The Council's Directive

Scotland, Wilderness

Cerian Irelan took a deep breath and steadied the rifle. With the sun behind him illuminating the target, the shot was clear. Not wasting another moment, he fired. The shot rang out across the valley and the dummy fell over, a new hole in its "head."

Rising from one knee, he appraised his handiwork in the fading sunlight. Frowning, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and began walking down the hill. Shooting at dummies was never as satisfying as something living. Hunting season wasn't here yet, so he had to make do with inanimate objects.

Granted, he did do his best to make it challenging and interesting. Challenging by placing the dummies at absurd distances or picking easily damaged objects such as plates or glass bottles. But even then, it was only a few sessions before he became bored due to it being so…lifeless.

But such was his life now.

His not-inconsiderable personal wealth, a reward for his service, allowed him to purchase the highest quality gear possible. Which he invested in quite regularly, although his usage of the weapons was limited to…this. Ah well, luckily, he had other hobbies and now had all the time in the world.

Unless the aliens conquered Earth of course, which was a distinct possibility. But given how one of those massive dreadnaughts had been recently shot down, it appeared the UN had things under control, more or less. He smirked in recollection, though he imagined that even the UN would find something to complain about that. But such was the result of working with such a diverse coalition;

no one was ever satisfied. Anyone working with them just had to roll with it.

Personally, he hoped a small alien ship would touch down around here. It was a nice quaint area, perfect for some extraterrestrials to conduct some…operations in peace, or whatever the aliens called them. And if his little project worked out, they might just come down to investigate and probably provide him with the most excitement he'd had in years.

Reaching the dummy, he grasped it in his hands and raised it back up. Lightly brushing the head to remove some of the dust, he nodded in satisfaction. Regardless of the lack of challenge, it was always satisfying to see a nice bullet hole between the eyes.

His ears perked as a loud crack from a branch sounded behind him. Drawing his pistol, he whirled around aiming at the direction of the noise, then sighed when he saw the man calmly staring him down.

Dressed in the military uniform of a UN Peacekeeper, consisting of the familiar dark and light blue camouflage patterns, the only indicator of his rank was a row of badges on the upper left chest. At least he wasn't wearing one of those ridiculous bright blue pieces of headgear that the UN was so fond of.

He did wonder who'd been the genius to commission that particular color. No doubt the brass thought they were doing such a good thing by making the soldiers stand out so much. The official line was that they would be recognizable easily as the "good guys." Which essentially meant that they didn't want people in meaningless third-world countries attacking them who had no clue who the UN actually was.

However to quite a few in NATO, along with himself, the obnoxious uniforms essentially screamed "I am your enemy. Shoot me now!" Especially to a sniper like him. Drawing attention to yourself was idiotic and even the thugs the Peacekeepers were sent to fight were able to figure at who to shoot at. Luckily they were a bit more lenient with their intelligence agents.

"I wouldn't sneak up like that," he warned, keeping his pistol at the ready. "You're lucky I looked before shooting."

Patrick Rush looked unimpressed. The UN liaison had a gift for always remaining collected. It was easy to see how he'd risen so quickly in the Peacekeepers. A shame he'd left when offered the position of liaison, he'd have been an excellent officer. He did have a bit of amusement glinting in his brown eyes as he appraised Cerian calmly. It was hard to believe he was almost forty; his black hair didn't have any gray and his lean face was flawless.

"But you did," Patrick responded, walking up and observing the dummy. "I knew that, so I didn't see the need to worry."

Cerian snorted. "Next time I won't look."

"Really," Patrick drawled. "Then how will you hit me?"

Cerian raised an eyebrow. "A blind man could hit you in that uniform."

Patrick waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, you've made your feelings about the state of the Peacekeeper attire very public. I don't wish to hear it again."

Cerian stepped back and waited. Liaison Rush never came without a reason and also had an annoying habit of taking his time before explaining himself. There were two possibilities he could see; either Patrick was here to get something from him, or he was here to kill him. Patrick walked around the dummy, taking his sweet time before continuing. "I see you're keeping your skills up," he noted, pacing around the dummy.

"Yes," Cerian agreed cautiously. "I spent nearly two decades cultivating them, I certainly won't lose them now."

"So I've heard," he agreed, nodding. "And if the reports I've received are any indication, you're improved considerably."

The revelation that he'd been watched wasn't a shock. He would have been more surprised if the UN hadn't had anyone watching him. Based on that, he had a more concrete idea of why Patrick was here. "Why are you here, Rush?"

Patrick stopped pacing and looked at him, clasping his hands in front of his body. "You don't waste time, I'd forgotten that. Very well, I'm here on official business. From the Council."

Cerian smirked. "Official business, really. Thanks, would never have figured that out." Irelan frowned and scratched his chin, the beard was itchy again. "And you'll have to be a little more specific, the UN has quite a few Councils if I recall correctly."

"Apologies," Patrick corrected. "The Council of Nations, a body of the most influential nations on Earth."

"Correction," Cerian amended smoothly. "A body of the wealthiest nations on Earth." He raised a hand as Patrick opened his mouth. "And I'm going to give my answer now. No, I won't work for any multinational organization that is not the UN."

