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"A leader is a dealer in hope."
~Napoleon Bonaparte
Chapter Ninety-five: Fireside
The sound of one crack, one detonation, one explosion echoed. In the confines of the mess hall, all movement abated, all shouting ceased.
Blue light radiated from the ignited flare, held high over Edward Gallant's head.
"Ladies and gentlemen." He drove his cane into the decking, pulling himself forward on power of will with Tygan and Shen hanging behind him. "There has been an unfortunate mishap in the SHADOW Chamber. Power will be restored shortly, but the time has not yet come."
The explanation was all well and good, but it didn't matter. The sapphire light of Gallant's flare reflected nothing but white faces, panic-stricken eyes, and hollow hearts.
They hung by a thread.
"Doctor." Gallant braced one foot on a bench.
"Yes, Commander." Tygan caught him from behind, boosting him up past the bench until he stood atop the mess hall table.
The hissing fire of his flare crackled in the dark.
"We've lost." Gallant surveyed his soldiers, from Aileen with her knife ready to Meysam still scowling at Cipriano where the two had been wrestling. Franz and Charlotte in the hallway door, Father Giovanni with Fatima and Janet at the far table, Irina nestled alone in the far corner, Volk, Betos, and Geist with their own in the midst of the chaos. On the far end of the hall, Bradford stood in stone-cold silence with Mox and Dragunova, Sylvie framed between them.
In this moment, Gallant had their undivided attention.
"We've lost. A lot." Gallant leaned on his cane, swallowing on a dry throat. "And I speak for us all, doubtless, when I say that if I could lay my life down in the stead of any who have fallen by the wayside, I would do it with cheer and gladness." He breathed out deeply, fighting the shake in his bones and his soul. "But we do them no favors by breaking under the weight we are given.
"We are XCOM. Pain is an old friend and grief is our constant companion. That was true in the Invasion and holds true today. We can't change it, even if we all wish we could." Gallant glanced from one broken heart to the next, feeling the eyes of ghosts upon him as much as those of flesh-and-blood soldiers. "But when we lost those we did, their spirits were not forfeit so long as we maintained our aim to the cause they died for.
"Mistakes have been made, mine chief among them." Gallant held his flare higher, light casting further through darkened corners to illuminate pale faces all around. "Never let it be said I don't know your pain. I fought with everything I had, and I lost. The world you know is only what it is because of my failure. I carry that weight, and always will, but I carry it in confidence that my hour of redemption has come. History will be my judge as surely as it is anyone else's, but if I yield that faith, what do I have left? What do any of us have?"
They watched. They watched with rapt attention, hands falling away from weapons and fists unclenching.
"I know you've suffered, as I have suffered. Maybe more. Who can judge?" He sucked in a preparatory breath. "But you are more than the sum of your traumas. The hour has come to prove it to yourselves as surely as you ever proved it to me. For no matter how harsh the pain you bear…you cannot carry it forever."
Gallant's hand twitched.
His cane landed on the deck below, sliding over almost all the way to Bradford's feet. A slight gasp ran through the mess hall as he stood unaided, towering over them all with burning flare upraised like Liberty and her torch.
Another flare ignited, a second beacon of hope in the sea of bleak darkness. Gallant spared it a glance.
He smiled at Jane Kelly, blazing flare held high over her own head. She smiled back, thin but real.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are leaving this ship while Chief Shen and Julian conduct the necessary repairs to the power core." Gallant fought with every fiber in his body not to waver, to stand as strong as if he were not a broken shell of a man. "Yue, are you fit to assist in the work?"
"Yes, sir!" Yue saluted. "What do you need, Chief?"
"This way." Shen waved, tapping on her tablet. "Still there, Julian?"
"Volk, my people will need warmth and shelter."
"Not used to the hard life, eh?" Volk chuckled. "My people will sort out a camp."
"We will collect stores." Betos waved to her troops. "There will be a feast at the campfires."
"Thank you all." Gallant turned back to his assembled. "I need volunteers to find Firebrand, Hiroshi, and Matthias."
"We'll go." Dragunova put a hand on Sylvie's shoulder. "Mox, take care of Lilah."
