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"There is no shorter road to defeat than by entering a war with inadequate preparation."
~Charles Lindbergh
Chapter Forty-one: Ebb Tide
If this wasn't Hell, it had to be the waiting room outside.
"Four meters and change." Cameron Rogers quietly paced that distance, going from one smooth cubicle wall to the other. "No windows. One door, fully sealed." He glared at the offending portal, only distinguishable from the walls by the faint outlines of its shape. "No hinges." His eyes flicked to the ceiling. "Microphones, probably - hello, everyone - and maybe a camera." He made sure to turn in a full circle with middle finger extended, just to make sure any such device caught a look.
One light, he resumed mentally. Shielded by metal bars so I can't break the bulb for a cutting blade, or fetch out the filament to pick the lock. He snorted. It's an electronic lock, so I'd love to see that.
Other than that, his cell had a toilet, a little sink, and a cot that was more of a table, all things considered. Cameron wasn't bothered by the toilet and he'd slept on worse than the hard ground before in his life, but the sink stymied him. He'd grown up on a farm well away from Advent or any other civilization, but he still hadn't realized how attached he'd grown to Avenger's showers until he had none.
As far as prisons went, he had to admit this was a good one. They didn't even open the door to give him food: they opened a slot and shoved a tray in, one with some kind of gruel paste in a bowl. It was perhaps enough to keep body and soul together, but it wasn't doing any good for him beyond that.
I won't talk, Cameron decided, for the umpteenth time. They're only going to kill me, whether I talk or not. Likely true, but a heroic death was easier to contemplate in the abstract. If the Assassin or the Hunter showed up outside his cell and offered him freedom in exchange for a moment alone with their psionic hand-glowing thing...Cameron liked to think he'd tell them to fuck themselves, but he couldn't be certain. That shamed him, but it was what it was.
Then there was Liang. If the aliens had caught her too, they hadn't rubbed it in his face, so he hoped she was still out there. He'd never admitted he wasn't working alone, and evidently Advent wasn't certain themselves or they'd have claimed to have his partners in custody whether they did or not. Instead, time went by: first hours, then days, and Cameron heard nothing. He prayed to a God he didn't altogether believe in that the Grenadier had made good her own escape and was reporting to Commander Gallant already.
They gave him a datapad, which he thought was odd of them. Of course it had no network access, but still. It was only when he tried to use it that he realized it was full of Advent propaganda apps and stories, and that was what really drove him away.
Unfortunately, there was nothing else to do but work out, and eventually his body would give in even if he knew better than it what his options were. That made him inexorably wind his way back to the tablet - even if full of lies, they'd at least be something to read and watch.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered, as a video of Speaker Innmann encouraged him to suborn himself to the Elders' grace and bask in their forgiveness. "You sound like a preacher who needs to get laid." He eyed the marks on the Speaker's neck. "You know what? I bet he's-"
Fwoom!
"Huh?" Cameron turned - it wasn't time for lunch yet - and paused when the door turned transparent. That made him jump to his feet - any break in routine was a Very Bad Thing, as far as he could determine - and prepare for the worst in a hurry.
"It's me!" The woman outside waved cheerfully. Cameron stared.
"...the hell do you want?" he finally asked.
"Don't swear at a lady!" the scientist snapped, her high voice filling with an almost scolding note. Cameron took a bit of pride in the black mark around her eye, even if she'd covered it with enough makeup she looked like a streetwalker. Her vibrant eyes flicked up and down, as if she were assessing his condition at a glance. "I've never seen a real terrorist before. I have to say, you're not very impressive. I thought you'd be taller and less...babyish."
"Are you just here to gloat?" Cameron scoffed. "Go away."
"Aww. Am I hurting the baby's feelings?" She giggled, and Cameron wished he'd punched her harder. She might have seen the thought flash up in his eyes, because her laughter abruptly faded. "I guess I shouldn't have expected a criminal to be a gentleman, but you're a real piece of street grime. Hitting a lady?" She clucked her tongue. "I wish they'd tackled you harder, you know that? They went easy on you."
She, Cameron suspected, had never been tackled face-first into permacrete. "Why don't I show you just how it's done, then?"
