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"Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty."
~John F. Kennedy
Chapter Eighty-one: Rising Storm
"Congratulations, Magus." Gallant nodded to her other half. "You too, Disciple."
"Thank you, sir." Sylvie nearly glowed, joy radiating from purple eyes. "I was very surprised."
"I think we all expect the unexpected from Miss Richardson." Gallant gave her a searching look. "Will it be Richardson, or Richard?"
"I don't know." Julie mulled that one over. "We'll talk it out. Maybe no one will change her name!"
"Fair enough." Gallant knew as little about weddings as he knew about living a happy and peaceful life, but the morale opportunity this presented was one of the best gifts anyone had ever handed him. "I'll get Central planning a ceremony. Get with him about what you want, and he'll make sure Tygan, Shen, and myself can arrange it as necessary."
"That's too kind, sir." Julie's cheeks flushed. "We just need Father Giovanni and five minutes—"
"I won't argue if that's your genuine preference, but don't you want to celebrate?" Gallant chuckled. "Come on, now. We'll pull out all the stops."
"You don't have to." Julie winced a moment later. "Ah!" Her cheeks flushed again. "I mean, we're honored, truly. And we'll be sure to talk to Central as soon as we're done here."
"Of course." Gallant winked at Sylvie, whose grin only grew. There were a lot more kicked ankles in Julie's future, most likely, but would she have it any other way?
This could be the break we need. It could also backfire badly. Lilah would have a hard time with it. Or would she? I don't know, but it's worth trying for. If we do nothing, nothing changes, and morale hangs by a thread after Scotland and Jane.
"Think about whether you'd like Father Giovanni to perform the ceremony." Gallant examined the two idiots in love again, heart panging as he thought of Moira left behind on that awful little island. "If not, we can speak to the Resistance proper about arranging some other form of service." Cameron, Lilah, and Liang again flitted into his mind. "And, ah, although it is a myth that sea captains can legally perform weddings, no one really cares about legal status anymore, so I'd be willing to—"
"Commander." Bradford's icon appeared on Gallant's terminal. "We have an incoming transmission. Your eyes only."
"Of course we do." Fear flushed down through Gallant's veins. What else was going wrong now? "My apologies, ladies, but duty calls."
"Of course, sir." Julie rose, Sylvie close on her heels. "We won't disturb you any further."
"We are both available if you need soldiers." Sylvie protectively linked arms with her girlfriend—no, her fiancée.
"Ah." Was Gallant supposed to send the happy couple off into the fires right after hearing this news? Maybe there were worse ideas, actually. If he could trust any two soldiers to work together like clockwork, like a well-oiled machine, like a pair of assholes who actually gave a damn about the person covering their left flank, it would be these two dimwits. "Keep yourselves ready. Dismissed."
"Sir." They saluted quickly. Then, one by one, the redhead and her checkerboard black-and-white haired lover disappeared from Gallant's office.
"Incredible." In the old world, he'd have kicked them both off his ship for being so close to each other despite Duty calling. In the new world? "We don't deserve them."
But then, of course, came Duty's call. More accurately, the Shadow Man's.
"Hello, Commander." His darkened visage covered Gallant's screen as soon as he tapped the proper icon. "I presume you have visited Gray?"
"Odd fellow. But we picked up a hired gun." Gallant kept his opinions about that firmly to himself. "Got some information on weapons technology too. Shen is in the manufacturing stage on our own variations of basic plasma weaponry, and she's got a couple suits of what she calls Warden Armor rolled out and ready."
"That is good to hear." The Shadow Man nodded once. "I am glad to see XCOM is getting back on its feet. I had high hopes for the Resistance under your leadership, Commander, and you have outdone yourself."
"I hope so." Gallant would believe it when he saw it, or more likely not even then.
"I have information that may provide a further assistance for you." Shadow Man tapped on his datapad. Coordinates appeared, along with more tactical data. "Betos has confirmed to me that an affiliated operative of the Skirmishers was separated from them in Cairo. This individual is a talented psionic warrior currently on the run from ADVENT pursuers. If you can recover him, he would be a great asset to your operations."
