, but it wasn't long until we finally would get an opportunity to get out of the "treehouse". One energy bar and about ten minutes later, I saw a thin line of white on a background of mostly greys and blacks.
"Wait, I think I've got something. Yeah, that's definitely humanoid. That's gotta be about half a dozen ADVENT, maybe five hundred metres out." I pulled out the night-vision binoculars to get a closer look. "Seems like it's mostly grunts, a Priest, a radio operator, and some officer with a symbol I don't recognize. Eight in total." I handed the binoculars to Corvus, to see if he recognized it.
"Intelligence Officer. I do not think we have captured one of those yet."
"Well then, it appears we have our target. Now what to do about the rest…"
Eight was certainly more than we had bargained for, with most of the patrols we'd seen up to this point being two or four, and mostly grunts. Still, an Intelligence Officer would be a massive coup, especially alive, so it was no surprise the enemy was sending what amounted to an honour guard out.
"We will need to deal with that radio first. It likely indicates there is backup in the vicinity, so we will have to be quick nonetheless, but taking out comms will give us more time." Said Corvus.
"What do you think they're doing out here? I mean, sending elite troops out of their little valley camp into the woods of missing ADVENT, it's definitely more than just a routine patrol." Asked Sahara.
"Searching for us. That resupply raid a couple days ago must have spooked them into search and destroy mode. No matter. I doubt they would find the base, and even if they got near it, we have more than enough firepower to eliminate the threat before they could even lay eyes on it."
I nodded. "We'll need to deal with a couple of them first before attacking the main group. Three against eight feels too risky. We can't kill most of them before they'll get to shoot back.
"We are burning moonlight. Let us get going before they head back." Corvus was the first to descend. I followed, climbing out the small hole that served as the passageway in and out of the nest, bullpup slung on my back. We all landed softly at the base of the tree, and got into ambush mode.
"Remember, walk slowly but firmly. If they startle, do not move. Motion is a dead giveaway. Toe down first to see if you will sound. Don't crouch, don't run. If you can, don't walk rhythmically. Remember, their first indication will be sound." Corvus whispered to the two of us. "Wait for stragglers from the main squad, then isolate and eliminate. Nonlethally if possible, remember to muffle, even if you knock them out. Once we take down a couple, get ready to shoot when I approach. Burst to the head, then pivot to the next. They should all be dead or injured before they can shoot. I will incapacitate the target."
We closed the distance as quietly as we could. The trees made it difficult to see our foes, but I still caught the occasional glimpse of heat from the scope. Suddenly, as we neared our target, Corvus dropped to his knee.
"The one in the back is unwatched by the others. The intelligence officer is data harvesting, and the Priest is channeling Haste. Get into position perpendicular to their movement, and I will distract the straggler. Eliminate him. Two more will investigate once they notice the disappearance. We will take care of those, then attack the main group immediately. Sparrow, kill the radio operator first. We have a very small window to abscond with our prey before the rest of the ADVENT here comes looking if he gets to make a call."
I had no idea how he had noticed any of this, or how he was so sure of everything that he said, but I wasn't about to question it. The two of us overtook the position of the ADVENT squad, and stared intently at the one bringing up the rear, waiting for them to get closer to our location. We kept our movements minimal, and I tried to call to mind the Skirmisher technique for silent, motionless breathing. I glanced at Corvus as they passed, about twenty metres away on the opposite side of the patrol. He nodded, then whipped a small pebble, which struck the trooper right in the thigh. He stopped for a second, glanced around, and as he looked down at his pant leg we rushed him. Sahara glided towards his location, blade extended, and as he lifted his head she shoved her sword right through his larynx. A soft crunching sound from the cartilage was all that came out, as I helped slowly lower the body, then lift it to carry behind a nearby tree.
Sure enough, less than a minute later two of the other grunts turned around, shouted something in their tongue, and proceeded to head away from the rest of the squad, right towards us. They had put about 30 metres between them and their compatriots when we sprung our trap. Corvus leaped out from his cover, and jabbed the poor trooper right through both eyes with his ripjack, finishing with a quick burst of electricity to ensure it wouldn't make any noise as its brain fried. I wrapped my arm around the other's neck with my knife hand before drawing as deep a cut as I could, then jamming my other arm into the wound to silence the soldier and hopefully prevent him from speaking. Meanwhile, Sahara had taken the liberty of slicing through both of the enemy's hamstrings. The wound looked bad, and the soft gurgling wasn't reassuring, but ADVENT was generally surprisingly durable to flesh wounds, and I hoped that after a bit of first aid we'd have a second prisoner. It fell limp after half a minute of my ministrations, and Corvus taped its mouth shut.