"The Council is a legitimate organization within the United Nations," Patrick insisted. "It is not illegal."

"Then cut to the chase," Cerian demanded. "What do you want from me?"

Patrick pursed his lips. "To utilize your skills. They have clearly not diminished and we have reason to employ you again."

Cerian blinked in astonishment. He'd expected to be asked about his contacts or project, not to be recruited. "Is that right?" He answered slowly, not bothering to hide his disbelief. "Well, then I can give you my answer now. No."

Patrick didn't seem surprised. "You should hear me out. This is a matter-"

"Then perhaps you should have thought of that before forcing me into retirement." Cerian stated, ice crystallizing his tone. "I did my job for a long time. Then you removed me when it was politically convenient."

"You always knew that was a possibility," Patrick countered calmly. "In fact that possibility was specifically mentioned in your contract."

Cerian nodded. "It was. And I don't begrudge the UN for taking advantage of it. But as a consequence, I don't owe the UN anything. I've enjoyed my retirement, I don't see any reason to leave it."

"Not even if the world is at stake?" Patrick pressed, eyes boring into his.

Cerian met his gaze easily. "I assume you mean the aliens? Yes, perfectly fine. You seem to have things under control anyway."

Patrick frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Cerian sighed. "Don't treat me like an idiot. Go ahead, tell me XCOM isn't part of the UN or your Council."

"I can neither con-"

"Don't bother," Cerian interrupted. "But my point is that you have an entire organization for fighting the aliens, and UN or no, and they seem to be doing a decent job. I'm well past my prime and can name a dozen men and woman who can do whatever you want just as good as me. But I'm not your agent, nor your assassin anymore."

Patrick's eyes flashed in annoyance and his calm demeanor broke. "It's not nearly as simple as that," he hissed. "You have no clue what is going on."

"Then enlighten me," Cerian challenged, crossing his arms. "Justify bringing me back."

Patrick hesitated. "You can't repeat anything I tell you."

"Don't insult me," Cerian answered, annoyed. "I can be discrete."

"Fine," Patrick took a breath. "The Commander is alive."

It took him a second to realize the actual meaning of what he said and Cerian actually took a step back. "What?" He hissed.

"Alive," Patrick repeated, more sure of himself. "And in charge of XCOM."

Cerian holstered the pistol in his hand and looked at Patrick in disbelief. After a few seconds of contemplation, he made a decision. "Let's go to my house," he suggested to the UN Liaison. "I have a feeling this is going to be a long story." Without a word, he began walking towards the isolated house on a hill overlooking the valley.

"I'd ask that you not touch anything," Cerian warned as he opened the door to his modest house. Being honest with himself, it was a mess, but he didn't receive visitors often. As a result, the small house was organized in a much different manner than normal.

Immediately to the left of the entrance was what had once been the "living room." After several weeks of work, it'd been converted into something of a workshop. Tools and parts were strewn across the floor, though in his defense, he'd planned to continue working after his shooting session and hadn't seen the need to put everything away only to take it out again.

To the right was the kitchen/slaughterhouse, since here was where he did all the cooking, along with skinning and gutting the animals he hunted. It wasn't like there was another place to do it, not to mention he usually didn't have to worry about guests. The bloodstained table along the wall had other advantages as well. Some idiot planning to rob him had once come in the middle of a skinning session. He'd walked in very confidently, then quickly ran away when he saw Cerian covered in blood, knife in hand.

He wondered what had happened to him.

Luckily the kitchen was one area he was sure to keep pristine as much as possible. He despised unclean eating places. He motioned Patrick to sit on a wooden chair by the table. Cerian set his rifle in the corner for now, he'd put it back in the armory later. Patrick looked over into the workshop.

"May I ask what that is?" He asked curiously, indicating the project he'd been working on.

Cerian took a seat across from him. "The reports you got didn't mention that? I'd think I warranted at least some competent spies."

"Not every spy is you," Patrick sighed. "And no, I do have some idea. The one watching believes it has something to do with the aliens, though since you don't have friends and don't talk to yourself, it isn't confirmed."

"Really," Cerian stated with a raised eyebrow. "And this, ah, "spy" actually respected my privacy and didn't come in when I wasn't around?"

"Oh no, she did," Patrick amended quickly. "But she had no idea what it was."

"I'll tell you what," Cerian leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "You tell me what's going on and I'll tell you what I'm working on if you want."

Patrick nodded. "Agreed."

"Alright," Cerian leaned back. "So tell me, one: How-no, why is the Commander alive? And two: How the hell is he in charge of XCOM?"

Patrick sighed. "For your first question, he was never killed in the first place. The Council faked his death in case he was needed one day. As for your second, well, the Council placed him in charge."

"You're kidding," Cerian denied flatly, shaking his head in disbelief. "There is no way the United Nations would put the Commander in charge of anything."

"I am not," Patrick insisted, his lips pursing in exasperation. "You really think I would make this up?"

"Probably not," Cerian admitted, his voice lowering. "So please tell me; what the fuck possessed the UN to make such an idiotic move?"

