XCOM: The Atlas Protocol

by Xabiar

After the destruction of the dreadnought, tensions between XCOM and the Council are higher than ever. Despite growing opposition and oversight, the Commander doesn't hesitate to push humanity further into uncharted territory, as well as dealing with an ancient global conspiracy, and a growing number of countries looking to take advantage of an invasion that is only just beginning.

30. Why We Are Here

"Why We Are Here"

---

The Citadel, Office of the Commander

Human and alien stared at each other, neither moving nor blinking.

The Commander's hand had unconsciously went to his hip where his gauss pistol was holstered securely in his belt, but he instinctively knew he wouldn't need it. His life was not in danger, not now. He suspected that if "Soran" had wanted to kill him, he would have done it already and certainly wouldn't have come to turn himself in.

In retrospect, he wasn't quite sure what he was expecting after Soran's reveal. He kept looking at him as if he was expecting some sudden change. But nothing. Aside from the thin trail of drying yellow blood on his arm, Soran looked exactly the same as he had for these past months.

Perfectly human.

At least on the outside.

The Commander had only been legitimately surprised a few times in his life. This was, unfortunately, one such time.

It wasn't that Soran was a spy. He'd been identified by Zhang as a potential leak soon after he'd ordered the investigation, but the surprise was that Soran was an alien. EXALT, the Council, Japanese, at least those explanations made sense on some level, and could be considered seriously. They hadn't noticed the aliens making large strides in human mimicry, so he'd assume that they couldn't legitimately make a human doppelganger without them noticing well beforehand.

That assumption had not only almost cost him his life, but XCOM's very existence.

Ignoring the fact that Soran had somehow managed to fool everyone in XCOM, including the medical professionals and the Japanese military officers who'd sent him here in the first place, this was a disturbing reminder of just how advanced the aliens were. If they could make a human mimic as realistic as Soran, there were certainly more out there.

Had Soran been identified as a traitor, there were very clear guidelines about what to do next. Yet he realized now that when writing the Janus Contingency that he'd never added in or considered possible defectors or traitors. Which now seriously complicated matters. Soran had probably been the cause of some serious leaks, and the aliens probably knew the extent of their tech thanks to him.

But that didn't erase the fact that he was turning himself in now. That had to be taken into consideration. In almost any situation there was always at least one path that seemed clear and right to him. Justified, at the very least. But here…he didn't know what the right thing to do was.

Could Soran be considered a traitor if he'd never been on their side to begin with? He was a spy for certain, but a traitor? That he wasn't sure now. There was a clear difference between those two words. Spies he could respect for the most part, even if he loathed when they were used against him. They were doing a job, and like any professional, were expected to do it well. The fact that Soran had gone almost unnoticed spoke to his skill, and had he not come forward, he'd have probably never seen him coming.

Traitors were different. They were people who legitimately turned for multiple reasons, be they money, power, ideology or love. Very rarely had the Commander ever found reason to respect a traitor's decision, but at the very least he had no qualms about punishing them. Caught spies were also straightforward.

No, the fact that Soran appeared to fall into the "spy" category wasn't the issue. The issue was that he had turned himself in. He couldn't be treated as simply a caught spy, and if he did cooperate….a tricky situation all around.

The Commander had been careful to not let his true feelings show too much on his face, but Soran had probably picked up on his initial surprise. If he was one of the thin men, his vision had likely been enhanced as well. Now that his secret was out, the Commander did notice a change in Soran's demeanor.

It was subtle, but he didn't seem like the calm soldier he'd talked to over the past few months. Now Soran's face had an intensity to it, not that of a subordinate soldier, but that of an equal. He stood straight and tall as he looked the Commander in the eye, unblinking.

The Commander slowly let his hand fall from the pistol and Soran inclined his head. "Astute observation, Commander. You're right. If I was going to kill you, it would have happened." His voice was the same, but there was an air of assurance around it, as well as a faint rasp that the alien must have hidden for months.

"And I suppose I wouldn't be a surprise to ask why that didn't happen?" The Commander replied evenly.

"I had my orders, Commander," Soran answered calmly. "None of which ordered your execution."

The Commander raised an eyebrow. "But you did have a plan."

Soran's expression didn't change. "Of course I had a plan. Would you expect me not to?"

"Perhaps," the Commander acknowledged. "But I suspect that you didn't have orders to reveal yourself."

Soran's lips twitched. "What an observation. How could you have figured that out? Joking aside, Commander, no, I didn't."

"Then why?"

Soran took a visible breath. "I would prefer to have to answer all your inevitable questions once. No doubt Vahlen will ask the same ones and you'd likely want to have Patricia nearby as well so she can determine if I'm lying or not."

"So you will cooperate?" the Commander confirmed. "You will answer everything?"

"I will answer what I know," Soran answered. "Which is admittedly substantial. I can tell you the answers to some questions you've probably asked, namely why we're here and who our leaders are. I can't guarantee answers to everything, but I hope what I can provide will grant some consideration before you decide to execute me or not."

"We'll see," the Commander warned as he moved to press the intercom. "I haven't decided one way or another yet."

"As I suspected," Soran inclined his head. "You've shown that you are reasonable. I suppose I'll soon see how accurate that is."

The Commander pursed his lips. "I am reasonable up to a point, Soran. I'm generally not inclined to be sympathetic to spies, especially those who've worked to conquer my world and species."

"An understandable reason," Soran agreed. "But as you know very well, not everything is what it seems. We are not all what you believe us to be."

The Commander held his gaze. "I'll determine the truthfulness of that later, but for now I'm going to have you taken to alien containment."

"The glass prison," Soran mused. "I suppose it would be expected that it is where I would go."

"You are an alien," the Commander stated bluntly. "You must be contained until we can ensure it's secure."

Soran nodded his head towards the intercom. "Then I'd prefer to get it over with."

The Commander nodded and pressed the intercom. "Central,"

"Yes, Commander?"

"Gather the Internal Council and order Patricia, Creed and Carmelita to suit up and come to my office."

Bradford was clearly confused. "Will do, but why?"