"What a foul individual." She curled her lip like she'd tasted something sour. "No wonder the Elders want to put you and your kind down."
"My kind? You mean people?" Cameron glared. "You and I aren't any different-"
"Of course we are. One of us is smart enough to be on the right side of this door." She laughed, laughed in her shrill voice with her eyes full of contempt.
"They're killing people-"
"Sucks to be them. I'm not an idiot who couldn't make myself useful." She scoffed while Cameron was still gaping at her. "Well, I've wasted enough time here. I just had to come take another look at you before you go away."
"Away?" Cameron blinked. "What do you mean, away?"
"Oh! They must not have told you yet!" Sappy condescension dripped from her tone. She leaned back on one leg, putting her hands on her hips and smirking. "The Warlock has expressed a personal interest in you, and I put in for your being transferred." She beamed wider as Cameron's heart skipped a beat - it must have shown on his face, because she chuckled then, too. "Well, I'm off. Are you not going to wave?" She turned on her heel, doing so over her shoulder. "Bye-bye!"
"How's your head?"
"It is functional." Sylvie paused to take a drink. "I worry it will not be tomorrow."
"That's the point of this little excursion." Julie reached over the table to punch her date - not that kind of date, no - on the arm. "No aftereffects from the-"
"Nothing, no." Sylvie glanced across the bar, and Julie's gaze followed hers. "I am the lucky one, I think."
"Yeah..." The redhead coughed when she saw Charlotte, sitting alone with a dark look as she rubbed at her forehead. "She really doesn't look well."
"She was mind controlled by the Warlock. Of course she is unwell."
"Yeah, but..." Julie blew air through her teeth. "Want to cheer her up?"
"I quite enjoy being alone with you." Sylvie went red a moment later. "That came out wrong."
"Did it?" Julie wondered absently, not having noticed anything wrong about it at all. Her attention was still on the blonde. "Does she have any friends?"
"She and Mariah came aboard together."
"But they aren't exactly getting drinks all the time. I don't think they have a lot in common." Julie glanced over at Sylvie, then sighed. "I think she's alone."
"Do you?" The Frenchwoman gave her opposite number another look. "I remember being alone."
"Yeah." Julie's jaw worked. "Only she doesn't have what we did."
"What?"
"We came aboard at the start of something. Central's crew had all fanned out and we were all..." Julie made an odd hand gesture. "Everyone was new. No one had anyone. We sank or swam."
"Ah. And here is Charlotte Moineau, wading into the depths when everyone else is busy playing water polo." Sylvie's purple eyes darkened. "And she neither knows the rules nor has anyone intent to explain them to her."
"That's an image." Julie could picture it quite well. She took another drink. "Hell with it. Let's go."
"Go?" Sylvie blinked...then she understood. "Oh. You mean-"
"Hell yes. Let's make a friend." Julie rose. "I'm going to make a friend, at least. You don't have to-"
"No, no. This is a good thing to do." Sylvie joined her, and both women scooped up their bottles. They started across the bar in silence, picking their way past Aileen Quinn in her drunken stupor, past Johannes Vermuelen in a dark corner with Jiaying Shen, the pair examining his tablet and talking in low voices. They passed Pratal Mox and Elena Dragunova, the former with a drink and the latter with a cigarette, very loudly arguing about something or the other. The more animated they got, the closer they shifted in their seats.
"Bonjour," Sylvie said, surprising Julie by speaking up before she could. Charlotte blinked, craning her neck to look at the pair.
"Oh. Bonjour." She examined Sylvie for a moment. "Ça va?"
"Bien." Sylvie paused by the booth. "Et vous?"
"J'ai été mieux." Charlotte shrugged slowly. "Le Démoniste."
"Ah." Sylvie nodded sympathetically. "Pouvon-nous vous rejoindre?"
"It's great that we all speak French," Julie observed. "Otherwise I'd be really lost."
"Oh!" Sylvie coughed into her elbow. "Desolé - I mean, I'm sorry." She gestured to Charlotte. "I merely asked if we could..."
