X-Com: Abyssal
Chapter Five – Borderline
October 10th, 2044
Madhouse Rock, Pacific
The officers meeting room was located on one of the central modules that composed the floating base and it was next to the double hull, with the circular viewport allowing for some natural light to supplement the neon cylinders built into the ceiling. Like most of the base it had been designed in a naval fashion where unused space was considered a luxury and therefore the six men that were seated couldn't stretch their elbows sideways without hitting the officers on their sides. There were only seven seats on the room, all made of metal and synthetic rubber and they bolted to the floor to prevent them from being tossed around in case the sea conditions would get rough. Besides being used for meetings the room was also used as the officer's dining hall and the walls were filled with cabinets were the silverware and plates were stored, together with personal visisets and other forms of entertainment.
The six officers and the single NCO inside were all wearing field jumpsuits of khaki or sea blue color with gold and silver pins on their lapels. The color of the uniforms reflected their position inside X-Com's organization: the non-combat officers used khaki suits while the blue fatigues were assigned to the combat personnel. They had all of their service caps removed and placed on shelves above the chairs and those also reflected the differences with black for the latter and blue assigned to the former. At the top of the table and directly facing the door that led into the corridor outside the base's commanding officer was seated. His sleek facial features and slanted eyes told of his Asian origin and his hair was completely black not revealing a sign of his fifty years, although most of the officers knew that he dyed his hair. Lt. Braddock, which was seated on his right at the middle of the table with Sublieutenant Rashid separating him from the captain, knew it for a fact since he had noticed that the collar of Captain Pak seemed to turn dark from time to time. And as the base's procurement officer he also had noticed the monthly request for hair dye that was logged into the computers. He wondered how it would be if the captain used instead the stuff on the useless dye grenades that were a part of the general combat equipment: they had been developed to cover soldiers in combat and the substance was as sticky as the natural dye used by octopuses. However the substance didn't spread too much and it was useless to make blocking screens unless the soldiers used an awful amount of the grenades. Like the ink on squids it was only useful if an alien moved close to a soldier but in that case the trooper would be more worried to either flee from the extraterrestrial's deadly hand-to-hand weapons or to fire at it.
The table was filled with the officers' small noteputers with the visiscreens shinning over the small rectangular keyboards. The only ones that didn't have one were Captain Pak, whose aide, Sublieutenant Rashid, carried and took care of all paperwork for him and Chief Agnello who relied on his impressive memory to either quote from the bible or report on each squad's condition. Agnello was also different because he was the only one in the room that had reached the top of the ladder inside X-Com. If a soldier reached Chief Petty Officer rank it meant that he would didn't had the appropriate connections to be transferred to officer school while he was a non-commissioned officer. He was seated in a relaxed manner on this side of the table, the only blue figure to do so in the blue side of the table. Rashid and Braddock both wore khaki, meaning that they had managed to get out of combat operations by being assigned to the support branch. Agnello wasn't completely out of the frying pan since he still had a combat status but it would be easier to see Lt. Commander Parkenson, the commanding officer of all combat forces in the base in action than the senior NCO.
As Braddock's eyes swept through the other side of the table that was filled with sea blue it gave him satisfaction because he had been on their boots while he was stationed at the North Sea floating base. The Alaskan councilman had promised him to make everything possible for him to be reassigned to a non-combat role but it had taken Delacroix and that woman Markovitch for it to actually happen. He caught Parkenson looking at him but the Icelandic man diverted his gaze the next minute and he kept listening to report made by Ensign Costa, the combat section's commanding officer.
"Even with the two replacements that arrived from land a week ago we are still undermanned. Third squad is less than seventy percent strength: right now they can't even fill all of the spots on a Triton. First and second squads are slightly better but if we start only using them losses will soon grow higher and we'll have to merge squads if we want to keep assaulting the USOs".
Captain Pak wasn't pleased and he turned to Parkenson. "That is completely unacceptable! What do you propose to do about this?" The commander started to speak but Rashid cut him off. "We should request more soldiers from land. Alien activity has stepped up in the past month around the base, sir. If we keep intercepting them at this rate they might decide we're becoming too much of nuisance to them and act like they did before".
Agnello shifted on his chair, uncomfortably, already knowing the end result of the discussion. "Sir, we need more aqua-plastic armor and gauss rifles for the troops. We need to use the funding for those otherwise losses will continue to be the same". He had been the only one wearing his service cap and now he removed it, showing the baldness on the top of his head. Rashid simply waved him off with his hand. "Chief Petty, you like all others here present in the room know the financial considerations. And each gauss weapon or armor we order is one less replacement soldier that this base is going to get".
Braddock simply nodded to confirm Rashid's assessment. He knew very well the tactical value of both items but as the base's procurement officer he was even more aware of their cost. The SORESO scientists had developed aqua-plastic armor after they had discovered the composition of the extremely light and strong material the aliens used on their submarines. It consisted of several layers of natural metals bound together in a crystalline structure by a high-energy process that made it stronger than the regular Kevlar armor worn by the aquanauts. It was assumed that the aliens used the Zrbite mineral to power the process but X-Com's scientists had managed to replicate it using nuclear power. But it still made the process very costly: the factory price tag of an armor set was at twenty thousand neodollars to manufacture, not counting the additional cost of producing the aqua-plastics in case there wasn't enough aqua-plastics recovered from USO crash sites. To fully equip a soldier with advanced armor and gauss weaponry could cost more fifty thousand neodollars and with that money it was possible to hire up to three additional soldiers. And not to mention to sell the armor and the weapon at the open market at a price that was the double of the production cost, turning in a huge profit into X-Com's financial accounts. "Aqua-plastic and gauss are expensive to buy at this moment". Braddock knew pretty well the mathematics and so did everybody else in the room. Chief Agnello started to fight back the argument but Braddock wasn't finished. "And we shouldn't forget that just to replace the SWS that your troops lost in the previous month will severely cut into this month's budget. We already had to pay India base for the replacements we received in the previous week and right now our situation isn't too solid". While watching Mellow and Parkenson digest the comment his mind drifted to the small changes he had made on the base's paperwork. They had received two of the underwater tanks but there was only enough ammunition to arm one of them although the balance sheet showed that money had been used to equip both of them. The missing funds had been split between him and another officer at the Indian base and he had immediately applied them into buying X-Com's stock. Braddock's secret retirement fund had now more than one hundred thousand neodollars, all from the weapons deals and other more secret sources, and all of was it invested in the force's shares. Since I reinvest the money on X-Com, it can't be that bad.