"I see." A third psi-op? Sounded like a dream come true. And yet, Gallant hesitated. "How strong is the opposition?"
"I do not know precisely, but ADVENT has assigned multiple units to the operation. They are working to close off the skies over Egypt as quickly as possible. Interceptors will be scrambled from their bases in Sicily and Crete within the hour." Shadow Man eyed Gallant from within that cloud of darkness and judgment. "Time is of the essence."
"I bet." Gallant blew air through his teeth. Indecision, fear, worry—they gnawed at him deep below, weakening his will and sabotaging his better judgment.
If things go wrong here, we're in deep trouble after Scotland. But this was what ADVENT wanted, wasn't it? Gallant hesitant, afraid, overly paranoid. He'd been doing damage to them before, which meant he had to get back in the goddamn saddle before ADVENT could capitalize on his being bucked in the first place.
"I'll get these coordinates to Central." Gallant wasn't sure of his decisions any more than he usually was, but he'd made his now, and there was nothing to be gained by second-guessing them. "I'll have a team on the ground within thirty minutes."
"Excellent. Good luck, Commander."
"Yeah." Gallant pushed himself upright, not even looking as Shadow Man disappeared. "Fuck you too, man." He keyed his comm. "Central, this is Gallant. Alert Julie to prepare a squad and get Firebrand warming up her bird."
Jane kept her hood up, coat wrapped tightly around her as she poked down the streets of Toronto's better district. The brim of her cap protruded from under the hood, casting shade over her face. She'd done herself up with as much makeup as she could find, shadowing her eyes, brightening her cheeks and her lips, and even hunting down dye to turn her hair black for a few days.
"Lovely," Irina had said. "Good job. You are beautiful now. No one would mistake you for Jane."
Bitch.
Easy. Jane tried to breath normally, filling her mind with memories of a lifetime spend infiltrating and raiding places that didn't like either activity. She passed ADVENT soldiers watching the streets, posted in a loose ring around the gene therapy clinic while scanner towers did their thing looking for any insurgents with big scary weapons. False ID?
She scanned her tag at a tower when she passed under it. The chip blinked green. Okay, that was good. She didn't speak ADVENT, but half the people in the cities didn't, so that wouldn't be her undoing. All her Bad Things were kept in her bag, which was full of decoy items so that it wouldn't reveal its important contents and also wouldn't be obviously shielded.
"Mor balaten!" A soldier held up his hand as she approached the clinic. Jane froze, raising her hands into plain sight as he made his way up to her.
"I don't speak it, sir." She had to force the honorific out, but it was in the name of the mission. "Sorry."
"Hmph." The soldier checked her ID. He examined her face for a moment, consulting his datapad. Jane's eyes flicked down to his screen.
WANTED: Jane Kelly. And holy hell was that a good picture of her. Jane's blood ran cold as the trooper held the datapad up, comparing her to herself for a long moment.
I could kill him with my knife. She hadn't dared bring the sword along, as it would be too obvious. A shot would alert more. But killing a guard so close to the clinic would just—
"Butts." With no further ado, the soldier waved her along. Jane blinked.
"Oh, uh, thank you." She ducked her head, fairly scrambling to get past him. God damn Irina and her hurtful but apparently very accurate commentary. Jane kept her head down as she moved along the street, trying not to hurry too obviously on her way over the crosswalk and toward the gene clinic.
He was looking right at me. Was it a trap? No, if it was a trap, ADVENT would have to know exactly what she was doing. That would require Irina to be a traitor. Was she? Shut up, Jane. That's like asking if Aileen's a traitor.
She had absolute faith in Irina. That didn't change her paranoia as she entered the clinic, going from white, clean streets to a sterilized interior replete with soft colors and comfortable chairs.
"Hello, there." The man at the desk picked his head up as she came in. "Do you have an appointment?"
"Uh, no." Jane approached the counter, eyes darting left and right for side doors or other entrances. She spotted three, but there would only be time to explore later. "I was hoping to make one."