"Oui. Yes." Charlotte waved uncaringly. "If you would like."
"Are you doing alright?" Julie asked, taking Sylvie's hand and helping her ease into the booth. Charlotte spared her an odd glance, and the redhead couldn't fathom why: her friend had been knocked out by the same creature that had done his work on the blonde. Couldn't Julie try to take care of her?
"As I told Sylvie, I am...middling." Charlotte blew at her bangs for a moment. "I hear his voice when I am not thinking."
"Yeah, you would." Julie made a sympathetic face. "The psi-energy takes a while to work its way out, and the human brain isn't patterned to easily forget things. We try to make connections and see themes in everything, even things that are random - the tiniest thing brings back the touch, since it's so deep and personal."
"You would know how all this works," Charlotte allowed after a moment. She breathed in, then out, very deeply. "What brings you over here?"
"We just..." Julie shrugged. "It doesn't look like you have friends."
"Not here, no." Her eyes darkened. "Not in Paris either, I don't think: not anymore. I wonder what has become of Henri and Nathan since Evangeline and I..." More darkness. "Not to mention my other friends."
"I didn't mean to bring any of that up." Julie felt bad now. "I'm sorry."
"It is life." With enough fatalistic acceptance of such things the redhead began to wonder which side of the English Channel she really hailed from, Charlotte took a long drink. "What do the Russians say? Nichevo, that's it. It can't be helped."
Silence fell. Julie pushed her bottle back and forth for a moment.
"But." Charlotte visibly perked up. "She would not be the dour one, so neither shall I." She took another drink, this one crisper and more alert. "I have been working to catch up on the years of cultural history I was denied by the aliens. I recently stumbled across an old movie I thought was quite charming, for all its oddities and perplexities."
"Right." Julie accepted the topic change as easily as she could, and Sylvie made an interrogative noise. "Which one?"
"It was a Robin Hood movie, but it was quite farcical..."
Jane's feet were cold. They were cold before the rest of her, and they were cold before they even came down on the frigid metal planking in Officer's Country. The brunette fought not to swear, nearly biting her tongue as her toes tried to stick to the deck.
"Ow...ow...ow...fuck...ow..." It all came out under her breath. She picked her way with care over bolt patterns and the little gaps and dips in the floor that gave Avenger her...her personality, that was the positive word. She felt like she was leaving layers of skin behind with each step, but...
The chill set in on her shoulders and her arms next, in force. Jane pulled her insufficient outfit a little tighter about herself: the ship was in flight over Canada at the moment, flying off to check some rumor about a desiccated UFO corpse near Alaska. Jane didn't know much about Canada or Alaska beyond the basics, but she hadn't been this cold since their tour in Siberia, and that was really all she needed to decide she didn't like it here either.
The steady thrum of the engines hung in the stillness around her. Metal creaked too, and various items pinned to the wall or sitting on shelves rattled with light turbulence. Jane felt the vibration run up through her legs - her cold legs, her freshly-shaved legs, and how often did that happen? - as she made her picking journey through the landmines of ice. She longed to abort, flip a U, and make right back to the shower she'd taken so sinfully long in trying not to carve her calves to ribbons.
I hope I don't get an earful from the supply division about the hot water, she thought, a tad forcefully. Our purification system works just fine, and it's not like there's no snow around here. If they try to talk down to me for my measly little usage...
Then she turned the last corner...and she froze.
"Captain?" That throaty voice rang from the darkness, at least a little undone compared to usual. Jane's eyes flicked up and down, taking in the lithe form that had to be...had to be...
"...Sergeant." She left it there, and her gaze turned from Dragunova to the man lingering at her side. "...Sergeant."
"Captain." There was no mistaking Mox's voice. Jane spent a moment looking from one to the other, then about them at the darkness of the corridor.
"We were just-"
"Sergeant." Jane cleared her throat, surprised Dragunova had even attempted to try and spin her. It wasn't her style, was it? Jane had honestly suspected a threat more than anything. "If it's...if it's all the same to you, Sergeant, I think I'd rather you didn't see me either."
"Yes, I can see how this might be the case." Oh, there was that sarcastic assholery. Dragunova tugged on Mox's shoulder. "Come on."