October 14th, 2044
Madhouse Rock, Pacific
Hurt. Small trickles of pain had been bothering her for the past hour and Markovitch was starting to feel exhausted as the medical technician continued to perform the tissue graft on her leg. He had only given her a local anesthesia whose effect seemed to last less than ten minutes before her leg started to inch, with the feeling slowly increasing. Seated on a chair while the white doctor continued with the procedure she had complained but he simply had told her that the pain was a signal that her nerve system was still working and had ignored her afterwards.
For a minute she had considered hitting the guy on the head with one of the metal basins that were on the table at his side but she had wisely decided that it would probably only make him to restart the whole procedure.
She felt the sweat starting to accumulate on her armpits and back and wished that the doctor would either open some sort of window or increase the air conditioning of the room but the man's occasional sneezing told her that it wouldn't be a good idea. Especially if the person who seemed to have a cold was at the moment using a scalpel on your leg. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling and the white lights there present, reminding her of the months she had spent at the hospital bed after she had been awaken from the deep cryogenic freeze.
"Captain?" The voice was almost too low to be unheard, a faint whisper that she paid no attention as fogginess entered her conscious mind. Somebody had just walked into her field of vision on her side, but she couldn't see who it was with her eyelids half-shut and feeling that she was looking through a glass tube.
"She's gone now sir". A new presence moved into the opposite side, taller than the first but still obscured in darkness. He sounded familiar to her but the voice was groggy as if the person had just gotten out of bed. "I know. We'll soon be together". She immediately recognized the new voice and her head jacked backwards, hitting the rest on the chair and sending a crashing pain down her head and neck. "Erwin!" As her eyes opened and focused on the person in front of her, she had the startled technician looking at her.
"Jesus! You just scared the hell of me. Just be quiet and lie still there. I'm almost done here!" Then he went back to his work on her leg, as she looked around, still dazzled about the whole situation. Why can't I simply forget about him? She knew that the question was rhetorical but she still chewed upon it as the doctor finished up patching up and started to apply bandages on her leg. After it was done he gave her a plastic tube of cream. "Put this three times a day. I will quicken the scarring process. It's going to leave an ugly scar but it's nothing a good plastic surgeon can't fix back on shore if you want so. And start using that leg also".
A short time after, she was standing on one kruch as she left the base's small infirmary, Markovitch was closing the metal hatch door when a familiar voice coming from the corridor made her turn. "Hey Watkins, how did it go?" Turning around she saw a Kern wearing a red and blue Hawaiian shirt with a pair of sunglasses standing on his head and bearing military swimming shorts. "Good. He told me that I'm almost recovered". She gave a look at his clothes. "Are you going on leave or something?"
He opened his arms. "You don't know yet about the 'steel beach' party?"
"Steel beach party?" She decided it should another of the strange costumes that went along with all navies. "What's that?"
"A party at the top of the base. The captain asked for authorization for it a couple of days ago and they just announced it. Come on! I'll show you". Kern started heading down the corridor towards the base's central airlock with Markovitch limping on his side.
"It's an old Navy tradition". He started explaining. "Whenever an aircraft carrier was more than a certain period of time at sea, the captain could request to high command to hold a 'steel beach party' on its flight deck. Since leaves here are now practically non existent since we have been on full alert for months the Chief Petty asked the captain for it".
"But where are you going to house a party here? There's hardly any place left on the mess hall during meals time?" They had reached the central entrance area at the end of the corridor, right before the sub pens. "Right above". Kern went for a ladder that lead into the top of the base and started climbing it. "You need any help climbing up?" Using only her good leg and her hands she started going upwards behind him. "I'll be fine, thanks".
As Kern reached the top of the metal ladder he grabbed a metal bar that was attached to the hatch and turned it. Using both his hands he then pushed it upwards and as it opened the small tunnel were both were was filled with sunlight. When they both stepped out of the hatch, Markovitch looked at the clear blue sky, which only had a couple of clouds.
The top of the floating base was completely flat besides the radar and radio antennas that were standing on one corner. Around them, seamen were carrying crates filled with food and beverages to an area filled with tables and chairs brought from the mess hall. The base's cooks had a barbecue going on in the middle of the deck with a long line of waiting sailors that were holding plastic plates. On another section a game of basketball was taking place while jumping boards had been set at one side of the deck for the seamen who wanted to take a swim on the ocean. Music was being played on speakers while men and women sunbathed or otherwise relaxed under the noon sun.
Looking at Petty Mellow and Gutierrez, who passed nearby them wearing diving trunks, Markovitch commented. "I never expected this. Even the petty looks relaxed for a change".
"Yeah, well even they have to relax a little bit in the middle of this war. That even applies to you, Watkins".
"Meaning?" She stopped as he kept walking towards a pile of ice containers. "You know what I mean Watkins. You're one of the most uptight people around this place". Renton was standing next to the blue and white portable freezers wearing an open short sleeve shirt, shorts and slippers. As Kern approached him, he smiled to him. "How's it going Kermie?"
"Don't call me that, Rennie". The seaman scuffled at the diminutive of his name. "Otherwise people might discover our relationship and start becoming jealous".
Slapping him Kern on his shoulder with his hand, Renton replied. "Yeah, right, you'd wish! Save your ass to the aliens, you fuck!" The verbal jabs between both of them made Markovitch a small grin and Renton removed his dark glasses as he noticed. "She smiles! Well, I guess this might be my lucky day. Here, have one of those and chill out". He passed green beer cans to both of them and then walked away towards a group of soldiers that were resting on their towels on the metal floor several feet away. "Catch you all later". As Renton moved away while shaking his hips in some sort of dance and humming a tone, Markovitch opened her can and took a drag of the beer. "Sometimes I can't figure out which of you is worse in being completely brainless".
"Hey! You've just hurt my ego! I take pride on being the number one jerk around here!" Waving him off she gazed at the distance and remembered the old days back on Area 51. The atmosphere of the party was equal to the occasional celebrations that had taken place on the hangars of the secret base during the first war. People would still try to relax and forget that there was a conflict raging all over them and that it might be the last time that they could have some fun on their lives before a plasma shot fired from the aliens took their lives. Some of his fondest memories with Johnson came from those moments, where they could simply enjoy the moment and forget about what the future might bring with the rest of the troops. Men and women would die later and they would be remembered on the next occasion, sometimes with tears but for that moment they all felt glad to be alive. Is that how you are feeling now?
