Please remember to favorite and follow!
"Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future."
~John F. Kennedy
Chapter Thirteen: Junior
"That was a damn fine job, Shen." Gallant shook his head, leaning back behind his desk. "Damn fine."
"Thank you, sir." The engineer smiled, a bit tiredly. "It was all the SPARK, though."
"Yes. The SPARK." Gallant wished for a drink. "Your father's work?"
"Yes, sir. But I think I can make more."
"Can you?" Gallant leaned forward. "An army of them..."
"It would hardly be an army. Maybe a few. I would need elerium cores to do the job." Shen rubbed her arm. "And some other things we can't readily produce here. But I should be able to use his template for future construction."
"Splendid. And you can arm him?"
"And well," Shen agreed. "There's nothing Advent can do as far as bullet production goes that we can't. And we recovered a few of the autocannons Julian's MECs were using."
"A pity about the facility," Gallant muttered. "I'm glad you got out, Shen, and the team with you, but it's a damn shame the MECs only rebooted."
"You're telling me." She looked quite unhappy. "What we could have done with all that robotic equipment...I could have given you an army of SPARKs. But with Julian's directives still set in all the MECs' processors, there's no way anything less than an army could get close to the place now."
"Hopefully Advent tries it." Gallant paused to cough, rapping his chest sharply. "Shen...we...you..."
"Commander?" She blinked, starting to rise. "Do you need water, or your meds-"
"I'm fine!" Gallant slammed his hand down, and the young woman jumped as if a gun had gone off. "I'm no cripple."
"I...I didn't say you were-"
"Is there anything else you need?" he snapped, glaring. Shen hesitated.
"I...no, Commander. That's everything."
"Still working on magnetic prototypes?"
"Yes, sir. We're three weeks away from working models."
"I want them in two." Gallant waved. "Get out."
"Sir...yes, sir." Her eyes might have hardened, but Gallant was hard-put to care. The engineer stayed long enough to salute - not nearly as crisp as the staff in the old days! - and then she hit the door and hit the road, and though Gallant wasn't necessarily pleased to see the end of her, he didn't lament her departure one bit.
"Stupid..." He thumped his chest. "Stupid..." He leaned back in his chair, massaging the area he'd assaulted. "I never...never asked for this..."
Of course not. You never ask for half of what life gives, but life gives it anyway. What are you going to do about it?
Gallant grunted. He knew those words, and he knew what else Penny Ferguson would say, if she caught him like this.
"Stop moping," he ordered, trying to emulate the nurse as best he could. "Pull your shit together so you can pull everyone else's too. You're no good to the war as a depressive wreck."
He sighed. But Gallant-as-Penny was right, so Gallant-as-Gallant dutifully spent a moment quietly, trying to remember the crap New Age breathing techniques Penny had tried to teach him. In through the nose...something with the hands. Out like he was hugging someone?
"Fuck it," Gallant muttered after a moment, exhaling through his mouth. "Magnetic weapons. SPARK. SPARK is a boon. That's good. We didn't see this coming...it'll make the war easier. We came out ahead, even if White's in the medbay. Corporal White."
He muttered a few more things to himself. Things about Jane Kelly's immense prowess in action, her promotion and increasing skill, Aileen Quinn and her medical talents...they were all good things, right?
He tried not to look at the picture beside his terminal, and he almost succeeded.
Almost.
"Moira..." Gallant reached out to hold the picture, even if he couldn't reach out to hold the woman. He'd never...the thought of her now...
How much was real? He'd spent so long in that stasis suit...how much of the war he remembered was real? Was Malin Larsen even real? He'd spent so long working with her...but had he? Was Larsen real...Vahlen was, but had he ever...
When he'd first met her, Gallant had tried to be as formal as possible, and she as well. He knew that was real. Certainly at least a few of his other memories of the doctor were just as...
But had he ever told her? He remembered...but was it real? What if he'd never...what if the aliens had made him hallucinate...if she'd never known how he felt? If she hadn't expressed interest, hadn't sent him smoke signals, if all of that was a byproduct of his fever dream...just some kind of aphrodisiac to keep him invested in the nightmare, to keep him from looking outside his little world and realizing what state he was in?
"It's not right now's problem," Gallant told himself. "Move on. Deal with more pressing issues, and don't brood too much."