"Let us go, no time to waste. Shoot when I grapple." Corvus said. We followed, as he crept up on the remnants of the enemy squad, the two of us behind sighting in on our respective marks. I was still shocked at how silent he could be, as he dashed over the detritus-covered forest floor. In fact, the first indication that he didn't just have some sort of anti-sound field around him was the ringing of the grapple as it fired, followed by a grunt of pain from the Intelligence Officer. Then the din of gunfire fully cracked open our stealth.
My shots landed true, as the radio operator ragdolled backwards after one burst, lifeless. Sahara's burst wasn't so deadly, but it still appeared to knock the wind out of her target. I recentred my aim to eliminate the injured trooper, as Sahara moved to deliver a burst to her next target. Meanwhile, Corvus was performing what could only be described as lethal acrobatics. He had pulled himself to the enemy officer, before grabbing him by the chest, performing a twist, and slamming the enemy into the ground. Keeping his footing despite this action, he followed it up with a spin, using his momentum to deliver a ripjack slash to the throat of the Priest while using his offhand to unholster and fire his bullpup into the back of the trooper that Sahara had left standing.
I delivered a burst of fire to the Priest in sync with Corvus as he did another 180 degree turn and brought his gun to bear on the psionic enemy, while delivering a fully wound up kick to the head of the intelligence officer. One last burst from Sahara put down the last of the troopers, and I finally took my first breath since we initiated the ambush.
"Good work." Was the laconic affirmation from Corvus. The intelligence officer feebly attempted to rise, before one last kick to the back of the skull put him out for good. We bound our primary captive, checked in on our second one, who fortunately had not yet expired, and after stripping all of the dead bodies of anything with information on it, quickly made our way out of the area with our prey before any more ADVENT could come filing in.
"The safety of numbers has made these ones weak. They do not expect the silent rain, and so they are drenched in their own blood." Scoffed Corvus.
"You say that as if it's a bad thing." I said.
"Merely a disappointing thing. I had hoped we would bring back potential recruits."
"If that's how you recruit, then I'll consider myself lucky I was born with the resisting authority gene." I quipped, as we made our slow trek back to base. Rifling through the intelligence officer's pockets, I stumbled upon a strange slat of alien alloy, with several runic symbols carved over it.
"Any idea what this is?" I asked as I handed it over to Corvus.
"Communications Authorization credentials. ADVENT runs three-factor authentication on their alert network. Password from their operative, this device, and of course the secure communication terminals."
"Well, that seems promising." I said, knowing how good the Skirmishers were at getting information. And it appeared that we had two of the three pieces that we would need to gain at least temporary access to the alien's logistical infrastructure.
-xxx-
Once I was relieved of my shift, I took Lt. Luo to the Skirmisher commander, Petrarch, before getting as much sleep as I could. Given what he had told me, I assumed I would need as much rest as I could get before tomorrow evening.
It was late in the afternoon when I woke up, and after a quick breakfast of dry ADVENT MRE followed by some target shooting, the "all hands on deck" announcement came out, calling us all to the briefing room. There ended up being quite the traffic jam, as the XCOM reinforcements had made their way up the hill by this point, and after a couple minutes of hopelessly attempting to jam everyone into the tiny room another general order went out, directing us outside.
The sun was beginning to disappear behind the mountains, but we had just about enough light to work with, as all of the combat personnel from the base assembled at the foot of the compound. Even with the dozen or so reinforcements the Commander had dispatched, our fighting force only consisted of about forty individuals. The Skirmishers may have been ferocious soldiers, but their numbers weren't exactly overwhelming, and this wasn't the only operation they had going on. The din of casual conversation suddenly faded, however, as a voice rang out over the clearing.
"Tonight, we will be conducting an all-out assault on the base of the ADVENT battalion we have been surveilling." Said Petrarch. "We have recovered a full set of credentials to prevent the appearance of heavy ADVENT reinforcements, and as such the objective will be to fully secure the enemy compound." One of his aides brought out a large map, showing the entirety of the valley ADVENT had taken control of, along with estimations of the size and location of their various structures added on in marker.
"The enemy force likely consists of around 150 individuals. Our pre-emptive strikes have, by current estimations, reduced their fighting-capable individuals by a third. Their patrols will also be off-site during this night assault, and will likely be unable to assist. Nevertheless, we are still greatly outnumbered, and as such the element of surprise will be essential in dislodging enemy forces and securing the base. Minor, uncoordinated counterattacks are expected, but proper defensive preparations should nullify any threat." The number sounded scary, but Corvus had reassured us that the majority of enemies would be easily eliminated in their sleep. After all, we weren't planning an extended engagement, but instead a swift coup de grace.