"I don't know," Patrick admitted slowly. "I was brought in on this after the decision had been made. But I'd imagine it was a combination of fear and practicality."

Cerian waved a hand. "Go on."

"The aliens are much more widespread than the public is aware of," Patrick revealed, face tightening. "For reasons we don't know, they're keeping their invasion rather low-key. Instead of armies conquering countries, they stick to abducting small towns and citizens. Thousands of people have been abducted across the world and they've inserted agents that look just like us to infiltrate and destroy."

"So how long's this been going on?" Cerian inquired.

"Since December," Patrick explained. "We were aware of them long before the Hamburg attack. There was hope XCOM would be able to prevent that, but they were unable to."

"You didn't answer my question," Cerian pointed out. "Why the Commander of all people."

Patrick's tone was audibly annoyed. "Let me finish," he cleared his throat. "I believe the Council was scared that the aliens were coming to wipe us out or enslave us. When they became fixated on that, letting an experienced war criminal with proven results take control of their only means of protection wasn't much of a concern."

"Just how sure are you of this?" Cerian asked, leaning back.

"I've spoken to the Councilors," Patrick explained. "And even then it wasn't unanimous. The Commander's appointment has split the Council into two very clear camps. One supports him, the other wants him gone."

Cerian held up his hand. "I'll admit, this is the most fascinating thing I've heard in years. But I don't want you explaining anymore unless I accept this job. If this Council is composed of superpowers and I fall on one side or the other, there is a decent chance I'm going to end up dead or imprisoned for choosing the opposite side. So before I make a decision, I want to know exactly what you expect of me."

"The ones I represent want you to take charge of a small group of operatives," Patrick explained and handed him a file. "The names are in there. We have reason to believe the Commander is conducting unsanctioned intelligence operations across the world. Your job will be to find out what he is doing and gather evidence to build a case against him."

Cerian flipped through the file and rubbed his beard. "Interesting. For a minute I thought you were going to ask me to kill him."

Patrick shook his head. "Impossible I'm afraid, even for you. The Citadel was designed to be impenetrable. Only two ways in, both under heavy observation. As far as we know, the Commander has only left twice, both times unannounced."

"The Citadel?"

"XCOM Headquarters," Patrick explained. "The Commander gave it the name."

"Cute," Cerian commented. "Unsanctioned intelligence operations you say? If he's conducting these against the aliens, I'd think that would be part of his job, correct?"

"Except he's not," Patrick shook his head. "At least none we're aware of. He's conducting operations against other countries."

How interesting and entirely unexpected. What did the UN expect? That the Commander was really going to ignore all the problems he saw within the organization? No, an alien invasion wasn't going to stop the Commander from either taking revenge or justice, as the two seemed very intertwined when it came to him. Compounded by the fact that the Commander probably knew part of the Council was against him, so self-preservation was another likely possibility.

Either way, if the UN genuinely hadn't anticipated this, they were either very naïve or very stupid.

And the fact that Patrick was telling him this and not to a court gave him the impression that the evidence to back these claims up wasn't very much. "You don't have anything, do you?" He stated, a humorless grin on his lips.

Patrick frowned. "Sorry."

"Evidence. Proof," Cerian nodded towards the file in his hand. "Something that back up what you're saying. And you don't, otherwise I wouldn't be needed, would I?"

"Circumstantial evidence," Patrick admitted. "And tenuous at best."

"Right so let's call this job what it is," Cerian stated bluntly. "A smear campaign. You want me to find some credible evidence to dismiss the Commander from his position. In that case, why not just fabricate it?"

"Two reasons," Patrick said slowly. "First of which is that we would lose XCOM completely. The Commander isn't an idiot and would be able to counter false evidence. Even if it were credible, too much time has passed and we fear that most of the personnel under the Commander are now loyal to him, not the United Nations. Not to mention it would prove us no better than him."

"And the second reason?"

"Because enough countries still back the Commander to ensure that any forged evidence would be dismissed," Patrick explained grimly. "As it stands now, even if we gather enough legitimate evidence to use, they'll probably still obstruct us."

Cerian made a note of that. "So then, why are they backing him? I find it hard to believe that they would overlook what he did."

"As much as I hate to admit it, XCOM has had much success under his leadership," Patrick admitted. "Aside from that, some of them believe he is the one who is needed in times like these. Uncompromising, deadly and ruthless. The most disturbing part is that I can see why they think so."

"I'm assuming that the Commander's freedom came with constraints," Cerian muttered aloud. "Has he broken any of them?"

"Technically…no," Patrick answered after a second of silence. "But it's been hard to determine his honesty since we have no legitimate clue what goes on inside the Citadel. The Council gave him too much freedom and that made him think he could do anything with no repercussions."

"So what prompted you to come to me?" Cerian demanded. "Something must have happened."

"He first performed an unsanctioned mission in Germany before the attack," Patrick answered. "Captured the leaders of the protests and either turned them over to national authorities or killed them."

Cerian raised an eyebrow. "And the reason was…?"

"They suspected the aliens were manipulating the populace," Patrick explained.

