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"All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near."

~Sun Tzu

Chapter Three: Sea Legs

"Penny!"

"Easy!" A hand caught Gallant's shoulder as he tried to snap upright. His eyes snapped left, and he froze, grappling not only with the touch, but with what his brief stint in combat medicine made him feel quite comfortable diagnosing as one metric fuckton of pain in his upper jaw.

"J...John?" He took his former XO in, not quite daring to believe it. "John?"

"I'm here, Edward. Sir." Bradford managed a worn smile. Gallant blinked.

"How long was I out?"

"Two days."

"Did you...did you sleep..."

"That's not important." Bradford patted his shoulder...then extended his other hand. "Here. Don't imagine you've had much chance for the last good while."

"Much chance..." Gallant blinked slowly as he regarded the little container in his old friend's hand. "Is that..."

"Your meds. For the heart, for the shrapnel, and for the leg." Bradford waited until Gallant slowly took the bottle, then reached behind him for a glass of water. "Take your time. Small sips. Don't know how much you'll be able to keep, with all those painkillers Tygan put in you."

"Wait." Gallant looked around at the little room, spartan and martial in decoration. "Where's Penny?"

Bradford's eyes darkened. "Edward..."

"How long has it been?" Gallant shook as he thought of his adjutant, minder...nurse-maid...and how much she'd been to him. Like a sister, like a daughter... "How long?"

"Twenty years. It's March, 2035."

Gallant thumped down on his back, staring at the ceiling, He shook, and only Bradford's lightning grab kept him from spilling his pills all over the floor.

"She's gone, isn't she?" Gallant whispered.

"Lost a lot of good people over the years, looking for you." Bradford sighed, looking down. "I'm sorry, sir. She never gave up hope."

Gallant sucked in breath, even as loss coiled up and ripped at his heart. His eyes stung, and he scrambled to turn away before Bradford could see. "Vahlen? The others?"

"I don't know. She went off-grid after the base fell. I've been looking just as long as for you, but she's given me the slip. Zhang went underground, with his connections. I've tried to find him, too, but to no avail. Maybe he's with the Reapers..." Bradford shrugged. "How much do you remember?"

"I remember...flashes." Gallant paused to take his medicine, a pill at a time. "A peace signing. The base. Paris."

"Paris," Bradford agreed. "That's where we found you."

"They took over, didn't they?" Gallant sat up more fully, finding he lay under white sheets stamped with the XCOM insignia. "They won. We lost."

"They won, but we didn't lose." Bradford rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. The governments yielded. France held on to the bitter end with Russia and Japan, but when the aliens razed Detroit, the US pulled out. Without their supply of manpower and equipment...we had Russia, but China was already gone, and Western Europe only had so much to give."

"Great." Gallant lingered over his glass of water, wincing while his stomach churned. "And now what? Is the world a chryssalid breeding ground?"

"Some parts of it, in the wild. They like Africa. Monkeys." Bradford leaned forward. "Advent's what they call themselves: a one-world-government. A Regime, lording it over the weak and headed by the Elders, but they don't show their faces much anymore. Speaker Innmann is the closest thing the world has to a public leader, and he's a puppet on a string. They rule in the cities."

"And we're the insurgency." Gallant scoffed. "Terrorists."

"We're not terrorists," Bradford insisted. "Not like you fought in Iraq, not like I flew against in Afghanistan. We're freedom fighters."

"Same damn thing: just a different side of the wall." Gallant threw the rest of his water back. If it made him empty his stomach, so what?

"The aliens rule with propaganda and fear," Bradford continued, looking uneasy. "They draw people in to their city centers with the promise of a cushy life: food, drink, entertainment, gene therapy to cure all their ills and aches, and jobs-"

"Gene therapy?" Gallant paused. "Cure all ills and aches?"

"I know what you're thinking." Bradford shook his head. "It's the aliens, Edward. It's not worth it."

"Easy for you to say." He reached up to massage his chest. "To take all this away..."

"That's how they lure you in. They turn you to their side and make you join them."