"Because our mole just turned himself in," the Commander answered grimly. "An alien to be specific."

There was a stunned silence on the other end. "Who?" Bradford demanded incredulously after a lengthy pause.

"The one calling himself Soran Kakusa," the Commander said, maintaining eye contact with the unflinching alien. "I want him in alien containment soon. Have Vahlen tell her people to prepare the chamber for interrogation."

There was silence at the end for a few seconds. "Done, Commander. Heading up now."

---

The Citadel, Barracks

Patricia's eyes snapped open and she took a few seconds to force her brain to wake up before throwing her blanket off and sitting upright on the bed.

That was odd.

It normally took her several minutes to get up if it was a regular night of sleep or not mission-critical. Yet now she felt fully awake and she wondered what had prompted this.

Something had happened.

She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling that was quickly fading. The rest of the base was mostly asleep or resting, and emotions weren't exactly running high. But there was no mistaking what she felt; surprise, danger andoddly…relief all rolled in one sequence.

Whose emotions she couldn't quite determine since the feelings had been clamped down or reduced to the point she could no longer sense them. Perhaps if she tried, but at the moment she didn't exactly feel the urge to. It probably wasn't important. If it was, she'd likely know about it. She deliberately began taking deep breaths and attempted to slow her heartbeat which had unintentionally risen since she'd woken up.

The mass of still, sleeping and quiet minds around her helped greatly and she focused on their calming presence. Random flashes and images appeared in her mind as she did so, a likely byproduct of her opening herself up to the many people around her. She didn't have context for any of them, but that wasn't something she needed. They appeared in her head and she let them go almost as quickly.

A couple minutes later she was back to normal and was considering if she should attempt to go back to sleep or start her day a few hours early when her wristband vibrated. She suddenly went cold and goosebumps broke out on her skin as the vibrations crawled up and down her arm.

What if what had happened was important?

She immediately stood and moved to her locker and began pulling on her armor. She felt a couple more people begin waking up, Creed and Carmelita. Both were almost instantly alert, not much of a surprise and she now heard them walking over.

"I didn't realize you were this fast," Creed commented under his breath as he began putting on his own armor. "I only felt it a minute ago."

Patricia lifted her chest armor over her head and lowered it slowly onto her chest. "I was already awake."

Carmelita looked over at her as she pulled on her boots. "Right before this happened?"

She was smart, Carmelita. "Yes," Patricia confirmed as she pulled on her gauntlets. "Something woke me up. It wasn't normal. I didn't think it was important, but now I guess it might be connected."

"Was it bad?" Creed asked.

Patricia thought for a moment. "I'm not sure," she admitted slowly as she reached for her helmet. "Someone was surprised and relieved. But there was also a clear sense of danger. But all of those faded pretty quickly."

Carmelita strapped on her twin blades and quickly drew them to make sure they were sufficient. Satisfied she put on her own helmet. "I suggest we see what's going on."

Determined and cold, that was how Carmelita felt to her right now. Creed was almost the same, but less intense; more curious than anything. As well as concerned, which she suspected was aimed towards her. She wanted to reassure him, since he sometimes had the idea that her psionics were more of an issue for her than they actually were. But she didn't want to make things…well, awkward, with Carmelita around.

Although she did have an idea. She put her helmet on and as the HUD initialized, gently placed her arm on Creed for a couple seconds, pushing one simple emotion and phrase that she hoped would resonate enough that he got the message.

I'm ok.

She withdrew her hand and reached for her gauss cannon. Creed had his helmet on now and was looking at her wordlessly, likely trying to figure out if it was her or not. She gave a quick nod, which would mean nothing unless someone was looking for it. Carmelita had her alloy cannon in hand and Creed quickly grabbed his own gauss rifle.

"Specialists Trask, Alba and Creed, report to the Commander's Office immediately," Bradford ordered through their helmets and they immediately made for the exit. Conscious of the still-sleeping soldier, Patricia locked down her vocoders so no one could hear.

"Copy, on our way," she answered. "What's the situation?"

"You're needed for escorting a spy to alien containment," Bradford answered, and now she suddenly noticed the tightness in his voice that barely hid the shaking it would have otherwise had. "Patricia will be needed once the interrogation begins."

"A spy?" Carmelita demanded incredulously while all of them increased their pace to a jog. "How?"

"That is what we need to find out," Bradford responded. "I'll be meeting you there and the Commander will provide further orders."

The line clicked off. "We should have asked who it was," Creed muttered under his breath. "And how they were caught."

Patricia shook her head, feeling the conflicting emotions of shock, relief and puzzlement from both of them, herself included. "I thought the Citadel was immune to infiltration. I don't even know where we are and all the personnel are screened beforehand."

"No place is immune to infiltration," Carmelita stated coldly. "You can make it difficult, but as long as someone has the means, money and determination, it can be done. I suspect EXALT is responsible for the mole."

"Then why would we take him to alien containment?" Creed questioned. "Why not the cells?"

"He could be enhanced?" Carmelita suggested. "It's not unreasonable, and the cells might not hold him as well. The only other explanation is that the aliens somehow made a passable thin man, and by now we'd have probably noticed."

Patricia wasn't sure which was worse. An alien or human traitor. Either way they had to answer for what they'd done. A couple minutes later they arrived at the Commander's Office. She immediately felt the familiar coldness and dispassion of the Commander, perfectly controlled as always. As well as Soran, surprisingly. It was much harder to get a read on him for some reason, but he was unique enough for her to remember.

The doors slid open and she saw the Commander in front of his desk and Soran standing off to the side. Why was he here? Had he been called as well? Although if that was the case, then why wasn't he wearing his armor?

"We're here for the spy, as requested," Carmelita stated, after saluting the Commander. "Where is he?"

The Commander pursed his lips and nodded to Soran who took a step forward. "That would be me, Carmelita," he said calmly. "You're here to escort me to alien containment."

His words didn't register at first, not to her or anyone else from the looks of it. Patricia blinked under her helmet, not comprehending at first. Was he saying….was he…?