"And were they?"

"The Commander found evidence to suggest yes…" Patrick answered slowly. "Along with some organization called EXALT."

Cerian snorted. It was remarkable how that legend just wouldn't die. "EXALT is a myth."

"Perhaps," Patrick shrugged. "But the questionable part is that we suspect that the Commander extracted that information through torture based on the state of the prisoners returned."

Cerian raised an eyebrow. "I suppose my level of outrage would vary on whether the information he extracted was correct, and from the sounds of it, it appears to be so. Which means I'm not entirely moved by the fact that some criminals were hurt a little."

"The point is that he broke the Geneva Conventions. That's-"

"What did you honestly expect?" Cerian demanded fiercely, facepalming. "You put a war criminal in charge of a military organization. Did you really think he was going to care about rules set by the United Nations? The organization that hunted him down?"

Patrick actually flushed a little. Good, even if this whole mess wasn't his fault, at least he recognized the stupidity that got them here. "You have a point. I can't really contest that."

Cerian sighed and waved a hand. "So continue."

"We also think the Commander was responsible for what happened in the aftermath of the Hamburg attack," Patrick admitted. "We don't know how he did it, but we suspect that he tricked the aliens into attacking. Which gave the German military the excuse to take over the country and establish a chain of command sympathetic to the Commander. The pieces fit too well not to have some kind of connection."

As outlandish as it seemed, Patrick did have a point. When watching that entire massacre, he had privately wondered why the aliens had attacked a country that had flat out admitted to surrendering to the aliens. It made no tactical or common sense, which made him suspect there was other things going on behind the scenes.

But it was still circumstantial at best.

Cerian was silent for a minute. "I'm going to be perfectly honest here. I think the Commander was a war criminal who should have been executed when he was caught. If given the chance, I would have killed him myself."

He narrowed his eyes. "However, this seems less like a job about the Commander actually breaking the rules and more like a personal vendetta. You don't like him, these councilors don't like him, I don't like him and we're all perfectly entitled to that. But by your own admission, you have no proof. The Commander hasn't broken any rules that you know of, and circumstantial evidence is not good enough for me to risk my life on the assumption that he might be doing something illegal."

"Do you really think the Commander has the best intentions for the world in mind?" Patrick challenged. "He's just biding his time until he has enough power. When he's ready he'll kill everyone who stands in his way."

"How melodramatic," Cerian commented, suddenly feeling every one of his fifty-two years weighing down on him. "Well I hate to say this, but the UN brought whatever's coming directly on themselves."

"Is that a no?" Patrick demanded icily. "Because if not, I really need to be going."

"Tell me why you wanted me," Cerian demanded, crossing his arms. "The truth. You have your pick of operatives who are just as skilled as me and probably wouldn't ask as many questions."

Patrick took a few minutes to ponder that. "Because you're one of the few principled and idealistic operatives whose served. Simply put, you're trustworthy."

How nice of him. "Principled and idealistic," he repeated airily. "Not words I'd use to describe myself."

"I would," Patrick answered simply. "You might have held the role as an assassin, but you certainly captured more than you killed. No collateral damage in any of your assignments, you never broke any regulations and always completed your mission to the letter. The United Nations is flawed, everyone know this, but you focused on the ideals of the organizing rather than all the disagreements you personally had with it."

While all of that was true, he'd never really thought about it that way. "It's kind of sad when just doing your job right makes you a principled person," he commented wearily. "I never really thought of myself as such, considering my line of work."

They were both silent for a few minutes. "I need an answer," Patrick finally said. "Say yes and we can get to work. Say no and I'll leave and you'll probably never see me again."

Cerian had to smile at the disclaimer at the end. Rapping his fingers on the table as he thought, he wasn't quite sure what to do. There was no clear-cut answer in this case. Honestly, he could easily make a justification for either decision. But he wanted to make the right one, not just choosing one side or another.

Compromise. That was it, both sides had to stand to lose something, and he had an idea of how to accomplish that.

"How sure are you that the Commander is performing illegal operations?" Cerian asked slowly.

"Certain," Patrick stated without hesitation.

"Would you bet your life, and those of your partners on it?"

Patrick eyed him suspiciously. "What are you saying?"

"I will accept on certain conditions," Cerian explained, holding his gaze. "I will take command of your operatives and determine if the Commander is performing illegal operations. If he is, I'll help gather evidence to bring him down for good. If I find him innocent, I will go to him and rest of the Council and expose this entire operation."

Patrick visibly swallowed. "I'll need to confer with my superior."

Cerian nodded. "Go ahead." Patrick got up and went outside while he waited. A few minutes later he came back in and took his seat.

"It will be done," he confirmed. "Welcome aboard."

Cerian rolled his shoulders. "Excellent. Let's get to work. I'm curious to meet this team."

Ireland, Undisclosed Location

When Herman Diederick had been summoned by order of the United Nations, this hadn't been quite what he expected.

Actually, not at all what he expected.

True, the whole area was very ceremonial and decorated and he'd spent a good amount of time admiring the architecture, shiny tiled floors and ornate furnishings. Fitting for the most powerful international organization in the world. He had partially accepted the offer out of curiosity, as the Council had been a part of the United Nations even he didn't know much about.