He almost did that, too.
Silence. Stillness. The cloying odor of lemon-scented cleaning products.
Peaceful. Well, if you can get past the smell.
He was coming. She couldn't hear him, and meditating with her eyes closed, she couldn't see him either. But she knew because she could feel him, even through the sealed wall that contained her energy. Traces radiated and tickled the edges of her consciousness.
And Julie Richardson was awake now, in ways she hadn't even considered possible before Volunteering.
"Yes, Doctor?" she asked, without opening her eyes...or even turning his way. She felt him pause.
"That's a success, then," Hiroshi said from the other side of the cell wall. "You can sense me."
"Not...perfectly." Julie opened her eyes, and she lowered her legs the requisite half-meter to finally stand on her own two feet again. She straightened, turning to regard the psi-coordinator through the clear wall. "Faint traces, like a weak radio signal. I can't tell if you're aiming a gun at me or eating ice cream, but I know where you're standing when you do either of those things."
"That's good enough to start with," he decided. The coordinator nodded. "I think we can call your basic training complete."
"Okay." She managed a smile. "What's next?"
"We refine your abilities." He pulled out his datapad. "I want to run some tests and see what you can conjure."
"Can I ask a few questions first?" Julie put her hands on her hips. "My hair, Hiroshi."
"That...will go away," he promised her, glancing to it. "It goes white with the unearthing of power, as if the surge of energy bleaches the strands.
"But as it grows-"
"The roots are still going to be red, yes," he promised. "Or may I turn into a crab with three legs."
"That's oddly specific." Julie frowned. "My eyes?"
"That...is permanent." Hiroshi looked down. "Sorry about-"
"Lovely." Julie admired her faint reflection in the cell wall. "I suppose I'm unique. I can live with purple eyes...I guess." She sighed. "I didn't think there'd be outward changes."
"Well..." Hiroshi coughed. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's for the war." Julie nodded. "You can run your tests, but I'd kind of like lunch first."
"That's fine." Hiroshi nodded. "Put in your request and we'll have it delivered. The usual."
"Right." Julie glanced to the terminal built into her cell wall. "There's just no button for the other thing."
"What other thing?" Hiroshi frowned. "There's a full menu in there for the galley-"
"Did you never think a woman would be in here?" Julie demanded, a bit testily. Hiroshi's eyes went wide.
"Oh...oh, my God...I thought we accounted for that! I'll make sure that's fixed-"
"Stop!" Julie coughed, well aware her cheeks were the same color as her hair. Well, as her hair had been. This whiteness was going to take getting used to. "No, you did...that's taken care of. That's not the problem."
"It's not?" Hiroshi blinked. Julie cleared her throat, struggling not to look down. She failed, but at least she didn't stutter.
"Just...just get me some hair dye, will you? So I don't look like a yeti."
"You are a marvel of engineering." Lily Shen examined her terminal's output. "And of programming."
"I am sure Doctor Shen would be pleased to hear this," the SPARK told her, which sent another pang of loss and longing running from her shoulders to her toes.
"I'm sure he would," she agreed, voice a little lower. The engineer did her best to take a deep breath...and not think about that recording her father had left for her. "But your design...the BIT..." She examined the bowling ball-shaped drone. "It has to be a precursor to the GREMLIN. It has to be."
The SPARK didn't respond. Lily supposed it wasn't programmed for idle conversation, which made sense. It didn't need to be, and her father had been a firm believer that a tool should be exactly what it needed to be, and not a bit more. She fondly remembered some of the arguments he and Bradford had gotten into over the utilization of swords in combat.
"If a weapon is beautiful, that's because it is the most efficient and practical possible design for what it is intended to do," Lily recited. She turned back to her computer. "All right, so, you're aware of the nature of the war we're fighting?"
"You are engaged against the alien menace. Your data core tells me they are known as Advent."
"That's about right." Lily detected her father again in the SPARK's use of the phrase "alien menace" when "aliens" would have sufficed perfectly well from a practical standpoint. "You could be a huge boon to our efforts."
"It is my pleasure to protect you," the SPARK agreed. Lily hesitated.
"Right. And the best way to protect me is to win the war, right? Defeat Advent?"
"This seems logical," the SPARK allowed. "As long as the aliens rule this world, you are not safe."