"…You?" Carmelita said, her voice colored with shock in a rare moment of pure emotion. "You're…"

"Correct," he finished calmly. "An alien."

Shock, surprise and conflict were rolling off both Carmelita and Creed, and echoed by her since she felt exactly the same. He….he was an alien? This whole time?

And she hadn't sensed anything?

Creed took the initiative, pushing through the shock and not letting it affect him or his voice. "Hands behind your back, Soran, or whatever your name is," he ordered, the harshness in his voice amplified, even to her. Soran nodded calmly and complied while Creed snapped the binders on him.

Patricia turned to the Commander. "How did you know…?" She trailed off, not finishing the sentence.

The Commander cast a sidelong look at the now cuffed Soran, who looked exactly the same as the months they served and fought side-by-side. All that was just an act? He'd been using them this whole time? "He told me," the Commander finally said quietly. "He just walked in and told me."

Patricia's head snapped back to him at that, a new storm of emotions vying in her. She wasn't sure what she was more surprised at; that Soran had turned himself in voluntarily or that the Commander had seemingly not suspected him either. "Why?" She asked, her voice torn between confusion, curiosity and helplessness.

The Commander took a breath. "That is what I want to find out."

Patricia looked back at Carmelita and Creed who were escorting Soran out, one hand each on his arms. Carmelita also had her free hand clutching one of her blades and Creed had his resting on his holstered pistol. "I'll need you there," he continued, prompting her to look back at him. "He's promised to comply with my questioning, but I want to be sure."

Patricia nodded. "You can count on me,"

His lips twitched. "Go down with them, help them set up alien containment," he turned to the table. "I'll be down shortly. There are some issues that need to be cleared up first."

She was more than happy to salute and back away. She did not want to be in the same room when the Commander informed everyone what had happened. A security breach like this was unacceptable and both Zhang and Bradford were likely going to have to answer for it somehow. To her knowledge the Commander had never lost his control or temper. But there was a first time for everything.

And if this was the time, she wanted to be far away when it happened.

---

The Citadel, Office of the Commander

The Commander deliberately let the uncomfortable silence stretch over a period of several minutes as everyone, including himself, gradually became more and more uneasy. Shen and Van Doorn looked downright unnerved, Bradford and Zhang looked more embarrassed than anything, although Zhang would look perfectly normal to anyone who didn't know him.

Oddly enough, Vahlen looked more intrigued than anything. Actually no, that was exactly what he anticipated her reaction would be. Ignoring the massive security breach here, this alien was hopefully going to shed some light on the alien's secrets, history, tech…no wonder Vahlen was more focused on that, but even she was not enjoying the current tension in the air.

"So," the Commander finally said, looking each one of them hard in the eye. "Do any of you have an explanation as to how a fucking alien managed to infiltrate us without anyone noticing?"

He deliberately kept his voice calm, but still several of them winced at the sheer harshness and anger in his voice. And he was angry…but contrary to what they probably thought, this was one instance where multiple people were at fault. Yelling at them would serve no purpose, but action needed to be taken here to ensure it wouldn't happen again. Because he suspected that the outcome wouldn't be nearly as…well, good, if the aliens managed to infiltrate them again.

Bradford opened and closed his mouth several times, before just shaking his head. "I made a mistake, Commander. Everything appeared to be in order, but I have no excuse here."

"I concur," Zhang agreed with a firm nod. "We failed here, and it could have cost your life."

"Yes, it certainly could have," the Commander agreed with a pointed stare. "And not just that, but probably XCOM as well," he paused for a moment and sighed. "However, I share some of the blame as well. I've interacted with him the most and should have picked up on something. We three share blame here, let's accept that and make sure it doesn't happen again. Clear?"

Bradford nodded in relief. "Completely, Commander."

The Commander leaned back against the holotable. "So everything was in order?"

"Yes," Bradford tapped on his tablet. "I have all the papers here. We know now that they must have been forged, but they are identical to real ones. All his medical history is likewise included and signed off on by verified doctors."

"So that tells us the aliens can forge authentic documents," Van Doorn noted. "That will make future verification…difficult."

"Not necessarily forged," Zhang amended with a glance towards Van Doorn. "It's not unreasonable to assume that there was a Soran Kakusa and he was either removed or killed. Using an already living soldier would be much easier than creating a new one."

The Commander nodded. "True, but I know of at least one way we can verify our soldiers are human."

"Blood and DNA tests," Vahlen suggested brightly. "The aliens cannot change those, no matter how similar their infiltrators look on the outside."

"Exactly," the Commander nodded, happy that she'd picked up on it so quickly. It wasn't that much of a revelation, but it would at least let them know if they had more aliens in their ranks.

"It might be a good idea to establish an off-site location for this testing," Bradford suggested. "I assume we'd want to oversee it ourselves and if we do find an alien…at least the Citadel isn't compromised."

"Assuming it isn't already," Shen interrupted. "Do you think Soran wouldn't have given the location to the aliens?"

"Probably if he knew where it was," Zhang agreed. "But there is no indication he does, and all the networks are heavily monitored."

"No offense, Bradford," Van Doorn interrupted, shaking his head. "But I don't think we can assume that your 'heavily monitored' networks worked. He's an alien, which means he may have means we don't know about."

"I suppose that will be a question to ask," the Commander muttered.

"Did he say why?" Shen asked.

"Why he turned himself in?" The Commander answered, raising an eyebrow. "Not yet. He didn't want to repeat himself, so he says. But I am curious what his motivations could be."

"We have to consider the possibility that this is an act," Zhang pointed out. "He's put himself in a prime position to gain your trust, especially if he cooperates. But if he's lying…"

"I doubt it," the Commander shook his head, becoming more certain of his conclusion. "He had no good reason to reveal himself if that was the case. He knows Patricia is a psionic and that I won't exactly be lenient. He could have continued on, and barring an unexpected event, I'd have never known."

"You did say that Patricia sensed something off about him," Zhang recalled. "Patricia might be rendered unreliable if he can influence her perception of him."

