Fallout
United States of America, Seattle
"In an unexpected move, the international military organization known as XCOM held a press conference early today, offering some clarifications on the organization, which has operated up to this point in secrecy," the commentator said. He tried to suppress and uneasy shuffle as he continued speaking. "The speaker for XCOM, former NATO General Peter Van Doorn, offered some clarifications on the ultimate purpose of XCOM and the goals they were striving towards."
He paused. "Closing the conference, Van Doorn made a shocking statement that XCOM had just performed an operation against a previously unknown enemy he identified as EXALT within China. He assured everyone present that they would be releasing a certain amount of evidence later today. The Chinese government has currently declined comment."
He turned to the woman sitting next to him. "So, what do you make of this, Amanda?"
Cerian snorted as the two anchors began talking. "Gee, what do you think? It seems pretty self-explanatory to me."
"American newscasters are very dramatic," Olivia noted with amusement as the two commentators droned on. "'The organization cloaked in secrecy,' give me a break."
"Oh, don't act like England is any better," Mary interrupted from the bed. "Every news station tries to be as dramatic as possible."
"Hey, Canada is pretty good," Baston defended. "It's much better than here."
"I find it interesting that we're all discussing the news stations and not that XCOM actually held a press conference," Cerian noted as he turned the TV off. "Van Doorn was very coy, but I didn't really expect anything less."
"Other than XCOM performing an operation in China," Olivia commented sarcastically with a wave of her hand. "But no, nothing major."
"I wonder if they told the Chinese," Ren commented from the nearby wall. He'd been reading a book during the entire thing, but had apparently picked up on some of it. "I'm not sure they'd really approve, especially if the reason is to attack an apparent myth."
"Would they really risk the fallout?" Mary asked, not looking up as she typed. "I'm no political scientist, but I'm pretty sure that you don't want to make China angry at you."
"This is the Commander," Cerian reminded them. "I'm not sure he cares what the Chinese think. He's very…single-minded when it comes to his enemies."
Olivia pursed her lips. "Good point. I remember that MI6 purposely let America and Russia track down the Commander after the War on Terror was over. It was a long shot, but they didn't want to deal with him if he ever came this way."
"But he has to have a plan," Baston argued as he sat back down on the bed Mary was laying on. "He wouldn't risk angering the Chinese unless he had a way to mitigate it."
"Remember that we don't know for sure one way or another," Cerian reminded them. "I'll have to check with Patrick to find out for certain."
"Did you know Van Doorn was with XCOM?" Ren asked Cerian, putting his book down.
"Yes," Cerian nodded. "Patrick told me, I believe. He's not with the UN anymore if you're curious."
"Hmm," Ren frowned. "I didn't ever think he'd leave it. He seemed to always believe in it even when it was difficult."
"Did you know him?" Olivia asked curiously.
"I served with him for a few years," Ren answered with a shrug. "Great guy; something must have really set him off if he left. I wonder what."
"What about you?" Mary interjected, looking up to Cerian. "You ever meet with Van Doorn?"
"No," Cerian shook his head. "Never meet the esteemed General. Knew who he was, of course, but our duties were so far apart. I doubt he would have really wanted to meet the UN's very own assassin."
"Well, he joined XCOM," Baston pointed out. "Who knows?"
"Irrelevant now," Cerian shook his head. "Right, time to get to work. I think a day or two more of observation will be needed since EXALT will probably be on high alert. We've got our target marked and we'll execute the plan in a couple of days and break into the building."
"This will be fun," Olivia commented, raising her arms in a stretch. "Everyone out again?"
"Yes," Cerian confirmed as he stood. "We'll need everyone today, minus Mary of course."
"Thanks," she called sarcastically.
He smiled and headed for the door, all of his agents behind him. They immediately split up and would all be taking wildly different routes to Solaris Industries. He was taking the car today, so he headed toward the parking lot, got in and began driving to the building. It occurred to him as he drove that the Space Needle was here, an iconic landmark he'd always found interesting visually.
Hmm. Should the operation go smoothly, maybe he could find some time to visit. Actually no, once they were done they'd want to get out as soon as possible. Ah well, barring a sudden alien attack, it would probably still be there whenever he came back. But it was still a shame.
It took him a while to actually get there, and he made sure to park in one of the many parking garages in the city, preferably one none of them had taken before. Perfect, now he'd head to the café he'd unofficially chosen as his lookout point. It was pretty busy this time of day, which made it much easier to blend in. He put in an order to solidify his cover as a customer and went to sit down outside where there were quite a few circular tables with umbrellas over them, all the while the massive building towering over him.
He'd kept track of repeat customers in case any were EXALT, and there really didn't seem to be any. So either they sent out someone new every day, he was just coming at the wrong times, or they didn't have any at all. Well, he didn't notice anything that out of place. The guard in front of Solaris Industries was doubled, which he found interesting, and he noted the guards physically checking IDs of people who came up instead of letting the automated systems scan them.
Yep, they were definitely on high alert. It would probably be at least a half-hour before all of his agents were in position. Still, it would probably be a good idea to warn them of the heightened security.
"Excuse me?" A new voice interrupted.
Cerian looked up to his left to see a much older man, holding a cup of coffee and wearing a faint smile. His white hair was unusually full and despite the wrinkles on his face, seemed to retain a significant amount of health and energy. "Yes?" Cerian asked.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" He asked, motioning to the empty chair beside him. "It appears every other one is taken."
Huh? Cerian looked around and to his mild surprise noted that the man was correct. Odd. That never happened. Even on the weekend there were still a few places open. He should have moved his chair away, but he was stuck with it now. Worst case, he could leave and come back later when this man was gone.