That might have bothered him had the Council interfered in NATO operations, but as far as he was aware, they tended to keep to themselves and only a few knew the organization existed. As a Major General in NATO, he'd been fortunate to know a bit before receiving the unusual summons.

It had been interesting at first, seeing the twelve councilors and their entourages milling around the commons area he was in now, conferring with aides and speaking to each other. But as time passed he was growing more and more uncomfortable. It was becoming quickly apparent that there was division and tension here, he'd seen councilors pointedly ignore each other and had witnessed several getting into arguments about oddly menial matters.

Furthermore, all of them had been glancing at him with either wariness, suspicion or outright contempt and he wasn't quite sure what he'd done to warrant any of this. Hell, he'd been in warzones less charged than this.

He'd attempted to speak to several of the Councilors and had barely gotten more than a few tense words out before quickly saying farewell and leaving him alone. He was getting a suspicion that he was something of a compromise that no one wanted.

Unfortunately, no one seemed to care to explain anything.

"I must apologize for my colleagues lack of manners," a man with a deep voice apologized as he walked up. "Unfortunately, you've come at a very…divisive…time."

Herman turned to face the newcomer. Dressed in an ordinary suit with the United Nations emblem sewn on the upper left chest, he was otherwise no different from most dressed here. However, he had a pretty good clue based on the man's bald head.

"I suspected as much," he answered, sighing. "I suppose you are the Speaker. A pleasure to meet you." He extended a hand which the Speaker took.

"I imagine you have….questions," the Speaker stated neutrally.

"Some explanation would be appreciated," Herman agreed, watching with interest as several of the councilors noticed them speaking and frowned in apparent disapproval. "It appears they don't like me speaking to you either."

"The unfortunate truth here is that you are a victim of politics," the Speaker stated bluntly. "A large number would prefer you not be here at all, while others are frustrated that you were the one chosen." The Speaker paused. "They view you as a…compromise…one not in their favor."

Herman pursed his lips. "Wonderful." Great, he'd joined NATO to escape politics, or at least the high-level kind here. True, as he'd been promoted that had been a risk, but he'd never imagined this would be the result.

"Is there anyone who wanted me here?" He asked the Speaker, looking around the room.

"The one who put your name forward is on your side," the Speaker answered neutrally. "However, she also didn't want anyone in the first place. But in your current…position…the most support you will find is either skepticism or indifference."

While this brutal honesty was refreshing, all it made him want to do is leave this place and have them pick someone else to mad at. Unfortunately, walking out on the Council would be career suicide, along with possibly worse. "Thank you, I guess," he told the Speaker wryly. "I don't suppose you have an opinion on me?"

"I certainly do," the Speaker answered, raising an eyebrow. "For the position you have been…summoned…for, you are qualified and from a practical standpoint, that is all that should be considered. As for my personal opinion, I cannot share. My purpose is to be an…objective… mediator, my opinions do not matter."

"Shame you weren't a politician," Herman muttered. "You might be one I actually vote for."

The Speaker smiled at that. "An appreciated sentiment," he murmured looking around the room. His eyes brightened as a woman walked over to them. Cropped brown hair cut sharply at the neck framed a stern face, and hard eyes which contradicted the small smile on her face.

"Major General," she greeted firmly, extending her hand. He took it and she gave a brief nod towards the Speaker. "Speaker, a pleasure."

Herman looked at her. "Same to you, ma'am. Apologies, but I don't think we've been introduced."

"Tamara Vasilisa," she answered. "Councilor of the Russian Federation."

Ah, so that was a Russian accent. Diminished, but it was there. "Well, Councilor Vasilisa, I appreciate you speaking to me."

"Tamara will suffice," she advised. "I don't see a need to make this more difficult than it already is."

"As you wish, Tamara," he answered, not entirely comfortable with that. Addressing a woman who was technically his superior in such a casual way was a foreign concept, but he felt it would probably offend her more if he refused. And the last thing he needed here was more enemies.

She turned around and motioned him to follow her. "Walk with me. We should talk."

About time, maybe he'd finally get some answers. They walked out of the commons area into an equally ornate hallways with a red rug on the ground. "I don't suppose you could tell me why I was asked here?" He asked as they walked.

"In fact, I can," she answered easily. "You are aware of XCOM?"

"As much as anyone else," Herman answered. "An anti-alien paramilitary organization. NATO doesn't know where it came from, who's funding them or who the commander is. It's generated a lot of speculation to say the least."

"And do you have a theory?" She asked neutrally glancing up at him.

"Before coming here?" Herman paused. "I would have guessed either a private organization or an American, Chinese or Russian venture. However, now it seems pretty obvious that the United Nations is behind it."

"Correct," Tamara confirmed. "The Council, specifically. You will be our representation within XCOM."

Well. That was interesting, and not what he'd expected. "I'm not a politician," he told her. "I'm not exactly the most qualified-"

Tamara raised a hand to cut him off. "Correct. You are not a politician, which was why I put your name forward for the position. You are aware of the rules the United Nations abides by, correct."