"Did you say something?" Kern's voice brought her back to the steel deck of the base. "No, nothing, just thinking out loud".
"One day, you've got to tell me what you think so much about, Watkins". Looking at him in suspicion, she asked. "Why would I do that?"
"Maybe I can help you. Psychology is one of my specialties". She pouted at his claim. "Yeah, right, in that case doctor, how come they haven't assigned you to military intelligence if you're so smart?"
"Are you kidding?" He puffed his chest. "They did but decided against it. Too much work and no play". While Kern spoke Markovitch saw Ensign Books approaching them, having overheard the conversation. The Triton pilot's jumpsuit was all smeared with grease and some of it seemed to have found its way into Books' arms and neck. Markovitch wondered if he ever bothered to take a shower. "Don't listen to him, sweetie. I still remember his arrival trip at Madhouse. His gibberish made me wonder if I shouldn't simply dump in on the Pacific". Looking at the way his hair stuck to his skull and forehead, Markovitch decided that the man's nickname should be 'sticky'. "So how's it going sweetie? I'm happy that you've survived. From the first look at ya, I thought you'd bought it on the first missions and that would be a shame for both of us".
"For both of us, ensign Books?"
"Yeah, I know just this place on storage area C that is comfortable enough…" Books intention only increased her disgust at his figure. "No way!" Looking as if he had heard the answer a number of times he rubbed his hand on his temple and examined it afterwards. "I think I'm too clean. Don't worry once you tried it you'll never want anything else". Yeah, right, she thought as he moved away until a singing voice made her turn.
"The aliens threw a party in the human jail.
The calcinite was there and it began to wail
The squad was jumpin' and the base began to swing.
You should've heard those knocked out waterbirds sing".
". Looking at the direction of the music she saw that most of her squad had gathered at one side of the deck and that Renton was on the middle seated on a beach chair with his fingers on the strings of a guitar.
"Let's rock, everybody, let's rock.
Everybody in the sub pen block
Was dancin' on Madhouse Rock."
"What is that song?" Markovitch asked as Renton now got up and held the guitar on a pose.
"Trooper Murphy played the gauss-o-phone,
Little Joe was scared to the bone.
The Triton from land went crash, boom, bang,
The whole third section was the doomed gang.
"You never heard of Elvis? The singer from the twentieth that got abducted by the aliens?"
She turned to face Kern with her mouth twisted in disbelief. "Abducted by aliens? Kern, your brain sometimes is nothing more than sushi. I heard of Elvis Presley. But have only heard 'Jailhouse Rock on its original version. Did Renton make up that version?"
"Let's rock, everybody, let's rock.
Everybody in the sub pen block
Was dancin' on Madhouse Rock".
"Oh no. It was written by a soldier stationed here wrote after the destruction of the first base on this area by the aliens".
"The aquanaut was tied to a block of stone
Way over in the ocean standing all alone.
The trooper said, "Hey, buddy, don't you be no square.
If you die fighting an alien no one cares". On the last part Renton looked upwards as if howling.
"People got really shocked and he decided to write something to cheer the spirits up so he changed the lyrics, made a recording and dumped it on the net". Looking towards the small crowd of listeners he found Markovitch's face and smiled at her.
"Let's rock, everybody, let's rock.
Everybody in the sub pen block
Was dancin' to the Madhouse Rock".
"That's how this place got its name. It's still officially known as Sixth Fleet HQ but nobody uses it anymore. Madhouse Rock sounds better since this place and this war are both insane".
"Dancing to the Madhouse Rock". Now Renton had his hips moving as he repeated the chorus softer and softer. "Dancing to the Madhouse Rock".
"Cheer the spirits?" Renton's figure was nearly comical now as he dropped to his knees for the last part of the song. "Unless I'm wrong it's talking about the destruction of the base".
"You're right. Probably that soldier had….". He trailed for a second. "You know, that kind of powers".
"Psionics you mean". The mention to psis made Kern to freeze and grab her arm. "Watch out that word Watkins and I'm serious. Some folks around here are really itchy about it and just saying it is enough of a motive to pick up a heated argument or a fight. And whatever you do never mention it in front of Crazy T: I've seen him bashing a guy into unconsciousness after he said casually that it would be a great help on this war".
The sound of concern on his voice told her that at least the issue wasn't that important to Kern and that he wasn't simply making it up. "OK. But why have you mentioned that about the guy who wrote the song?"
Renton had finished singing and Kern had joined the half-hearted clapping of the rest of the squad members. Shrugging his shoulders in mockery, he simply replied. "Could it be that he died when this base was destroyed the second time by the aliens?"
"You gotta be kidding me. That story is just too unbelievable to be heard".
"What's easier to believe Watkins?" Kern took a long drawl from the beer can he was holding. "That this base is called Madhouse someone rewrote a song before its destruction or that this is just a floating loon house that is attached to a rock in the bottom of the ocean like some people prefer to call it?"
"Neither. I think you guys have spent too much time at sea".
"Definitely". Kern opened his arms and raised them to the air. "And you know what? We all love it and so will you until you die". His low chuckle was replaced by the sound of Renton's voice, which seemed to getting ready for the next theme. "Hey you guys are going to engage into private talk the whole time or do you want to hang around with the rest of the squad?"
They both looked at Renton who now had gotten up from the floor and was still holding the bright blue guitar as he playing some chords and starting singing in a low dragged voice to Markovitch: "….are you lonesome tonight….". Her own emotional reaction was of jumping in fear. As the chorus of boos from the rest of the squad came another sharp noise was heard as if had pulled a string from the guitar with too much strength.
"Ouch!" The sharp snapping sound jerked Renton's hand as the metal string broke and snapped with one of its end hitting his fingers. His expression of pain drew a few laughs from Marsden and some other members of the squad who were seated as comfortable as possible over several large plastic jerry cans that served as impromptu cushions. The female trooper already had quite a tan and Markovitch was distracted to why she had never thought of going to the deck before since it would a way to fight the claustrophobic environment of the base.
Renton licked the small wound and told them with his eyes to get lost.
Looking at the able seawoman Markovitch wondered what the hell was wrong with her and Renton since she preferred to stay out of being in the same fireteam as Marsden. The woman had now downed her sleek dark glasses and was looking towards her direction. But as several other soldiers also turned their attention the same way she knew that something else approaching them was the center of all that attention.