"Sure," Cerian answered slowly and neutrally, and the man sat down and set his coffee on the table and turned to look at Solaris Industries as well.
"See anything interesting?" He asked.
Well, it wouldn't exactly hurt to state the obvious. "Looks like they hired some more guards," he said, motioning to the entrance. "Wonder what prompted that?"
"A number of things, I'd imagine," the man commented. "Solaris Industries is a polarizing company, especially based in this state. It wouldn't be the first time they've received threats from the more troublesome elements of our society."
That…was actually something he hadn't considered. What the man said was true, and had he not firmly believed that Solaris Industries was involved with EXALT in some way, he might have accepted that. "Has that ever happened?" He asked, just to keep the conversation going.
The man chuckled and shook his head. "I've seen a lot of idiotic things in my lifetime," he answered, clearly amused. "But I've yet to see someone try to attack a weapons manufacturer."
In retrospect, it was probably a dumb question, but he was honestly not concerned about a random conversation with an old man. "Are you a new resident here?" The man asked after a few minutes.
Cerian looked over at him. "No, just visiting."
"You must really like this shop then," the man commented with a thin smile. "This is about the fifth straight day you've come at various times."
Alarm bells began ringing in Cerian's head as he heard that, and began going through his mental notes for some indication he'd seen this man before. "How would you know that?" He asked with a light smile as he thought furiously.
"I come here daily," he answered. "I just noticed and found it curious."
He was lying. Cerian couldn't recall anyone remotely like this man entering, let along staying for a decent period of time. He'd been careful to keep an eye out for agents, and when he spotted extraordinary people, he always made note of them. This man would have definitely qualified. Which likely meant that someone had noticed him and he'd somehow not noticed, and now had sent this man to him for…some reason?
"Do you have something to add to that?" Cerian asked, putting some steel in his voice as he turned to the man across the small table.
"I do, in fact," the man answered, his smile not wavering. "You would do well to abandon your plan. It will fail."
Cerian struggled not to react. There was no way anyone could know what they were planning. Even Patrick didn't know the full extent of the plan. The rooms had been swept for bugs and none of his agents discussed the operation outside with anyone…unless they had and hadn't told him.
"No," the man interrupted his train of thought. "Your people did their jobs well. They are loyal."
How the-? Was that coincidence? He supposed it must have been and made sense on some level, one of the first things he'd guessed was if someone had talked. But then that raised the question of why he should believe this man just because he said so. Perhaps he could play dumb for not. He narrowed his eyes. "I'm sorry, what are you talking about?"
"'Playing dumb' will not work on me," the man said, lacing his fingers together. "But do it if you wish, I simply wish to convey my message and then I'll leave."
"How could you possibly know anything?" Cerian demanded. "Even if I have a 'plan' as you put it?"
"Because I know everything about you, Cerian Irelan," the man said coolly, neutrally. "A UN assassin on the hunt for first XCOM, and now EXALT. Your team of Ren, Mary, Darril, Olivia and Baston. A fine group, if I do say so myself."
Something was very wrong. There was no way he should be able to know any of that. Especially if so, then their operation was as good as busted. But how? How had he possibly learned that?
The man tapped his head. "How I know isn't important, Cerian. Suffice to say I'm giving you a chance you shouldn't ignore."
"Enlighten me," Cerian stated.
"EXALT is not your enemy here," he explained. "You would do well to focus your efforts on the aliens. Should you continue your operations here, I will ensure you will fail."
"And we should just ignore the criminal activity just because you said so?" Cerian demanded. "For some reason, I doubt that'll fly. Certainly not with me."
"You speak from ignorance," the man refuted. "While understandable, it is not something that can be easily explained. There are larger threats to humanity than EXALT, which I might add, is not one such threat."
"I think the United Nations will be the judge of that," Cerian stated. "And I doubt XCOM would become involved if EXALT didn't pose some threat."
"XCOM has been mishandled," the man stated. "But there were extenuating circumstances in this case. You would do well not to blindly accept whatever XCOM tells the public. You should know better than any that the Commander is no ordinary man."
"Neither are you, by the sound of it," Cerian muttered. "So what is this? A warning? Why would your superiors even let you give me one?"
"Because they don't know," the man said. "I'm independent of any superiors, and would prefer you not die as a result of misguided justice."
"And what if we don't?" Cerian asked quietly.
"Then I will protect EXALT by any means necessary." He stated in return.
Interesting that he'd said I and not we or EXALT. As if this man posed any sort of threat beyond his unsettling knowledge. He doubted this was actually some kind of warning, they were probably planning something or just wanted him scared away. Maybe because they had a chance? No, this needed further thinking and consideration.
"Think very carefully," the man warned as he stood. "I don't make this offer often. Farewell, Cerian."
He walked away, leaving him alone in the seat. He clicked on his earpiece and set it to contact all agents. "Abort mission today and regroup in safe house four. We have a problem."
The Citadel, Medical Ward
"She's resting, but lucid," Blake informed Soran as he stepped out of the room. "Lucky thing I was there or it would have been much worse."
"How much worse?" Soran inquired, curious as to how much worse it could get beyond shards of metal sticking out of you.
"Infection, severed nerves, loss of feeling," Blake ticked off his fingers. "The armor definitely took the brunt of it, but she was still at risk even with the med-kit. At least it wasn't as bad as Patricia."
Soran frowned. "What about her?"
"A similar thing happened to her on a mission," Blake answered as he went to grab a clipboard off the table. "Abby explained it in great detail. Apparently an outsider exploded and sent dozens of crystal shards into her back. She had some choice words to describe that operation."
