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"All things are ready; if our minds be so."

~William Shakespeare, Henry V

Chapter Eighty: What We Hide

"So this is the place." Edward Gallant leaned hard on his cane, harder than he had in months, as he picked his way down Avenger's enormous stern access ramp.

"Seems to be." Tygan hovered at his side like a humanoid GREMLIN, datapad tucked under his arm and a water bottle hooked into his belt. Gallant quite intentionally pretended it was there for the Doctor's comfort, and not for the purpose of forcing one decrepit commander to take his medications should an emergency arise.

"Ever been here, Doctor?" Gallant took a minute to gauge the transition from alloy decking to stone ground. Jungle canopies loomed on all sides, some real and some holographic decoys to cover Avenger from orbital ADVENT reconnaissance. Within the bosom of the jungle, an ancient ruin beckoned: overgrown and cracked from great columns to long streets. "Looks like some shit from an Indiana Jones flick."

"On the subject of cultural similarities, I was thinking of Yavin from Star Wars." Tygan nodded to the other defining feature of the ruined temple: the technologically advanced shit scattered over every available surface. Magnetic weapons lined stone slabs used as tables, robotic parts sat in crates under concealment awnings that would have made Volk blush, alloys and elerium crystals sat bundled in neat packages…

"Greetings, Commander Gallant." A thin, smiling man approached, wrapped in dark cloths that couldn't have done much for him in the Cambodian heat. Sweat ran down his ebony face, almost as mysterious at a glance as Shadow Man. Speaking of… "I was told to expect you. The market is open!"

"I see." Gallant spared another glance for the surrounding wonders. "You've got a neat operation here, mister…?"

"Call me Gray." Alias? Obviously, but Gallant wasn't going to be a little bitch about it. When Gray offered his hand, the Commander just took it with a little, polite, "I-know-you're-a-lying-piece-of-shit-and-I-don't-care" smile.

"A pleasure." Gallant hesitated. "Have you been informed of the circumstances of our visit?"

"With respect, Commander, what I don't need to know, I don't need to know." Gray's smile never wavered for a moment. He must have been a hell of a mall salesman in a previous life. "Tell me what you need, I'll tell you what I have. Tell me what you'll pay, I'll tell you what you get."

"On the subject of pay." Gallant narrowed his eyes a hair. "I was told you deal in information."

"For the most part. It makes for a comfortable lifestyle in this world." Gray interlaced his fingers, still beaming that unnerving smile. Was he a thin man? Gallant kept one hand on the hilt of his cane-sword on general principles.

"What do you do with the information?" Gallant gave a little shrug. "I hope you understand my concerns that details about me will trace back to ADVENT."

"Of course. I have a long history of catering to very…private clients." For all the world as if that didn't sound like he ran a brothel, Gray waved to his collection of equipment and the workers that filtered through. "With the information I receive, I collect more equipment and goods. Those goods, I resell, either for more information and thus more profit, or for critical supplies for myself and those under my employ. I cannot divulge exactly how I do this, but rest assured, I am no friend of ADVENT's. They don't leave stuff behind often, but you bet I'm there when they do."

"I see." And Gallant sort of did. "I'm in a bit of a bind for fighting men right now. You have any mercenaries on hand?"

"You've come at a good time, sir." Gray flipped a datapad of his own out, typing quicker than ought to be possible. He turned it around to show the headshot of a blond, scarred man with a monocle. "Franz Schneider. A bit of an old warrior, and you know what they say about old men in a young man's game."

"I work with a few." Bradford in particular was a powerful example.

"Then you know he'll be among the best. Before the Invasion, they say he was a special forces operative, but I make it my business to let sleeping dogs lie." Gray turned the datapad back around. "I can get him aboard for you."

"And what's in this exchange for him?" That was the part that didn't make sense to Gallant. "Does he work for you, or for me?"

"Do you intend to feed him? Offer him a bed?" Gray shrugged. "I find warriors who lack something and I offer them the chance to settle somewhere and practice their trade. I also have scientists and engineers on staff who would accept the same deals. All of them will work for room and board in this world, and I merely take a finder's fee for hooking you up. The moment Franz sets foot on your ship, I have no authority over him."

"I see." Less mercenary, then. More of a hiring agency, as odd as that sounded in the modern world. "I'd like to take you up on his services. But I'll be honest, I'm in a real bind in a lot of categories right now. What do you have?"