Petty Mellow
"What's up petty?" Mellow's face told Markovitch that it wouldn't be good news as he turned to Kern. "Everybody get down and suit up! The sonar just picked a USO that has touched down near the coast! Third squad is still on detail and the captain just ordered us to assault it".
"I KNEW IT!" Kern said in disgust and nearly threw down his bottle can. "Just when we were having some fun somebody had to spoil it!" Mellow's eyes went wide open at the outburst which was followed by expressions of disgust from other soldiers until his thundering voice rose above all others. "Knock it off people! Kern and the rest of you get moving now before I stick a tazer up your asses! On the double! Watkins, how's the leg doing?"
Taking the top of the kruch off her armpit she raised it for the petty officer to see. "Well, the doctor said I could use some exercise to accelerate the recovery".
"Why the fuck are you still there then!? Move!" She didn't need for the petty officer to repeat the order as she started racing towards the hatch on the deck. As third squad headed on a file towards the stairs some of the soldiers and personnel looked at them in curiosity while others tried to ignore them. A large dark-haired man seated on a beach chair simply lifted his beer can to them on a toast and called them something, although they were too far away to hear him. As she passed through the improvised kitchen area she saw the section commanding officer, Ensign Costa look at them in surprise while still holding a plastic plate on his hand and a soda can on the other. By the time the hamburger and fries fell on the floor and he was racing to catch the squad Markovitch had already reached the top metal hatch.
Close to the Demarcation Line, North Pacific
Moving his right arm on the water that filled the cargo section of the Triton, Petty Mellow was gesticulating with his gloved fingers to read the message that had just arrived from base. The Triton was already on its downward run towards the landing zone close to the detected USO and the screen was the only way to maintain communications with the base. It had been designed by Cyberweb based on the targeting and navigational computers that had equipped Earth's own advanced fighter craft. The lack of Elerium to power then had made them useless but Cyberweb had rescued the concept of the operator using its limbs to enter information instead of a keyboard or control stick. It was also impractical to use the tri-dimensional virtual reality helmets or visiscreen technology when the Triton was flooded so he was facing a thick plastic display with a slight inclination. As he finished he stopped to consider it but a bump on his shoulder from a figure also dressed on aqua-plastic armor momentarily distracted him.
Ensign Costa had also noticed that a message had arrived and had gotten up from his seat and moved close to Mellow to read it. The officer started knocking on the petty officer's shoulder but he ignored the tapping until it got too much. Shaking the ensign's hand off his armor he started to consider what he should do as he reread it.
SONAR HAS PICKED ANOMALOUS SIGNATURE CLOSE LZ. MEDIUM POSSIBILITY THERE'S A SECOND UFO TYPE UNKNOWN. DISPATCHING BARRACUDA ONE TO INVESTIGATE AND PROVIDE COVER. PROCEED ACCORDING TO PLAN. OVER.
The words on the message of Commander Parkenson didn't betray what Mellow knew. The mission of the fighter sub would be to shoot down any of the alien craft that tried to flee from the area. Even if none of the USOs threatened the Triton as it approached the location his squad would still have to fight the crews of two alien subs. And there were unofficial reports of mammoth USOs lurking on the oceans, some of them so powerful that all Barracudas that had tried to take a shot a them had been destroyed.
The motion sensors placed by Cyberweb to replicate the use of finger movement caught the movements of his hand and the software translated them into a command to call up a list of possible communication messages. A list scrolled on the screen until Mellow chose a signal to confirm acceptance of the message and another to enquiry for the possibility of reinforcements. The answer came a few seconds later.
WORKING ON THAT. GOOD LUCK. OUT.
Mellow wished he could tell Parkenson to stick his good luck into his own ass instead. The detection of the second contact must had finally put the base on alert and ended the deck party but it was too late for them to be able to send any help at the minute. Even the maintenance crews had taken a break and repairs were already behind schedule. The combat squads would also be lazy and tired after the deck party. Good luck meant that for now they were on their own.
The ensign was still at his side and looking down at the screen. When he finally looked towards Mellow the petty erased the message with his left hand and raised his right index finger to the location on his helmet in front of his nose telling Costa to be quiet about it. There wasn't much that both of them could do otherwise since it would be too complicate to explain the situation to the troopers and it also meant that they wouldn't be too nervous right before going into battle. Mellow knew that it mattered especially in the case of rookies. He had already missed by a scratch being killed twice from the shots of a green soldier that had panicked when fighting the aliens and went into bezerking. In one case the petty officer leading the squad before him had died from the shots while on the other two soldiers had been seriously injured. When he looked at the thirteen other troopers inside the craft he was both confident on his experienced soldiers and fearful of the rookies and of ensign Mellow if the officer tried to take charge of the mission and countermand the petty's orders. Still there wasn't much that Costa could do in any case: all of the fireteam leaders knew who really was in charge and they would comply with his gestures, not the officer.
The rookies worried him the most. There were four rookies on the three fireteams plus the big tall idiot brought along from 1st squad to haul extra rounds for his torpedo launcher. Looking at that rookie he wondered just what he had done to the idiot woman leading that squad to be assigned to this mission. Filing up an empty spot meant that the soldier usually was assigned next to the leading NCO instead of just cannon fodder since he was being 'loaned' and was expected to go back to his own squad.
His gaze went back to the other soldiers. Marsden and Renton had too much rookies now and were fighting between themselves to see who would lead the squad. She already had enough missions to get promoted to leading seaman rank. The problem was that there were no vacancies for that position in the entire platoon and she wanted the promotion. Still they were trustworthy enough in case things went out of control, more than Barnby's squad since both Renton and Crazy T acted too much independently at times. Gutierrez team was the best of the three. Markovitch seemed to have been completely integrated and she was a tough fighter although with a serious attitude problem. Sometimes her words were more akin of the officers' tone. The woman clearly had some ambition for leadership that given time might even jeopardize his own chances for promotion. She had even been talking to the rookie that had been assigned to them and he had heard her giving him advice about the aliens and the battlefield. That was strange to Mellow but he decided that it wouldn't bring any harm in case the rookie gave a better fight before getting hit with a sonic projectile.
At the end it didn't matter. He looked again at the screen to see if they had received any further messages. Seeing none he then waited as the Triton swam towards its target.