"I'm glad we agree." Lily rocked back on her heels, crossing her arms. "Right, so that brings us to the next big problem of our relationship."
"I await your explanation."
"I can't keep calling you 'the SPARK'," Lily explained. "Do you have a name?"
"My classification is SPARK-001," the SPARK said. "If this is cumbersome for you, I can be redesignated."
"That is a little cumbersome," Lily admitted. She chewed her lip. "So I get to name my killer death robot?"
"Affirmative." If it could detect the humor, Lily couldn't detect that.
"Well." She rubbed her chin. "Maybe I should put out a poll. Then again...Sparky McSparkface isn't what I'm looking for..."
The BIT whirred, floating around the engineering bay. Lily watched it, and paused when Rov-R buzzed to the sphere, taking it in with his optical sensors. The two drones floated in the eaves, occasionally sparking as their anti-grav drives hummed and glowed blue.
Lily's gaze turned to the SPARK, and its awfully GREMLIN-shaped head.
"I've got an idea."
"I await your input." The SPARK regarded her intently. Lily hesitated, feeling a little foolish.
"What about...what about Rov-R Junior?"
"Junior." The SPARK tested that for a moment. "Will this classification satisfy you?"
"I...I suppose..."
"Designation changed." The SPARK - Junior - nodded, which was very definitely something Lily's father had coded in for her benefit. "I look forward to providing proper service."
That beautiful face...that lovely smile...
Carlos Mendoza sighed, drinking in the picture in his hands. Gently, he reached out to touch her cheek, wishing the little contact on broken, aged photo paper could bring as much joy as proper contact used to.
That curling twinge of loss...
"You spend a lot of time with that picture."
Mendoza's eye twitched. "Are you actually a ninja?"
"Not exactly. Sort of." Da-Xia Liang settled on the bench across from the Ranger, short dark hair falling around her ears in the musty gloom of the locker room. She rested her hands on her knees, soft eyes tinted heavily with concern. "It's all you do when you're not on mission. You sit here."
Mendoza sighed. "It's not important. The past."
"Everything is important. We're all here for reasons."
The Ranger grunted. He slipped the picture back into his breast pocket. "It's not important, Liang."
Quiet. The Grenadier shifted her weight, studying the far wall.
"They took my sister," she mumbled. Mendoza paused.
"Come again?"
"My sister. My little sister." Liang's gaze darkened. "They just took her, in the dead of night. To a black site, maybe. I don't know. I just know one day, she was there, and the next...poof. A little digging, and I was sure Advent was responsible."
Mendoza blinked slowly. "You went after her, didn't you?"
"I tried. I failed, but I tried." Liang rubbed at her eyes. "They nearly caught me. I got out of the city - I don't even know how, except dumb luck - and then it was the Resistance for sure. I trained and trained, hoping I'd get a chance to find and rescue her someday." The Chinese woman held silent for a long moment...then breathed out. "Avenge her, I think. There's no way...a black site...it's been over a year. She has to be..."
"I'm sorry." Mendoza looked down, running a hand through his hair. "Just...gone? You didn't see...no one saw?"
"If anyone did, they were too loyal or too scared to tell me a thing." Liang's eyes were colder now. "It was an Advent captain named Dourde. It took me months of digging to find out, but I'm positive she was the one who took my sister."
"You'll square with her," Mendoza assured her. "I know you will. You've got that look in your eye."
"I see determination in yours, too." The ninja crossed her arms. "Mendoza?"
"I..." He coughed. "I just wanted a fight. That's all."
Her stare was cool. "You can't expect anyone to believe this, Carlos."
"You should...I..."
"Mendoza." She raised one eyebrow.
She...this woman was so much like...
Slowly, Mendoza drew her picture, and he proffered it in silence.
"Girlfriend?" Liang asked under her breath, as she took it. Mendoza waited for a moment while she examined the little thing.
"No. Wife." He mustered a smile. "Pushy, sarcastic. Cheerful at times, very light on her feet when she moved."
"What was her name?" Liang looked up. Mendoza sighed.
"Isabel. We'd only been married for a few weeks, but..." He chuckled. "Twins."
"Really?" Liang didn't risk letting cheer into her voice. She wasn't stupid: she had to know where this was going. "Boys?"