Petrarch attached two large stickers onto the west side of the map, and drew several arrows into the base. "Claw Squad, your task will be to secure the main barracks building. The plan will be to quarter it as the main staging grounds for further operations. Capture any high value prisoners, and eliminate the rest. Talon Squad, secure the ancillary buildings, and disable any distress signals from the alert network. Once complete, begin defensive preparations." These two squads made up the main contingent of Skirmisher forces.
"Fang Squad, you will approach from the north and secure the officer's quarters. Capture the commanding officer alive. This is vital. You will be the first team to begin the assault, and once you capture the officer signal with flares to commence the general attack. Once your target is secure, proceed to the barracks and assist. Praetor Team, we will be overwatching the site from the western bluffs, providing sniper fire and command." This latter team essentially consisted of the joint commands of both XCOM and the Skirmishers. It was reassuring that Lt. Luo would be on the mission, watching over us with his rifle.
Petrach then stuck two large XCOM logos on the east side of the map, next to a hastily-drawn tunnel. "Scythe-1, secure the Central Command building. Eliminate all hostels, and secure as much of the data as possible. Scythe-2, secure the guard stations, vehicle pool, and tunnel entrance. Support Scythe-1's data-gathering if site is secure, otherwise hold position in preparation of potential counterattack." The Scythe teams were one of the Commander's new structural reforms. While the Strike Teams were strong, they were also limited. Scythe was the designation for XCOM's three new Ground Teams, eight man squads that served as versatile and reliable infantry, made up of various Resistance operatives from the local havens. Looking at these recruits, however, they looked a bit green. Perhaps Petrarch had seen it too, and assigned them primarily data-gathering tasks and choke-point defense.
His voice rang out one last time. "Steel yourselves. We set out at 2200 hours." We were dismissed, and I was ready to go. The fruits of our labour were finally about to ripen.
-xxx-
I checked my watch again. 10:09, local time. We were already behind schedule, but I wasn't about to let that compromise this operation. The six of us had been patiently waiting for the base's Commanding Officer to finish his briefing with his officers, before they each turned in to their individual rooms. The commander retired to his slightly larger building, along with two aides, and while he entered his door we descended down the hill. As we reached the bottom of the prefab house, I pulled out an extendable ladder from my pack. The Skirmishers could have grappled up, but Sahara and I couldn't and furthermore, the sound of metal on metal would have been very loud and revealing. We mounted the balcony. Nobody here yet. Corvus unlocked the door as the three other Skirmishers, along with Sahara, crept in and set up their ambush. I stood outside, flare at the ready, while Corvus kept watch over the rest of the officer huts.
I couldn't help but sneak a peek at the ambushers as I heard footsteps come up the metal stairs. The ADVENT commander came up, flanked in front and behind by an aide. What happened next was perfectly choreographed carnage. One of the Skirmishers tackled the leading aide to the side while a second followed it up with a ripjack strike to the neck. Meanwhile, Sahara leaped over the side of the staircase to dispatch the trailing aide with her blade. As for the commander itself? The final Skirmisher grabbed it by the close shoulder, and sliced off its entire left forearm. Its communicator fell to the ground, attached to the severed limb. The Skirmisher then pivoted immediately into a chokehold, preventing the target from uttering more than a squeak. Seeing all of the foes dispatched or under control, I pulled the trigger. The night immediately took on a bright red hue, as the flare shot up high into the air.
Corvus leapt off of the balcony as I could hear the faint sounds of gunfire in the distance. Our next job was to dispatch the rest of the command staff. The officer in the first hut was just getting into bed when we busted down the door, and fell to a coordinated burst of gunfire. Unfortunately, this had the effect of alerting all the rest of the officers, and Corvus ordered me to take a different hut, to keep the element of surprise for as many marks as possible. The second one was just opening the door as I swung around to shoot. With one hand on the doorknob, it stood no chance, and flew backwards onto its bed from the sudden impact. By this point, Sahara and another Skirmisher had popped out the front door of the Commander's residence, and were beginning to exchange fire with the officers who had just exited into the coverless dirt street. Safe to say, they did not last long.
We cleared the rest of the houses, in case there were any targets trying to be sneaky. The handful that were left we disposed of easily, though one got a couple of shots off on our other Skirmisher friend. By the time we had completed our sweep, the last two Skirmishers had gotten our VIP trussed up like a roast hog, and even dressed his gaping arm wound. He also seemed sedated, as he wasn't struggling against his tight bonds, nor complaining about his new stump arm. With our prisoner, we made our way to the barracks, a large three-storey complex that could and probably did house hundreds of soldiers. There were already Skirmishers at the door.