Ah, right. Outsiders could do that. They really were versatile beings, ones he still wasn't sure were organic or synthetic. Or more accurately, natural or created. He'd been leaning more towards created since his arrival to XCOM, no being could perform the feats he'd seen without being improved or designed in some way.
"Anyway, sign here," Blake said, handing him the clipboard.
Soran sighed and filled out the signature line. "I never understood the necessity of this."
"Hey, it's only one form," Blake chided, still giving a smile. "This is nothing compared to hospitals I worked at before."
"I suppose," Soran muttered and handed the clipboard back. "Here."
"Appreciated," Blake said with a nod. "Also, did she say anything after I left? I remember she was muttering something I couldn't understand."
"She did," Soran shook his head. "But it was in Chinese, I couldn't understand it."
"Unfortunate," Blake shrugged as he looked at the clipboard. "Well, it was more curiosity than anything. And, ah, I would have preferred you write your name in English."
Soran blinked and looked at what he'd written and frowned. Not a good slip. "Apologies, I can do another one if you like."
"Not necessary," Blake dismissed with a sigh. "As long as it's your name, I can technically accept it," he took a closer look. "This doesn't look Japanese."
"It is," Soran corrected. "You're thinking of Chinese. Japanese is more…flowing than you've probably seen."
"Apparently," Blake muttered. "I guess I always assumed they looked similar. Ah, well. Go in; she'll probably be happy to see you."
Probably best to leave now and talk to Shun. Soran nodded farewell to the Chief Medic and opened the door in front of him. He was once again reminded how small these rooms were; there was barely enough room for a small sink, cupboard and bed in the corner. Across from the bed was a TV which was currently off and Shun was propped up on the bed with additional pillows.
She waved lazily as he walked over by her. "Hey, I guess I'm alive."
He raised an eyebrow. "I appears that way, though Blake sure made a big deal about it."
"Ah, so that was probably him I heard," she recalled with a nod. "I wasn't exactly paying attention."
"Good news is that you should recover with no issues," Soran said. "The human body is oddly resilient."
"And strange," Shun agreed. "But I'm not complaining, though I think I owe Shen more thanks than nature in this case."
"Well, you're alive and in one piece," Soran nodded. "That's most important."
"Thank you," she said quietly. "So I assume that we won? What happened after I blacked out?"
"The Commander and Carmelita jumped up on the roof and made short work of the snipers," Soran explained as he recalled. "Patricia took over briefly and finished off the turrets."
"And after?"
"Patricia led the rest of the squad inside and wiped out the remaining soldiers in the main room," he continued. "She had me stay to watch over you in case any came back or the Chinese sent a unit."
"Oh," she looked surprised. "So that was you, I wondered but wasn't sure."
"Yes, it was me," he assured her. "I thought you were unconscious else I would have talked to you."
"I think I sort of was," she added, shaking her head. "Drifting in and out. Did I say anything in that state?"
"Something," Soran shrugged. "But I couldn't understand it, sorry."
"No worries," she said, her voice oddly neutral. "Anyway, did they catch or find anything?"
"Artifact recovery is still going through the building," Soran answered, leaning against the bed. "I imagine we'll know if they find anything soon."
"And the Chinese?"
"Nothing so far," Soran shook his head. "Though I doubt they'd talk to me first. The Commander is probably dealing with them, but we'll see."
"EXALT will probably want to retaliate soon," Shun noted after a few seconds. "I guess I should focus on healing up. Maybe I'll ask for some of those gene mods. They seem useful."
Soran pursed his lips and decided to risk it. It wasn't like he was going to get another chance. "Think very carefully before you do, Shun. Genetic modification will have consequences, ones you probably won't know for a while."
She looked a bit surprised at the sudden gravity in his voice. "How do you know? I doubt the Commander would have approved them if he wasn't certain they were safe."
The thing was, Soran didn't disagree. The Commander probably did think they were completely safe, otherwise he wouldn't have been modified himself. "Because h-people are fallible, right now everyone's ecstatic of what this kind of modification can achieve. But it only takes one mistake, one flaw to bring everything crashing down."
"You're probably being paranoid," Shun chided with a smile. "It's not like you know it's going to happen."
"No," Soran admitted. "But it very well could."
He sighed. "Just think it through, ok? There's no turning back when it comes to this."
"Don't worry," she assured him. "I promise I'll think it through. You happy?"
She was probably just saying it to placate him, but there was little he could do to change her mind. But perhaps she'd remember later. "For now," he said, giving her a rare smile to show he meant it. "But I'll let you rest now."
"Hey, you don't have to go quite yet," she protested. "I'm not that weak, and I doubt they'll call you after you helped take the EXALT base."
He hesitated. It was only delaying the inevitable, but…he figured he might as well spend some time with his friend before continuing. He wondered how she would feel afterwards. "Oh, fine," he said lightly. "I've got some time."
The Citadel, Mess Hall
"So why Mahakam?" Creed asked as they sat down.
She didn't fail to notice Creed look skeptically at her enormous tray of food, holding roughly double what he had on his own tray. Well, the explanation for that was rather simple; she was hungry. Apparently, extensive use of psionics only amplified it. After getting back to the Citadel she'd taken a quick shower and would have probably gone to bed had she actually been tired and Creed hadn't asked if she wanted to get something to eat.
She'd still been rather energized after the battle, despite the fatigue she could physically feel in her body. Creed's offer had also reminded her that she was hungry, and since sleep probably wouldn't be happening, here she was. It also appeared that extensive psionic use also muted her passive abilities for a period afterwards. Right now she could only just sense the people around her, though she could probably still influence people if she really wanted too.
"Because I wanted to use a word that he probably wouldn't think of randomly, or that someone would accidentally say," Patricia answered as she began eating her first bowl of beans. "Mahakam was a dwarven city in a book I read a long time ago. I doubted that he would have read it."
