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"I will not leave South Africa, nor will I surrender. Only through hardship, sacrifice and militant action can freedom be won. The struggle is my life. I will continue fighting for freedom until the end of my days."
~Nelson Mandela
Chapter Ten: Skyfall
Thump.
"Avenger, this is Menace." Corporal Carlos Mendoza took a breath of frigid Arctic air, trusting the light beam from his rifle as he did a slow turn. Snow crunched underfoot, and he heard the rest of his team scanning just as well. "Drop zone is clear."
"Roger, Menace One-five." Central sounded composed, at least. "Move on the beacon."
"Roger that." Mendoza exhaled, and then he had to wave at the mist floating past his nose. It had never been this cold back in Mexico, and the chill set into his bones and reduced him to shivers, no matter his heavy gloves and sleeves, or even the helmet he'd insisted on taking from the armory. At least it went nicely with the sword over his shoulder.
"Right then, Menace!" Mendoza waved. "Rogers, Liang, you're with me on point. Nunez, you take Richard and cover us from further back."
"Got it." Pablo Nunez checked his sniper rifle, all long and sleek and deadly, then beckoned to his stringer. "Come on, Paris."
"I am from Nice," Sylvie Richard corrected, nervously clutching her own assault weapon. "I am coming."
"Beacon's close on five hundred meters up." Mendoza did what a good leader did, taking the point position entirely for himself. "Stay tight, watch your spacing, and cover your teammates. Could easily be an ambush."
"Right." Fellow corporal Da-Xia Liang, new machinegun in hand, took up position at his flank. "Call out if something needs blown up."
Snow whirled as the strike team advanced, scurrying from cover to cover. They ducked behind trees and fallen logs, guided by the transmitter and the faint glow of light from what looked like campfires. Mendoza gritted his teeth, examining them as best he could from afar.
"Might be a debris trail," Cameron Rogers pointed out. Mendoza nodded.
"Let's not assume. Keep low, stay quiet, and let's get the drop on anyone who's waiting for us.
Snow crunched underfoot. Mendoza kept pausing to wipe his visor clean, and he wondered if the helmet was really all that worth it. At least he didn't have powder in his eyes, like Liang: wrapped in black like a ninja she might have been by choice, but she had more of a zebra thing going on in these conditions.
"Approaching the edge of the trees." Mendoza ducked behind a good, solid one for cover, waiting until Rogers and Liang were both in position. "Nunez?"
"Covering you." He didn't hear the sniper's voice at all, save through his comms piece. That was good. Mendoza took a preparatory breath.
"Go!" He turned out from his tree, companions beside him, and they scanned the open snowfield, lights turning over...
"Oh, God." Liang paused as they revealed a veritable sea of wreckage, twisted and torn up by what must have been energy weapon-fire. Bullet casings lay scattered, glinting like coins in the light. There were footprints human and...other...and great slither trails, along with red and yellow stains across the snow.
But that was just the crumb trail, because it was the hulking airplane that drew eyes inexorably, lying broken and burning down the line of rubble, hissing black smoke and sparks.
"Clear," Rogers muttered. Mendoza spent another moment scanning, then lowered his rifle.
"Clear," he agreed. The corporal reached up to his transmitter. "Avenger, we've got no life signs down here. Footprints and marks aren't fully covered up, so whatever happened was recent."
"Understood, Menace. Move in and look for survivors. Keep your guard up."
"Right." Mendoza waved. "Come on! Let's..." He sighed. "Let's go into the big dark thing, shall we?"
"No one?"
"No survivors, Commander. No pilot, just a pair of dead human soldiers on the battlefield. I ordered them buried."
"Good." Gallant nodded. "The least we can do."
"Sir." Bradford looked tired, but also...energized. "Mendoza's team did find some unusual equipment."
"Yeah?" Gallant steeped his fingers. "What kind of equipment?"
"It's...all very interesting," Bradford said. "There's a set of hunting axes, Commander. Big, brutal things, but well-suited for throwing. A couple of grenades full of some kind of enhanced liquid nitrogen, capable of freezing foes in an instant. A..." He coughed. "Well, a flintlock pistol and some kind of bizarre crossbow."
"Crossbow." Gallant blinked slowly. "What is this? 1200 AD?"
"Sir, crossbows were used in combat into the 1500s. Despite being phased out by matchlock firearms, they were still used for certain tactical purposes until World War Two, and several special forces and peacekeeping units trained in their use even around the turn of the millennium-"
"John?"
"Sir?"