"Boy and girl. I was so happy...I ran around the haven for days. Had a big idiot smile on my face." Mendoza leaned back, and the dark gloom of the locker room infected him all in a big flash.
There was no sound for long minutes, save the picture rustling as Liang turned it over.
"How did it happen?" the Grenadier asked, after two full minutes. Mendoza stilled.
"Advent doesn't like the havens. They send excursions sometimes to root people out."
"I know. I got caught up in a raid once." Liang nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."
"There were lancers. Soldiers. A priest too, somewhere in the mix." Mendoza blew air through his teeth. "I took a soldier down, when he turned his back on me to shoot at one of the fighters. I couldn't take his gun, since it was gene-locked, but I could beat his head into a wall easily enough. I beat him and beat him, until he stopped moving. I had to protect Isabel."
"But?"
"But while I was doing that..." Mendoza paused. He shivered, hearing again the shrieking, the screaming, the flying mag-rounds and the guns going off in the distance, knowing no help was coming and all he could do was run. Helplessness and terror as he thought of his wife and their future... "I saw a blur. In the distance, I saw a little blur." His eyes flicked up. "A little blue blur."
Liang stilled. "Wait. A blur, like-"
"Just like that...thing...in Novosibirsk."
"She killed your-"
"No. Not the Assassin. It was another." Mendoza glared at the floor. "It must have been miles between us. I saw the light of its arrival, and I saw its shape in the distance, blue and black and standing out from the grass. I saw it...and I saw the red flash." The Ranger's fists clenched. "He didn't have a shot on any of the warriors, so that...that thing...through two windows and a half-wall, from miles distant. One shot. Right through her head."
"Oh, God." Liang stared. "Just...just like that?"
"Just like that." Mendoza nodded. "I don't know how I survived. I sat with her, crying like a child, thinking of my children and my wife...I don't know what all happened. I was there for a long time, but no more Advent found me. Later, I found out the soldiers were driven off, but I didn't care. My world was destroyed, even if the haven itself survived."
"And the...the Chosen who did it?"
"Gone. Just fucking gone!" Mendoza rose, and his anger came out in a sudden rush. "Gone! Gone into the wind, gone without a care! We were targets to him and nothing more!"
"Whoa!" Liang jumped as Mendoza kicked the bench. The wham and clang echoed in the locker room, but he didn't notice. Didn't care. Rage clouded his eyes, and it hissed from his mouth, dripped from his shouts of hate.
"He didn't have to take that shot! He didn't have to kill her! We were pinned down in that room, and we weren't a threat! She wasn't a threat...he was bored, or he just liked killing things, so he executed her!"
His ragged, heavy, rasping breaths echoed in the stillness and the dark.
"I'm sorry." Those two words took a lot out of him, and his fight faded quickly. "That was uncalled-for. You didn't...I shouldn't have gotten angry."
"You have a right to be." Liang slowly stood, and Mendoza paused when she offered the picture. "Here."
"Gracias." Mendoza took it. Again he looked at Isabel's lovely face, thought of a daughter with the curve of her cheek, or a son with her eyes...
"We'll avenge them," Liang promised, and that was a sparking mirror of his own rage in her pupils. "We'll find Dourde, and we'll find this Chosen...and we'll avenge them all."
Mendoza allowed himself to bare his teeth in something that no idiot would mistake for a smile. "I certainly intend to."
"For the last time!" Gallant rolled his eyes skyward. "John, just tell her that a water purification unit isn't XCOM's area of expertise. The Avenger and her crew are not tech support!"
"I'm not sure what we can do about that," Bradford said instead, making a placating gesture to the screen, and to the beatnik hobo in a snake T-shirt and headband, unkempt hair scattering around her shoulders as she pursed her lips and nodded unhappily. Gallant debated grabbing his earpiece and telling the insistent Swede himself, but he let diplomacy win out and stewed quietly instead, which made all his annoyances and problems go away instantaneously. Bradford mustered a smile. "We'll look into it. That's a promise. No sign of Advent patrols?"
"Nothing on local comms," the denmother assured him. "They've been quiet lately. I guess we have you to thank for that."
"Our pleasure." Bradford inclined his head. "We enjoy being of service."