"I didn't know you read fantasy," Creed commented as he also began eating. "I honestly wouldn't have guessed that."
"I don't know if I should be offended at that or not," she said good-naturedly. "And just what did assume I read?"
Creed paused and looked up contemplatively. "I would have guessed espionage or science fiction. Maybe military."
"Hey, I like those," she defended. "Well, sci-fi more so. Espionage and military are sort of hit and miss. But I always loved reading fantasy stuff as a girl and it's definitely one of the most interesting genres out there."
"Maybe I just haven't read the right ones," Creed shrugged. "I just prefer more modern settings."
"Let me guess yours now," Patricia suggested, putting her forearms on the table and leaning forward. "It's only fair and I'm curious."
"That is not fair," Creed pointed out. "You can just read my mind for the answers."
Patricia snorted. "I'm flattered you think I still have energy to do that. Trust me, I'm not going to read your mind. I can barely sense what you're feeling."
"Well, go ahead," he said.
She thought for a minute. The answers did seem pretty obvious to her. She could reliably eliminate romance and fantasy. Definitely sci-fi, maybe military. Espionage might be, but she wasn't convinced it was on his list of favorites. Hmm, what else. Mystery? Probably not, he seemed the type who would prefer a straightforward plot than a bunch of unknowns.
"Science fiction and military," she finally said.
"Oh yeah, I do like those," Creed answered, smiling. "But it's not my personal favorite genre."
Patricia frowned, wondering what she'd forgotten. "Oh? Then what is it?"
"Alternate history," Creed said. "Stuff like if the Nazis won World War II or the South won the Civil War. I always found that fascinating, how different the world could be if just a few events turned out differently."
That she could agree with. She was somewhat surprised she hadn't really…read any books in that genre. "Huh, I don't think I've ever read one of those. You're right, that sounds really neat."
"I can make some recommendations," Creed suggested. "But it's admittedly a rather small genre. But I hope it gets the popularity it deserves."
"Well, that's an extra incentive," Patricia suggested wryly. "We win the war and you can be the first to write an alternate timeline where the aliens won and then the humans eventual revolt."
"That sounds suspiciously like the plot of dozen sci-fi novels already," Creed pointed out dryly. "Ignoring the fact that I'd be a terrible author, I'm not sure that I could add anything that hasn't been done before."
Patricia snorted. "We're practically living in a sci-fi novel already. Besides, this would be based on stuff that actually happened."
"Tell you what," Creed said, pointing a fork at her for emphasis. "We win and we'll discuss my future writing career. Though if I'm going to write anything, I'd probably do your biography."
Patricia blinked in surprise, and from what she could sense he seemed more or less serious. Albeit his feeling were touched with amusement, so it might not be like she initially thought. "Me?"
"Well, with your permission, of course," Creed amended. "And you could be executive editor or whatever. But I think people would be interested in the life of Patricia Trask, XCOM soldier, defender of humanity and first human psionic."
"I'm flattered," she said, and meant it. Truthfully she'd never thought much about what would happen after the war if they won. But it was very likely that everyone in XCOM would be regarded as heroes and that always came with a set of unexpected consequences; namely interviews, books and probably a dozen more forms of media.
"Or, I suppose you could hire an actual writer who knew what they were doing," he amended, backing off. "But hey, the offer's open."
"Honestly, I'd prefer you write it than someone looking just to get famous off me," Patricia shook her head. "But I don't think I deserve more recognition than anyone else."
"Of course you say that," Creed chuckled. "I'm the one supposed to be in the background. You aren't really, not in XCOM. Everyone knows who you are and respects you, like it or not. The Commander doesn't just assign anyone to be his second-in-command on missions."
He did have a point, much as she didn't want to acknowledge it. She sighed. "Great. Just what I always wanted."
"We can move onto a more cheery topic if you want," Creed suggested. "So, how did you…drain the energy out of that guy?"
She knew he'd meant it in jest, but this was actually a topic she was more comfortable with since she felt she could actually answer it accurately. "I'm not sure I actually did," Patricia began, wondering how she could explain it. "Instead of…directly draining him, I think that I flipped our states, for lack of a better word."
At Creed's confused look she continued. "I think I tricked both his brain and mine, made him think he was exhausted and could barely stand up and made me think I was reenergized."
"So you're saying it worked like a placebo?" Creed asked, taking a sip of water.
"Sort of," Patricia said, biting her lip. "But I don't know for sure. I wasn't exactly the most lucid when I tried that. It'll need more testing. I suppose that if I collapse suddenly, my theory will be correct."
"I hope not," Creed said, concern in his voice and emotions. "With how much you pushed yourself…I don't think it's unreasonable to think you could kill yourself at a certain point."
"I'll get better at managing it," Patricia promised. "But I don't think any of us can afford to hold back now. Whatever it takes."
"But not at the cost of your life," Creed warned. "You're good to no one dead because you felt you needed to push yourself. We need you alive. You didn't see how bad you looked, I practically dragged you to that man."
"I know, and I'll try to get better," Patricia sighed. "And thanks for that, by the way, but I wasn't worried about you carrying me."
"I don't think you know how heavy you are with that armor," Creed pointed out humorously. "Not exactly a feather. I would have been worried if I was carrying me."
"Not this time," Patricia corrected. "You were very adamant in your mind, that I remember that clearly. You weren't going to drop me, no matter what happened. It was sweet."
His tan face flushed slightly at that and he quickly took a sip of water. "Well, I knew you'd yell at me later if I'd dropped you."