"She was in the hangar, last I saw her." Meysam stepped over to Mox's flank. "I'll go with you."
"Charlotte and Aileen, your GREMLINs should still be functioning. Use them to lead our volunteers out when they find their charges. Make sure they don't lose their way in the dark." Gallant's mind worked feverishly. Had he remembered everything? "Take lights from the storage cabinet."
"Here." Bradford tossed a flashlight to Dragunova, then another to Mox. "There should be another cabinet on the far side."
"On it." Franz ripped the box open.
"Now follow me." Gallant eyed the drop from table to floor. He crouched as best he could at the edge, easing himself over–
"Sir." Bradford caught him under the arm, easing him down. He even picked up his cane from the floor. "Idiot."
"Thank you, John." Gallant turned back to his crowd. "Now follow my light. Major Kelly, make up the rear and ensure we don't lose anyone."
"I'll need a pusher." She glanced over her shoulder. "Aileen?"
"Always." The blonde hurried to take Jane's chair handles. "Just say the word."
"The first word is sorry–"
"Come on." Gallant turned for the door. The flashlights of Mox and Meysam moved ahead, hunting for Firebrand, while Dragunova and Sylvie took their own lights into the depths seeking Hiroshi and Matthias.
"Good work, Commander." Bradford hung at Gallant's flank, all but whispering into his ear. "Hell of a speech."
Gallant couldn't help a grin.
Electronics hummed, bearing their repeating message. Julie sat in a swivel chair, her old bolt-action rifle laid across her lap.
I'm not going to sleep. There was no use pretending anymore. She sighed, glancing up at the computer monitors confronting her. No point checking the transmission again either. We've either been found or we haven't.
Either way, someone at Advent would hear it. Either way, there'd be company coming soon.
Let's recap. Julie opened the rifle's breech, checking there was a bullet in the chamber. I have twenty-six rounds for a gun that probably won't even penetrate Advent frontal armor. Hand-fed bullets, at that: nothing as simple as a clip-fed rifle. Maybe she'd been generous in calling it 1940s tech –even First World War rifles had mostly used clips. Had this thing been built back when the Ottoman Empire existed? I have a knife, so that's good. Except my leg's still shit, so I doubt I'll be tackling anyone.
In the vein of her leg, Julie opened that stimulant case. Two more syringes–meaning she had two more spells of semi-mobility without someone carrying her. She'd need to find a good place to shoot from and hold out, which her rifle might not be able to support.
Doubtless that was what the amp was for. Julie checked the device over, from trigger to tines. How much more juice did its elerium core have to spare? No one had thought to put a battery meter on amps, since operatives rarely wound up on their own for weeks.
It could last me until the end. Whatever end that wound up being. Or, it could die the first time I hit it. What was life without a little mystery? Maybe she should have kept that mag-pistol. No, if the enemy gets that far in, Henri has to be able to do something to protect Nathan. Although, if the enemy gets that far in, we're probably all dead anyway.
At least…God, it was a morbid thought, but at least the pistol would prevent Henri and Nathan from going to a blacksite. Jesus.
It won't go that way. Julie put both hands on the counter, groaning as she pushed herself upright. XCOM will come. Sylvie will come.
Her knight in shining armor, doubtless. Julie couldn't help a thin smile at no one in particular, thoughts of her intended flickering through her mind. Things would be at their worst, odds stacked, and then Sylvie would come riding in with a legion at her back, dealing death through Advent's lines with Gallant's voice ringing in her ear. Would Bradford join the fight himself?
God, I hope not. That old man has no business in the field anymore. He'd probably come anyway. Julie chuckled under her breath. He'd better live, at least. I want him to walk me down the aisle.
She left the communications room, limping slowly down the open hallway of the transmission station. A few bundles and boxes lay at various corners, and she took care to avoid anywhere that seemed too heavily engaged.
"I wouldn't go through the left side door." Piotr popped his head out from a ceiling panel. "Big boom."
"We can't have that, can we?" Julie leaned against the wall, nursing her leg while the Ukrainian worked. "How's Operation Home Alone coming?"