Madhouse Rock, Pacific
As Lieutenant Braddock walked into the small commanding center onboard the base he took a brief look at the screen displaying the position of the Triton and saw to his satisfaction that the second USO had disappeared from the board. When he had walked in before to deliver to Captain Pak some papers for the officer to sign he had noticed the appearance of the second craft. As he approached Pak his eyes were wired into everything that was being presented on the computerized display of the Pacific Northwest. "What is it now Lieutenant?"
"The seamen have finished cleaning up the party".
"About time". This base should have been gone completely operational an hour ago. Anything else?" Avoid looking at his eyes, Braddock gave a small nudge towards the screen and tried to sound casual. "How's it going?"
That seemed to please Pak who replied. "The USO disappeared. We think we might be picking a false echo on the sonar".
"Sir, both Alaska's Militia and the US's naval command at San Diego reports that they haven't picked no signal of a second USO on their sonar arrays on the area. But they confirm that the initial craft is still landed at the same location". The seaman managing communications called. "Well, that's it then". Captain Pak concluded for all officers present on the control room of Madhouse to hear and the matter of the second contact was dropped. X-Com's sonars were once considered state of the art when the first bases had been established throughout the globe but after four years they were not state of the art anymore. Both the US and the PRA had upgraded their sensor arrays on the area a number of times and they were assumed to have better listening capabilities plus a closer location to the demarcation line.
Braddock excused himself then and while he left the room he felt relieved. The whole matter had been a surprise although it had been successfully dealt with. The team would be on its way by now and they would find nothing. Going back to his office he started to relax since the whole matter had started that morning.
Close to Queen Charlotte's Island, Canada
It had been the second time that the dark blue figure of petty Mellow had lurched forward on his seat to examine the communications and sensor console and that made Markovitch starting to wonder what was the content of the messages he had received. Something unexpected had come up on their way to the target. Those last-minute communications were only made in case of a calling back of the mission or if complications had arrived. Since they hadn't been recalled it could only mean that something had happened and she wished that Mellow or the ensign would inform the rest of the squad of the content of the message. Their silence told her that it wasn't their intention back then and now they only ordered all combat teams to be ready to deploy.
The Triton was only about ninety feet below the surface of the sea and that surprised Markovitch as she looked at the depth meter built on top of the main hatch of the craft. They had flooded their helmets, which was procedure to deploy at greater depths than this one. They could have fought instead using air to breathe that would have also allowed then using the sonar communications devices. There was something else going around at a different depth we were made ready to deploy to both situations. Now it made sense why they were being deployed breathing liquid although it wasn't necessary at this lower depth. Unlocking the safety on her harpoon rifle she grabbed a railing on the wall to secure her position while the Triton landed.
Unlike all touchdowns she had experienced so far this one wasn't like the smooth descend was accustomed but she felt something bruising against the hull of the craft that caused a disturbance on the water. As the Triton felt it got worse with twitching sounds as it finally rested in a somewhat smoother landing than she was waiting for. However there was a slight list portside and when the doors opened she blessed that they hadn't brought the SWS since they would have to dig through the sand for the tank to clear the hatch.
Renton's team were already half way in clearing the space and deploying when she crossed the hatch and found herself in the middle of an aquatic jungle.
The Triton's automatic pilot controls had brought it down in the middle of something Markovitch had never imagined it could happen. She was moving through large trunks of algae tall enough to be the same size of small trees and close to the surface large leaves covered the surface of the sea, allowing small patches of sunlight to break through but giving the feeling of a darkness where a living mass swiveled erratically around her. She immediately looked to Gutierrez knowing that they simply couldn't be racing around otherwise they'd get completely lost and he saw him telling everyone to hold down their positions. She immediately looked searching for the new rookie that had replaced her. He had remembered to keep always Gutierrez on sight and was also waiting with his rifle ready. Take it easy kid. He was definitely holding it tight so far although he fighting hadn't started yet. She was glad he was. If he has shot down she would have to move forward and play scout in the middle of this forest and her leg was holding up so far but she didn't want to take the risk of trusting it would hold out fine.
When the ensign and the petty stepped out of the Triton they also seemed at a loss to react to the forest around them. We need to hit them with everything we got now! The ensign tried to protest while Mellow punched some orders with his arms. He was telling them that they should disperse and clear the area. It pissed her off since she knew that they should simply advance until they found the aliens and attack them. She felt closer to be fighting on a jungle with all the kelp algae that surrounded the troopers.
Holding a position far to her left side, Crazy T wrestled uneasily to clear the barrel of his gas cannon free from the floating leaves and branches that littered the bottom of the sea. He was barely managing to maintain visual contact with his fireteam leader and knew that he was covering that entire flank. As they moved forwards his anxiety started to rise as the other soldiers completely vanished from his sight. Then the corner of his eye picked up movement.
Steadying himself on his feet as he turned his weapon he immediately tracked a dark swimming shape that glittered for a second as it passed below the light of a clear surface patch.
The recoil from the discharge of first gas HE round made him tremble a bit as his right feet slipped down a loose dead branch on the sandy bottom. Hissing as it sped towards the target the warhead detonated as it missed the figure and struck a group of kelp halfway to the moving figure. His verbal curses only come out as low mumbles due to the liquid he was breathing and as he searched again for the alien he discovered that had vanished from sight. But they were also overshadowed by the sound of the explosion of the grenade.
Petty Mellow already knew that they were in trouble before the rumble of the high explosive reached his position. While they had been advancing he had lost any visual sight with his fireteam leaders plus both Costa and the rookie. The direction of the noise told him that it was Barnby's team that had made contact with the aliens. Grabbing his torpedo launcher steadier he moved towards the position through the kelp forest.
Moving as quickly as possible across the field Markovitch wondered with no more shots had been overheard after the first one and she was starting to think that someone had confused something else for an alien. She had just entered a somewhat clearer section in the middle of the kelp as she saw also the same figure that Crazy T had seen, a sleek dark creature with a tail and limbs.
She dropped her weapon when she realized that she was looking at a brown sea otter that had just immediately flipped his body and sped towards the protection of the large leaves.
Someone had seen the sea otter as well.