"Doesn't sound like things are too bad," Gallant snapped. "Yeah, a lot of people died, but Advent's cured cancer and damn near everything else, and they're offering food to everyone. What are you doing?"

Bradford's eyes hardened. "I'm trying to find out why people are disappearing in droves from their cities."

Gallant paused. "What?"

"You think I haven't had the same thoughts you have?" Bradford scoffed. "I've met a man who worked in New Providence. He saw all of this up close and personal. People disappear. People are dying, Edward, and worse. We always knew the aliens had some reason for coming here, and we still haven't figured it out, but they're moving on with their goals. You know we can't trust them."

"...disappearing..." Gallant frowned. "What does Advent say?"

"They blame us." Bradford sighed. "I wish we were responsible. If that many people were defecting and joining the Resistance, we could make some real noise for a change."

"So..." Gallant gestured with his empty glass. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one man who can lead us to victory."

"You seem to be doing enough of a job."

"Last time I led a field op from Command..." Bradford's eyes darkened. "I'm not the leader type."

"John, Germany wasn't your fault."

"That's not what the Council said."

"I never meant..." Gallant wavered. "They told me it was a desk job. I didn't mean to-"

"Replace me?" Bradford scoffed. "Water under the bridge, Edward. You were the right man for the job. I wasn't."

"I still lost. Was I really the-"

"You're the right man now, if nothing else." Bradford rose. "I believe in that. Everyone here does too."

Gallant grunted. "John..."

"Come down to the labs when you're ready. Doctor Tygan would like to speak with you." Bradford fetched something from the far end of the room, and Gallant paused to take it in hand.

"Is this-"

"Your cane. The very same one you used to stump around the hologlobe on."

"I see. Thanks, John." Gallant nodded. "Tell the doctor I'll be down shortly."

"If you need help getting up, I can stay-"

"No." Gallant stuck his cane into the carpet very firmly, and he put his feet down too. "I'm not an invalid."

"I know, sir." Bradford nodded. "I'll send someone up when I get to the barracks, just to be safe."

"I'm in no need of-"

"Trust me, sir. She isn't a nursemaid...but it would be a bit of a waste if you fell down the stairs after all the work we put in." The XO grinned, and though Gallant resented the implication, he supposed Bradford's motives were pure.

And maybe...if he did fall, having someone to help him up...Penny had always...

"Whatever. If it makes you feel better." Gallant glared. "Off you go, John."

"Yes, sir." He saluted, still as formal as the old days. "It's damn good to have you back, Commander."

"Ranger." Jane Kelly tested the word, and also her shotgun. "Have to admit, I like the gun."

"It's a nice looking gun," agreed the blonde at her side. Though Jane dressed in navy and aquamarine, this woman wore green: a walking tribute to the home country they both shared. "I wonder if I'll get into the Ranger program."

"Maybe. It'd be nice." Jane raised her gun, tucking it into place as she aimed downrange. "Firing."

"Gotcha." Aileen Quinn pushed her earplugs a little further in. "Go ahead."

Boom! It was a new sound, nothing at all like the crackling pops of a rifle in action. This was a cannon in Jane's hands, vomiting buckshot in a wild spray. She fondly imagined the screaming of an Advent soldier the first time she brought her weapon to bear. Or an alien itself! She doubted even a muton would survive a point-blank blast from this.

The target certainly didn't. It blew apart under the barrage, with plywood fragments spraying like blood. Jane could almost smell it.

She fired three more times. The gun kicked like a mule, and she was grateful for XCOM armor's padding. It was surprisingly light in her hands, too, for its undeniable firepower.

Armed with this, I could have saved Irina and the others.

"You're not a bad shot," Aileen observed, as Jane ejected the spent cartridge and set the gun to the side. "That thing doesn't look like a precision weapon."

"Doesn't have to be if it kills them." Jane rubbed her chin, then reached for the other toy in the Ranger's bag of tricks. "Then there's this."

"What is this?" Aileen wondered. "The Lord of the Rings?"