"Shut up." Gallant rubbed his forehead. "Is there any reason you've brought them to my attention? The grenade, maybe, but an axe, a crossbow and a flintlock?"
"Well, sir...they have certain other properties. Things we can't fully explain." Bradford's eyes were so, so alight... "The pistol is sighted in like you wouldn't believe, and its sheer power...and the axes throw so well it's like they have AI guidance in them."
"The crossbow?" Gallant frowned. "And where are you going with this? There's more to it than simple enhanced equipment."
"The crossbow's projectiles pack a wallop," Bradford explained. "And someone...someone...must have wired some kind of shock cell into the projectiles. Something like the old ARC Throwers, sir: something that stuns aliens on contact."
Bradford froze. "John...have you had Tygan-"
"He gave them a cursory look, sir. Said he had no idea how whoever made these weapons did it. He can make more bolts, and finding ammunition for the flintlock isn't hard, but he just..." Bradford leaned forward. "Sir, it has to be her."
"Moira..." Gallant put a hand to his heart. "You're serious?"
"There's no other mind in the world quite like hers. If anyone could rig up equipment like this to bolster her forces, it's Doctor Vahlen."
"Where did that craft come from?" Gallant stood in a flash, and he set to pacing. Well, he tried: his cane was one of the little things he forgot, and he stumbled almost immediately, barely catching himself on his desk.
"Sir!" Bradford caught his arm, and Gallant shoved.
"Leave me alone! I can stand up by my goddamn self!" He tried and he failed, but at least he collapsed back into his chair. "Can you trace the Skyranger, John?"
"Sir...given time, yes-"
"Do it," Gallant snapped. "Put everything else on the back burner-"
Beep! Beep!
"What?" Gallant snapped into his earpiece. "This had better be important."
"Sir, I've managed to decrypt the transmission from...from Dad." Shen sounded a little hesitant, but she didn't yield. "It's not far. A few hours' flight and we can be at the origin point."
"Not now!"
"Sir." Bradford waved for attention. "It'll probably take a few days to run our tracking algorithms anyway. We can't put the war on hold."
"Says who?" Gallant hissed. "I'm finding her, John. Nothing else matters!"
"And I'm just as determined as you. We'll figure out where she is and pull her out of there." Bradford raised a hand, and his animal trainer manner just stoked Gallant's anger a little more. "But we need to find out how whoever this is could access Rov-R, and what they want from us. It won't slow us down at all."
Gallant's eye twitched. He was red, and hot, and searing from the inside out with need and fury and desperate desire...but John was right. John was right, and Gallant knew it.
He breathed, long and slow. Then his hand rose to his communicator.
"Shen?"
"Commander?" What she'd been doing during the debate, he didn't know. Gallant hoped she hadn't heard.
"Get those coordinates to the bridge."
"Yes, Commander." She hesitated, but clearly decided now was a bad time to press her luck. "I'll get right on that."
"Good." Gallant cut her off, returning his attention to Bradford. "Get us to that origin point, John. I want to know everything."
"Yes, sir-"
"And John!" Gallant's glare sharpened. "If you find out anything more about Vahlen, you tell me. You don't pass Go, you don't collect two hundred dollars...hell! You don't piss before telling me. You wake me up in the middle of the goddamn night if that's the way it is. Understood?"
"Of course, sir." Bradford saluted. "Crystal clear, sir."
"Good. Now get out of my face." Gallant returned to his computer. "I need to pick out a team."
She appeared in light.
It was purple light, violet light...holy light, that bore her from her place of meditation on the will of the gods, and she acquiesced to its flow. In mere instants, she vanished from her calming cairn, and then she was...
Elsewhere.
It was dark, for a fleeting instant. Here it was dark and still, and the great towering statues and sigils were the only company she could sense. Here was the heart of all that was and was meant to be, and for just a moment...it was all she could have wanted.
Then, as happened every time she truly felt peace, came her brothers.
They descended, borne on the violet energy. She felt their arrival, felt their disturbances. She heard the whine of power bringing them to Center, and she felt the hot rush of wind that accompanied the surge. She closed her eyes, hunting for meditative peace.
All was silent, save for gentle footsteps.
Click.
"Oh...it would be so...easy..."
That voice. That voice was her brother's, and she snapped her head up as she heard its foul ring. She beheld a long rifle, set with a powerful scope, and her eyes only narrowed as it pointed directly at her forehead.
She moved. She flowed with the energy of the Elders, and in an instant she faded into the air. Her brother didn't see her, nor did he feel her presence...