A harpoon bolt flew from Renton's fireteam direction as a nervous and inexperienced rookie mistook the aquatic mammal for an alien and discharged his weapon at it. It missed badly but the sound of the round's propulsion jet jumped started the entire squad into action since their nerves were already alerted by the initial gunfire. The waters became alive with the cracking noise made by the Gauss rounds, together with the long hisses and puffs of the older gas and hydro jet operated weapons. A second afterwards another sound joined them as explosions rocked the giant algae and burst several trunks tearing the leaves down with the ripple waves from the blasts disturbing the ones still standing upwards. As Markovitch looked for the otter she couldn't see its sleek shape anymore amongst the bubbles formed by the explosions and a floating green mass composed of shredded and blasted algae leaves and branches.
The X-Com troopers couldn't find any targets and they just kept shooting at anything in front of them that moved. For seconds the area around their positions was simply blasted by every weapon on the squad as Markovitch crouched down to avoid getting hit by a stray shot. A muffled thud told her that even the petty had fired his torpedo launcher. She got more worried since all of the commotion they were wrecking on the area would signal the aliens their location.
The low whining of the general recall sound made her to get back up as the soldiers in the kelp forest stopped shooting and looked at their team leaders for orders. Gutierrez was standing several yards also at the edge of the clearer area but her attention was on a blue figure that rested again the bottom of the ocean with his helmet releasing a constant stream of air bubbles. Close to him, petty Mellow was running to reach the position of the fallen X-Com soldier.
By the time the NCO reached the light blue downed figure he could see that it was bad. Not because of the loss of air since they were breathing liquid and it didn't matter but because of the red blood that was flooding into the water. It was the rookie they had brought along from first squad. Damn! Mellow muttered as he took out the glove and tried to feel the rookie's vital signals. No pulse and sign of no breathing.
A quick examination of the body turned the story: the man had been shot at the back but the shot hadn't stopped at the breathing equipment carried on the backpack. It had carved into the rookie's spinal cord and severed the neural connections of the brain to underneath the neck. His body had simply stopped working and there was nothing they could. But Mellow wondered about who had fired the shot. The wound didn't have the cauterized look of a sonic round but instead the bloody edges of a Gauss one. As Mellow saw a trooper in dark blue armor moving forward with his weapon lowered he knew he had the answer.
He got up and looked at the approaching X-Com troopers he was about to mention them that the rookie was KIA but as one of them stopped suddenly he started to pay attention to it also.
A low rumbling could be heard after the noise of the explosions had subsided like the sound of water being dropped on a hot plate. There was something burning hot below the sea and it could was close. But what could it be? There were no reports of underwater volcanic activity reported at this region. Mellow suddenly realized that they were against a large USO, not one of the smaller scouts. Then he saw it for the first time and was shocked at how close it was. They had been looking at the level of the bottom but the craft was tall and large enough to stand out in the middle of the darkened kelp forest. Pointing towards it he started issuing orders to the rest of the squad and deal with the death of the rookie later.
The dark yellow hull of the USO resolved itself against the green mass as Milinic moved closer to it with Markovitch keeping an eye in case any alien decided to pop up of the kelp. She had never seen a two level type of craft before and this one stood at more than twenty feet, about two-thirds of the height of the green trunks. The thing could even have more levels but the branches made them invisible. As the rookie circled the craft as Gutierrez was ordering to she felt a sea urchin below one of her feet and dropped to her knees to remove the sharp spikes that had become impaled in the sole of her boot. They weren't hard enough to penetrate the rubber suit but they made it difficult to get a steady position for her feet. Her leg was already a bit too stiff to her liking but so far she had made it out with no problems.
Quickly moving in the direction of the rest of her team she found that the rookie was by now keeping an eye at a pair of twin doors that stood on what she assumed was the stern of the craft. The aliens had a tendency to place the entrance to their USOs on that location.
The rest of the squad was also catching up and when she and Milinic stood by both sides of the doors they had ready half a dozen men ready to support their entry.
Pressing her hand against the yellow metal she activated the touch mechanism that controlled the movement of the door and it sent the tough aqua plastic plates sliding into their positions inside the hull and revealing a dark interior. Both soldiers raised their harpoon rifles and stepped inside as Kern finished switching the ammo on his gas cannon into armor piercing rounds more suitable for close combat. On his side the dark blue figure of Gutierrez had his bright gray Gauss readied also.
The doors led into a large chamber with bright green walls that stood for more than fifteen feet height and where two small balconies could be seen leading into the upper level of the craft. A pair of entryways was below the rectangular openings as the chamber squeezed in the middle of the craft and the team split up in pairs and each one approached the middle of the craft.
Where are the aliens? She kept waiting for the green figure of a Gillman or an Aquatoid to pop out and start shooting at the soldiers but so far they had by now reached a flight of stairs that led into the upside chamber that they had spotted from the entry doors. There were dark marks on the walls as if stray shots had hit them but that was impossible since the X-Com soldiers hadn't discharged yet their weapons inside the craft.
As Milinic light blue suit started climbing the stairs carefully she waited below to check on a pair to closed doors that led into another compartment at the bow of the craft. They also opened easily and a quick look told her that the inside was also dead but not empty like the rest of the craft. The rectangular shapes placed on the floor of the chamber were the ones she had seen before on other craft and that were the USO's propulsion systems. But unlike the intact ones she had seen these ones were mangled and destroyed with the metal still releasing streams of bubbles. The lights mounted on her helmet also picked more dark stains on the green metal but the hull hadn't been breached by the explosions something also surprising since Zrbite usually exploded with quite a large destructive power. The force of the blast had been quite recent since there was still parches of something burning up on the wall that bathed the chamber in an orange light. The substance could only be phosphorous or something that generated heat enough during the combustion to even burn underwater. The temperature of the water on the chamber was more akin to a jacuzzi so she decided to leave.
She stepped back next to the flight of stairs and saw Mellow already onboard the craft and at the beginning of the stairs. Waving one hand in front of her she told him that it was clear and then followed him upstairs.
The upper level of the USO consisted of the bridge and two small chambers from which troopers had just come out from and giving the all clear sign. The bridge of the ship had also been blasted apart and in some cases she wondered if grenades had been used. But there was a complete absence of alien bodies or their weapons. The entire vessel was nothing more than a 'ghost ship' and the alien crew was either dead or had vanished without a trace. Mellow and the other troopers also seemed at a loss as they looked all around the craft.