As we entered, I could already hear the telltale sound of ripping flesh. The building seemed secure, so I went to investigate what the Skirmishers were up to. Maybe lend a hand. Sahara tagged along, as we passed several opened doors, each already reeking of death. Glancing inside the last one, there was a single Skirmisher, methodically slashing open each sleeping ADVENT trooper's neck with his ripjack. He quickly dispatched the one on the bottom bunk, then grabbed the collar of the one above to reach the neck. There was a cold, machine-like rhythm to it all. I was impressed by their efficiency, if more than a bit queasy at the rapidly increasing rate and smell of corpses. Sahara, on the other hand, looked positively ill.
"Maybe let's head outside for some fresh air." I offered. Sahara nodded, and quickly hurried towards the main entrance. Outside, we could still hear the sounds of gunfire, but comms were surprisingly quiet. That was, until, a shrill scream, followed by nothing. Then another voice.
"Scythe-1 needs backup! Assassin here!" Followed by the sounds of gunfire, then a slash. Then silence again. I wasted no time in heading east, towards the Command Centre, dragging Sahara with me. The sound of Skirmisher leg servos trailed behind. I heard Scythe-2 radio in, having sent half their squad to assist. Then, more death sounds. I turned off my comms for the time being. By the time we had arrived, there was quite the gruesome display in front of us. A dead XCOM soldier, thrown out the window, the shards of red glass around her corpse like rose petals. The worst part, however, was how she was missing half of her face, the flesh cleanly sliced off from the skull. It was nowhere to be seen outside, so she must have been thrown out after she had been so brutally killed. Perhaps as a warning. I turned my earpiece back on.
"This is Fang-5 to Scythe-1 and 2. Are there any survivors in the Command Centre? Repeat, any Command Centre survivors?" I asked, as we entered the building, I heard Skirmisher grapples outside. The sprinklers were on, but there seemed to be no fire. Then, a voice over comms, that also faintly echoed from inside the building.
"I've got the thing pinned, but it's shooting!" Followed by a gunshot that I definitely heard from inside the building.
"Hang tight, we're on final approach." As we crept closer to the source of the shots, I could hear the sound of loose electricity zapping about. Meanwhile, the Skirmishers were reporting several dead and unconscious bodies upstairs. We caught our first glimpse of the conflict as we entered the holding cells. The Assassin was stuck at the back of the hall, firing at a closed cell door. Her barrel pivoted swiftly towards us as she noticed, and we ducked for cover before she could shoot. In between us was the reason that she was unable to get close and slice us open: the cell control terminal had completely shorted out, and was outputting all of its power into the massive puddle caused by the sprinkler above. The low roof combined with the Assassin's superhuman height presumably also precluded it from jumping over, so its only strategy was to keep firing buckshot until it hit something.
"This should be quick." I said.
"But it's still got cover," Sahara replied.
"Not for long." I thumbed the grenade on my belt, before lobbing it right at the Assassin's cover. It shredded right through the wall, as the two of us brought our guns to bear on the thing, still reeling from the explosion, just like we did the last time we faced off against the thing. Except this time, we got a bit of extra help, as from out of the corner of my eye, I saw a cell door fly open, followed by a burst of rounds from that direction headed right for the head of the Assassin. It vanished in a cloud of purple light yet again, as I shouted for our mystery individual to come out from hiding. The cell terminal suddenly shut off, as a lady with short hair and a bandana came out of one of the holding cells.
"You the one behind this setup?" I asked. The lady nodded. "I assume you're with Scythe-1. Bad news: all your squadmates are dead or incapacitated. Good news: you lived! Quite the achievement. What's your name?" Better to deliver all the shock now, when we have a moment to breathe, I thought to myself.
"Derin Avci. Tech Specialist for Scythe-1. And yes, I know. I've been the only one doing anything for the last five minutes. Well, I suppose before you two showed up." Tough under pressure, with a sense of humor. I was starting to like this person.
"So, how exactly did you trap one of the Elders' top assets on the corner of a jail? And with no planning, too?"
"It was doing something to one of my squadmates in the corner there." She pointed to the place where the Assassin had disappeared, and there was indeed a body there. Corpse or not, I wasn't sure, but the frag grenade probably didn't help things. I winced. "I had access to the network, so I turned on the sprinklers and manually overrode the cell control system shutdown. Locked myself in one of the holding cells, and kept that thing busy for a minute or two. It probably could have gotten through the shocks eventually, but hey, nobody wants to walk through that." She grinned.
"Well, you're certainly right about that. Quite the troublemaker, aren't you. Impressive though, and certainly resourceful. You don't get out of a situation like this without at least a bit of problem-solving acumen." I switched on my comms again, and continued. "Hey Lieutenant, there's a girl here who trapped the Assassin with nothing but sprinklers and circuitry!"