"Some of us," Gallant echoed, but he kept it under his breath, mindful of the bridge staff and their hungry ears, circled around the holodisplay. They waited for a reason to cease following his orders, thirsted for proof he wasn't fit to lead. Gallant couldn't give them what they were after.
"Enjoy it while it lasts," Bradford continued, which was about as obvious advice as obvious advice got.
"We plan to," the denmother assured him, with a little smile. "The water-"
"Oh, God," Gallant muttered, dropping his head into his hand. "Here we go again-"
Crackle...fizz...
"What the hell?" Gallant muttered, as the screen flickered in and out. He frowned. "What's going on?"
"Sir!" One of the techs waved. "Commander, Central...it's interference."
"I can see that," Gallant snapped, instead of about sixteen other irritable replies.
"It's a massive signal coming from the Advent network tower. Commander, it's global." The tech paused. "I think you'll want to see this."
Gallant sighed. "Well, if the transmission's already cut..."
"You just don't want to talk water purification any more, do you?" Bradford asked, smirking. Gallant, studying the ceiling.
"On screen," he ordered, in lieu of responding to his XO. The tech didn't smile, but a few other crewmen shook their heads bemusedly.
The Advent logo appeared on the main screen. Gallant leaned forward, studying it and not for the first time wondering what focus group had come up with the sigil. It looked like some drunkard had tried to write a T, realized what a crap job he'd done, and scrambled to cover it up. It only vaguely resembled an Elder.
"Innmann," Bradford growled, as a single figure appeared before the sigil, on stage with Advent officers flanking him. Gallant eyed the patterns on the sides of the Speaker's neck.
"How much do you want to bet-"
"Fellow citizens." Innmann smiled, like a preacher with sunglasses and an army escort. "For twenty long years, the Advent coalition has worked without pause to bring order and stability to Earth, and wash away the ravages of the Old World with the Elders' giving light. Under our stewardship, our cities thrive, our people prosper...and the world heals."
"Dick," Gallant muttered. He watched Bradford roll his eyes. "What I wouldn't give for an arc thrower and ten minutes with him-"
"And yet! And yet among us there are still those who refuse to acknowledge the truth!" Oh, he was just like a preacher, spitting hellfire and damnation by slamming his palm on the podium, baring his teeth as he leaned forward. "Who are determined to see all that we have built...fall!"
"And proud of it." Bradford crossed his arms, and Gallant bared his teeth just like the Speaker.
"If they're scared, maybe we can actually-"
"Sir!" The radar tech jumped for attention. "Central, multiple radar contacts are on approach to haven Alpha-seven!"
"What?" Bradford spun. "You're sure?"
"This...must...end," Innman snarled.
Gallant's stomach dropped out from under him.
"Raise Alpha-seven!" Bradford called. "Denmother!"
"Even as I speak, Advent peacekeeping forces-"
"Avenger?" The denmother appeared for a brief moment. "Losing you, Avenger-"
"You've got incoming!" Bradford shouted. "They're right on top of you!"
She couldn't hear. She couldn't...Gallant knew she couldn't hear, and he closed his eyes and set his teeth.
This was Brussels. He felt it happening...Brussels all over again. How many people...
"Say again, Avenger?"
"Get your people out of there!" Bradford cried. Gallant clutched the rail.
He heard the whine of an Advent dropship, and all of a sudden-
Screaming. Weapons-fire. Explosions.
"With your cooperation, we will overcome this crisis, and usher in another twenty years of peace and prosperity for our children."
Boom! Boom!
The shrieking...
"Sir...Alpha-seven's no longer transmitting."
"They don't stand a chance," Bradford muttered.
Brussels. Brussels, and Malin Larsen, and Vahlen and Shen and the Old War and...and...
Commander Edward Gallant opened his eyes.
"Get me boots on the ground." He bored his gaze into Bradford, and he knew the XO was having the same flashbacks as he...and the same glint of determination appeared in his eyes, too. "I want Menace down there now."
"This is haven Alpha-seven," Bradford announced, leaning on the wall in the barracks for support, clutching a handhold tight. The Avenger rocked and bucked in the wind, soaring from Mongolia across the Russian steppes for Sweden as fast as her engines could take her. "It's not well fortified...they thought stealth would keep them safe from Advent's retaliation. Somehow, Advent must have located the haven despite their intense secrecy...some kind of agent on the inside, perhaps."