"You will freeze," Mox protested, eyeing Jane. "It is cold-"
"Yeah, I've figured that out, thanks." Jane tossed her head. "Find another dark passageway and let's none of us admit we saw each other if anyone asks."
"Deal." Dragunova took Mox's hand now. "Come on, Pratal."
Off they went, the Reaper with silent footsteps and the Skirmisher's not far above. Jane - foolishly, really, since they had to know where she was going, neither being idiots - waited until they'd rounded the far corner to take another step.
"Ow," she snapped, as she finally lifted her foot from the cold. She covered her mouth with her free hand, wincing as she started her walking torture again. "Shit."
Then she was at the door. She hit the access button and it slid open noiselessly.
"Who's there?"
"The Captain." There being only one of those, that served as well as her name. Jane entered, leaving the faint landing lights stretched through the corridors behind to make the transition to total darkness. Well, not total - none of Avenger's crew quarters had actual windows, but humans didn't like sleeping in tombs. Most humans. Cameras and displays combined to give the illusion of a window spread over the far wall, showing clouds peacefully floating by and the moon shining down from overhead, even though Jane knew the only thing she'd find through that particular wall was Shen's workshop space.
"The Captain, huh?" He shifted in his bed, and Jane picked her way inside, biting down her curses. She deliberately shut the door behind her. "What's got you here?"
"Team-building exercise." Jane perched on the edge of the bed, pulling her outerwear around her a bit more. "It's dark and it's lonely."
"I know what you mean." Jane was sure he did. In David's voice, she heard the faint echoes of the times he'd spoken of his dead friends in Australia - just as she struggled with thoughts of her own. James and his smile, Obsidian the cat lover...Irina the paranoiac, but Irina the team mother hen...
"Do you ever have that feeling," she began under her breath, "like something's...something's about to happen? Something serious, and it's going to happen any time now...but you don't know what?"
"Yeah." He was silent for a minute. "We're on borrowed time."
"Don't I know it?"
"Mordecai and Mox and Mariah aside, we've done well recently." That was quiet worry undercutting his cute Steve Irwin accent. "The bill always comes due in the end. If we do well for a spell..."
Jane hissed through her teeth, wishing she had a damn good counterargument. She cleared her throat instead. "I didn't mean to start anything like this."
"What did you mean to start?" David shifted again, and Jane felt his presence behind her. "I'm guessing you..." His hands found her, and he veered off into silence again.
"Yes?" Now Jane was hard-put not to purr: so hard-put she didn't bother.
"Are you...are you wearing anything under that towel-"
Jane took the plunge, and she took the towel too, slipping it from around her shoulders. She tossed it to the floor, shivering as more goosebumps ran up from her knees and down from her shoulders.
"Am I?" she whispered. David's hands moved experimentally.
"...Jesus," he finally muttered. "And you-"
"I shaved," Jane agreed, and now there was a predatory note in her voice. "I shaved for you, boy."
"I suppose I'll have to make it worth the trouble."
"That would be a good idea," she agreed. David's hands locked around her waist, and Jane let out a sigh as he pulled her backward into the mattress' embrace. "That would be a very good idea."
"Oh, my..." Fatima Tariq dabbed at her eyes with the one hand that worked. Her bandaged-up right hand, set and splinted and all but amputated, propped up the tablet and her movie. She sniffed, wiping a little more with every progressive line of dialogue. "This part always just..."
"For the love of God." Shaojie Zhang had agreed to watch a movie with her while she recuperated. That agreement did not include any provisions about sarcastic-ass commentary. "That door is plenty big enough for both of them."
"But," Fatima protested, sniffing and wiping her eyes again, "he's sacrificing himself for the woman he loves-"
"That door," Zhang repeated, glaring at the tablet screen like he could slap Jack and Rose alike, "is plenty big enough for both-"
"Vhat do ve have heere?"
"What?" Fatima jumped - remembering to hit the pause button just in time - and looked up as three figures stormed into the infirmary. Trailing at the flanks were two men in medical jackets, heads down as they relentlessly typed notes on their datapads. Before Fatima could focus on them, though, she had to stare at the tall, aggressive brunette storming past Zhang with a martial thump in the stride of her heavy boots.