"Excuse me?" Was the reply.
"No, seriously. She's the only one still standing from Scythe-1. Damn good hacker, and resourceful too. Strike Team could use someone like her, even if it's behind the scenes."
"I'll make my own judgement when I see whoever this is. But I'll take your recommendation into consideration."
Undeterred, I turned to this new acquaintance. "Well, play your cards right, and you might just be getting a promotion. Hopefully I'll see you around!" I said, as Sahara and I headed back to the main complex for the debrief.
-xxx-
Lt. Luo had brought the news that we were now permanently assigned to Menace-1 as soon as he arrived at the Skirmisher base, so our immediate return to first-line combat duty came as no surprise. Karl had returned from his sabbatical, and Cathy's replacement had been decided: a former member of Menace-2 named Connor Walker, that Jack seemed particularly fond of. Our new member seemed capable enough, if a bit overly enthusiastic. Despite the fact that we had barely any time to actually drill with one another, our first missions all went off without a hitch, and scarcely a wound. I suppose live-fire is often the best training environment, as long as your head doesn't get blown off, and having 50% larger squads against a still under-equipped ADVENT didn't hurt either. Meanwhile, the resistance movements across North America were in full swing. It was a good time.
Such a good time, in fact, that the brass had decided that it was time to throw a party. They had tables set up outside the Avenger, with fresh food that we had either gotten from one of our recent raids or received from the resistance cell we were currently encamped with. Our cooks did not disappoint either with this fresh bounty of ingredients. The weather was nice, and I looked forward to enjoying a slice of quiet life, and maybe one of pie as well.
Sahara and Connor had joined a table with some of Menace-2. I was with the rest of the squad, and we chatted a bit as we ate, about life on the Avenger, our gripes with Bradford, and our recent operations. I told them some stories about the Skirmishers. Karl in particular seemed to find this extremely entertaining. We talked until the sun was nearly past the horizon, at which point everyone was beginning to wrap things up, packing up leftovers and chairs back onto the ship. I decided to take this time to check in on Sahara.
"Enjoying it all?" I asked. However, the only reply from Sahara was a soft nod, and I could tell she was deep in thought. I didn't know if I should have bothered her, but I was curious, and that overruled my better judgement.
"Something on your mind?" I asked.
"It's fine. Don't worry about it." Was the noncommittal reply.
"Well, I can tell you're thinking about something, and that sour expression on your face makes me think it's got you down. Get it off your chest, and I promise it'll feel better."
She sighed, but relented. "I wonder if I'm losing my humanity."
Oh. I wasn't expecting such an intense start to the conversation. But I still felt like I had a responsibility to at least try and help, even if this seemed very far out of my capabilities as an amateur psychologist.
"You mean, because of your physical changes? Because that's not what makes us human. It's what's in here." I tapped my head, and then my heart. Corny, but hopefully at least a bit reassuring to someone with Sahara's personality. However, she just shook her head.
"No, I mean like… emotionally? Morally? I don't know, but I just feel like every time I fight, every time I kill, and every fellow I see die, I lose a bit of that inhibition and the desire for peace that everyone else has. My ideals and dreams feel like they're growing fainter with each passing day, and I'm getting too familiar with violence and death. I'm worried that I'm losing whatever that core thing is that gives us empathy, gives us our righteous justification. Makes us fight for something bigger than ourselves."
I gave a weak chuckle. "I think the Skirmishers rubbed off a bit on you when we were out in the field. They were good people, but the whole total war doctrine gave me a bit of a headache at times. Just remember what you said to me: There'll be a world after the war. And we'll learn peace, whether we like it or not. We're doing this so that the people who can't fight back will one day have freedom and something to live for. It's our noble sacrifice."
Sahra sighed. "I don't have a past to imagine bringing back, and I haven't the faintest clue what the future would even look like. That's assuming we win this war. And even if it's going well now, you know that this isn't the full might of ADVENT. I don't know what to hold on to. I'm drifting down a river of blood and it's carrying me away. I feel like I'm going to hit the point of no return soon. I've been turning myself into a monster since I was reborn, but I told myself that it was just to keep myself alive. But now that I have a reason… I'm scared."
I stood there, in stunned silence. Platitudes probably wouldn't cut it, and I was definitely in way over my head. Nevertheless, I couldn't just walk away. So I gave her a hug. A big, chest-crushing, spontaneous hug, where I tried to say "It'll all be fine," and "I believe in you," and "You are loved" all at once, without a single word. I knew it wasn't enough. But it was all I could do.