"Do I get to be Eowyn?" Jane flourished the blade, testing its swing. "Feels more like a machete than a proper sword."

"I suppose they wanted to be sure if you ran out of ammunition, you wouldn't be useless." Aileen made a face. "I don't see a load of use in that, I have to admit."

"It's a vanity weapon." Jane made sure to spin it a few more times, then set the sword aside. "Swords are a thousand years out of date."

"Actually, swords were used in combat well into the nineteenth century. They gave cavalrymen blades in the First World War."

"Central!" Jane saluted, and Aileen only a second behind her.

"At ease, soldiers." Bradford returned the gesture, then extended his hand. "May I?"

"Of course, sir." She offered the sword hilt-first, and the XO took it.

"In a firefight, no, a sword isn't that useful. But remember that even the aliens give their mutons bayonets." Bradford flourished the blade, whipping it in lightning-fast circles. He flicked it up between his eyes. "If the chips are down and you're in close range with someone ugly, a sword can save your life. If you know what you're doing with it, it's almost more useful than your shotgun."

"I find that hard to believe." Jane crossed her arms. "What's next? Someone running around with just a shield?"

"Do we have to fast-track him to Captain?" Bradford grinned...and Jane frowned.

"Come again?"

"Captain. Shield." Bradford's smile wavered. "Come on. Don't tell me you don't-"

"I've got nothing," Aileen admitted. "Before our time."

"Before your..." Bradford's eye twitched. He thrust the sword back, scowling. "I ain't that old! And you know Lord of the Rings, but not...not..."

"That is British culture," Jane insisted. "British Isles, not just Britain the country. Advent wants us to forget all about what we were before. It's popular in the Isles' Resistance cells."

"Plus," Aileen added. "War against unstoppable force of evil?"

"Yeah, and Cap is American culture," Bradford replied, as Jane finally reclaimed her blade. "God, you two are useless."

"Says the middle manager."

"Watch your mouth, Kelly." Bradford gave her a warning finger and a dark look. "Just because we did an op together doesn't mean I'm not still your CO."

"Sorry, sir. Me and my big mouth, sir." Jane examined her sword. "I'm sure I'll just have to get used to this, sir, and I'll reclaim the throne of Gondor in no time."

Bradford growled under his breath, but he turned away. Jane snickered, watching him storm off for the bridge.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" Aileen wondered. Jane hesitated.

"Well...we did it, didn't we? We've got the Commander. You know how Bradford talks about him. That's the real Return of the King, right there." Jane grinned. "So, yeah...we took losses. Bad ones. But no more! The Commander's the best there is."

"I hope so." Aileen didn't sound so certain. "We certainly need the best, if we're to win this war."

"Commander?" That was a woman's voice, coming on the heels of a soft knock. "Commander, are you up, sir?"

"Yeah." He leaned on his cane with one hand, negotiating a shirt with the other. It was slow going, but he'd managed to get his head in place. "Give me half a-"

Hiss.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She hesitated in the doorway. "I didn't realize-"

"Whatever." Gallant got his arm through one sleeve, then switched hands on his cane. He fought the drape over his shoulder for a moment, but finally he stuck his left arm through. "You're my keeper, then?"

"I'm...Central said I was your guide. Just to show you the way down to the labs."

"Did he?" Gallant took the redhead in very intently. "Name?"

"Julie Richardson, sir." She saluted. "I'm new."

"Are you?" Gallant cracked a tired sigh. "Guess I am, too." He rubbed his jaw. "Damn, that hurts."

"Sir?"

"Never mind." Gallant stumped his way over, cane thumping as it made the transition from carpet to metal companionways. "Lead on."

"Sir." She retreated to let him through the door, and he thought he saw something in her eyes as she observed his walk.

"Well, you'd be a pitiable sight too, if you got blown up and shot and pieced back together."

"Sir!" Julie jumped, and that was guilt splayed out over her face. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean-"

"Just lead the damn way."