"Guten morgen!" she cried, accent thick and dripping and combining with the heavy medical mask covering her nose and mouth to make her almost incomprehensible. All Fatima could see of her were her eyes: blue and sparkling. "It is me, Doktah Vahlen, heere to check uhp on your...how you say? Recovery."
"Wait-"
"Hmmm, yes, zis is very much bad," said the doctor, taking Fatima's wounded wrist in her hands. "Ve vill have to operate on ze quick to counteract ze inevitable nerve damage. Unt zis is a perfect opportunity! Aftah all, is easier to work when ze damage has been done already!"
"Damage-"
"Ve can fix worst of damage by adding ze nerve cords from a berzerker," she decided. Her assistants' heads went up and down, and their typing redoubled. "Ve vill amputate ze entire arm unt replace, just to be on safe side. Do ze same vit ze othah."
"Hold on just a-"
"Unt take ze stabilizer jets from an archon!" the doctor cried. "Ve vill insert zem strategically into ze subject's anus for flight capability vitout un Archangel suit-"
"No!" Fatima pulled her hand back. "I don't want any-"
"She is hurt!" the doctor said quickly. "She does not know vhat she says!" She reached out like lightning and smacked Fatima's forehead. "See? She has head injury! Konkussion! Ve must sedate ze patient immediately unt begin ze operation!"
Fatima burst out laughing. She could hardly see for a long moment, and her lungs nearly burst as she howled out a gale of mirth. She clutched her chest...and the moment she thought she had it all under control, she had to crack up again when "Doctor Vahlen" held up a magnifying glass to examine the inside of her mouth.
"Ve can replace ze tongue vit one from a viper if it vould please her boyfriend-"
"Annette, you psychotic nutball!" Fatima got herself under control long enough to give the Frenchwoman an arm-punch.
"Made you laugh!" she cried, abandoning the accent. "Didn't I? Didn't I, Fatima?"
"You knew!" Fatima accused. She gave Zhang a hard glare, and the Heavy turned his eyes up to study the ceiling.
"Knew what?"
"That's why you sat down with me to watch the movie!" Fatima glared at Annette's two grinning assistants. "I expected this crap from you, Matt, but...Said?"
"She said you'd laugh." Fatima's brother grinned ear to ear. "You certainly did."
"You're all jerks," the Assault declared. She leaned back in her chair, beaming. "You're the best jerks I've ever known."
"I think she likes us," Annette observed. "You can tell she's the youngest."
"I hardly think thirty-eight counts as young-"
"Pah!" Zhang gave her a shove on the shoulder. "Go cry in a mirror, Tariq. You don't know what old means."
Annette scoffed. "Yeah, you still get the monthly pains-"
"And you..." Fatima broke off. "Doctor Vahlen!"
"Ja!" Annette cried, stiffening back up. Fatima raised her good hand, but before she could speak, the medic rolled on. "Zer is fah more ve can do! Ze arms of a berzerker unt ze archon jets in ze bum, unt ze tongue of a viper, ja, but so much more! A revolutionary gene therapy!"
"Annette," Zhang started. Fatima tried to point, but the Frenchwoman was having too much fun to stop.
"Ve have gatekeepers in ze cold storage!" Annette cupped one hand and held it up to her left breast. "Un gatekeeper-" her other hand and other breast "-deux gatekeepers. None of ze boys vill be able to take zeir eyes off you!" She cackled, high and evil. "Zis is ze pinnacle of mein German super-science-"
"First correction: I am Swiss."
Annette froze, one finger jammed in the air, probably with her mouth open under the gauze mask. Fatima saw her swallow before she, finger still upraised, rotated on the balls of her feet to stare into the doorway.
"...Doctor," Annette finally managed, after a minute's worth of staring. Said and Matt traded glances, while Zhang grunted and dropped his head into his hands.
"Secondly." Moria Vahlen's lip curled. "Archon jets in her rear, Annette?" Her beaming smile was perhaps more frightening than her impersonator's. "They would point backwards, not down. We'd have to stick them in her heels, or straight up in between."