What has happened back there? The question rummaged through Markovitch's mind as she sat on the Triton and opened her helmet. After the troopers had spent nearly two hours combing through the kelp forest they had found no trace of the aliens and were now heading back to Madhouse after the recovery teams had started loading the nearly empty hulk of the USO. With the exception of the rookie's death it had been a most uneventful mission although that would change when the team got back at the base and the whole matter of the friendly fire incident was investigated. The helmet cracked open and a flood of breathing liquid came down her chest and slid down the seat until it joined the ever-growing pool that was on the bottom of the Triton.
Markovitch waited until the breathing gear had cleared the helmet of the fluorocarbon liquid with her mouth closed. Petty Mellow had finally ordered the squad to go back to air breathing as the mission was over and the Triton was already on its way back to Madhouse. Around her she heard the soldiers coughing as she finally opened her mouth and started throwing away the liquid on her mouth and throat.
As the involuntary muscles on her lungs started functioning they pressed the liquid still inside them over her trachea until it finally reached her larynx. The automatic reaction of her body was to expel the liquid and she started coughing nearly without control as more and more of it came from her lungs and was expelled amongst saliva to the bottom of the Triton. When she finally managed to regain control of her breathing she already had tears growing at the corner of her eyes. Looking past the water on them she found the rookie's worried face looking at her until she gave him a thumbs-up. He had been the first to clear the liquid and had nearly thrown-up, which would have been disastrous if it had happened at the beginning of the process but she had guided him in and he had managed to control it long enough until his lungs had cleared all liquid. Then he had thrown up the floor of the Triton completely. Most likely Mellow would assign him to extra cleaning detail when they arrived at the base.
The petty officer was already breathing normally again and looking down with his hair and mustache still completely wet from the liquid but from time to time he would look across the cargo section of the Triton. Markovitch could see to who he was looking. Everyone on the squad had also figured out by now what had happened before they had boarded the ghost alien ship.
The body of the rookie had been placed against the wall that separated the cargo section from the frontal area of the transport craft. It had been wrapped up in one of the body bags that were which were a permanent gear item assigned to every Triton. Renton knew it also has he refused to look at anyone and simply stared at the black figure on the ground. In a sharp movement he removed the ammunition clip in anger and placed down the weapon next to him. Then he simply looked down in resignation during the rest of the flight as the rest of the crew also refrained from saying anything.
October 17th, 2044
Norfolk, Virginia, US
"Enter". Delacroix removed his hand from the palm reader as he heard the command that came through the small speaker installed above the electronic identification device. The metal door slipped to let him inside the small alcove that led him into the personal office of the deceased Admiral Koles that now had been occupied by Commodore Gregory Paris, the interim commander of X-Com.
As the door closed behind him he relaxed and waited for the scan to be complete. Commodore Paris had ordered the addition small chamber recently to the office and it was a weapons detector in case any other attempt was made at X-Com's commanding officer. The sensors imbedded on its walls were capable of detecting any metal, plastic, chemicals or biological agents present on Delacroix's body and clothes that might be a threat. In case the computer system detected any, the twin doors would stay closed and prevent any attempt of escape while a tranquilizer gas was released and a security team immediately detached to retrieve the person trapped inside.
When the door in front of him finally opened, Delacroix knew as expected that he had passed the test. His eyes immediately scanned the antechamber that led into Koles's office and he noticed the changes since the last time he had been here. Now a pair of combat troops in blue aqua-plastic armor stood by the door fully armed with gray Gauss rifles that quickly snapped into attention has he walked inside the room. The ensign that was Paris' aide quickly rose from his chair on the right side but Delacroix simply ignored him and started walking towards the guards. "Commander, you may enter….".
By the time he reached the door he had stopped paying attention to the junior officer. Both guards briefly looked at him from their aqua-plastics glass helmets, with one of them bringing up his eyes into the infinite while the second took a second longer.
They didn't move from the front of the door so Delacroix simply stopped in front of them and said in a low voice. "Just don't take too long getting your asses out of there or I might get impatient".
"Commander!" The shocked voice of the Ensign came from behind him. "You still need to present yourself to my desk. You are not following the new security protocols!" Half turning towards the smaller man, who now seemed to be completely dumbfounded. The doors swung open and the blond bearded figure of Commodore Paris appeared, wearing the white close fit trousers and jacket of staff officers. Pushing the soldiers aside the officer demanded: "What is going on here?"
Waiting in silence Delacroix simply took attention of the whole situation as the ensign tried to explain and made a fool out of himself. "Sir, I was explaining to the commander the new…" Jerking his hand back Paris ordered him to shut up. "Next time just allow the commander to enter my office, is that understood?" Then, not waiting for an answer he simply moved back inside with Delacroix stepping behind him and closing the doors.
When he turned back towards the commanding officer he saw him standing up while scratching his rugged blonde beard. Giving a quick salute with his right hand, he said: "Lieutenant Commander Paul Delacroix reporting as ordered sir".
Saluting back Paris replied. "You sure haven't changed in two years Delacroix. Your attitude is still the same. Please have a seat. We have business to discuss". The dark-haired man remained on his position, his dark blue suit and beret contrasting with the higher officers' whites. "What do you want sir?"
The attitude made Paris to shake his head and quit. "Fine, stay up if you like. Just remember one thing and just find a way to carve it into that mass of stone that you have for a brain. One thing is to bully those half-brained taddies out there with your pose. But I won't tolerate that sort of attitude inside this room, understood?" He tapped the admiral's pins on his lapel. "Those count for something else".
Delacroix simply said nothing for one second then he relaxed his arms, moving them from behind his back and to his sides. "Sure Gregori. And by the way congratulations on your new position. Going from lieutenant commander to admiral in two years is quite an achievement. I doubt that any other officer in here would be able to achieve it. It takes a very special person to get to that position".
The change of mood into a personal setting startled Paris. "Gregori? I don't recall giving you permission to address me with such familiarity commander".
"Neither do I sir. But I've noticed that it seems one of the easiest ways to advance your career around here". Anger flashed on Paris eyes for one second as he caught the implicit implication on Delacroix's sentence. Then he shot back. "Do I detect a tone of resentment there commander? Are you angry that you're still at the same rank after two years while I've moved upwards to commodore?"
"Everyone has their own personal merits, admiral. You probably have mistaken the tone of my voice. If so I apologize for any misinterpretation that you might have understood. I only meant that it's a well known fact in every job, either military or civilian, that you won't get promoted unless you play along with the rest of the team, admiral".