"Yes, sir." Her cheeks were the same color as her hair. She scurried out in front of him, beckoning. "Down this companionway, sir. Then there's an elevator to the laboratories."

Bradford doesn't want me handling stairs. For a moment, Gallant was extremely tempted to order his guide to take him the long way. He wasn't an invalid. Any idiot could walk down stairs. Up was the problem.

But no. His legs wobbled, and that was a powerful argument that he was not at 100%. Stifling his desires under a wave of annoyance, Gallant let Julie lead him to the elevator, passing crudely-drawn graffiti of XCOM's crest, as well as aliens in various states of death and decomposition.

"Who draws this crap?" Gallant wondered, as Julie opened the elevator doors. She let him enter first.

"Anyone who wants to, sir. It's a way to unwind."

"Can't go hit a bar?"

"We...we have a bar," Julie admitted. "But sometimes you need to do something with your hands. And there aren't many options around here."

"Right." Gallant surreptitiously leaned on the elevator's far wall as the doors closed. "Where is this?"

"Headquarters. It's called the Avenger."

"Stupid name." Gallant tapped his cane on the floor, as they started down. "What's your beef with Advent?"

"What isn't my beef with them?" She eyed him. "They killed my aunt. Not to mention what they did to the planet."

"Your aunt?" Gallant had to yield a little. "My condolences."

"Thank you, sir."

"But, you're here now." Gallant took a deep breath. "What's your promotion class? Assault? Heavy?"

"Roles have streamlined since your..." She looked away, and Gallant scoured her with a seething glare.

"Since my time, eh?"

"I didn't mean..." Julie fidgeted. "Well, things are very different. I'm sure Central will get you up to speed as you recover, but to answer your question, I haven't been selected yet. I haven't had a chance to show my aptitude and get scored."

"I see." Gallant breathed out as the elevator came to a halt. "Any preference, if you had the choice?"

"Well, sir..." Julie hesitated. "I like GREMLINs."

"What?" Gallant blinked. "Come again?"

"GREMLINs. You know!" She paused when he glared. "Oh. Oh, right, you...well, they're drones. Little drones, that float around and run errands for you. Like service dogs that fly."

"Service dogs that fly." Gallant stumped for the doors as they hissed open. "Now I've heard everything." He turned left and started off at his fastest limp, chortling under his breath-

"Sir!" Julie hurried out after him. "Commander!"

"What?" He turned to glower. She gently pointed right, and Gallant grunted. "Fine."

The rest of the walk was accomplished in silence. Gallant did his best to keep up with the tall woman's loping stride, but his best was hardly good enough, and she kept pausing to wait up for him. That really just upset him more, but there was nothing he could do about it except carry on, glaring the whole while. Penny had always been a lot more surreptitious about catering to his slowness.

"Here you are, sir." Julie came to a halt as they rounded one last corner, confronting a large silver door that glistened in the light from overhead bulbs. "Doctor Tygan should be just inside. I'll wait out here."

"You do that, then." Gallant approached the door, all but forgetting the redhead existed. He reached out very firmly and knocked twice.

"One moment!" Dead silence followed the shout, and Gallant irritably leaned on his cane. He tapped his foot, trying the deep, slow breaths method.

"Who is it, then?" The doors hissed open, and Gallant had to look up at that same face: the man who'd ripped into his mouth with such wild abandon. "Oh. Hello, Commander."

"Doctor Tygan, I presume?" Gallant offered his hand more out of duty than anything else, and the man took it with a surprisingly firm grip.

"Richard Tygan, indeed." He smiled, and when the handshake let up, he turned for the display of lab equipment set at a semicircular desk nestled in a corner behind him. His tools were laid out in orderly fashion, and every item seemed to have a purpose. Nothing was dirty, and there were no personal effects cluttering up even bare inches of work space.

Professional, Gallant mused in the back of his mind. Stick up his ass.

But that was only the back of his mind, because he was too busy staring at the glowing construct in the center of the room, rising from floor to ceiling and interlaced with hexagonal support beams that projected some kind of energy field, holding the wild display of orange light in check.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Tygan asked. "Capable of generating immense power, yet completely harmless to human life."