"Patricia only got that from surface emotions," Vahlen pointed out. "Not a full mind read. If she can't do that, then that argument would hold more weight. As it stands now, that's not the case."

"But that does bring up a good point," Shen said. "Should he cooperate…what are we going to do with him?"

The Commander pursed his lips. "I don't know."

Everyone was silent. "He's been working against us," Van Doorn stated. "That can't be forgotten."

"It won't," the Commander assured him immediately. "But I want to know the extent of what he's done; what his motivations are and what he can provide us before reaching a decision."

"Probably the best move," Bradford sighed. "Who do you want with you?"

"No one," the Commander shook his head. "I'll conduct the interrogation myself. I'll have an earpiece so all of you and Patricia can communicate."

"I suppose you're not worried about him attacking?" Van Doorn noted rhetorically.

The Commander shrugged. "No, I'm not. If he'd wanted to kill me, he'd have done it before now. Besides, I'm enhanced and armed. I can take one alien."

"What of the soldiers?" Bradford asked with a frown. "Do you want to suppress this?"

"It would be pointless and a lie," the Commander shook his head. "No, but don't promote it unless asked. This will shake morale, so I want to assure everyone that there are no more alien infiltrators. I want blood and DNA tests started now."

"I'll begin setting it up," Bradford promised. "Vahlen, I'll need your help with that."

"Of course," she nodded. "But I want to observe the interrogation. This alien could answer questions we've wondered since the beginning!"

"Good to see you're so enthused," Zhang muttered. "Since this appears to be our mole, do you want me to cease operations observing XCOM personnel?"

"No," the Commander shook his head. "EXALT is still a threat, and if the aliens managed to get in, it's possible EXALT did as well. But it's no longer a top priority."

"Understood," Zhang nodded.

"Right," the Commander took a breath as he mentally organized his list of questions and plans. "Let's see what Soran has to say."

---

The Citadel, Alien Containment

The alien containment module had been set up much like a traditional interrogation room. Two opposing chairs and one table separating the two. Soran sat at one side, looking remarkably calm even though he knew that many people were watching him. The glass that surrounded the module was one-way, so he couldn't see exactly who was watching him.

But he'd been in XCOM long enough to know how the module worked. It was elevated slightly off the ground and build like a cylinder and had a very limited amount of room. It was really only suitable for interrogating specimens who were going to be disposed of soon after and wasn't appropriate for any sort of long-term incarceration. Should the Commander decide not to execute him, he'd likely be moved to a regular cell.

Right now the alien containment room was empty, save for Patricia and the Internal Council. Vahlen was monitoring the module itself and the rest were just watching the immobile human doppelganger. His gauss pistol strapped to his waist, the Commander nodded at Bradford. "Open it."

He nodded and the Commander walked up the small stairway behind the module where a door led inside. The hatch lifted with a soft hiss and he stepped inside the white room. The one-way glass was a bit disconcerting at first, but he quickly blocked that out and took a seat opposite Soran. The alien's hands were resting on the table, clasped together.

The Commander hadn't seen the need to keep him bound, so he had ordered them removed when put in the cell. All it would serve was to make Soran uncomfortable, and he clearly didn't pose a threat. Upon appraising Soran now, the Commander did finally note something unusual about how he acted now.

He didn't blink.

He just stared at him with his otherwise human eyes, without looking away once. The Commander didn't know if he'd been doing this and he hadn't noticed…no, he'd blinked some, he would have at least noted if it were otherwise. But now he supposed that Soran didn't see the need to imitate that human function anymore.

The Commander let a few seconds of silence pass before talking. His earpiece was in and on, but he'd explicitly told them not to feed questions until he was finished. Only Patricia had orders to update him if anything was off.

"Who are you?" The Commander finally asked.

Soran's lips twitched. "Zar'nartha'intha, of the Vitakara Zararch. None of that is pronounced correctly, either. I've found that human biology renders the correct pronunciation of my language impossible. Since I was designed to be essentially human, that applies to me now as well."

Hmm. The Commander wasn't sure he wanted to pronounce that multiple times, so for now he still stuck with labeling the alien "Soran" in his head until it was clarified. "Is the, ah, Vitakara Zararch your species?"

"Yes and no," he clarified, shook his head. "My species is called the Vitakara. I am part of the Zararch…our…intelligence branch, to put it in terms you understand."

That seemed straightforward. Though "in terms you understand" indicated that it might be different than he was thinking. But that could be answered later. "I see. Your name is quite long, so I might as well ask what you'd like to be addressed as."

"The only unique part of my name is Nartha," he answered with a shrug. "Call me that if you wish. Soran will suffice as well, since I've gotten used to it."

"I suppose that leads to my next question," the Commander said, resting his hands on the table. "Does Soran Kakusa exist?"

"I do not know," he answered with a brief shake of his head. "That was not disclosed to me after I received my persona. But I can say for certain that if Soran Kakusa did exist, then he is dead. The Zar'Chon would not have risked keeping him alive."

"And who is that?"

"The…overseer of the Zararch," he answered hesitantly. "My superior if that helps. Intelligence Director would be a fitting title, I suppose. But he is the final authority on anything related to the Zararch."

Zhang would definitely have questions about how this Zararch operated. So did he. "How did you manage to infiltrate XCOM?"

"I was involved very little with the infiltration itself," he answered slowly. "I suspect that a psionic trigger was placed in someone high within the Japanese military. We know how XCOM recruits its soldiers, and since Zararch agents had already imputed the correct files, it would follow that I would be deemed an acceptable recruit for the XCOM project. Though we were somewhat surprised that you didn't perform thorough medical examinations upon arrival to the Citadel. Regardless, all I know is that when I was activated, I was sent to the place where Big Sky took me and several other recruits here."

"That was originally a measure to cut down on unnecessary time," the Commander pointed out. "I assume it was put in place for the examination to be done by the home country and sent over so the new recruit could be deployed immediately," He shook his head. Irrelevant now. How did they manage to infiltrate the Japanese military? Unless…"How many more like you are there?"