"Do not wander without me or Denver. There are a lot of surprises." Piotr waved lazily from above, pulling his head back into the ceiling panel. "Where do you intend to set up?"
"I guess the tower." It was a pretty logical spot for the woman who couldn't move very well. "You take the perimeter, and Denver can shoot from the second floor."
"You will be obvious target. Tower is clear choice for shooting station."
"That's a problem for Future Julie to deal with." She adjusted the rifle hanging off her shoulder. "I still have those shots. I can get myself on the move when fire comes in."
"If you need help, you have but to call."
"Thanks." Julie hesitated. "Hey, we're gonna make it through this. They'll come."
"If we die, we die." Piotr didn't sound resigned, exactly, but he wasn't working himself in a frenzy over things either. "We will bleed them."
"No, we're going to make it out. I want to get married."
"Ha. Don't be so eager." Piotr chuckled under his breath. "Marriage is purgatory."
"Don't be so jaded." Julie scoffed. "I really love her."
"I would question your choices if you did not." Piotr glanced back down. "She is soldier?"
"Oh, yes." Julie pictured her psi-surging muse, grinning widely. "We've fought together several times."
"You know what they say. Couple that fights others together fights each other less." Piotr shook his head bemusedly. "When is this wedding?"
"Fuck if I know. I proposed to her the night before we got separated." Julie sighed. "Fuck it, right when we get back. Waiting around seems stupid."
"Damn right. No time to waste these days." Piotr dropped his hand as low as he could. "Pass me wrench?"
"Wrench." Julie plucked one up from the boxes on the floor. "This one?"
"Exactly." The hand claimed its tool and retracted. "You should sleep. It will get very loud around here soon."
"Funny." Julie spared another glance for all the explosives and other bullshit lying around. "I'll help clean some of this up. Someone walks in and sees big red explosive crates on all sides, they're not going to walk down the–"
"Piotr." Denver appeared at the end of the hall, face grim. "Ah, Miss Julie. Glad I caught you too."
"It's on?" Julie reached for her rifle.
"Seems like it." Denver pointed over his shoulder. "I saw a dropship on the north horizon–and I don't think it was alone."
Firelight flared. Flames crackled and roared at half a dozen bonfires, each one festooned with roasting meat hanging from lines and settled on metal grills.
"Now this, this is a delicacy." Volk passed his latest slab of meat off to Jane where she sat at his side. "Roasted chryssalid by the fire? You couldn't get better eating."
"Are you sure that's safe?" Jane warily eyed the steak he deposited on her paper plate. "I'm not going to sprout zombies?"
"I've made it many times. If prepared wrong, sure, but if you know what you're doing…" Volk reached into a pouch at his side, sprinkling a mix of seasoning over the meat. "You have to trust me on this one, Kelly."
"I don't, but I will." Against her better judgement, Jane took up a fork and knife.
"Not yet." Dragunova appeared over her shoulder, depositing a mix of blue leaves leaking a sapphire sap onto her plate. "There. Now it's fine eating."
"What the hell are those?" Maybe Gallant had lost his mind asking the Reapers to help supply the group. "Do you just carry them around?"
"Alien plants." Dragunova then disappeared, as if that answered anything.
"Thank you, Outrider." Volk positively beamed. "You'll love it, trust me."
"Uh, sure. Thanks." Jane poked the steak with her knife. How disgusting could–
"You've done so much for the Reapers. It's only fitting we repay the favor as best we can." Volk patted her shoulder. "Anything else you need, you name it."
"Oh." Now a bit of shame colored Jane's peace of mind. She may have been disheartened by the gift–but it was a gift, given in good faith. "Thank you, Volk."
"Any time." Then he was back to grilling aliens like a bizarre futuristic update to a suburban dad, waving for the next soldier who had yet to be fed.
Jane rolled away from his fire, bumping over the uneven ground beyond the dark, hulking shape of the Avenger, still groundbound with her engines quiet and still. The flames shone in the shadows beneath her yawning eaves, using the overhanging shape of her engines as overhead protection in case of rain. Not that it seemed like much was coming.