"Hello, Commander."
"Oh, hi Mark." Gallant steeped his fingers, sighing when Shadow Man didn't react. "What's the matter? Never...never seen it?"
"I have looked into the matter you sent for my examination." He didn't have time for small talk. Gallant wondered how long it took to set up these secure communications - and what would happen if that process was bypassed, for whatever reason.
"Yeah, so did Volk and Betos. They have nothing for me."
"I am afraid I have very little, but I do have something."
"Really?" Gallant leaned forward now. He sucked in the chilly air in his office, and he fought not to pick that pen up and start fiddling again. "Like?"
"The Ruler creatures you describe found their way to Advent," Shadow Man started, which was not really what Gallant cared about. "They hunted down concentrations of the others among their kinds, and though they lack the other aliens' control chips, they are now fully under the Elders' sway. They serve via direct mind control - to each Ruler, one Elder is assigned. It seems like they are testing their capabilities at manipulating organic bodies directly, though I do not fully understand the need."
"We'll deal with it." Gallant breathed out. "Nothing on Doctor Vahlen?"
"Her name appears in several Advent files - this I knew before Central Officer Bradford ever contacted me to tell of your rescue - but I cannot determine in what exact context her name is used. It appears she has made a nuisance of herself for the last twenty years, in one form or another."
"Do better," Gallant ordered, a little testier. "I knew Vahlen wouldn't go out gently. Shaojie Zhang and Annette Durand saved a team of mine in India not long ago, and we found Vahlen's base. I can't believe it's coincidental. Somehow, they're working together, and I need to know how to get in contact with them to join our forces and unite our capabilities."
"I do not believe this is your sole motivation, Commander."
"If it's true, then the other side benefits of the arrangement are just cherries on top." Gallant glared at the camera. "Give me something I can work with."
Silence. Shadow Man let out a sigh.
"I believe Doctor Vahlen has gone underground in a secondary XCOM Project facility. Do you remember the Interceptor Stations?"
"Of course." Gallant frowned. "Mindanao, Kansas, Amazon, Congo, and Poland."
"Each one housed the necessary equipment for establishing a new base in the event the aliens had destroyed Headquarters," Shadow Man agreed. "Some of the equipment you recovered from the Southeast Asian facility, to my eyes, bears striking resemblance to these backups we placed around the world. It is my suspicion that Doctor Vahlen raided these bases to establish her initial stockpile of material - recruiting their personnel in the process - and then set one up as a fallback base in case her research station and genetics lab was discovered before she completed her plans. Whatever these plans may have been."
"That's...like her." A backup plan for breakfast...
"I know Zhang and his crew have been dangerous threats to Advent for a long time," Shadow Man finished. "By sending envoys to the old Interceptor Stations, you may yet find Doctor Vahlen and we may yet strike some kind of accord."
"I suppose it's worth a look." Gallant full-well knew he'd be sending messengers before the day was out, but he had to keep up the appearance of not being manic. Judging from Shadow Man's little scoff, he knew what was what just as well as the old soldier himself did.
"I would advise you to make haste, but there is another matter that requires your attention first."
"Is there?" Gallant frowned. "Another Haven?"
"No, Commander." Shadow Man hit a button on his terminal, and Gallant's machine hummed. "I have procured the target coordinates for another facility dedicated to work on the Avatar Project."
Author's Note 41: Stupid Jetpack Vahlen
Annette's impersonation is not all that far off the mark, is it?
One thing in terms of gameplay that I'm not fully clear on is the Avatar Project facilities themselves. Are the aliens building them as the game goes on? Are the ones on the map the ONLY ones in the world? Or are you finding ones that already exist, that you simply don't know are there to begin with? Is it a mix of the two? I prefer the finding explanation, but most of the flavor text in the game supports the building idea. It confuses me, and I don't like being confused. My mind automatically tries to untangle logical knots.
We're moving right along now. If I had to assign a "Season Two Midfinale" then the next four chapters have to qualify. I hope you enjoy them!
Until next time, Vigilo Confido.