"I don't know," he pursed his lips. "However, I was not a cheap investment. You believed that the reason our first wave of infiltrators…stood out, was because we didn't know how to mimic you accurately. That was true at first, but we learn fast. That's why the Zararch agents you've fought over the past months have been better, but not perfect. They don't need to be."

He waved his hand, indicating the glass walls. "All they need to do is fit into a crowd. Expending resources for perfect replicas like me would be a waste and are only reserved for true deep cover operations."

"So how likely is it that they could replace key figures around the world?" The Commander asked grimly, lacing his fingers together.

"Possible," he paused. "Though at the moment it would be mostly an information position, given how anti-alien sentiment is rising. Still valuable, but your governments are not a concern at the moment."

Wonderful. The Commander couldn't really see a way to remove this potential problem without demanding the same tests he was doing to XCOM be applied to every government leader. For some reason, he suspected that there might be some pushback to that. At least thanks to…Nartha, he knew it wasn't cheap. It was strange putting the name to the fact, but he supposed he'd better get used to it. Regardless of if "Soran" was real or not, it was not his name and he wouldn't be referred to as such any longer.

"So what was your mission here?" The Commander demanded.

"Watch, listen and report," he answered flatly. "No more or less. I was only given two guidelines: Keep my cover intact at all costs and your execution was forbidden. Otherwise I was given leave to do what I felt was needed."

"And what exactly did you do?" The Commander demanded coldly, lacing his fingers together as his gaze bored into Nartha's. "And how?"

"Mostly passed along information," he answered neutrally. "Outright sabotage was near impossible without blowing my cover, especially with Patricia around. But I transferred numbers, soldier names and occasionally mission deployments. Your security is tight, which meant I had to manually convert the information to my language, then a cipher and finally binary. The packets I sent out amongst all the regular traffic were imperceptible which was likely why you didn't notice."

Hearing that he was responsible for the unusually prepared aliens wasn't much of a surprise anymore. "Is the Citadel compromised?"

"I only know we are in America," he said. "Any sort of location tracking would have blown my cover and I could only estimate. So they have a general idea, but the exact location of the Citadel is not compromised, at least not by me."

That was…better than he'd feared. But even a general location was bad if the aliens wanted to perform a more in-depth search. "I see. Do they know that Patricia is a psionic then?"

"Yes," he nodded. "As well as the MECs and genetic modification. Though they'd have likely figured these out on their own eventually."

"So who is behind this?" The Commander finally asked, getting to a pivotal question all of them had wondered since the beginning. "The sectoids? Your own species?"

"No." Nartha stated flatly. "I'm unsure what you've deduced on your own, but I'll clarify it now. The species you've fought so far are under one commanding species. The Ethereals."

The Commander raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound much like the name of a species."

"Because it isn't," Nartha clarified, taking a breath before he continued. "They never told anyone, so everyone officially refers to them as the Elders because of their lifespan. Unofficially, they are the Ethereal Ones. Secretive, powerful and absolute."

Ethereals. Finally a name for their true enemy. "I assume they are psions then? How many are there?"

Nartha visibly became uneasy. "Yes, they are. Powerful ones, much more so than Patricia or any sectoid you've encountered. They are the sole reason why this collective hasn't fallen apart. They are feared and respected for good reason. There are not many, but they make up for it in sheer power and cunning."

"When you say 'not many,' how many is that?"

Nartha shifted in his chair. "Off the record, Zararch estimates put the numbers between eight and twenty. I've only met two in my life."

The Commander frowned. That seemed like an absurdly small number, especially with so many different species and the sheer size their military must be. "I highly doubt your…coalition is being held together by twenty psionic aliens. Power has limits, even to those in authority. There are still species we haven't encountered, yes? How could they possibly hold them together with so few numbers?"

"Easily," Nartha stated easily, and the Commander saw actual worry in his eyes and his features echoed that sentiment. "You don't understand what they are capable of. Listen, one Ethereal is all it takes to conquer a planet or subdue a species."

"One." The Commander repeated slowly.

"Yes, one," Nartha insisted, leaning forward. "Tell me, how do you think that the mutons were brought into their army?"

"I assume a more traditional conquest?" The Commander guessed. "Led by one Ethereal, no doubt."

Soran pursed his lips. "Perhaps I can illustrate this better by telling the full story. If you want, of course?"

Oh yes, he most certainly wanted to hear this. Not only was this fascinating, but it might provide some actual useful information about the mutons and these Ethereals. "We're under no time constraints. Go ahead."

"Right," Nartha took a breath as he began. "I'm well informed about the mutons, mostly because I was involved in the subjugation and assimilation of the species."

"The Commander raised an eyebrow. "And how long ago was this?"

"Nearly a century ago," Nartha stated flatly. "While I am not as young as I used to be, my age is not extraordinary. We were a long-lived species to begin with, and thanks to genetic modification, some can live up to four centuries." He shook his head. "But my species is a different topic entirely."

He shifted in his seat and continued. "The mutons were…primitive when Vitakara scouts located the planet. We began observations and eventually the Ethereals determined they were a potential species for assimilation. So I, and several other Zararch agents were sent down to gather information about the species, culture and world."

"Was it similar to here?" The Commander asked. "Was your appearance altered to fit in?"

"There were some attempts later," Nartha clarified. "But for the most part, no. There was no need. They had no understanding or defense against our technology. We simply planted trackers on key specimens, listening devices in their tents and towns, and observed their actions, rituals and wars from a far distance."

"And what did you learn?"

"A great deal," Nartha admitted. "The Mutons are tribal by nature and had advanced their society to the point where tribes numbered in the tens of thousands. They were an anomaly from the norm because their knowledge and understanding of weapons, warfare and tactics was far beyond what should have been possible."

"By "far beyond" you mean…?"

"Basic ballistics," Nartha clarified. "Nothing fancy, but that indicated an intelligence that wasn't reflected in the rest of their culture. Their science was stagnant, their cities crude and basic, and their mindset closed and primitive."

"So what explanation was there for this?" The Commander asked curiously.