Not until the instant the Assassin put her small blade to the Hunter's neck from behind.
"Well..." She relished his twitch, his quiver, his moment of panic. Cool and collected her brother might be, but she had the upper hand here, and for a moment she took great pleasure in that. "Good to see you, sister."
"Miscreants." Oh, there he was: eldest of three, the spoilsport, the Warlock: he who fancied himself heir to the gods themselves. "Restrain yourselves, lest you be..." A smile cracked his face as he drew on his power, casting purple light that tinted his flowing white hair and red bracers. "...restrained."
The Hunter took aim. The Assassin caught his rifle, before he had a chance to shoot.
"No!" she cried. She turned between her brothers. "The three of us, called together as one?" The Assassin scoffed. "Something has changed."
"On that, we agree." The Warlock raised his hands, and the Assassin rolled her eyes. So dramatic! "Our masters have need of us once more."
"Sounds to me," said the Hunter, slinging his rifle over his back, smirking under his dark hood, "like they're afraid."
The Warlock spun, even as the Assassin sighed. Rage flashed in his eyes, and it stiffened his tone, cracking through to the surface with every shouted syllable. "You dare defile this place with your wretched tongue?"
"Oh...I dare," the Hunter agreed, still smirking. "What are you going to do about it?"
The Warlock raised his arms, glowing with power. The Hunter reached for his pistol, and the Assassin felt compelled to put a hand on her sword-hilt, bracing to again battle her siblings-
Boom!
That was the light. The light, light sent by the gods, as a beacon. The Assassin fell to one knee in supplication, as did her never-sufficiently-damned siblings.
"Our children," said She, foremost of the Gods, as She appeared in the light in Her glorious form. "Each of you possess Our wisdom. Each of you possess Our strength. Of all Our children, you are truly blessed."
The Assassin took the praise, and took it with pride. It wasn't directed for her brothers. She knew that, deep in her heart, whatever they might wrongly have suspected. She was foremost among three.
"Your charge was a simple one: the subjugation of all those who would see our grand design falter." Images appeared in the glow: images of war and of battle, of traitors punished as they deserved. She continued, and the Assassin closed her eyes to bask in her pride. "We have been pleased.
"Until now."
What? The Assassin didn't dare voice the protest. She didn't dare interrupt Her, not when there was anger in Her tone. She waited for explanation, wincing.
"Our greatest weapon was stolen from us, while our strongest did nothing!" Oh, She was angry. Flashes appeared of him, the Commander, Gallant himself, and the Assassin finally understood. "We are disappointed."
"Oh," muttered the Hunter. "Thought you were the strongest."
The Assassin winced...in the instant before Her face split with orange hate, and power struck from On High, smiting her brother where he knelt with boiling energy.
"Arrogance!" shrieked She. "You have walked among the humans too long! You have been corrupted! You can be reclaimed!"
The Warlock smirked. The Assassin couldn't help but revel in seeing her oh-so-arrogant brother laid low for what he was before Her and the Elders, made to crawl like an insect across the floor...
It stopped. The light stopped, and the Hunter abruptly could rise to his knees, gasping and clutching his burnt back.
The Assassin confessed to disappointment.
"Yet, you may perhaps also...be redeemed," She proclaimed. "Perhaps you may all be redeemed."
Hope. Hope flared in the Assassin's heart, and she waited for explanation and Verdict.
"A greater battle lies ahead," She promised, and the Assassin winced at the sights stuck now into her head. "Our time on this world draws to a close. Yet, we need not abandon it completely at our departure."
Oh. Was She going where the Assassin thought She was going? She trembled.
"Surely one among you is ready," She indeed posited, "to claim this world as their own."
I am! the Assassin wanted to cry. But she held silent, not fearful, but respectful. Not at all afraid.
"Return what was lost to us!" She ordered. "Let all who oppose our will suffer and burn!" Light flashed in her face, and her glowing robes flickered. "To the one who succeeds: our everlasting favor. To the ones who fail..."
Boom! The explosion of Elder power across the room, pouring up from their great ceremonial torches...left nothing to the imagination.
"You are the Chosen," She finished. "You will not fail us.
"Now go!"
Boom! In a flash of light, the Assassin was gone...but as she flew in the tower of the gods' own energy, she prepared.
It was time to go to war.
"Madame Moreau?"
Evangeline rose from her little black seat in the Paris Gene Therapy Clinic, adjusting her purse strap. She pulled out her datapad with her confirmation number, hurrying for the desk.