-xxx-
After that incident, I talked to the Commander about the issue. We didn't have an onboard psychiatrist, but they were a good leader, and I hoped they would be able to at least do something about it. Sahara seemed less visibly upset, but she still had lost some of her old cheer. Maybe the Commander was running into the same issues that I faced when I tried to talk to Sahara. Maybe it was the fact that they'd only been working on it for a week or so. But everything started going sideways before we made any meaningful progress with her.
Sahara was always a bit of an insomniac. She said it had something to do with her genetic changes, and it wasn't like I could find out if that was true or not. Recently, however, she had given up any pretenses of sleeping early, and had taken to hanging out with the night shift crews in the common areas until the early morning, relying more and more on wake-up pills. I was worried about these new habits, so I would occasionally check in on her if I ever woke up in the middle of the night.
This time, I was woken up by someone getting up to use the washroom. Though the Avenger had good noise-proofing between rooms, it didn't help the ruckus in the shared dorms. I got partially dressed, and headed to the cafeteria, where Sahara had taken to being at these hours. When I arrived, the room was mostly empty, and Sahara was at a table alone. She seemed more wired than usual, and wasn't reading or chatting to anyone, but instead silent and still, with her head in her hands.
"Hey. How are you doing?" I whispered. But even this seemed to startle her.
"Oh. You scared me. Things scare me a lot more now. Especially my thoughts. Especially the path I'm going down. I've become what I'm supposed to be, but it terrifies me. Death now follows me, even if I don't want him to. I serve War, and I bring ruin. It's too much. I don't know how I can take it anymore." I hadn't talked to her much, but she usually wasn't this open. At least, not since the last time we talked about her struggles. Her incoherence also frightened me a bit. I tightly clasped one of her hands with both of mine, as much to reassure me as it was to do the same for her.
"Calm down. You'll be fine. We'll work through this. We'll talk through it." I said. But it didn't seem to get through to her. I didn't know if I believed it either.
"I was made into a weapon. But I'm scared of being reforged again, because I'll have to when it's over. If it's over. There's no place for me when this is done. I will be ronin. A wandering samurai with no purpose. A violent vagabond. I'm subsuming into a machine of murder. I don't want to, but it's my only purpose. I was molded to be a killer. I trained to be a killer. If I let all that go I lose everything again. But I know it's bad. I'm scared of being unable to stop killing, of needing death. I'm scared of losing that too. I can see where this takes me, and I don't want to go there, but I can't see a different path. I can't be wiped clean again. But I can't live like this. I don't know. I don't know." Her voice trailed off, the feeling of exhaustion clearly present.
I let the silence hang, offering up my physical presence, because I had no clue how to help with whatever was in her brain. I don't know how long the silence was, but it felt like an eternity. And I would have been happy with an eternity more, if we weren't interrupted by a bone-rattling impact, followed by a complete blackout.
"The Avenger has been hit! We are going down! Going down! Brace for impact!" Screamed Bradford over the PA system. Fortunately, the tables were bolted down, so the two of us took cover underneath the one we had just been sitting at. Unfortunately, it likely wouldn't matter. A hard impact would kill us regardless of where we were hiding. Strangely, I wasn't scared. Neither was Sahara. She seemed understanding of, even accepting her fate. As for me, I had no regrets, other than the abstract "being unable to save the world". I'd lived a good life. Made friends, been a hero, held celebrations, and experienced victory. If this was how I went out, at least it was with a friend. And so we waited as we plummeted from the sky, waiting for the lethal impact.
But it never came. The lights flickered back on, and I could feel the floor push up into me as the Avenger regained its thrust. The landing was still rough, even for the standards of Bradford's piloting. But we lived, and without injuries too. I climbed out of the gap in the table, then immediately fell flat on the ground again as the adrenaline began to subside. The floor was cool, and I was savouring the mere act of breathing. But once again, Bradford's PA announcements broke the quiet.
"All combat personnel, get suited up! We've got ADVENT contacts inbound! Meet in the hangar for immediate deployment!" I reluctantly arose, and after helping Sahara up, the two of us headed for the armory. Lt. Luo and Karl had both already arrived, and were in the process of donning their Predator armor. Our squad got priority access to the new gadgets and weaponry, which at least gave me some reassurance to go into the unknown outside of the ship. Most of the others weren't so lucky. Some members of the other Strike Team managed to snag some pieces of plated armor, but most of the remaining troops were left with ballistics and Kevlar. As we began putting on our armor, I turned to Sahara, and asked,
"Are you sure you'll be fine out there?"