"A very simple one, in fact," Nartha answered, sounding somewhat amused. "They were constantly at war. They had discovered the majority of their world and dozens of tribes had their own corners staked out. It was a never-ending battle for control of the planet, a never ending arms race which was why their weapons had advanced beyond the norm."

"What is their world like?" Vahlen's voice asked. He supposed she could be forgiven for breaking protocol here. He repeated the question.

"Dead," Nartha stated flatly, grimacing in distaste as he continued. "At least compared to here. It's nothing but volcanos, rock and deserts. The little water that exists is tainted and spoiled from volcanic ash lead, and blood. Their only food sources are equally vicious animals who roam in packs. All that to say that it's no wonder that the mutons are one of the most durable species, and it makes them excellent soldiers."

"So what happened next?" The Commander asked. "To be honest, I'm surprised the Ethereals acted if they were as primitive as you describe."

"So did I at the time," Nartha agreed. "So they decided to test the intelligence of them. A cache of our tech was deposited near one of the weaker tribes. The Ethereals wanted to see what they'd do."

"And?" He prompted.

"They quickly figured out they were weapons," Nartha explained, drumming his fingers on the table absentmindedly as he spoke. "And of course used them to capture some nearby territory. But what happened next was fascinating to observe. They managed to disassemble a weapon derived from the cyberdisks cannons and replicate a crude version. They could only just manage it with the tech in the cache, but the fact that they'd managed it at all was all the Ethereals needed to justify making them the shock troopers of their army."

"And I suppose the invasion begins now?" The Commander guessed.

"How perceptive," Nartha commented dryly. "We, the Zararch, determined the best plan would be to kill the chieftain of each tribe and insert a puppet or speaker in their place. We'd witnessed the same with other tribes and in each instance, once the chief was dead, the one who'd struck the killing blow was essentially accepted as the one in charge. The Zar'Chon wanted a quick and efficient victory, and believed the species could be conquered within the span of a few weeks."

"Weeks," the Commander repeated skeptically. "A whole species?"

"They were not as advanced as you," Nartha reminded him neutrally, cocking his head as he spoke. "We were able to map the planet from space with satellites and spacecraft, which also helped us identify every tribe that existed. Of course, that was when the Ethereals sent one of their own to take direct command of the operation."

"You haven't told me what they look like," the Commander noted. "That might be helpful."

Nartha's lips twitched as he remembered. "The two I met were very different, but some physical characteristics were the same. Both were exceptionally tall, the smaller of the two I've met was at least eight feet. They are bipedal and have four arms with five-fingered hands like yours. Their garb is also very…ornate. They don't show their faces, and I believe each helm that covers them is unique to each individual Ethereal.

"So the one you met first," the Commander instructed. "Describe him."

"His name roughly translates to The Battlemaster," Nartha continued. "Ethereals don't have traditional names. They seem to pick a word that reflects their position or what they are. This one was self-explanatory. This Ethereal was born for war. He stood at least twelve feet tall, and was covered in full battle armor with an ornate red cape attached to his back. Imagine the largest medieval knight you can, now double the size, add another pair of arms and you might be close to imagining what the Battlemaster looked like."

That was not exactly an image that was encouraging. "A psionic?"

"All Ethereals are psionic," Nartha reminded him with a nod. "And this one had a palpable aura of command. Not something imaginary and it wasn't something you noticed when he was in the room. But when he spoke, his words echoed in your mind far more than they should have. You wanted to follow his orders and fall in line. I don't think he was even trying to do it, it's just…something that happens with them."

"So what happened?"

"The Battlemaster took issue with the current plan," Nartha said, some amusement coloring his voice again. "He felt the tactics were 'dishonorable' and scrapped the current plan and instead ordered that caches of weapons similar to the first test batch be deployed to dozens of locations around that world. His reasoning was that they deserved the chance of a 'fair fight.'"

The Commander raised an eyebrow. "That's…oddly honorable."

And not what he'd expected either. It didn't look like Nartha was lying, and he didn't see a reason he'd start now…but that still seemed a characteristic of a more merciful species. It would not have been the path he would have chosen but he could admire the gesture.

"The Battlemaster was," Nartha said wistfully. "And to this day I still admire him for that. So he then allowed the mutons a brief amount of time to use the caches while we prepared to enhance and uplift the species itself. The Mutons of course, began new wars, even bloodier when they figured out how to use and create the new weapons. When the time finally came, the Battlemaster took me and a few more agents and began the assault on the largest tribe of the planet."

The Commander furrowed his eyebrows. "No army?"

"He considered it…unfair," Nartha answered slowly, scowling as he tried to explain. "But we were specifically ordered to hold back until given the word to go forward. I personally think we were only there to keep the Zar'Chon updated. But regardless, the tribe assembled and formed battle lines against the Battlemaster on a desolate battlefield. Rather dramatic, now that I think about it."

Nartha paused in remembrance. "There are some things that cannot be forgotten. Seeing the Battlemaster systematically slaughter dozens of muton soldiers with little apparent effort is one such thing. It took some time, but the Battlemaster cut a path through the crude town to the center."

"Cut?" The Commander questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah, yes," Nartha recalled. "His weapon of choice is a…greatsword, as odd as that sounds."

The Commander knew he'd been repeating himself, so he held back on another incredulous comment. "That seems like an ineffective and primitive tool. Especially for a psionic."

Nartha gave a humorless smile at that. "Who says he doesn't use psionics? Telekinesis is rather useful for impaling enemies, as well as miniature psionic shields for stopping incoming projectiles. Trust me, the melding of melee combat and psionics is an art the Battlemaster has mastered."

That was disconcerting. The Commander still found it somewhat hard to believe that one Ethereal could single-handedly face an army. "I assume he killed the chief?"

"By the time he reached the chief, the remaining soldiers were fleeing," Nartha finished. "But yes, rather easily and spectacularly. His final act before he killed him was tearing the knowledge of his language out psionically and stabbing him in the heart. He wasted no time in taking command of the remaining warriors and non-violent population."