"Of course." The man opened his terminal. "What seems to be the problem?"
"I'm, uh." Jane honestly hadn't thought this far ahead. "I'm…well…" Her mind fairly blanked. "Uh…"
"A personal issue?" He glanced up at her, eyes soft and gentle. "Don't worry, we don't judge here. We're here to help."
"Oh, uh, yes. Very personal." Jane swallowed on a dry throat. "I was, uh, hoping to get a…fertility treatment." That was idiotic. He was never going to believe that!
"Ah, yes, we do that all the time." He consulted his terminal while Jane tried to surreptitiously let out a sigh of relief. "How soon are you looking to be seen?"
"I'm not too particular." At least he didn't suspect anything! "Anytime. What do you have?"
"Let's see…" He scrolled through his terminal, suggesting dates and times. Jane hemmed and hawed each time, more comfortable now with her list of pre-planned excuses and stories.
"Okay, the twelfth then." She finally nodded after close to ten minutes of talking back and forth. "Noon?"
"Sure thing." This man didn't look at all fazed by her indecision. Something was off about him, something that made Jane's skin crawl. That smile hadn't left his face since she walked in the building, but there was no light in his eyes. Had the aliens done something to him?
I don't want to think about it. But Jane would, probably for a long time.
"Fantastic. There will be no charge." He offered his hand. "If you'd like a reminder, I can put it on your datapad."
"Oh, no thank you. I'm good with dates." Still, Jane let him scan her false ID, pinching on her lanyard string as he did. It came back clear, declaring her name as Jenny O'Hare in bright bold letters.
The pinch also activated the hacking program it uploaded to his terminal, adding her name to the employee ID list with a full clearance and setting a loop on the camera footage.
"Have a lovely day. Only together can we build a better tomorrow." Unaware of the virus eating away at his workplace, the unfortunate worker returned to his business.
"Thank you." Jane pulled back, pulling out her datapad as she headed to the door.
DOWNLOAD COMPLETE, it alerted her. It had been running the entire time, connecting to the clinic's mainframe while she vacillated on dates and hacking in with another slicer chip to deliver her full schematics and any manual passcodes for the building that her ID wouldn't now cover.
Excellent. Jane paused to duck into the restroom. She shed her coat and pants as quickly as possible, chucking them into a stall and returning to the mirror. It only took a minute to freshen up her look, smoothing out the dark shirt and form-fitting, stylish pants she'd wornm underneath and pulling a pair of fashionable heeled boots out of her bag to complete the look. She hid her cap, releasing her hair from its ponytail and letting it poof around her shoulders. Finally, she put on a pair of round glasses.
The woman who left the bathroom was not Jane Kelly. This was Jenny O'Hare, who strode confidently to the first door she could find and tapped her ID without so much as a glance for the receptionist, now busy with what seemed to be an intense phone call in the ADVENT language. Jane, or Jenny, she supposed, pushed the door open as soon as the lock chimed its acceptance of her hacked credentials, hurrying in before she could be spotted.
Confidence. Most humans, at least, would assume someone who acted like she belonged did in fact do so. Jane did her best to strut, thinking managerial, authoritative thoughts as she passed a pair of workers in white lab coats, both busy explaining to an ADVENT soldier in a scarlet uniform something about the aftermath of a battle in Scotland.
I hope we kicked their asses. Jane wasn't going to stick around to find out, but she could hope. At least Gallant's trying to make up for the blood on his hands.
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough to absolve him of the role he'd played in ending humanity. But Jane could at least appreciate that he was putting some work in.
Here. According to her schematics, there was a major support column in the back room, right in the middle of an elerium storage center. Jane made her way there as quickly as possible, stumbling every dozen or so steps. I like how the shoes make me look, but yikes. I couldn't run and gun in these! But they sell the idea that I'm from the city center, so I'll have to figure it out.
Another tap of her ID opened up access to the storage room. Jane descended a thin flight of stairs, now in a darkened chamber instead of pristine white. She hurried past rows of elerium cylinders, doubtless used in the gene modification itself, and located the prime structural support column.