"I have alloys and crystals. I have elerium cores. I have the armor and equipment from various ADVENT and alien personnel—and if you have extras in cold storage, I'll happily take them in barter." Gray spread his arms, reciting what must have been a practiced sales pitch. "I also know many people who worked in ADVENT research facilities and want nothing more than to forget what they saw—but instead, they recorded it all in excruciating detail."

"Technical information?" Gallant leaned forward on his cane. "Weapons? Armor?"

"And more." Gray fairly beamed. "I can give you much more than you bargained for. I even have ADVENT burgers."

"Really?" Tygan's head immediately cocked. "I have greatly missed the taste."

"Eyes on the prize, Hamburglar." Gallant couldn't fight the ghost of a smile starting to tickle the corners of his mouth. Maybe they were actually going to make it out of this mess? "I want Schneider, and I want any documentation or specifications you have on powered armor projects, plasma-based weaponry, or advanced explosive designs."

"We have an equipment request from Shen for elerium cores." Tygan checked the datapad. "Central would like to know if you have information on the Chosen as well."

"Ah, those things." Gray whistled. "They're bad for business, no two ways about it. I hear one of them died recently."

"You're welcome." Gallant spread his free arm. "Do we get a discount?"

"That was you?" Gray made a contemplative noise in the back of his throat. "Tell you what. We have some data on the Hunter I can pass along as part of the trade, if you promise to visit unto him what you rendered unto the Warlock. Assuming, that is, you have some proof of your claims?"

"Sure. Tygan, have Junior bring the body out here." If the Warlock's stone-shredded head wasn't enough proof, Gallant didn't know what was.

"Of course, Commander. And, I believe there is the matter of morale to consider." Tygan kept an impressive poker face, typing on the datapad as if he were actually looking at a damn thing on the screen. "I'm certain that a proper shipment of delicious food would do wonders for the situation aboard."

"We're not getting ADVENT burgers. Central will throw a fit." Gallant leaned over to shove Tygan's shoulder. "That's an order."

"Understood, Commander." Oh, yeah, understood. Just like Gallant understood that Tygan would be back out here in his personal capacity to sell Gray his immortal soul and the Avenger's power plant schematics for just a taste of alien McDonalds as soon as Gallant went to bed.

"A shame." And Gray understood the same damn thing, of course. "Well, I will see what I can do for you, Commander. But you are asking for a lot." He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. "Let's see what you know that will make it worthwhile."

"Son of a bitch." Gallant blew air through his teeth. "Alright. So there's this tower, see? It's a ways out but not too far, assuming you like advanced robotics. You've got plenty of magnetic weapons lying around, so it shouldn't be too hard to handle the old derelict MECs that keep guard over the place…"

"Hang tight." Lily Shen put both hands on the elerium core, pressing down with her entire body weight. "Come on, you piece of garbage!"

With a harsh crack, the core snapped into place within the confines of the SPARK II's frame. Green glowed from within, suffusing the power lines and lights running along the body's arms and legs.

"Jesus!" Yue Liang glanced up from where she leaned over a work table, pushing her welder's mask up to scowl. "I thought it was going to blow, Chief."

"So did I, but it went in instead." Lily descended her ladder, dropping to the decking and hurriedly wiping her hands on a discarded rag. How are we looking over there, Liang?"

Liang. Instantly, she regretted the form of address. It still doesn't feel real. And yet it did, doubtless all the more to her sister. I'm a fool.

"It's…looking." Yue hurriedly looked down, diving headfirst into her work with visible aplomb. Lily winced. Yue swept her mask all the way off, pointing to the holes in the back of the suit lying on the table before her. "I've got the basic form together. But our initial power estimations were way below reality. I'm going to need a full core for each suit."

"Ouch." Lily licked her lips. "We have elerium cells, like for plasma weapons—"

"Those will do for Goliath. But here?" Yue's eye twitched. "I won't deny that the tactical capabilities offered by this armor are something out of a dream. But they're power-intensive. Frankly, I think I've worked miracles reducing the needs down to just one core."

"Alright." Shen shook her head. "Julian, let the Commander know we need more cores than I thought."

"Done." The AI's red face appeared on the large monitor between the engineers. "I'm so pleased to be of service as your personal Alexa, Lily. It's just what Father designed me for."