"And I suppose after securing it, he moved to the next one?" The Commander asked.

"After a period of adjustment," Nartha amended. "After the first tribe was conquered, the rest of the assimilated species, including my own and the sectoids, began working to modernize the mutons in that area. Houses, medicine, armor, sanitation, basic necessities that were lacking were created or provided. Once that was done, the Battlemaster then moved on to the next one. Again and again until the world was conquered and warring tribes subdued under his command."

The Commander was silent at that as he waited for Nartha to finish. "While it took longer, the Battlemaster knew what he was doing," Nartha continued. "He conquered them in a way they understood and respected, thus in doing so, ensured their loyalty forever."

"And gained a powerful army of soldiers in the process," the Commander noted grimly. "A worthwhile investment, especially if they were improved."

"Oh, they were," Nartha agreed quickly. "Their simple intelligence made them exceptional soldiers. Loyal, durable and unquestioning. Over the next few decades the species was continuously refined through genetic modification and psionic conditioning into the soldiers you-and I, have fought."

"Are they cloned now?" The Commander asked. "They seem essentially the same."

"No need for cloning," Nartha disagreed, shaking his head. "They reproduce quickly on their own. They lack the genetic or physical diversity present in your or my species. There are subtle differences between them, but not very apparent unless you know what to look for. The Zararch believe that the Ethereals and sectoids have been creating offshoots, even further enhanced mutons, but we've seen no proof of that."

"So how do they operate now?" The Commander asked. "Are they automatically assimilated into your army or how is the relationship between the two species set up?"

"Young mutons are allowed to grow up within their species for the first five years," Nartha explained, crossing his arms. "They mature quickly, and their basic intelligence doesn't rise much beyond those formative years. The sectoids oversee the induction of species into the military, so they choose the best young mutons and take them away to one of the military training planets. At the same time they also take the weakest, deformed and ill."

"Why?" The Commander frowned.

"The Ethereals are a very practical species," Nartha stated, his tone turning cold. "The sectoids even more so. They use deformed and weak ones for their experiments. I don't know what they do with them, but I'm certain those children wish they had died. The floaters are a direct result of the experiments; mutons who serve no purpose other than to die in battle, slaves to their programmed mind."

Nartha shook his head once. "The point of that story, Commander, is to demonstrate that the Ethereals are not to be trifled with. That was one of the more honorable ones. I know for a fact that most aren't nearly as merciful."

"So what is the point of all this?" The Commander asked, indicating the area around him. "The conquering of species? The invasions? The Ethereals don't exactly seem benevolent, but I don't think they're doing all this just for power. Why are they interested in humanity?"

"Several reasons, from what I've been told as well as my own theories," Nartha answered slowly, leaning forward. "The simplest reason is that you are superior soldiers. Your species demonstrates intelligence, cunning and tactics. You can reproduce quickly, so a theoretical army could be raised within a few decades. Because of that intelligence, you are also very diverse. What one human is good at, others aren't, yet specialize in another area. That makes you versatile, far more so than other species who are usually only restricted to specific roles."

It did make sense, but the Commander felt there was more. "Anything else?"

"Yes," Nartha paused. "Your species is psionically capable. The Ethereals have been searching for more species capable of wielding the Gift and have found only two: the sectoids and now humanity. That alone makes the conquest of your species worth any investment."

"So why are they taking so long?" The Commander demanded.

"I don't know for sure," Nartha admitted, shrugging. "The invasions and abductions were initial tests to see how you would respond and adapt. By what accounts I know, you passed once the Hamburg Assault was pushed back. The Ethereal overseeing Earth planned for the possibility of that, and wasn't that surprised." The Commander held back from asking details about this Ethereal for the moment and let Nartha finish.

"But something changed after you took the Dreadnought," he continued. "That wasn't supposed to happen. I'm not aware of the full context of that decision, but XCOM wasn't supposed to be allowed to win. But after that everything went back into watch and observe mode. I was activated and the Ethereals sent the Eth'astri'than to Earth."

The Commander sighed. "And that is?"

"One of the Vitakara that answers directly to the Ethereals," Nartha explained. "It's the highest rank one of my kind can achieve. They are the voice of the Ethereals and their will. They speak with their authority and questioning or defying them is denying the Ethereals themselves."

The Commander frowned. "Wasn't there already an Ethereal in charge? While we're on the topic, what information do you have on him?"

"Her," Nartha corrected. "I'm not convinced the Ethereals have genders like us, but the voice that came out of that orb was feminine, so I'm going with that. She was called Sicarius…yes, that's the closest translation. She was far different than the Battlemaster. She was much shorter, only standing at roughly eight feet and wore black robes that covered her entire body, the material itself adorned with gray symbols. Her helmet was also…disconcerting, it was essentially a silver orb. No eyeholes or breathing holes. Thankfully I didn't notice much."

"Good for you, I guess," the Commander muttered. An eight-foot tall alien with a silver orb for a head would not have been something he could have forgotten easily.

"You misunderstand," Nartha leaned forward intently. "It wasn't me. Remember how I mentioned that the Battlemaster had an aura of authority that was impossible to ignore? Sicarius was the exact opposite. She faded in the background. I was at strategy reviews where we all legitimately forgot she was in the room, standing in the far corner. She rarely interrupted, or injected her own opinion."

"A rather apathetic attitude," the Commander commented.

"I personally think she thought this assignment was beneath her," Nartha shrugged. "Most of the major decisions regarding the plan for humanity have been given by the Zar'Chon. I suppose Sicarius got her wish in the end, since just before I was deployed she left and the Zar'Chon told me that the Ethereals were sending someone else who would 'Actually take humanity seriously.'"

Hmm. "Implying that isn't normal?"

"No," Nartha emphasized. "You've been waging an effective war against us for nearly a year. That is unprecedented. You are the first species to challenge the Ethereal's will, even if it's unintentional. Now they are beginning to take notice and unless you act quickly and decisively, you will lose."

"We'll get to dealing with that in a minute," the Commander raised a hand. "So they want us for their army. Expected. But now the question is why they need an army? Why are they doing all this work in the first place?"