He was trying to wave it off with humor, which she found interesting. But his feelings didn't lie and she knew what she'd felt then was correct. She'd been fatigued and exhausted at the EXALT base and the world had swam around her and yet she sensed him perfectly at that time, probably because he was a solid mental anchor she could always find as she'd clung to him physically and mentally.
She was starting to get some suspicions, but respected his privacy to go directly into his mind at this point to confirm them. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable either, so decided to let it drop. For now, anyway. They finished eating and Patricia pushed her tray away and yawned. "I think I'm finally tired now; think I'll get some sleep."
"Please do," Creed encouraged as he grabbed his tray. "You deserve it. I'll probably be in the bunks soon as well."
She made a move to get her tray but Creed beat her to it and placed it on his own. "I've got it," he assured her. "Get some rest."
She gave him a tired smile. "Thank you, I'll see you in the morning."
Creed likely knew very well that it technically was morning, but for once didn't reply with a smart comment, simply taking her tray and walking away. Feeling rather good and full, she began walking back towards the barracks to get some well-deserved sleep.
The Citadel, Situation Room
"Well, we released the 'recovered' footage from the Mercado Estate," Bradford updated them as they all gathered around the holotable. "Aside from some headlines, I haven't seen much otherwise."
"They're probably trying to figure out how to edit it without it being too disturbing," Shen guessed, crossing his arms. "It's not exactly family-friendly."
"As long as they have it," the Commander interjected. "That's what matters, and now we can monitor and see which ones decide to cover it in more detail."
"I don't think the press liked my flat refusal of answers," Van Doorn commented as he took a drink of water.
The Commander shook his head and smiled wryly. "Really, what did they expect? We're clearly not going to reveal our future plans in specifics. But you handled it well, sorry you had to go through it."
"Believe it or not, they were better than most," Van Doorn waved off. "I think using two armed and armored XCOM soldiers had a noticeable effect."
"Well, people are certainly talking about us," Bradford noted as he lifted his tablet and began scrolling through. "It seems to have been pretty well received, if not wild with speculation."
"Well, I'd call this a win," the Commander stated, looking around the holotable. "The Mercado Estate is taken, public approval is rising and EXALT is going to take a massive hit once the information about their 'experiments' come to light."
"And China is noticeably quiet," Zhang added with a nod. "If they were going to condemn us, they would have done so already."
That detail was true, but the Commander wasn't certain that was a good thing. They'd sent the doctored evidence and several of the bodies to Chinese authorities to prove what they'd found was "real," but hadn't heard anything from them ever since, positive or negative. There was the possibility that they wanted to avoid embarrassment, but they should have at least contacted XCOM privately.
But that was a minor note on what was a very good day. "The point is that I think we've earned a small celebration, if only for a few hours," the Commander continued, walking over to a table where he'd set a small bag on. "Objections?"
All of them chuckled and shook their heads no and the Commander took out several bottles of wine and beer and set them on the dimmed holotable and headed back over and took another box of glasses and headed back over. "I wasn't sure what your preferences were, so I just got both. Wine glasses and shots."
"Huh," Bradford commented with a raised eyebrow as he picked up one of the bottles. "You really got what we wanted."
The Commander rolled his eyes as everyone gathered around. "Of course, why would I make a list otherwise. But only one glass or equivalent for everyone; while I'm sure I can trust you to drink responsibly, I'd prefer we were mostly at the tops of our game if something comes up."
"No fun," Bradford said with pretend resignation.
"With that stuff you've got, Bradford, I think one shot is too much," Van Doorn commented as he opened a wine bottle. "I will never understand people who like that stuff."
Bradford smirked as he poured some of the vodka into a small glass. "I would have thought you could handle the hard stuff, Peter."
Van Doorn sniffed indignantly. "I can. I just think it tastes awful."
"I'll side with Peter on this," Vahlen commented as she poured a small amount of red wine into a glass. "No offense, Bradford."
"None taken," he answered with a smile as he took a drink. "Zhang, you want some."
"No," came the flat reply.
"Two people who don't drink," Van Doorn tsked. "What is the world coming to?"
"Careful," the Commander warned. "Next time they'll be nothing but vodka."
Van Doorn visibly shuddered. "Point taken, Commander."
"Well, before everyone exhausts their one glass, I'll propose the toast," Vahlen interrupted, nodding towards him. "To you, Commander, for getting us this far."
"Copy that," Bradford agreed and raised his glass, followed soon by all of them. He felt very humbled at that moment, especially since it had definitely not just been him. He may have come up with the major decisions, but without the people before him, it would have never happened. "Thank you," he accepted inclining his head. "But it's not just been me. I would never have been able to accomplish this much without all of you. So," he grabbed an empty glass and raised it. "To XCOM, and our eventual victory over EXALT and the aliens."
There was a chorus of agreement as they followed suit and with that most of them finished what little was in their glasses and set them back on the holotable. "So, what was your impression of the fabled Director of EXALT?" Vahlen asked curiously.
"Overly confident and arrogant," the Commander answered, amused. "It might have been an act, but I'm not sure. She's definitely a leader, but unfortunately one with questionable intelligence."
"Well, it's not like we expected them to reasonably agree to a truce," Van Doorn pointed out. "Much less focus on the aliens. Power comes first for them."
"Well, they should enjoy it while it lasts," Zhang said. "I think I'll take advantage of the momentum and begin assigning agents to look into Solaris Industries. Keep them on the defensive."
"Good idea," the Commander agreed. "I doubt EXALT is going to remain quiet long."
Bradford suddenly reached up to his earpiece and clicked it, and the Commander observed him go from pleased and happy to serious. "Got it," he said, all business again. "Thanks, Jackson. I'll let the Commander know."
"What is it?" The Commander asked.