"If only the same could be said of all the aliens' gifts," Gallant mumbled. That the...generator was alien in design was undeniable, just from looking at it. The curves of the metal, the organic look to it...

"Even so." Tygan turned back around. "I imagine you have questions."

"Yeah." Gallant leaned on his cane. "Who the hell are you?"

"To the point. Bradford said you were a forward man." Tygan bowed his head...and gave Gallant an excellent look at some nasty scars almost from ear to ear. "I am XCOM's chief science officer. I oversee all our research and development, as well as the..." he hunted for words. "...the procedure you so recently underwent."

"When you sawed half my head off?" Gallant's eye twitched. "I'm still high on painkillers and I feel like my jaw's going to fall out any minute."

"Yes. My apologies, Commander." Tygan shrugged. "It was necessary." He started for his lab equipment, inviting Gallant to follow with a wave. "I'm not sure what Central may have told you, but we found something while removing you from the alien stasis suit."

"In my head?" Gallant blinked.

"In your head." Tygan reached a monitor, and he quickly input a series of commands. Gallant risked a few paces further into the mad scientist's den. "A device, implanted directly into your occipital lobe." He pointed, and Gallant spotted what must be the thing itself, hovering in a glass case on Tygan's desk.

"Why?" Gallant asked. He rubbed the roof of his mouth with his tongue, feeling stitches and burn marks. "Is that why you..."

"Yes. We had to remove it, for multiple reasons." Tygan sighed. "I don't know what it does, Commander. Had I access to the equipment and laboratory space I did during my tenure with Advent, I would already know the precise nature of its-"

"Hold on!" Gallant's glare sharpened. "Advent?"

"Yes. It's a long story." Tygan shook his head. "For another time, Commander."

"I want it now."

"Unfortunately, I do not think we have time to swap tales. All that matters at this moment is that Central trusts me. I'm sure you and he can discuss the reasons why. I would be perfectly happy to bring you up to speed once we are in a calmer position." Tygan hit a button on his monitor, and a breakdown of the device appeared. "I'm confident I can discern this chip's true function given time, and, of course, your approval."

"Well, I'm curious," Gallant admitted. "Find out, Doctor. And I will want to talk once you do."

"Of course, sir." Tygan inclined his head again, and those scars... "I'll begin work immediately, and notify you when-"

"Mission Alert!" cried a voice from the ceiling. Gallant presumed it must be a PA system rather than fairies prancing in the paneling, but he still jumped as the warning paired with a klaxon, ringing from deeper within the ship. "Mission Alert! All hands report to General Quarters!"

"That would be the bell," Tygan mused. "You should return to bed. You're still-"

"I'm capable enough." Gallant turned for the door. "Where the hell is the bridge?"

"I'm sure Miss Richardson can guide you, and Central would be pleased to see you." Tygan hesitated as Gallant reached the door. "The control panel is-"

"I see it." Gallant hit the big blue button, and the blast doors hissed open. "Damn alien tech."

Tygan chuckled. "Farewell, Commander."

"Farewell." Gallant shut him out then, turning his attention to Julie, pale-faced and shifting from one foot to the other. "Take me to the bridge."

Author's Note 3: Culture Wars

Gallant kind of has a Captain America thing going on himself, having been in stasis for 20 years.

I'm divided on how much of human culture is being suppressed by the aliens, versus how much they've allowed to linger to keep the planet docile. However, there's only so much purging you can do...a lot of other societies in history tried to quash native cultures, and while some were more successful than others, for the most part it doesn't work out terribly well. There's a wild, vibrant underground for things like Lord of the Rings or the Marvel movies...I might explore more of this side of the universe later, but for the moment, we've got to get the initial groundwork together and get some legs under this story.

Also, doesn't it make sense that alien invaders would do more to suppress the MCU than LotR? Humans seeing the Chitauri and Thanos might provoke some...uncomfortable comparisons.

Until next time, Vigilo Confido.