"You jest, but that's kind of true." Lily glanced over her shoulder at the SPARK II. "What do you think?"

"I think…" Julian's monitor beeped and whirred for a long moment, presumably as he ran calculations based off his video feed of the hulking body. "I think I can live with it."

"How's that for a ringing endorsement?" Lily studied the form critically, rubbing her chin. "I'm a little wary of sending you into the field. You've been a miracle worker in this capacity."

"You won't lose my capabilities as an AI. I'll just be able to have fun killing things every now and then." A note of rather human excitement crept into his synthetic voice at the thought. "If you return to work now, there is a seventy-eight point zero-nine-five percent chance that the suit will be ready before the next combat deployment—"

"Alright, keep your pants on." Lily crouched to open up drawers, hunting for various tools. "I need to get the circuitry checked and then upload all the drivers and software you're going to need for combat utility. It'll take a while."

"Might as well get started." Dispassionate and cold, Julian carried right on. "Having lost an entire team, you are in dire need of as many new, competent soldiers as possible."

"Julian!" Shen scowled at his camera. Yue looked down quickly, returning to her work, quiet without calm.

"It is factually correct." But Lily's erstwhile brother did take the hint. "I have completed preliminary design work on projects Flak and Goliath. Which would you like to begin the prototype manufacturing process on first?"

"Welcome aboard, there." Aileen Quinn waited inside the Hangar Bay as Avenger's new guy made his way up. "Captain Quinn."

"Franz." The German offered his hand. Slung over his shoulder was a large bag, but underneath his personal effects protruded the hilt of a well-worn sword.

"Good to meet you." Aileen eyed the blade's red edge for a moment. "I knew someone who would have loved that."

"It has served me well." Franz patted his bag. "As has my shotgun. It is a unique design."

"Is it?" Aileen tossed her head. "Come on, then. Let's get you introduced and set up."

"Danke." Franz followed obediently as Aileen took the pack through the Hangar. His neck craned and twisted, his eyes drinking in his surroundings through his monocled visage as he passed the Skyranger II.

"Franz, Firebrand." Aileen wouldn't force anything else on Lilah, sitting on the edge of her drop bay with feet dangling over the hangar floor, eyes vacant and hair an undone mess. "Good talk."

"She is not well." Franz, voice level, at least waited until they had taken the hallway out from the hangar to speak up. "Forgive me, captain, but I see you are fallen on hard times here."

"Yeah. You could say that." He'd find out sooner or later eventually. "We've lost eight people in three days. Six in the same op."

"My condolences. And the others?" All business. Career soldier, that meant: someone who had seen his share of loss.

"Resignations. There was an…uncomfortable revelation." How to broach this topic? Again, Franz would find out. No sense starting the Secrets Game all over again. "Prior to his rescue, the Commander was under ADVENT's control. They picked his brain and used him like a tactical computer. He controlled ADVENT operations for the last twenty years."

"And your two departures could not continue to work with him in good conscience knowing that." Franz nodded agreeably. "I suppose they are doing what is right by them. One cannot expect more."

"I guess." Aileen paused as they approached a pair of soldiers in the hallway. "Franz. This is Captain Dragunova, and Captain Mox." She pointed to each in turn. "Liasons from the Reapers and Skirmishers respectively."

"A pleasure." Franz saluted precisely. "I have always admired Skirmishers, sir."

"It is appreciated." No such emotion touched Mox's large alien eyes. "As is your bravery in joining us."

"War is what I do. Why fight for bandits and thieves when I could fight for a purpose?" From his tone, Franz had fought for a lot of bandits and thieves. So what? People did what they had to in order to survive. "Besides, a warm place to sleep is a powerful incentive."

"Don't get too cocky. It gets cold here at night." Dragunova sized him up with a glance. "You look capable, Franz. What is the most dangerous alien you have ever killed?"

"Chryssalids. Six of them." His voice dropped even lower than usual, for the first time clouded by a touch of emotion. "They're the stuff of nightmares. Mutons, hell, they're dangerous but they're just like us: soldiers. Sometimes, I figure we have more in common with them than they do with the Elders. They play fair. Chryssalids? They're rabid animals unleashed. So I kill them like animals." Still, he lowered his brown eyes for a moment. "But I admit they frighten me."