"The Council," Bradford answered with a sigh. "They want to talk to you."
"Wish they could have done it before our little celebration," the Commander muttered as he turned to set up the screen on the wall. "Ah well, party's over."
The good news was that at least the Council had called early enough so that he wouldn't have to worry about the potential impaired judgement of his Internal Council. One glass probably wasn't anything to worry about, especially with a team of professionals, but he didn't want an additional worry beyond what he already had.
Flanked by Van Doorn and Bradford, with Zhang out of the picture and Shen and Vahlen in the background, the Commander accepted the transmission and the screen flashed to once again reveal the Speaker, still cloaked in blue light and shadow.
"Hello, Commander," he began, with an inclination of his head.
No follow up comment. Unusual. "You as well, Speaker," the Commander answered cordially. "I assume the Council has questions regarding our recent capture of the EXALT-held Mercado Estate?"
"That is correct, Commander," the Speaker continued neutrally. "Many questions. The one the Council wishes answered is why you not only failed to inform us of your impending assault, but the Chinese government as well."
At least that was an understandable question, if a bit self-explanatory. "Security, Speaker," the Commander answered smoothly. "EXALT has been confirmed to have infiltrated an unknown number of governments, and we couldn't risk our operation being compromised before we arrived."
"Do you suspect EXALT plants within the Council itself?" The Speaker demanded. "And if so, do you have proof?"
"I doubt that there are any within the Council itself," the Commander answered carefully. "Otherwise the situation would likely be more dire. But I can't say the same for their aides or subordinates. Had we informed the Council, am I wrong in assuming that the esteemed Chinese Councilor would have contacted his government, and sharing this information with them?"
"You are most likely right, Commander," the Speaker conceded. "But we are together in this endeavor against EXALT and the aliens. This recent attack, with no warning whatsoever, has shaken the faith some councilors have in your willingness to work with the Council."
The Commander sighed. "I said I'd work with the Council when it was appropriate and the same with keeping them informed. Informing the Council, or anyone else, would have introduced an unnecessary security risk and possibly compromised the mission."
"And yet, that is not your call to make," the Speaker continued neutrally. "With any operation, you must let the government of the country know the specifics. That has actually been one regulation you've kept well up to this point. But the Chinese Councilor believes that you've ignored it as a statement against his country."
"It had nothing to do with the fact that it was in China," the Commander sighed. "I would have done the exact same thing if the Mercado Estate was in Russia, Japan or America. While I have disagreements with the Council, I don't believe they lack the intelligence to see my point."
"I believe they do," the Speaker said, lacing his fingers together. "But their issues stem from the fact that this is another incident in a long line of insubordination to the Council. I might remind you that XCOM is still under the United Nations. Your alliances with other nations have not gone unnoticed, and you seem to treat the Council the same way, not as a superior, but as an ally."
To his credit, the Speaker didn't exactly sound happy at the words he was saying, but once again trying to convey what the Council felt. "Because you are an ally," the Commander stated. "An important one for sure, but one I do rely upon for certain things. In terms of military direction you haven't ever dictated to me any directions, and that's how it's been this entire time. This war is bigger than us or you, humanity will need more than the United Nations to win and that's why I'm looking beyond the Council. I won't refuse help or seek it out because of your disapproval."
"While understandable, Commander, the Council would advise you focus on the countries who have supported you from the beginning," the Speaker said. "Unity is needed, especially now."
"And when have I disagreed with that?" The Commander demanded.
"By refusing to see why your actions might be deemed troublesome," the Speaker responded. "And as a result of your actions today, China has withdrawn from the Council."
The Commander blinked and resisted the urge to step back in surprise. "What?" He demanded incredulously. "Why?"
"They cited your disrespect for the Chinese nation as their main reason," the Speaker explained. "In addition to your apparent consolidation of power, your apparent attempt to deny them the Dreadnought wreckage and ultimately because they feel that they don't need XCOM because of their access to the Dreadnought."
The Commander stepped forward. "Speaker, we are winning against the aliens and EXALT right now. There is no reason to withdraw outside of a petty grudge. XCOM saved China from that Dreadnought or have they forgotten already? XCOM is needed if we want to win this war."
"While there is no doubt that XCOM will be instrumental, China does not hold the same opinion, Commander," the Speaker continued neutrally. "I will be frank, Commander. This does not reflect well on your leadership and XCOM as a whole. Several councilors are wondering if you are the right person to lead this initiative. Brazil may have been out of your hands, but China was the direct result of your actions. That cannot be ignored."
The Commander took a deep breath. "No, Speaker. This decision was made solely by China. It was not motivated by logic, but by emotions. By their refusal to understand any tactical or military reasoning. I can easily defend my actions without bias, but I would suspect China would fail to do the same. Your arguments might hold weight if XCOM was failing, but that is clearly not the case. EXALT has been crippled, and we've recovered evidence of what they were doing. I suspect that the Chinese are embarrassed that such crimes were happening under their watch and think the best move is to ignore it."
The Commander looked into the Speaker's silhouetted face. "The Councilors can blame me if they wish, but you and they both know the real reason my competence is called into question, and it isn't because of my performance."
The Speaker was silent.
"Convey that to the Council,"the Commander stated coldly. "Our operations will not change. XCOM will continue to do what it's done since the beginning: defend humanity. Continue blaming if you wish, but remember the ones coming to save you when your cities are under attack."
He nodded to Bradford. "End it."