Taking this out will bring the roof down. That'll set off the elerium in here, and the whole building should go up from there. It would also bury and cave in any underground portions of the facility, which wouldn't break Jane's heart. She opened her bag, crouching by the column and producing the last of her personal supply of X4.
Brings back memories. The blacksite in Switzerland loomed in Jane's mind as she worked, stringing explosives along the column. We did a good thing for those people. I wish we could have done more—but what I'm doing today is attacking the source of the problem head-on. Everyone who would have been taken from this clinic is being saved today as a result of this explosive charge.
The aliens would rebuild it. They always did. The war went on.
Remember when it seemed like this time was different? Her efforts slowed as Gatecrasher came to mind: helping the old man with what he assured her would be the raid to start a real war. I miss them.
That was a strange thought. Jane rose, admiring her handiwork even as her mind tried to untangle that knot. Gallant was an asshole and a murderer. She couldn't miss him!
He was kind at times. Not that that made up for anything. Jane scowled as she set the timer for three minutes: hopefully enough time to get out and away. She hit the trigger, watching it count down to 2:59. I can't forgive what he did. The man did more damage to us than he ever provided help.
Something hummed in the far end of the room. Jane paused, glancing across with one hand falling to the knife tucked in her bag.
What is that? She examined what she had assumed to be just another door. The thing was, this one glowed purple around the edges, humming with energy. Jane chanced a step in its direction. Looks like something psionic. I should give it a look before—
The door hissed open. Jane froze, eyes drinking in a chamber beyond, source of that purple light.
It looks like… Her heart jumped into her throat. It looks like the Warlock's lair. But different.
She'd found a Chosen stronghold.
"Who are you?" She also stood face-to-face with an ADVENT general, gilded armor shining as she bore down on Jane, bald alien head a mess of shock. "What are you doing back here?"
"Firebrand." Julie clambered into the Skyranger's drop bay, checking her plasma rifle before letting it rest on its strap in front of her. "How are you holding up?"
"I am." Lilah sat quietly in the pilot seat, one hand on the stick in almost robotic fashion. "Tell me when to take off."
"Alright." Julie fought the urge to hug the pilot. Maybe later, but now?
I wish I could provide solace to her. Maybe there was some kind of power she could practice to help with that? Regardless, it didn't matter now.
"Take care of Matthias for us!" Sylvie waved out from the bay. Hiroshi waved back from a safe distance, holding Julie and Sylvie's ward up to watch his caretakers mount up.
Hopefully not for the last time. Julie tried to do unto that thought as the Mongols had done to Genghis Khan's body: bury it deep, stampede a herd of wild horses over the site, then execute all the slaves and soldiers involved and burn the maps.
"Okay, team." This was usually Jane's thing, or Central's. Julie swallowed as all eyes in the craft turned to her—Sylvie she could handle, but the others? Father Giovanni, all somber with his magnetic cannon in his lap, Franz patient with cold detachment, and Janet Ross with her wild Templar-power already crackling over her gauntlets before she'd even charged into battle? Even ROV-R Junior's SPARK eyes seemed judgmental.
"We've, uh, got someone we need to get." Julie's mouth was dry. "Commander says the VIP is a new recruit, a very capable one. But he's got bad guys on his trail, right? So we, like, go in and engage. Shooty-shooty." She chuckled, and rather than a natural pause it very much sounded forced. "SHADOW Chamber estimates we're up against vipers, troopers, maybe some mutons and archons. Shouldn't be too dramatic, right?" Well, that was a stupid thing to say. "I mean, it won't be. We're a good team. Everyone here is a veteran." Julie's cheeks heated. This wasn't going well. "We get paradropped in there, and uh, kick some ass. Move fast, try not to get separated. Follow, um, follow my lead as we grab the guy and yeet ourselves the hell out of dodge."
Silence greeted her. Junior beeped, the sound altogether damning in the quiet.