"Of course."

"Then as far as I'm concerned, you're perfectly qualified. You don't know how precarious our war is and we can't afford more politicians making decisions. If we were going to send a representative, it would be someone who could actually contribute to the defense of Earth."

And again, there was that feeling that despite her recommendation, she didn't want him here at all. It was interesting that she seemed to disapprove of politicians, seeing as how she was technically one herself. Perhaps she was like him, possibly former military forced well outside her comfort zone. "I'm flattered, councilor," he answered. "But if this reception has proven anything, it's that not many seem entirely pleased to see me."

"I wouldn't concern yourself with them," Tamara dismissed, her voice turning frosty. "Those fools wanted a puppet, someone to fulfill their naïve and petty agenda. I have little tolerance for such fools and you should give them as much consideration as they deserved."

The venom in her voice was unmistakable. Still, he knew when he was being used. "And what is your motive, Councilor? Do you wish me to promote your agenda instead?"

She chuckled. "If you see things from my point of view, I would certainly not oppose it. But no, despite what some think, we don't want a puppet. You are intelligent enough to make decisions and draw your own conclusions." She paused. "Which is why I would ask that you keep an open mind when speaking to the man I'm bringing you to."

Hm. That sounded ominous. "And who is he?"

"We're at his office now," Tamara answered as they approached a door and knocked. "After you finish your meeting, I would like to speak with you again. You'll have a much better understanding of the situation after this meeting."

Without waiting for a response, she opened the door and they stepped into a finely decorated office. Bookshelves lined the walls and a window gave a beautiful view outside. In front of them, sitting at a desk, was a brown haired man. He looked around thirty or forty, wearing a generally indifferent expression on his face.

"Councilor Vasilisa," he greeted coldly, looking up with a frown. "I wasn't aware you were coming."

"For all your talk about wanting a representative, you didn't seem to care to speak to him right away," Tamara countered with a smile. "I didn't think it polite to just leave him in the commons to the stares of your colleagues."

The man's eyes widened, then narrowed as he looked at Tamara suspiciously. "I see. Apologies, Major General, I was supposed to receive word when you arrived."

"Accepted," Herman stated neutrally, some more theories growing in his mind. "May I ask who you are?"

"Councilor Jonathan Warnup, of Australia," he replied. "I believe it is time to speak." He nodded at Tamara. "Good day, Councilor."

She gave a smile, though to him it appeared more of a smirk. "Always a pleasure, Councilor Warnup." Without a word, she turned around and left the room. Hopefully she'd find him once he was done, since he had no clue where everything was.

"I imagine Tamara told you what you're here for," Jonathan asked, standing up.

"As a representative to XCOM," Herman answered. "Though she didn't mention specifics."

"Unusually respectful of her," Jonathan commented. "Regardless, to have a clear picture, I should explain why we felt this step had to be taken in the first place."

Herman nodded. "I'm listening."

"You are aware of the war criminal known as the Commander, correct?" He asked.

Herman nodded. "Of course. I'd be surprised if someone wasn't."

Jonathan paused. "There is no light way to put this. The Commander is alive and in charge of XCOM."

Herman coughed in disbelief, a rare display of emotion for him. But in this case it was perfectly warranted. Questions blazed in his mind and he honestly didn't know what to ask first. Shaking his head to focus his thoughts he finally addressed the Councilor. "Perhaps you should explain."

"Of course," Jonathan inclined his head. "Know that not all the Council, myself included, wanted this. However, he was kept alive in the event that we might need his expertise. Despite his crimes, he is an undisputed tactician and commander, something the majority of the Council thought worth preserving. And with growing evidence of extraterrestrial life, some viewed him as the best chance to preserve humanity."

Herman shook his head in disbelief. "With all due respect Councilor, I can't imagine a scenario where that benefits anyone. Not only does it violate multiple United Nations regulations, but the Commander himself has publicly denounced us multiple times."

"Concerns that were brought up," Jonathan agreed. "Unfortunately, our bloc was outvoted and the Commander placed in charge."

"Let me guess," Herman guessed wearily. "Things haven't gone as planned."

"It's potentially worse than even I thought," Jonathan admitted. "He'd done everything possible to exclude us from any discoveries made from alien technology recovered. Technology that our own countries could use in conjunction with XCOM. But he jealously keeps it all to himself doing God knows what with it."

"Honest question," Herman asked, frowning. "What did you expect? The United Nations were the ones who…well, apparently captured him. Why would he feel any loyalty to you?"

"You're telling this to the wrong person," Jonathan sighed. "I'm well aware of the problems and saw them all coming. Sadly, Councilor Vasilisa and her supporters are blind to this fact."

He was beginning to get a picture of the situation now. "Is that it? Or is there more?"

"More," Jonathan stated grimly. "We have precious little evidence, but there is some to suggest the entire Germany fiasco was engineered by the Commander."

Herman blinked. "If I recall, there were several fiascos. You are referring to…?"