A banjo picked up toward the edge of the gathering. Janet Ross, of all people, sat on a rock plucking away while various soldiers settled on boxes and folding chairs brought out to rind the flames. Sylvie held a marshmallow on a stick over the nearest fire, coaching Matthias through the age-old ritual of crafting smore's. Lilah leaned on a tree not too far away, sipping from a small bottle with the faintest inkling of a smile on her lips.
In spite of everything, this didn't feel like hiding during emergency repairs. It almost felt…happy. Like a vacation, a detour from war and death.
"Major Kelly." Precise and formal, one man appeared from the darkness, extending a hand.
"Thank you, sir." She didn't quite take the drink, though. "I, uh, need both hands to–"
"Say no more." Franz pressed the red solo cup into her grip, taking the back of the chair. "Where would you like to go?"
"I…" Jane inhaled deeply. "Is Aileen somewhere?"
"She's with Irina. Over here." Franz began to push. "Or do I misunderstand?"
"No, no. That's right." Jane coughed, more for nerves than to clear her throat. "I might have gotten off on the wrong foot with you."
"No apology is necessary, Major. Times have been hard."
"That's my problem, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you." Jane inhaled the scent of roasting alien and many other meats. "I appreciate your understanding, Captain."
"It is nothing. War is hell, but tonight we are not at war."
"You really aren't so bad, are you?" Jane chuckled in the base of her throat.
"I am a biased source."
"At least you admit it." But then she had to take a steadying breath as Franz rolled her up to the next fire, where Irina and Aileen sat over a deck of cards, plates set off to the side while they sized each other up. "Thank you, Captain."
"Anytime, Major." Franz returned to the shadows, leaving Jane alone with her erstwhile friends.
"Hey." She mustered the best smile she could.
"Evening." Irina saluted with metal fingers.
"Thank you." Jane met her gaze. "You saved my life." She glanced over at Aileen. "Well, both of you."
"If it was me…" Aileen shrugged. "You'd have been the first one on the ground."
"One hundred percent." Jane cleared her throat again. "I'm sorry for…um…" She coughed. "I've kind of been…"
"Go on." Aileen leaned back, one eyebrow arching. "I like watching this."
"You bitch." Jane glared.
"Takes one." Aileen stuck her tongue out.
"That's…not wrong." Jane looked down. "Sorry."
"Hey. Life sucks, then you die." Aileen reached out to pat Jane's arm. "We can deal you in if you'd like."
"Sure." Jane hesitated. "Do you still have your datapad?"
"Doesn't have the best battery life, but I can make it work." Aileen reached for her drink. "Taking me up on the offer?"
"As best I can." Jane finally cut a slice of her chryssalid steak. "The stupidest movie you can find. Let's get hammered and laugh at it all night."
"I approve." Irina threw her drink back. "Welcome back, Jane."
"Yeah." Jane managed a smile. She took a deep breath, chancing a bite.
After a moment, she couldn't help nodding in surprised admiration.
"I imagine it was some sort of failsafe protocol. The codex must have intentionally overloaded the interface and shut off the power core to prevent any further theft of information." Tygan tapped on his datapad, scrolling through the fruits of his labor. "Still, I believe I was one step ahead."
"That's…an enormous amount of data." Gallant whistled softly, not even bothering to try and read any of what Tygan was showing off.
"Yes. And I imagine it will take some time to decipher."
"When the power's back, get started." Gallant shook his head, remembering the codex's detonation. "We're not doing that again."
"I'll prepare the necessary research." Tygan spared Gallant a glance. "I also suggest we look into those coordinates."
"If Shen can reconstruct them." Still, it was a lead. "Good work, Tygan. Get yourself something to eat."
"I confess that I am not overly enamored of the options tonight." Still, he shut off his datapad. "But the order is received."
"It's not Advent burgers, but it'll keep the fire lit." Gallant could barely contain his glee as he surveyed the scene. Hope, light, life, love…there was spirit here, and maybe it was here to stay.
"Commander." Bradford appeared from the darkness. More worrying, he had Geist, Volk, and Betos in tow. Hell, even Shen appeared, ROV-R lighting the way for her with his enormous glowing eyes.