"That is good. Fear is not something to be ashamed of, for it drives us into what we are." Mox nodded firmly. "Fear is the body's threat assessment, and if you are not afraid of chryssalids, your threat assessment is malfunctioning."

"Eloquently put." Dragunova offered a cigarette. "Welcome aboard, Franz."

"Danke." He took the stub, producing a lighter of his own and setting to. "I must ask, Captains, what my rank is to be. Do I start from the beginning?"

"Unlikely. You are a capable soldier, from the report Gray sent." Aileen pursed her lips. "It'll be up to Central, but I think we'll sort something out around the Lieutenant mark."

"Very well." Franz inhaled on his cigarette, light flaring on the end. "It was nice to meet you, Captain Dragunova. Captain Mox." He returned his attention to Aileen. "Shall we continue?"

"Of course." Aileen waved him on. Again, she eyed that sword.

Jane would have thought the world of it. She shook the thought out of her head. Jane's fine. She's probably safer than we are!

"Here." Aileen directed Franz past the medbay. "You might spend more time in there than you'd like."

"I have done it before." Franz paused as the door slid open. "Hello."

"Evening." Julie eyed Franz for a long moment. "You're the new guy?"

"Seems that way." Franz saluted. "I suppose I am to be Lieutenant Schneider, at your service."

"That's Magus Julie Richardson." Aileen waited while Julie returned Franz' salute. "She's our senior psi-op."

"Psionic?" Franz' eyebrows went up. "My, my. It truly is an honor, ma'am."

"It's nothing, really." Julie's cheeks flushed gently. "Sylvie's just as good."

"Another psi-op?" Franz nodded slowly. "You are a capable crew, then, here at XCOM."

"We like to think so." Aileen couldn't keep the ghosts of Cameron, Liang, Nui, and the others from filtering at the edge of her mind.

"Well, I'm cleared to come back to service." Julie jerked a thumb back at the medbay. "Finally, that is. I'll be around to help as things go wacky."

"That's good." Aileen nodded authoritatively. "It's good that you could meet Franz, Julie. He'll be available for whatever you need come the next deployment."

"What I need?" Julie blinked.

"Well, yeah." Aileen shrugged. "With Jane gone, you're our senior operative."

Julie stared.

"I'm…" Slack-jawed, she couldn't finish the query. "Aileen?"

"Did Central not talk to you yet?" The blonde frowned. "Huh. Well, I'm sure he or the Commander will get to you in time."

"They will?" Whatever good feelings Julie had nursed after her visit to the medbay were gone now. Stress hit her like a ton of bricks. "Oh, God. They will."

"Are you alright?" Franz frowned. "Magus?"

"I'm, uh…" She wasn't fine. She wasn't really okay, even. Wow.

"We'll give her a minute. Come on, Franz." Aileen beckoned, leading the way on toward the barracks. "Let's introduce you to the rest of the gang."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am." Franz shot another salute as he was led off.

"Uh, likewise." Julie ran a hand through her hair. "Me?"

Senior operative. Jesus, that was the scariest thing she'd ever contemplated, and she'd been the first person to Volunteer! Christ alive, I need to talk to someone in command. To get herself demoted? Well, I don't know.

What else was there? Julie started off, less walking and more jogging toward the elevator for all she was worth. She at least needed to get confirmation before she assumed anything stupid, right? Bradford was always on the bridge, even this late in the night. If he confirmed her new rank, she could convey her worries to him, right?

Maybe not. Bradford was a man of duty. Did anyone ever feel up to a job like this? Julie chewed on her lip in the elevator, hitting the button with the heel of her palm and rubbing at her blood-red hair again. We don't always get a choice. Jane didn't, did she? They just gave her the job, like it seems they're doing with me.

Okay, maybe she had to try and do her best. Who else was going to do it? Aileen or Dragunova probably. They'd do fine, for sure. But the buck had passed to her, and was she really selfish enough to promptly chuck it on one of her friends' shoulders?

No. Julie took a steadying breath. But Bradford can at least confirm the situation and maybe give me some advice on how to approach it. Lord knows I don't want to screw anything up!

The elevator slowed, then stopped. Julie hurried out as the doors opened, spilling into the quiet, darkened bridge. Before Julian, a few techs would have worked even at this hour, but these days, the AI who didn't need to sleep could handle the night watch and wake up anyone he needed if things went sour.

Which didn't stop John Bradford from keeping night vigil, seated before the hologlobe with vacant eyes.