"The one where the German military secured the country," Jonathan informed. "The blackouts we suspect were caused by the Commander along with him baiting the aliens into attacking the cities. There is also a chance he was behind the assassination of the German cabinet."

"If that were true, you'd have already arrested him," Herman pointed out. "What makes you think he was behind it?"

"Because that led to Germany refusing to rejoin Council and supporting the Commander directly," Jonathan finished. "After the Commander failed to protect Germany, the Chancellor was understandably displeased. Funny how quickly he was replaced with someone the Commander supports."

Unfortunately, that was a tactic he could fully see the Commander using. He'd seen a lot of terrible things, but the War on Terror had been especially brutal. "I suspect there's more," He said wearily.

"There is some good news," Jonathan answered, a satisfied smile growing on his face. "Some of the Councilors are starting to realize how badly they've blundered this. Unfortunately, the Commander has realized that and is doing his best to ensure that everyone from the Council is excluded. The current legal war for the dreadnaught wreckage is his doing, a clever move to keep us from acquiring the technology."

"If this is all true, why have you not done anything?" Herman demanded. "With all this suspicious and theory, you should have something more!"

"That is where you come in," Jonathan explained nodding his head. "The reason the Commander's been able to get away with so much is that we failed to provide adequate oversight. We believed the staff would report any violations, but the Commander is more…charismatic…than we anticipated. We need you there to make sure the Commander conducts this war in accordance with the laws and standards of ethics the United Nations expects."

"Agreed," Herman nodded. "Though I don't imagine he'll be pleased."

"I'll be honest with you," Jonathan warned. "You're heading into enemy territory. The Commander will likely do everything to impede and frustrate you. Don't give him a reason to dismiss you; he's intelligent and resourceful and if we want to remove him, we need to do it in a way that will be undisputed by law."

"I can promise that any violations will be reported," Herman promised. "If the Commander is in violation of anything, I will be sure to report it."

"That is all we want," Jonathan nodded. "Though following the law is something the Commander appears to have trouble with. You'll have as much authorization as you need. If the Commander gives you trouble, just inform the Council. That will put him in his place."

"When will I leave?" Herman asked.

"A few hours," Jonathan answered. "I'll ensure someone shows you the way."

"Excellent," Herman replied with a nod. "I'll ensure the Commander is brought into line."

Jonathan extended a hand which he took. "That relieves me more than you know. Good luck."

Herman nodded and walked out the door, thoughts and conflicting emotions running through his head.

It turned out he didn't have to look for Tamara, as she'd apparently never left the area. Leaning against the wall as he walked out, arms crossed, she seemed fairly nonchalant as he glared at her. "You knew the Commander was alive." It was a statement, not a question.

"Everyone on the Council does," she shrugged. "So yes, Jonathan insisted he be the one to tell you, otherwise I'd have said so from the start."

"Funny," he commented as he walked up to her. "I'm surprised you'd listen to him since you clearly despise each other."

"Simply put, I was placating him," she answered calmly. "Had I ruined the little speech he no doubt gave to you, I'd have had to put up with his borderline harassment for a few weeks. Frankly, I have more important matters to focus on than a superficial power struggle."

"Fine," Herman stated wearily. "You wanted to talk to me after. Make your case, since that's clearly your intention."

"My intention is nothing more than to ensure you have a perspective from both sides," she attempted to reassure him. "Councilor Warnup made his case, now you should hear from the other side."

She waved forward and began walking. "Councilor Warnup probably painted a highly grim picture about the state of the war."

"Less about the war," Herman corrected. "More about the apparent power consolidation taking place within XCOM as well as suspected ethics violations."

"'Power consolidation'?" she sniffed. "To Councilor Warnup, if his subordinates do not abide by his every command, he automatically assumes they are plotting against him."

"I feel his concern is warranted," Herman shook his head. "Putting a convicted war criminal in charge of XCOM can only lead to bad things."

"I disagree," Tamara stated flatly. "The Commander has done exactly what we wanted him to. His sole purpose was to take command of XCOM and defend Earth from the alien threat. And judging by the results, I think he's succeeding."

"I don't think I would call Hamburg a success," Herman countered.

"If the Commander had not intervened, that city would no longer exist," Tamara pointed out. "Not to mention he successfully dismantled the protest rings plaguing the country."

Herman frowned. "Warnup didn't mention that."

"Of course he didn't," Tamara stated smugly. "That doesn't fit into his narrative. The truth of the matter is that the war is beginning to turn in our favor, and I firmly believe that can be attributed to the Commander."

"I admit, I'm surprised," Herman commented. "I wouldn't have expected you to support him."

"Why not?" She asked curiously, it sounded like a genuine inquiry. "Is it because I'm Russian?"

"That, in addition to the regular…issues…people take with him."

He saw her lips curl into a smile at that. "You assume that just because he killed our president, I should automatically be against him," she paused and shrugged. "Perhaps I would be, had he been wrong. But something people tend to forget is that the Commander always provided evidence when he executed someone of importance. True, I would have preferred he be executed the lawful way, but I shed no tears that he was killed. So no need to get offended on my behalf. As it stands, most Russians feel the same way."