"I still don't know that this is wise," Charlotte muttered from her side. Evangeline rolled her eyes.
"I've been waiting to make my way to one of these places for years, Charley. What's the down-side? An hour or two of work, and I can see as good as you."
"Perhaps." Charlotte brushed back her golden hair, looking around the white and red interior. "Only if those terrorists don't-"
"Don't be so fearful. Advent wouldn't let them come into the city centers." Evangeline hesitated, thinking of the bombed-out shell this building had been, not so long ago. "...again."
"Encouraging." But Charlotte fell silent then, though her expression remained worried. Evangeline turned away from her best friend, hoping that would remain the end of it even after business was concluded here.
"Bon matin," she said, as she reached the clerk's desk. She set her datapad on the counter. "Evangeline Moreau."
He took her pad, examining her number. "Address?" He nodded when she supplied it, and they quickly went through the rest of the security questions. Finally, he seemed satisfied. "And who is this with you?"
"Charlotte Moineau," the blonde explained. "She's entitled to bring someone else to observe, isn't she?"
"That is the policy," the clerk agreed, and Evangeline thought it was a masterstroke. What better way to spread the word of the Gene Therapy Clinics and the Elders' gifts than to let anyone willing to try bring someone else who might be persuaded by what they saw? Maybe she was only human, but Evangeline liked thinking that she saw a bit of the Elders' grand design.
"Very well." The clerk handed her datapad back, after asking Charlotte the same security questions. "Room Seven, just down this hall. The technicians will be in shortly for your consultation and medical screening."
"Of course." Evangeline smiled. "Merci."
"Only together can we build a better tomorrow." The clerk waved her off, and happily she started for the door, waiting until the lock flashed green.
"So we just finished waiting out here," Charlotte muttered, "and now we can wait in a different room?"
"For a consultation," Evangeline agreed. "And my checkup. And after they process the results..."
"You'll be called back." Charlotte eyed her, as they started down the white-carpeted hall with red trim on the walls. Advent symbols hung between doors, and Evangeline counted, reading the numbers in passing. "There's no guarantee they'll even fix your eyes."
"They will," Evangeline assured her, optimistic and cheerful. She chuckled as she came to Room Seven. "Here we are."
"What if they find something else?" Charlotte wondered. "Something worse that's wrong with you?"
"Then they fix me." Evangeline shrugged, hitting the open button and beholding the glory of a medical room, all scanning machines and glowing lights. She bounced on the balls of her feet, giddy like a schoolgirl as she thought of the wonder to come. "I mean, what else is there for them to do with me?"
"Mission Alert! Mission Alert!"
"That stupid klaxon..." Jane Kelly checked her shotgun. "Aileen?"
"I'm ready." The Specialist patted her GREMLIN affectionately. "Nessie's ready too."
"You did not..." Jane sighed. "Whatever."
"Corporal." That was Elena Dragunova, striding through the armory with her trench coat whirling in her wake. That Vektor Rifle glinted in the low light, and Jane wished she could try her hand with it.
"Corporal," she replied instead. "You sure you're up for this?"
"I am the night," Elena growled. "I am the best scout you could possibly have."
"Right." Jane took her shotgun, and she turned for the lift to Firebrand. "You're not hoping there's data on Mox here, are you?"
"It would be convenient." The Reaper followed Jane without qualm. "Miss Quinn."
"Miss...Outrider. Ma'am." Aileen was at least somewhat intimidated by the Russian, and that seemed logical to Jane. No one really seemed comfortable with Elena, not with the way she gave them harsh, searching looks, or the way she snapped at them for the slightest conversational misstep.
"Ladies." Mendoza greeted them at the lift, rifle at the ready. "Looking good!"
"Shut up, Mendoza." Jane mimed with her fist. "David."
"Jane." The Grenadier glanced to the rest of the team. "Just us?"
"Expecting someone else?" Jane hurried into the lift. "Come on."
"Any intel on the drop?" David asked, as the team crowded in with her. "Some kind of transmission, right?"
"Yeah," Jane admitted. "We've got to-"
"Jane!" Aileen cried. "Your sword!"
"My...oh, come on." Jane sighed. She pushed past Mendoza and Aileen, exiting the lift. "Must have left it in my room. Let me fetch it, and I'll catch you up. Get set and tell Firebrand why I'm late."
"All right." Mendoza eyed her. "You can't be forgetting your sword, Jane: it's too useful in close quarters."
"That's why I have a shotgun," she snapped. "Unlike you, sticking to your crappy rifle."