"Central, sir." Julie hurried up the steps to the display platform, sketching a quick but precise salute. "A minute of your time?"

"Sure." Something was off about his voice. He turned to regard her through, bloodshot, exhausted eyes. "Anything, Julie."

"Sir…" Julie examined him for a long moment. "Are you alright, Central?"

"What? Oh." He shook his head. "I'm fine." He kicked something under his chair, which honestly made Julie realize it was there much more than it hid it.

"Have you been drinking, sir?" She eyed the gently rolling bottle on its course to join three more tucked under Bradford's console.

"…yeah." At least he admitted it.

"Sir." Hopefully he had some capacity for rational thought left. "Sir, I just spoke to Captain Quinn. She says I'm the senior soldier aboard."

"Something like that, yeah." Bradford let out a deep sigh. "Figured you'd be by, sooner or later."

"You could have called me up." Julie blinked as Bradford drew a datapad from his pocket.

"Could have." What did it mean that he still hadn't?

"Alright, sir." Clearly he was in no fit state to talk. "I'll, uh, get with you or the Commander in the morning—"

"Have a drink, Julie." Bradford produced another bottle.

"Sir." She spared a glance at the hologlobe. "I think I'd better take over the watch for you so you can get some sleep."

"Julian can handle the watch." Bradford held out the bottle a little more forcefully. "Come on."

"Uh." Who was this man, drinking on duty and trying to convince his soldiers to do the same? Warily, Julie reached out for the bottle. "What's the occasion, sir?"

"Stop calling me that." Bradford's eyes hung dark, heavy, and red. They glimmered faintly in the blue holographic lighting. "I'm happy for you, Julie. You and Sylvie."

"Sir? I mean, uh…" Julie swallowed. "John?" This was uncharted territory, to say the least. Here be dragons.

"I thought…I really thought I…" Bradford's train of thought seemed to run out of track. "You've got a good life. A woman you love, and a kid too."

"Yeah." She would allow that. Julie took a drink, relishing the taste of good pre-Invasion whiskey.

"I hope it lasts." Bradford sighed darkly. "Cameron and Liang had it good too."

"They did." What would it feel like if Sylvie…Julie winced. That thought was too painful to even contemplate. "It'll last."

"I don't know." Bradford suddenly reached out with both hands, seizing Julie's between them. "You're a good woman."

"I'm glad I serve well, sir." Julie frowned. "I do my best to—"

"No! Not a soldier." Bradford's gaze bored into her abruptly, intent and wild and…

"John." Julie reached out to wipe at his cheek. "Are you crying?"

Bradford swallowed harshly, another tear falling from his other eye. "Julie, I…"

"What is this about?" But even as she asked, a dark suspicion flared up deep inside.

"I fucked everything up with Mariah." Sure enough, he tapped the datapad, her face appearing bright and wild in the dark. "I don't want to fuck it up with you. I don't want to."

"John." Julie's voice broke. She laid her hands on his shoulders. "I'm not going anywhere." She licked her lips. "And I'm not…I don't want to replace her. I can't. I won't."

"No." Bradford took another faltering breath. "I'm not trying to replace her. But all that time we spent together, before the Commander…" He exhaled deeply. "I treated her horribly. I treated you more like my daughter than I ever did her."

"Hey." Julie squeezed his shoulders. "Mariah and I worked that out, did you know that? She didn't resent me."

"I almost want to." Bradford dropped his head into his hands. "But I won't fuck this up, not like I did."

"You haven't." Julie turned her head, trying to hide her own pricking eyes. "What brought this on?"

"They're all dead." Bradford had doubtless seen too much death in his time for the latest disaster to be more than a blip on his radar, but in that one cosmic moment, it looked as it every one of the billions of souls humanity had lost since first contact in Germany weighed on his shoulders. "They're all gone, like Mariah. And I never got the chance to tell her how I really felt."

"Oh." That was a good lesson to take from this, wasn't it?

"I love you, Julie." Bradford had to choke the words out through rising tears, fighting his own professional nature with every fiber of his being.

"I…" That was remarkably blunt. Julie hesitated…but he was right. The next mission could be her last, just like it was Cameron and Liang's. "I guess I love you too."

Silence hung on the bridge. Bradford's tears fell without sound, and Julie sniffled gently, trying to suppress her own.