"You almost sound like you admire him," Herman stated, trying not to sound disbelieving.

"From a purely militaristic standpoint, I do," she agreed. "Now clearly, he fails on the moral and ethical fronts, but we are at war. I can overlook my personal issues with his methods as long as he gets results."

"You have to realize he might turn against you." Herman pointed out.

"What Warnup doesn't understand is this," Tamara answered coldly. "The Commander doesn't work like that. He won't do a thing unless we give him a reason to. He's denounced us in the past for sure, but even during the War on Terror, he never acted against us. Hell, he even assisted General Van Doorn when capturing Syria. Warnup's constant moral crusade is only going to provoke him into doing exactly what he's trying to prevent."

"But is he actually cooperating with you?" Herman pressed. "From Warnup's description, it sounds like the Commander is hoarding all the resources to himself."

"A lie," she stated flatly. "The Commander has provided some materials he's recovered. It's just not as much as the good councilor would like."

"And the Commander forcing a legal war for the dreadnaught resources?" he asked.

"That I'm not sure," Tamara admitted, for the first time showing some uncertainty. "Provided he is behind it, the only reasonable motive would be to keep the resources out of China. A reasonable motive, but I'm not sure it's the correct one."

"I'm assuming you opposed giving him more oversight," Herman guessed.

"The last thing he needs is oversight," Tamara stated firmly. "You of all people should know that politics and war don't mesh. The only thing oversight will serve to accomplish is to turn the Commander against us, and I'd prefer to keep him focused on the aliens."

"But if he's conducting everything according to the rules, he shouldn't have anything to worry about," Herman stated. "Unless of course he is hiding something."

"Everyone is hiding something," Tamara insisted in mock exasperation. "More oversight is only going to force him to work harder to hide it. He isn't going to stop simply because someone is there watching him. Sorry to let you down there."

"Then why did you put my name forward if you're so opposed to the idea?" Herman demanded, pursing his lips.

"Truthfully, if we wanted too, we probably could have stopped it," Tamara admitted. "But I saw an opportunity. Instead of turning the Commander against us, we could provide him a qualified individual with a purpose besides watching him. This is a chance to establish some tangible goodwill between XCOM and the Council. I don't want you to go as an observer, Herman, I want you to be partner to him."

"A partner to the Commander," Herman corrected grimly, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice. "You understand what you're asking?"

"I do," Tamara stated. "And I stand by it. We can't afford to make the Commander our enemy, especially as he's in charge of XCOM. Watch for violations as per your directive, but for the good of the Council and humanity, I would ask that your primary objective be ensuring that we win this war."

"And if I do find something that violates our laws?" Herman asked. "Should I ignore it in just because we're at war?"

Tamara was silent for a few moment. "I'd advise you use your best judgment on that. Ask yourself if it's really worth jeopardizing everything to have a clear conscience." She paused. "And if you absolutely must report everything you see, I advise you do not contact Councilor Warnup. Contact me instead."

"Councilor Warnup is my superior," Herman stated incredulously. "Contacting you instead would break the chain of command. I could get prosecuted for that."

"Incorrect," she said with a smile. "Warnup was just the one who asked to speak to your first. He is the face of his side, as I am mine. We are both at the same level in terms of rank, as all the councilors are. He just likes to think himself the unofficial head of this Council. You would be breaking no rules my reporting to me instead."

"And how will I know what I report will change anything?" Herman demanded, waving an arm to the side. "You might simply ignore a potentially dangerous violation since you clearly support him."

"I assure you, if the charge is serious and with evidence to back it up, I will take the necessary action," Tamara promised, nodding solemnly. "But Warnup will use even the smallest violation as justification for removing the Commander."

"If it's within the law…" Herman began when Tamara interrupted.

"It's not that simple," she scowled. "Warnup seems to think that if he orders the Commander to step down, he's just going to do it. That's not going to happen and everyone not blinded by self-righteousness knows it. We would lose XCOM for good and then the Earth. I'm trying to prevent a catastrophe and you have the power ensure everyone stays on good terms."

They stopped walking and Herman realized they were in a hanger of some kind. An odd looking aircraft of some kind rested on the ground. Engines appeared to be built into the wings. An advanced propulsion system? Interesting.

"Your ride," Tamara noted. "Perform your duties at your discretion, but I ask that you think about what I said."

"I will," he promised.

"Then good luck," she nodded toward him. "I hope to speak to you soon."

She turned and left curtly, leaving him alone. He shook his head, trying to clear it as much as possible. Quite honestly, he didn't have a clue what to do. Tamara had clearly been planning her own speech for some time, and he found it honestly rather convincing. But the issue was that she clearly had an agenda as well, something he couldn't forget.

Despite what she said, he wasn't at all comfortable with a war criminal in charge, let alone working with him. He needed to go there, speak with the man himself, perhaps then he'd have a clearer picture of what to do. At least the sides were clearly defined here, and unfortunately, it didn't look like he'd be able to stay neutral this time.

He sighed. Well, he had plenty of time to think about this on the way there. Might as well get a head start. On that thought, he began walking toward the odd transport that would take him to the Citadel.