"Uh, right." Julie forced a smile. "We got this, guys!"
"Yes. We have this!" Sylvie managed a smile of her own. "We'll be fine."
"I'm sure." Janet's eyes hung dark anyway. Losing Anne must have been hard for her.
"It will be what it is." Father Giovanni nodded serenely. "We must have faith."
"When mutons start blasting at our line, you can keep your faith, Father. I'd rather have my shotgun." Franz patted the unusual weapon affectionately. "No offense."
"None taken, my son." And for his part, the Father looked like he actually meant it.
Oh boy. Julie spared a glance over her shoulder. Lilah still sat in her place, barely moving. She might have been crying behind her helmet, but what was there to say or do? Janet was somber, Franz detached…the entire crew would be watching this op, watching to see if they met the same fate as Liang's team.
We won't. But how did Julie know? We won't because I will not allow it to happen. This is my first operation in command. As the senior soldier on the entire ship, at that. The idea was terrifying in its implications.
I will not bring any one of them home in a body bag. Julie burned that thought into her brain front and center. If everything is going to shit, I will personally drag us back into the light if that's what it takes. Nothing is too far.
"Let's go." She rapped Lilah's shoulder gently. "Pick us up. We've got a dude to extract."
"Identify yourself!" Din Dourde put a hand on her pistol, eyes fixed on the human standing with wide eyes in the storeroom of the Hunter's sanctum access clinic. Had she noticed the vortex of the door?
"Jenny O'Hare!" The woman held her hands up, catching the lanyard of her ID tag with her thumb to hold it out. "I'm sorry, General. I was here to make an appointment and got lost."
"This is a restricted area." Dourde took the ID chip, scanning it with her gauntlet computer. "And you are clearly…"
Approved. The computer placidly unveiled a list of details. Two children, living with husband and sister in Ottowa…
"Why here?" This was very confusing. Dourde turned the concept over in her head. Should she call the Hunter to resolve it?
No. I can handle this sort of thing myself. After all, it's what I was made to do. That thought would have wrung a chuckle out of her under other circumstances.
"We had a schedule conflict with our local clinic." Miss O'Hare managed a tight smile. That was suspicious.
Well, she's just been cornered by a soldier. Maybe it was the Hunter's influence, but Dourde was seeing a lot of shades of gray lately, moreso than ever before in her life. I'm sure she is nervous. She could be Angelis' girlfriend and she'd still be worried about what I intend to do!
That was an impious thought. Best to bury it, most likely, and pretend she'd never had it.
"What led you all the way back here?" Dourde scowled. "This is a restricted area!"
"I'm sorry! I got lost." O'Hare dropped her eyes. "My husband says it happens a lot."
Apparently. Her ID record had six mentions of her stumbling into places she wasn't supposed to, and every time it had been determined, in one case by the Warlock himself, that she was nothing more than an airhead. That was odd, since the Warlock was pretty vindictive, but if even he thought Jenny O'Hare was simply a moron, that was probably a point in her favor.
"You…" Dourde let out a long sigh. "You cannot keep doing this, Miss O'Hare. Sooner or later, someone less tolerant is going to drag you to a cell."
"I'm sorry. I'll try." Well, at least the woman didn't promise anything.
"Just keep your husband with you next time." Hopefully he had a better head on his shoulders. "Wait." She spared a glance over her shoulder. "Did you see anything past that door?"
"No, ma'am." O'Hare shook her head quickly. "I had just turned around. I figured I went the wrong way again."
"No lie?" Dourde finally let go of the ID. Scotland had been war, and thus fair, but what was this? This woman couldn't defend herself. She was no danger to Dourde, and unlikely to be one to the Hunter. There was no sport in this hunt, was there? "Get out. I'll be watching your record now, Miss O'Hare. If I see one more incident pop up—"
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am." O'Hare ducked her head, in supplication or shame or both. She backed up for the door, tottering on her heels. "You'll never see me again, ma'am."
"See that I don't." Dourde rolled her eyes as the woman fled, leaning on the wall for support. "By the Elders. What a fool."