"Well, uh." She squeezed Bradford's shoulder again. "It's late. I'll leave you to your watch."

"Alright." He looked back down at his blood daughter's face, regret haunting his gaze.

I don't know if that was more heartwarming or awkward. Julie slipped into the elevator, sparing another glance over her shoulder at the old man before she hit the button for the psi-lab. He's drunk and exhausted. We're all grieving.

But she still couldn't deny a little twinge of joy at having heard his admission of care. Immediately, guilt came on its heels: who was she, to relish and bask in what Mariah had been denied? Mariah, who had infinitely more of a right to it?

I don't know that it's about having a right. Julie waited as the elevator came to its slow stop, gently and without a sharp jerk. Mariah wouldn't have wanted him to shut everyone else off, would she? No. She just wanted to hear the same words Julie had, and if saying what he meant to Julie made Bradford feel better…

This is a harsh world. Julie entered the psi-labs, waving to Hiroshi where he sat asleep at his desk, some stupid TV show from the 90s blaring in front of his face like always. The man did so little that people probably forgot he was even on the ship—except, of course, for all the boring behind-the-scenes things he did in the psi-lab to ensure Julie and Sylvie could kick ass.

"Hello." Julie said it softly, careful not to disturb Matthias as she entered her and Sylvie's cubicle. It had been expanded recently—another one of Hiroshi's contributions that no one talked about—and while it was still cramped by pre-War standards, it was fairly comfortable aboard Avenger. Julie and Sylvie had a bed to share, there was some furniture for day-to-day activities, and Matthias had his own bed, much too large for him. He slept contentedly in the corner, no lights disturbing his rest.

"Hello." Sylvie's voice came in husky with growing tiredness from the shadows. Julie picked her way past blocks, puzzles, and tablets cast on the floor until she found her way to the bed where her girlfriend lay under blankets, hair scattered in a wild mess across the purple pillows while she rubbed at her eyes. "I have been waiting up for you."

"You didn't have to." Julie winced. "I took my time."

"Oui. And I do not care." Sylvie's hand traced Julie's shoulder as she sat on the bed, undressing and fishing for her soft pajama set. Well, it was mismatched so it wasn't much of a set, but it had started life as two different sets and that was good enough, wasn't it? "The result?"

"I'm cleared to return to duty." Julie lay down, reaching for the sheets. She paused when Sylvie rolled almost over her, pulling the blankets up herself to tuck Julie in. "You're sweet."

"I try." Sylvie tucked her head onto Julie's shoulder, pressing her body in as close as she could. "You are warm."

"You too." Julie rested her chin on her girlfriend's hair, wrapping her arms around her in the darkness.

Silence fell, washing the cubicle in its depth. Julie contemplated darkness and quiet, her eyes vacant and her head full.

I love her. But that didn't seem like enough to say, did it? The words didn't convey the depth of her care. She had to express it, just in case something happened to one of them on their next deployment. If she didn't, and one of them died with it unsaid…

She thought of Bradford with Mariah's picture. Would she cradle one of Sylvie, or vice versa, wishing to have spoken her truth while she had time?

No.

"Sylvie?" Julie's mouth went dry. "Honey?"

"Oui?" Sylvie craned her neck. Her purple irises glimmered in the dark, a perfect mirror of Julie's own.

"Uh." Assassin, chryssalids, mutons and codicies…their intimidation all paled in comparison to Julie's terror. This was too much. She needed to back down while she had a chance.

But what if she didn't come back next time?

"Sylvie Richard, will you marry me?"

Author's Note 80: May I Stand Unshaken Amidst The Crash Of The World

Originally, there was supposed to be another plotline in this chapter, but I feel like this ending just works too perfectly to spoil it by extending into another scene. Julie is one of my favorite characters in the fic, and I've been dreaming of this moment for five years now. For extra fun, the chapter including the proposal is going up on July 13, which happens to be my and my wife's "5-and-10" - 5 years married, 10 years together. Entirely unplanned, but neat nonetheless.

I often wonder what the Gray Market guy does with the intel you provide. I supplied my best guesses in the text above, but something about it seems odd. He takes intel as payment, but gives you supplies in exchange for the goods you over him. The economics don't seem to add up to me, but I'm not an economist so I assume there's some in-world logic to it. From a game design perspective, it's fine though.

Until next time, Vigilo Confido.