"It's better for distance," Mendoza protested. "And distance is what I'll need if I aim to..."
"To what?" Aileen asked. Mendoza's face blanked.
"Never mind. Let's do this mission, shall we?"
"...yes," Jane finally allowed. "Let's. I'll be right there." Cursing Mendoza and her stupid sword, she turned and hurried out of the armory.
"Team's been delayed, Commander." Bradford scowled. "Kelly forgot her sword."
"We are ten minutes' flight from these coordinates," Gallant snapped, "and we're in a fucking holding pattern because Kelly can't be bothered to back her goddamn kit?" His eye twitched. "Put her on latrine duty."
"Consider it done, Commander." Bradford was impassive, but Gallant hoped that would dissuade any future absent-minded forgetting of combat gear. The bridge staff would spread the word about how quickly he meted out Kelly's fate.
"Sir!"
"What now?" Gallant turned on his heel. "Busy here, Shen-"
"I want to go along!" That wasn't what Gallant expected, but when he saw the chief engineer in full kit and armor, with Rov-R hovering threateningly over her shoulder...maybe he should have seen this coming.
"...what?" He blinked. "No!"
"Sir, whatever's down there had the technical aptitude to breach our systems. It's possible we're dealing with some kind of Advent hacking cell." Shen skidded to a halt at the base of his raised observation podium. "Sir, there's also the fact that it had Dad's ID signature, and came through on Rov-R...I need to go. I need to see this through."
"Shen..." Bradford coughed. "Shen, I promised your father I'd look after you. I can't let you-"
"I'll be careful," she promised. "I'm not a bad shot, and I'll have Corporal Kelly and her team to protect me. I'll stay out of the thick of any firefights."
"I can't allow this," Bradford insisted. "Shen-"
"The decision's not yours." Shen turned to Gallant. "Commander?"
"I..." Gallant clutched the rail. "I don't think this is a good idea." Oh, now that was alarming. He'd already gone from no to I don't think...that was an enormous step toward the Y-word.
"I have a strong feeling about this." Shen did look very insistent... "If something my dad made is down there, they'll need me to work it." She swallowed. "Sir..."
Vahlen flashed in his mind, and Shen Senior, and young Bradford and Penny Ferguson...
She'd have gone if it was me, Gallant finally decided. Penny would have been first in line, because we were the next best thing to family. I can't...I can't take that away from Shen, not if I want Bradford to listen to me when it comes time to...
Gallant exhaled.
"Be careful," he finally ordered. "If you die, Shen..." He coughed, aware of the bridge eyes on him. "Well. If you die, I'm not forwarding your pay to next of kin."
"I get paid?" She seemed awfully surprised. "Rov-R, turn on recording mode. Would you say that again, sir?"
"Get out of here." Gallant waved. "You have until Corporal Kelly finds her sword to get a rifle and get your ass on Firebrand. If you're not there by the time Kelly arrives, she's leaving without you."
"So, there's no rush," Bradford surmised. "You've got all damn day."
Gratitude shone in Shen's eyes. She turned for the door, bolting for the armory with GREMLIN floating obediently in her wake. "Thank you, sir!"
Gallant watched her go...and prayed he hadn't just made a horrible mistake.
Author's Note 10: Divinity
The treatment of the Elders as divine figures is an interesting addition to the XCOM universe. I didn't at all get that vibe from XCOM: EW, and I only see the concepts for it in the XCOM 2 base version in hindsight. However, I think it fleshes out a lot more about the aliens, and how Advent itself works.
I'm really excited to learn "what lies ahead." It's hard to write these things without just transcribing exactly what I see, since I know the same as any of you what Jake Solomon and the others are foreshadowing. I've been curious since the ending of my first play of XCOM:EU, and what's come in EW and XCOM 2 has only made things worse.
I know it's an old joke by now, but that final level in XCOM: EW was lame. I understand the concept, but the only challenging part was the 2 Sectopods, even on Impossible difficulty...and with a powerful Volunteer and a Mimetic Skin sniper, even that was fairly simple. I don't even bother to play the final level any more, unless I particularly want to watch the cutscene. I mean, I have 100% of the achievements, and the time I beat it with base tech only somewhat ruined the difficulty...that was a fun self-imposed challenge. I should do it again.
Unless something major went wrong, I should have landed back home earlier today. Since I'm writing this well in advance of the trip, I have no idea how well or poorly it's gone, but hopefully there were no chryssalids. If I was unable to make the regular update schedule, I will now be able to resume it.
Until next time, Vigilo Confido.