A sleazy grin on Paris's lips told Delacroix that he had just said what the other man had just heard what he wanted. Or at least what he thinks he wants. "Indeed it is. Yes indeed it is. Don't call me admiral yet, Paul. Until the Council approves it I'm still a commodore". The only thing missing are actually the signed papers that confirm you as admiral. Delacroix added mentally, since he had already noticed the newly minted insignia on the collar of the other man and his name and rank on the door. "I'm sure you'll be their first choice for the position…Gregori". He twisted the sound of the name it made Paris to give him again a hard look as confusion took the man about if Delacroix was simply being nice or simply sarcastic. But the neutral tone of his voice didn't give more of an argument for the superior officer. He quitted after a second and headed back to his desk.
"In any case, there are some decisions right now that are within my power as a commodore and that I must take. As you know the base is in need of a combat operations officer after Captain Canteno was killed a week ago by that alien sniper in the Bermudas".
"I regret to inform the admiral that I'll have to decline the offer, sir". Paris kept his bewilderment well conceived, thought the officer as Paris digested his refusal.
"Now wait a minute Delacroix. You know how much we have pushed the several councilmen to replace Koles by a more competent officer. The same happens to the majority of the combat commanders on this outfit and now you are telling me that you have to refuse the position. Why?" Because you need a scapegoat that can be used at any time in case things turn sour and you know just enough about me to transform me into one. It was true that him and a number of other officers had been most critical of Koles and her overall strategy. They had held informal meetings off base to discuss the matter and Paris had been one of the attendants. Delacroix had immediately tagged him since then as an opportunist, someone smart enough to recognize the way the mob was turning and place himself on front to reach a higher seat. So far Paris hadn't gone against his initial assessment of him but he didn't matter since it also made the superior officer predictable and like any soft-bellied politician absent of ideas very susceptible to hear any ideas that would contribute to his personal improvement.
"You know my background. I only wish to defeat the aliens and preferably with my own hands. I don't want to get myself assigned to a position that is almost useless to the war effort. Land force commanders are nothing more than paper pushers around here". Which is about what I have to do know, unless I want to risk going to the field with a bunch of half-trained soldiers that care more about getting their bonus payments at the end of the month than to actually kill the aliens. Although Delacroix was officially listed on the X-Com roster as a combat officer, he hadn't been placed in charge of any unit or department but had been instead assigned to the pathetic section that was supposed to be handling military intelligence. He considered the title of the S-2 section as double misleading. Not only the personnel assigned to it made no effort to even try to look military but also their IQs rated slightly more than those of a clam. Instead the unofficial tasks given to him by Williams had been of gathering as much information as possible regarding the aliens and taking care of special operations.
"You know, your talking about paper pushing is something weird, considering what your current assignment is". Knowing that Paris wouldn't quit just yet he simply made a grimace. "We need to know as much as we can from them. Then," he made a fist with his right hand and struck his left palm with it in a quick movement that nearly made Paris jump on his chair, "we destroy all traces of their presence on this planet". Paris knew it well that he simply couldn't give any order to him since he felt off his command and he also knew what his true motivations were. "I thought you were past that inquisitor stuff". Rubbing his hand against his white coat he continued. "Look Paul, what I truly need is someone who can stir things a bit around here, who can talk to the several currents of opinion that right now we have among the force' officers". You need someone who can control the most radical ones amongst us. Like Delacroix, a number of officers and soldiers inside X-Com had either belonged to the Inquisitors' movement and everyone in the council knew it, although no one had ever bothered to investigate their hidden background. When the aliens had resurfaced on 2039 he had simply asked for reassignment from the Navy to X-Com and other former members who were in the military had also do the same. But the truth is: you can't do it. Nobody can. And that because no one knew how far X-Com was filled with former inquisitors since they all acted independently from one another and each had their own opinions on how to deal with the aliens and all things related to them. "You know what I'm talking about don't you?"
"I can guess sir. However I doubt that I'd be of much assistance on that matter". Which is the truth after all. "You'll just have to find some other officer better suited for the job". And watch out your back because otherwise someone might get pissed if you try to manipulate them. Delacroix's attention moved back towards the scanning chamber. Or maybe you're smart enough to already know that.
When he looked back to Paris, the commodore was giving in an appraising look but he quickly concealed it. Drawing his attention back to the corridor, he stuffed his hands inside his pants pockets and started wondering just how smart his commanding officer might be. Paris seemed to concede defeat but before he dismissed Delacroix, the younger officer stepped in the conversation again. "Very well. In that case, let's go back to the other subject of why I'm here. Have you seen the top secret report from Madhouse concerning their latest USO recovery?"
The mention to the Hunter vessel that had been recovered by Markovitch and her squad puzzled Paris. "You mean the 'ghost ship'?" What makes it so special? Most likely the aliens had some sort of a technical malfunction and the crew abandoned the craft before the Triton arrived".
"Commodore, the squad reported that they saw sonic blast marks all over the hull of the craft before it was dismantled by the recovery teams". None of the twenty people working on MI had noticed that small detail on the report or they had dismissed it. "Now, unless I'm mistaken only the aliens mount sonic weapons on their craft. Something fired those weapons at the USO, either to force its landing or when it had already set down".
Paris fidgeted scornfully before speaking "Commander, get one thing straight from this moment on. I'm not Admiral Koles and I know that she would pay no attention to this recovery. I'm still not sure of why I'm doing it myself but for the sake of not being accused to listen to any advice I'll let you go on with that idea since I'm sure that you must have a solid motive for it".
"There's talk among the scientists that there might be a rift between Gillmen and Aquatoids and that both date back millions of years".
Paris scowled again at him and spat in an ironic tone. "I wasn't aware that the Inspector General had approved such a line of research nor that the council had even discussed the official position regarding the alien's origins Commander".
"Neither are they in possession of this information. On the contrary of you, that now have knowledge that things might be changing in the future".
"The speculation regarding the alien's origins has been lasting for years commander! There is absolutely no proof…"
"The evidence will be brought forward in time, Paris".
"Those are not proper ways to address a superior officer Delacroix!" The outburst made the security guard to open the door in preoccupation but the X-Com officer simply replied in a neutral voice. "I apologize, sir. Still it will be up to you to decide on these matters. I shall take your time no more and request permission to leave". Paris was still trying to compose himself from his display of anger and simply nodded to him. Delacroix passed by a surprised trooper on his way out to who then closed the door. Next time you are going to hear me out really good. He intended to keep his own promise.
André Galvão, 2003