Bradford nodded and the screen flickered off. The Commander turned on his heel and stormed to the holotable. "Idiots. But we can't dwell on that now." He jabbed a finger at Bradford. "Look into contacting Mongolia and Taiwan. Zhang, we might need your agents on this one."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Van Doorn asked hesitantly, taken aback by the storm of fury in his voice. "Antagonizing the Chinese more-"
"The Chinese made a political, petty and cowardly decision," the Commander spat as he cleared the holotable and turned it on, displaying a map of China. "I only held off because I didn't want to risk China's relationship with the Council. As they are no longer part of it, I'm under no obligation to take their concerns into consideration."
"They might respond with force," Zhang warned, concern on his face. "We should be very careful how we proceed with them. Especially once North Korea gets decided one way or another."
The Commander looked him coldly in the eye. "That's what the Hades Contingency is for, no? Nations that attack us or our allies. China will not risk a confrontation with us."
"You also believed they wouldn't leave the Council," Bradford quietly pointed out.
"I did," the Commander acknowledged. "But they did and now we have to make up for it. If China had wanted us to avoid it, they shouldn't have left in the first place."
He motioned to all of them. "Let's get to work. I want to have solutions within the week."
The Bastion, Bedroom
"I thought you said he was dead," Ethan almost growled as he paced furiously back and forth. Saudia felt it best to let him roam and as a result hadn't said much since the revelation that Ethan's Commander and friend was not only alive, but also leading the fight against them.
He wasn't taking it as bad as he could have been…but he was…heated to say the least. Something she'd hadn't seen from him in a long time. "I did think she was dead," she responded, trying to be as calm as possible. "Every agent I had looking into it reported the same thing. You saw the video of him being executed, you really think I wouldn't have told you if he wasn't?"
That seemed to break through and he paused and looked down. "No," he muttered. "You wouldn't, not with this. So they must have faked it, saving him for when they thought they could use him."
"I suppose it explains why XCOM's acted atypically," Saudia noted. "No wonder there's tension between XCOM and the Council."
"Of course there is," Ethan spat furiously. "They probably thought he would be so grateful for being given a second chance and happily go along with whatever they said. Cowards and hypocrites, all of them. They knew he was needed but condemned him every chance they got. He would never forget, he probably thinks all of us are dead too."
Saudia pursed her lips. "That's what the records show, Ethan," she said quietly. "You officially died almost nine years ago."
Ethan's shoulders sank and he was silent for a few seconds. "What happens now?"
Saudia walked up to him and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "I think I should ask you that question."
He looked at her, conflict and frustration written plainly on his face. "I'm not leaving, if you're worried about that. The Commander is wrong this time. You saved me, and EXALT gave me a purpose and a goal to fight for. My life is here now, with you, and I'll never leave it."
Saudia couldn't help but be a little relieved at that. A small part of her had wondered if his loyalty to the Commander would override everything here, including her. That was a part of his life she couldn't fully understand or grasp the depth of, no matter how much she tried. But she also saw resilience on his face as he said that, and she knew the look. "But what?" She asked.
"I'm going to tell the others," Ethan said. "They deserve to know."
Saudia took a breath. She fully understood why he wanted to…but it was a bad idea. "Are you sure you want to?" She warned carefully, walking in front of him to get his full attention. "Learning that they've been fighting him…how will they react?"
Ethan looked at her sadly. "I don't know," he said softly. "I know the problems it will cause, but it seems wrong to hide it. The Commander never lied to us and I've done my best to hold myself to the standard."
"I know, I know," she whispered, fitting her hands in his own. "But please, hold off for now. At least until we decide what we're going to do."
Ethan's jaw clenched. "And what are we going to do, Director?"
She was quiet for a few minutes, looking down as she tried to think. For once in her life, she wasn't sure what the best path forward was. In any situation there was usually at least one obvious and clear path that would bring them closer to their goal, or at least achieve the objective.
Yet here…what were the options.
"I don't know," she admitted softly. "I don't know this time."
"Then let's think it through," Ethan suggested. "It's not like there are many options."
That was true. "Is he telling the truth?" Saudia asked.
"About the aliens, his truce, or his threat?" Ethan asked. "Probably all of them. He doesn't lie, Saudia, not about this, and especially not when addressing his enemies directly."
"You really believe he would follow through if he knew you were my husband?" Saudia asked.
Ethan hesitated. "He would likely consider me a traitor, so yes, he would follow through easily if he felt he was justified. You know what he did to Farida, so he would definitely follow through even if he killed me himself."
Saudia remembered very well the story Ethan told about the Commander dealing with his wife, but had irrationally hoped it wouldn't extend beyond that. And despite herself, she was somewhat worried. It was irrational, but the Commander was unlike any person she'd watched in a war. She was in probably the safest place in the world, but he'd shown a remarkable tendency to persevere and conquer incredible odds. She wouldn't put it past him to look at the considerable defenses of the Bastion and only consider it as just another obstacle.
"And the aliens?" She said. "You think we've been underestimating them?"
He let go of her hands and walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, resting his elbows on his knees. "I think we've been lying to ourselves about this whole arrangement with the aliens. I thought it was just me since you didn't say anything, but I really don't think so anymore."
Saudia walked over to the bed as well and sat down beside him. "Go on,"
"I think these aliens aren't idiots," Ethan continued. "They're taking advantage of us, and they know they have control, especially judging by how easily they've taken the Furies. At this point we're so transparent about our goals there's no way they can't see it."
"The problem is that we don't have enough," Saudia said, shaking her head. "Once we do then we can break off, but if we stop now we'll have weakened ourselves for nothing."
"And if we don't the aliens may just decide to take over directly," Ethan countered. "Do you really want to risk everything for the sake of some artifacts?"
"All we need is a few months," Saudia insisted. "By then we should have enough and can begin-"
"Stop thinking that the plan hasn't changed," Ethan snapped suddenly. "We can't keep going on like nothing has happened. If we keep going forward not only are we going to have the aliens hell-bent on killing us, but the Commander as well. We need to rethink everything?"