"How bad is it?" Jane Kelly asked, clutching the arms of her chair. The overhead lights swung as Avenger hit another bout of turbulence, and most of the barracks personnel flinched. Bradford's face was etched harsh.
"Bad," he grunted. "Very bad. There are several teams of Advent soldiers on the ground, supported by aliens. This is not going to be easy."
"We didn't sign up for easy." The words didn't shock Jane, not as much as the fact that it was Julie Richardson who said them. Purple eyes glowed as the newly-minted psi-op rose, pushing past Sylvie Richard to make her way to Bradford's side. "I'm volunteering." She hesitated. "For the third time."
"Me too!" Sylvie rose, hand up. "I'll go-"
"I'm not sending rookies into this shit-show," Bradford snapped. "I'll allow you, Richardson. We need every hand we can get on deck, and you could be the edge Menace needs to stand a chance." He eyed the soldiers. "Sergeant White is still in the infirmary. I need the best we've got."
"Sir." Jane swallowed, suborning her worried, searing inner demons. "Sir, I'll-"
"I appreciate your volunteering, Sergeant Kelly, but I was going to draft you anyway."
"My luck." She rose, adjusting her baseball cap. "I'm all yours, Central."
"Quinn." Bradford waved, as Kelly made her stumbling way to the floor. "Pack up Nessie and get your ass to the hangar. Firebrand is already warming up."
"Sir, yes, sir." The medic rose, pushing past Cameron Rogers and Da-Xia Liang. She bypassed Jane and Julie altogether, hurrying for the locker where her GREMLIN sat in cold storage.
"Brave one, aren't you?" Jane wondered, as she managed to reach the psi-op without stumbling. "It'll be bad, Richardson. You're green."
"But not helpless." Her red-dyed hair glowed in the light, almost as much as that violet shine from her eyes. "I owe them just as much as any of you. For Aunt Penny."
"Nunez," Bradford announced. "I know you just left the medbay, but we need you."
"Of course." The Spaniard made his way down from the crowd. He looked quite pale, and he swallowed as much as Jane, but there was nothing wrong with his courage. "That's four, sir."
"Mendoza." Bradford's gaze turned up through the crowd until he picked out the other Ranger. "This one's going to be in tight and close, Menace. Rangers are the best at tight and close."
"We like to think so, at least." Good to see imminent death didn't affect Mendoza's sense of humor. He worked his way down, until at last he'd joined the assembly of warriors waiting for their dismissal. Jane reached out to pat his shoulder, and he nodded in acknowledgment.
"I'm not going to lie, people." Bradford looked grim. "This is bad. You're walking into what's very likely to be a trap. The aliens have to know we'll respond to a strike like this. The littlest mistake..."
"Then we won't make mistakes," Jane snapped. She ignored the crowd of the left-behinds, from Rogers to Richard to Liang and Aidan MacLeod with his fierce beard. "Just you and the Commander be smart like that too, how about?"
"We'll try." Bradford inhaled. "Firebrand launches in ten. Get your gear, get in the drop bay, and get ready." He inhaled.
"It's time to go to war."
Author's Note 13: Art of War
Terror/Retaliation missions are a staple of XCOM, and they're utterly brilliant strategy on the aliens' part. Instead of letting XCOM come to them, they force the Resistance to react to their actions, where they can force operatives to fight in confined spaces against whatever strong units Advent can muster. It's no accident that most of your encounters with the big nasties come on these missions, where you have no concealment and have to worry about civvies. No matter what you do, you lose...fighting runs a massive risk of losing you soldiers, and ignoring the mission has severe long-term consequences. Admittedly, they aren't as bad in XCOM 2 as in EW, but they're still bad.
I personally believe anyone in XCOM is a bit messed up mentally. First, they have to have abandoned human culture to start with to join the Resistance, which indicates a severe degree of need or intensity of personality, not to mention luck and hardness. Then you have to make the jump from haven occupant to Resistance warrior...to finally catching Bradford's eye, or at least his staff's. That's just to get on the "Hire New Recruits" menu. The Commander still has to actually deign to spend money on you. There's massive potential there for an entire fic about someone just trying to join the Project. Maybe I'll add a subplot about that moving forward?
Until then, Vigilo Confido.