Dourde rubbed her forehead for a long moment. Humans! It was like they had no concept of common sense or security, wasn't it? Why, it was almost like…
Wait a minute. Dourde glanced down at herself. Her rank wasn't listed anywhere on her uniform. Would someone so airheaded as to get lost seven times in restricted areas really know enough to recognize a general by the cut and color of her armor alone?
Maybe. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility, especially given O'Hare's repeated run-ins with the law. But still.
"Security." She lapsed into her native tongue as she keyed her comm, turning for the corner that woman had been in when she arrived. "I need footage of Hallway B. I'm looking for an individual, female, known as Jenny O'Hare. Sending her ID now." She tapped the upload key.
"What is the cause?" asked one of her compatriots. "And what do you wish done?"
"Isolate her. I want to take her in. Just a hunch."
"A…hunch?" Her fellow soldier's voice wavered, like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "General, is there a tactical code that—"
"Do it, soldier. That's an order." Dourde hung up with a murmured growl. "Help these days…"
Elders. I sound just like him. She did, didn't she? What's next, I wonder? Taking up a sniper rifle and revolver? Actually, that sounded quite appealing. Maybe I can—
Dourde came face-to-face with a block of gray explosive pasted to the central support column.
Oh, by the Elders! Her eyes widened, fixed on the timer.
And the bright red 0:02 on its display.
Detonation came in a sudden roar, blasting fire and smoke through the roof of the gene clinic and up into the sky like a funeral pyre. Secondary blasts rippled through the building as elerium canisters detonated, spewing fire and gas throughout the complex. Windows shattered for blocks around.
Jane threw herself prostrate behind a bench, covering her head as fire washed out from the building, hurling fragments of glass before it. She didn't bother fighting a scream—everyone around was doing it, so why not? It helped her blend in. Just an instant later and she would have been caught in the blast.
But I wasn't. Thanks to a slightly gullible general and Irina's foresight hacking her false ID, she'd made it out in the nick of time. Jane picked her head up, eyeing the smoking crater that had once been an ADVENT installation. Had once been the entrance to a Chosen's lair.
It was still there. The Warlock's lair had been somewhere…else, away from the entrance complex. The Hunter or Assassin's lair was no different, it couldn't be. So whichever Chosen she had just buried in, they'd be back sooner rather than later. Still, it had to be a pain for ADVENT to have their clinic blown up.
And it didn't seem like there were any people inside who weren't affiliated with them. If there were, Jane mourned them, but she didn't regret her actions. It sucked ass, but people died in war. David hadn't deserved to die, nor Mariah or Zhang, but so they did anyway.
Get moving. Staying close to such a scene was a recipe for disaster. Jane pushed herself up, making a show of clutching her arm and hobbling away from the blast, pitching her voice high to call for an imaginary husband. She'd go a few blocks, then ditch the hobble and hurry(insofar as she could hurry in heels!)back to her and Irina's apartment. If everything had gone to plan, Irina had left shortly after Jane with her own equipment, set to linger in Toronto for a few hours then do a quick pass by the wreckage to make sure everything had gone well.
I just have to grab my arc blade and change my clothes. Get the other fake ID Irina made. Then it would be off, south of the border into the old USA to continue the good fight. God, I miss Firebrand.
Author's Note 81: I Don't Work Here Lady
I feel like ADVENT soldiers would be pretty easy to confuse. Tactical flexibility is not their strong suit, so they have to be adherent to pretty rigid codes. Know the codes, and you know what you can get away with. Doubtless they'll adapt, but playing dumb would probably get you quite far. But any officer other than Dourde would have tried to take Jane in, of that I'm sure. Being aware of nuance has drawbacks as well as benefits!
And we all know how Gallant's feeling here. We've all had missions go to shit, had total disasters throw us back on our heels, and then had another freaking mission come two seconds later. We can all empathize with Gallant's nerves and his tension, and I'm sure you all do wonder if it's warranted or not. You'll find out next time!
Until then, Vigilo Confido.