"How?" Saudia demanded, waving her hand towards the window. "Do we just go into hiding again and wait for it to blow over? Hope that the aliens and XCOM forget us?"
"No," Ethan shook his head. "We need to take action. Now, before it's too late. The Commander wasn't lying when he said he'd accept a truce, we leave him alone and we won't have to deal with XCOM. We need to consolidate our forces. Gather our soldiers, retake the Furies and make new psionics. We have to get ready to go to war with the aliens."
Saudia pinched the bridge of her nose. "Even if the Commander decides to agree to a truce, I doubt the UN or Council will really like that."
"Perhaps he would if I talked to him," Ethan suggested. "He'll listen to me."
That might not be a bad idea. At the very least it would cause the Commander to stop and think about attacking, knowing he'd be fighting his old soldiers. Although he might ultimately decide that they were traitors and proceed anyway. But it probably couldn't hurt. "Perhaps. But this can't be a decision made unilaterally. We need to hold a meeting with everyone, to decide what to do about the aliens and the Commander."
Ethan sighed. "I suppose that's best. But I want to be there. I can answer whatever questions they have."
Saudia hesitated. "But how accurate would that be? Truthfully? You've changed since we rescued you, how do you know he hasn't?"
"I don't," Ethan admitted. "But if that conversation was anything to go by, he hasn't changed that much."
"I'll take that into consideration," Saudia promised. "But I have to know now…if we decide to continue against XCOM, will you do it?"
He was silent for a minute. "Yes Saudia," he said quietly, his voice close to breaking. "I will. If I must."
She took his closest hand in her own. "Thank you," she whispered quietly, sincerely. "I promise I'll ensure you have a say in the final decision."
Ethan gave her hand a squeeze and sighed. "I suppose I better talk with Elizabeth and Zara. Assuming his tactics haven't changed, and based on our previous encounters they haven't, I know how he likes to operate and might be able to help prevent infiltration. At least until we make a decision one way or another."
"It'll be soon," Saudia promised. "I promise you that."
"I'll hold off telling the rest he's alive," Ethan said. "But only until we know the plan."
Saudia pushed herself off the bed. "I suppose we'd better get started. There's a lot to do."
The Citadel, Hallways
Soran wondered if this was what martyrs felt like.
People who believed what they were doing was the right thing, but were resigned to the fact that they were most likely not going to survive. He supposed the question for him was if he doing the right thing?
He didn't know for sure, but he knew that they didn't deserve what was coming. The men and women he'd fought beside weren't what he'd expected, and as a result had ultimately influenced him into this decision.
With each step he took he knew how easy it would be to just turn around, continue on with life as if nothing would happen, pretending everything was real and this was his fight. But no, he'd made his choice when he'd prevented an issue with Shun, when he warned the Commander about Patricia, and when he saved Samuel from the rocket.
All of those he could have passively observed, washing himself of any suspicion or guilt. But he hadn't and it had only become more apparent as time went on that he wasn't on the right side. He wasn't convinced XCOM was the best alternative, but he knew he wouldn't continue on like this, pretending to be something he wasn't. Not anymore.
He reached the door to the Commander's office and waited. Knowing him, it wouldn't be long. Everything hinged on what the Commander did, Soran was taking a massive gamble which might very well end with his execution.
Yet the Commander had struck him as reasonable, and every interaction since then had backed it up. It was worth the risk in this case, although it wasn't as though he had much choice now. But time was running out for all of them and it was now or never for him. The taking of the Mercado Estate was a turning point for everyone. He knew it.
But everything would change in the next few minutes.
The door slid open and Soran walked into the office. The Commander looked slightly more stressed than before, and was fully focused on his screen for a few seconds before looking up and directing his full attention to him. "Ah, Soran. Good to see you."
Soran inclined his head. "You as well, Commander,"
Hands at his sides, Soran kept quiet as the Commander obviously waited for him to elaborate. A minute stretched into two and the Commander finally frowned. "Is there something you need, Soran? Why are you here?"
Soran took a deep breath. "Yes, Commander. I'm here to turn myself in."
The extent of the Commander's surprise was several blinks and him standing to look him in the eye. Soran also didn't fail to note his hand resting on the gauss pistol on his hip. "I think you should explain. If you're turning yourself in, then who are you?"
"It will be easier to show you," Soran answered and slowly withdrew one of the knives strapped to his chest. Lips twitching, he placed the tip on the crook of his elbow. The Shapers had wisely noted well beforehand that his blood would pose an issue should he be wounded in combat, and to compensate had hardened his skin to resist deep scrapes or scratches. It wouldn't stop a bullet, laser or plasma, but it would prevent him from revealing himself accidentally by a paper cut.
But the skin on the elbow was the weakest, and Soran knew he could make a small incision with enough pressure. He hissed lightly as the blade pierced his skin and a small dot of golden blood trickled out. He looked up at the Commander, who, for the first time Soran had observed, actually looked surprised, eyes wide at his bleeding arm.
"I'm one of them, Commander," Soran stated quietly, letting the knife drop to the floor with a thud. "I'm an alien."
A/N: None of you should be surprised by this. Really, what human hisses as much as he has?
On a more serious note, I'm genuinely curious if anyone actually guessed this, since I've not seen any speculation on it. But yeah, feels good to finally have that out there after sitting on it for half a year. I find it fitting to, since I'm posting this on the one-year anniversary of the Hades Contingency. A lot has happened since I posted that short prologue, and I do want to say thanks for everyone who's read and given feedback.
Also, if you've every had questions about the aliens themselves, stick around for the next chapter.
-Xabiar