She replied with a pallid smile. "I don't have much of a choice." And that was the end of that conversation. The hangar was abuzz with movement, the cargo door already down, and I could see light gunfire outside already. Both Bradford and the Commander were busy directing all of us filing out from the armory to somewhere out the door.
"Lieutenant! Your whole squad here?" Yelled Bradford.
"Most of 'em. What's the situation?" Replied Lt. Luo.
"We've got the ground troops forming a perimeter around the ship, and it's holding for now. Won't for forever, though. We're grounded by a massive psionic jammer that's completely shutting down the network." He took a couple steps towards the ramp, and pointed at the purple glow that was piercing the otherwise pitch-black sky. "We need you to take it down ASAP. There's some X4 at the base of the ramp that some of the others have been using for traps." The statement was punctuated by an explosion outside. "Like that. We don't know if that thing is susceptible to shooting, but if it isn't, take something with a bit more power, just in case. I'll send everyone I can your way when they get out."
Lt. Luo nodded, as he motioned for us to enter the night. We had crashlanded on a small farmstead, the Avenger haphazardly strewn amidst a sea of crops and ditches. Some of the Scythe teams were using the latter as trenches, taking potshots across the sea of flattened corn. The light seemed to be coming from a nearby barn, a ways off from our current location. I had no doubt there was a sea of ADVENT to stop us from getting there. But as we slowly made our way towards the complex of buildings, Connor and Jack joining us shortly afterwards, we encountered no resistance.
"Post up near that hut. We'll need to cross that road, I'll provide covering fire from the roof." Our leader said, as he grappled up onto the shingles. Connor and Jack made to breach the building, when all of a sudden an ADVENT patrol turned the corner and began to raise their weapons. They got off no shots, but they did fire off a shout, which in turn led to the appearance of a dozen or more enemies across the road. We dove for cover as mag rounds flew through the air. Our return fire yielded little results. Their cover was too good, the high hay bales and farm machinery making it nearly impossible to hit them. Flanking maneuvers were also suicidal, the open road being too exposed to simply dash across. Connor could keep a couple of their heads down, and Lt. Luo could pop a couple of said heads, but that left us open to any sort of aggressive push from the enemy. Karl's grenades were doing a bit better, detonating a couple explosive pieces of equipment, but once one died, another one took its place, this time behind newly non-exploding cover.
Our position was simply worse, and all the while precious seconds were passing. A stray bullet hit Sahara in the arm, as she took her shots, trying to hit anything at all. Someone had to do something drastic, or we were never going to break this deadlock before more ADVENT would arrive and overwhelm not just us, but the entire ship. There was just too much cover for the enemy. I think Sahara sensed this too. It was the only explanation for what she did next.
"I'm sorry."
Those were the last words I ever heard her say, as she dove headlong into danger, a small stream of blood dripping from her off-hand and a manic look on her face. Before I could stop her, she had dashed across the road, and taken a couple more bullets in the meantime. She didn't seem bothered. Her blade found one ADVENT troop, then another, then a third.
I yelled for us to follow the berserker charge, as Karl, Jack, and I dashed across the road, using the panic Sahara was sowing to make a move of our own. Having cut through all of the nearby enemies, she pulled out her rifle. She got off one last burst before the amount of concentrated fire laid on her was finally too much, and she fell to the ground. I knew she was dead before she hit the grass. Still, she had broken the deadlock in our favour. I had no time to think about the casualty, as we were still in the fight of our lives, surrounded by ADVENT on three flanks and with limited time to deal with them before they regained their bearings. I thought about the Skirmishers' tactics. Reduce angles. Isolate and eliminate. I made a plan of attack.
"Karl, come with me! Jack, flush out the right flank for the others!" I rushed towards the handful of ADVENT taking cover behind a large clump of haybales. I was hoping that Jack would be able to push out all the ADVENT holding the right flank of the barn into the waiting fire of Connor and the Lieutenant, while the two of us could clear out the left. As long as we didn't expose ourselves to fire from the centre, the pincer would likely cause the enemy to fall back to the barn, where we could easily destroy them. As such, I had no anxiety in rushing towards the enemy's flank. Either they'd all be dead, or we'd be screwed anyways.
We had four to deal with, one reloading and the other clutching a wound. The other two were of more immediate concern. I rushed up to the closer one, leaning against the adjacent side of the haybale and swatting away his rifle with my own. Bringing the barrel to bear on his head, I squeezed the trigger as tightly as I could, and the smell of scorched flesh immediately flew into my nostrils. In the heat of the moment, it wasn't completely unpleasant.