"Oh boy." Just when he'd been about to fetch himself a drink. "What's on fire now?"
"Julie." Bradford turned his own datapad around, showing a marked island in the Aegean. "She's transmitting from here. And we aren't the only ones who'll pick it up."
"Advent." Alright, a lead was a lead. "Then we get her."
"Commander." Tygan didn't sound happy. "The Chosen Hunter."
"We'll go after him later. Our own take priority."
"Commander, I don't know that this is wise." Geist pursed his lips. "The Hunter will not be blind to the security risk Jane Kelly posed. If he is given time to recover, he will change his defensive fortifications. We may lose the opportunity if we do not press our advantage."
"That's…" Shit. Gallant rubbed his jaw.
"Geist, Richardson is one of our own." Volk scowled. "We can't leave her behind."
"Damn right." Bradford nodded sharply. "We went for the Commander, we went for Jane. We'll go for Julie too."
"Do not let personal attachment cloud your judgment." Geist still shook his head. "The Chosen, the Elders' pets, are our great enemy. If they are left to run free, we will continue to suffer setbacks."
"He makes a compelling point." Tygan shrugged when Bradford glared. "I merely speak logically, Central."
"This Vox Prima has hunted my kind for years upon years." Betos' face contorted, as if almost sickened by the calculation forced upon her. "I feel for you, Bradford. I do not wish to leave anyone behind. But the war may turn on this chance we now possess."
"Betos!" Volk crossed his arms. "My people went for Mox."
"And we are grateful. But if it was a choice between asking for his recovery and asking for the Hunter's death, we would not have expected you to abandon progress for sentimentality." She sighed. "I hate that this choice is forced on us. But what do we profit if we save one soldier and pass on a chance to tilt the war in our favor?"
"That's not the point." Shen shook her head stubbornly. "Julie just sent up a huge beacon to Advent forces across Europe. She's inviting death if we don't save her. It's now or never."
"And the same is true of the Hunter's lair." Geist's face softened. "Do not think me indifferent, but there are greater questions to answer."
"Okay." Gallant held out a hand. "Let's break this down for a moment. We save Julie, we keep our word to Sylvie and we bring Julie back aboard."
"But we potentially lose our shot at the Hunter forever." Tygan sure knew how to lighten the mood.
"Whereas if we go after him, we might take him out of the war, but we lose Julie."
"Commander!" Horror lit up Bradford's eyes. "Sylvie would never forgive us."
"Why not do both?" Shen spared a glance around the assembled firelight council. "One team to Greece, another to the Hunter's lair."
"That sounds like a proper path to take." Betos nodded. "I support this idea."
"Chief Shen, that's not going to work." Volk scowled. "You'd be deploying all twelve of your combat-capable soldiers at once."
"We have fourteen with Junior and Julian."
"The entrance we know of to the Hunter's sanctum is located in Canada." Tygan shook his head. "Avenger would have to fly the Atlantic to deploy a strike team, and at the same time, a team would have to deploy to Greece. Firebrand could not support both operations."
"Which means only one would have any chance of extraction." Bradford nodded. "And that's only geography. The Commander can't manage two forces at once."
"Fuck." All good points." Gallant ran a hand through his hair.
"Commander?" Volk lit a cigar, eyes boring into Gallant's soul.
Julie, or the Hunter? The Hunter, or Julie? And what if the op didn't work out? Jesus. Gallant shifted his weight back and forth.
"Give me five minutes." He took a steadying breath. "I'm going to walk the perimeter. I'll have an answer when I get back."
Author's Note 95: The Devil And The Deep Blue
The game makes you make hard choices at times, but rarely does it apply things like reputational damage or other soldiers losing faith as consequences. Here, Gallant is balancing a rescue mission and his chance to strike the Hunter's lair–which I honestly wish was a time-limited mission, as much as in a gameplay sense it benefits me more often than it doesn't that I can wait.
Only one more chapter of setup to go before we hit the season finale proper. At the end of this long season of trials, setbacks, failures, and losses, which path do you think Gallant's going to choose?
You'll find out next time. Vigilo Confido.