Karl had dispatched the one reloading his rifle, which unfortunately left one more to deal with. The officer in front of me unloaded what remained of his rifle into my chest. If I was wearing Kevlar, I'd almost certainly be dead. As it stood, only a couple pierced the armor, and none too deeply. I recentred my rifle, and fired back. One laser came out, before I heard a fizzing noise. Out of coolant. Undeterred, I unholstered my taser. When I was assigned this as part of my kit, I questioned if I'd ever need it. I was glad to have it now. The officer fell to the ground, as I savagely pummeled it in the face, before finally breaking the thing's neck. Yellow blood trickled from its nose. I looked up. Karl and Jack were collapsing in on the retreating ADVENT, and Karl had even blown open a hole into the side of the barn, exposing the jammer.
By this point a couple members from Menace-2 had shown up, slightly worse for wear after their own battles. Still, the reinforcements were much appreciated, as we pushed the rest of the ADVENT out of the buildings. I planted the explosives, and set the timer for thirty seconds as I looked around for Sahara's body.
"We don't have time for that, get out now!" Yelled Lt. Luo over the comms, as I slung Sahara's corpse over my shoulder.
"I'm not leaving the body behind!" I shouted back, looking right at him on the rooftop. The Lieutenant paused, and then nodded, as he went back to picking off the ADVENT pursuing us.
I think I took a couple bullets as I fled. I barely felt them, probably thanks to a combination of adrenaline, the plated armor, and Sahara's body, draped over my back like an improvised meat shield. I was barely lucid by the time I reached the ramp, hardly noticing the ground troops forming up in front of me and sending suppressing fire downrange. The door slowly wound closed, as we began takeoff even before it was fully sealed. The jolt of the Avenger knocked me to the ground for the third time today, and I didn't bother getting up this time. I remember one of the scientists unloading Sahara's body from my back, and the Lieutenant taking my gun to my storage locker. I fell asleep in the cargo hold that night.
-xxx-
We had her cremated. The choices were Tygan's corpse burner, or throwing the body to the wolves, and I thought that at least sentimentally, it might be nice for her remains to see our victory, if it ever would come to pass. The funeral was held two days after her death. I was technically supposed to be in the medical bay still, but I don't think anyone grudged me going. It passed quickly, and one of the staff took the urn to the place where they were keeping all of them. It was depressing to think about how that was already a necessary consideration. Seven dead from the Skirmisher raid. Six more from the Avenger assault, including Sahara.
After the service concluded, I left for the bar. Bradford was there, along with a couple of others, already half under the table.
"Holding up okay, Jones?"
"I've seen better days." I got an ironic chuff in response. "I'll have a glass of whatever's knocked everyone else here off their feet." Bradford poured a quarter-glass of some clear liquid. I could smell the fumes coming off of it.
"So, what's that thing that's got you down? Other than the deaths, I mean." Bradford's question was eerily similar to the one that I had asked Sahara a week or so ago.
"Just thinking about how to keep our humanity, doing what we do. I've already seen too much death, and I'll probably see more. It gets to be a bit much, y'know? I guess some people bury it with drinks or women, but I'm not a fan of the former and I don't know if anyone else swings that way for the latter." This got a full laugh out of Bradford.
"Tough question. I'll just say this. When I was out there, living on tree bark and Sectoid flesh, while the aliens were sending squads of their own to hunt me down, I had one thought that kept me going. 'I failed'. And everything I did, to try and rebuild the Resistance, rescue the Commander, and even all the things I do for the Avenger, is because of that one regret. Now, I'm not saying the pill for sanity is self-loathing. What I mean is that you need to have a deeply personal and intimate reason for fighting. It can't be a grand plan to save the world, or be a hero. That'll just turn you into a husk of a human, or a suicidal maniac, if you go on for too long. No, you have to have a reason to fight that dies if you die. That's how you keep on living through it all."
"Thanks, Central." I gave a soft grin, as I took a deep sip of the alcohol. It burned deeply, but it was a nice burn. A voluntary burn. It fueled the fire in me. I'd figure out exactly what I fought for some other day. Right now, I knew I fought for Sahara, and Cathy, and all the others that I knew who now sit as ashes on a shelf of urns.
As the warm intoxication began to come over me, my thoughts drifted to what Sahara said. She thought her destiny was to become a servant of Death, in order to save human life. I think she realized at the end that it was too vague and distant to be a true goal. She was scared of becoming the suicidal maniac. Maybe she should have been scared; it's what happened. But that's not true, I told myself. She put herself down because she was worried about who she would become later. It was an opportunity to go out a hero, and she took it. I can't blame her. But I would have preferred an alive Sahara, even one that was broken and scared. Dead people don't make for good soldiers, and they make for even lousier friends. I wasn't religious, but I hoped that wherever she was now, she'd find her own peace. My hand tipped back the glass, and I sent out a wordless prayer.