Nartha clasped his hands together and rested them on the table. "Officially…no one other than the Ethereals, and maybe some of the Sectoid Hive Commanders know. But there are rumors. One of which being that the Ethereals are dying."

The Commander blinked. "How quickly?"

"Quickly enough for it to be an issue, slowly enough for them not to speed up their plans," Nartha pursed his lips. "The general idea is that they are aggressively looking to other species whose genetics might hold a key to curing them. Personally, I don't believe this is true. The Ethereals are masters over genetics, and combined with the expertise of the Sectoids and Vitakara, it makes it hard to believe that they couldn't find a cure for whatever ails them."

Well, it had to be too good to be true. Although it probably wouldn't have mattered much. Even if they were dying "quickly", that word probably translated into decades at most. If the Ethereals were as old as Nartha was suggesting, a century might be a very short timeframe. "So if not that, what is the other explanation? Why do all this?"

"Because something is coming." Nartha's features contorted into worry. "Something even the Ethereals are afraid of. No one knows what, why, or how, but if it comes…the results will be catastrophic. No one talks about it openly, of course, but the Zar'Chon told me himself that he suspected our ultimate purpose is as a defense against an unknown force."

"And you don't know what it could be?"

"Something old and powerful enough to threaten a galaxy," Nartha said quietly. "It's a rumor. But unlike the other…this one I believe."

That did make sense on some level, but the Commander wasn't quite convinced that was the full motivation. Aegis had spoken of then moving onto more advanced civilizations after Earth was taken, so even if there was some sort of final threat the Ethereals were preparing for, it likely wouldn't happen for a very long time.

It didn't change anything, at least for him. Perhaps if the Ethereals had come peacefully, things would be different. But they hadn't and he wouldn't simply let them take his planet regardless of their motivations. He also hadn't forgot Nartha saying that they had to act decisively. That implied he had something they could use.

But before that, he was curious about one detail. "So why betray them?" The Commander asked quietly. "Because from what you've said, it doesn't seem that you hate them."

Nartha looked at him, for once his expression unreadable. "Because I don't, Commander. I don't think the Ethereals are completely evil. They saved my species and I can't forget that. But things need to change and they made a mistake here. They treated your species like the mutons; a primitive, base people incapable or unworthy of any attempt of reasoning."

He shifted in his seat. "I didn't think highly of humanity initially, most of what I was told was that the majority were unreasonable and warmongering. But I suppose spending time among you has changed my mind on that. I had friends among the soldiers and learned much. You have your own thoughts, motivations, dreams and desires, and I don't see you as any less sophisticated than my own species before our own meeting with the Ethereals."

Nartha shook his head. "But that wouldn't have been enough. What finalized my decision was you, Commander. Before this I wouldn't have thought anyone could pose a threat to them, but now…I think you could be the one to challenge them successfully."

"Flattering," the Commander said slowly. "But I'm not under any illusions as to our strength against the full alien army. I know a final invasion is coming."

"It is," Nartha nodded. "Which is why your time to prepare is even shorter than you think. You need to strike quickly, decisively. Most importantly, you need to unite your species now, otherwise you will lose. You already have begun evening the playing field in terms of weapons and tech, but the war for Earth will be much larger than squads of eight."

He'd suspected that. "I see. You truly believe that XCOM can organize a defense?"

"If anyone can, it is you with XCOM," Nartha nodded. "And there are others who are tired of living under the Ethereals. No one has done anything because it was an unspoken law the Ethereals cannot be challenged. But if they learn of a war…it might be enough to convince them to do the same."

That was interesting. "There are more species willing to fight?"

"I should clarify others of my kind," Nartha admitted slowly, glancing downward. "The Sectoids will not rebel, as the Ethereals have allowed them unparalleled freedom in their experiments. The mutons are incapable of the intelligence or independence necessary for such a drastic decision. But the Vitakara…there are those willing to fight if they felt they had a chance. My species has paid off our debt to the Ethereals, and there are many who feel the same."

"What debt?" The Commander asked. "You said they saved your species?"

"Yes," Nartha nodded. "Which is why I dislike going to war with them, but they will not listen any other way. They have taken advantage of us, and those who raised questions were quickly removed. That has happened long enough, I feel."

There was silence between them for a few moments. "He's been telling the truth," Patricia informed him in a subdued voice. "At least what he believes is true."

That wasn't hard to believe. If it turned out that Nartha had made or lied about this, then the Commander would have honestly been more impressed than annoyed that he'd said it so convincingly.

So…there were other aliens out there. An entire civilization that might be convinced into fighting the Ethereals. Although it wasn't out of the question that Nartha might be exaggerating the number of people willing to fight. He needed more context. "I don't suppose you could share the story of how the Ethereals saved your species in the first place?"

"I can," he said. "But it might take a while."

The Commander motioned his hand in a circle. "Go ahead."

Nartha took a breath. "Very well. My species is incredibly genetically malleable. Even more than your own. Our homeworld is similar to Earth in that it is home to very diverse biospheres. Since it is larger as well, I would say it's host to many more extreme areas. Places where blizzards rage for days or where the temperatures rise beyond the boiling point. They are admittedly rare and most are unable to live in those places, and the majority live in more neutral climates."

Nartha rolled his shoulders as he got more comfortable. "The point is that because of our adaptability, we were able to survive almost anywhere and as a result we...are very different from each other depending on where we lived. Had science not proven that we were all one species, you would likely never guess a Vitakara from the Boreal and Arcidia regions were even remotely related."

He suddenly smirked. "I found it amusing when I learned that the different 'races' of humanity was and is a cause for contention. The only differences between your species are the color of your skin. A purely superficial feature that ultimately changes nothing about the person in question."

"Go on," the Commander nodded.

"In contrast, the differences between the races of Vitakara go beyond superficial," Nartha continued. "We adapt to our environment and evolve to survive it. The Boreal region of my planet is a frozen, arctic and snowing environment. So the Vitakara who live there evolved to withstand sub-freezing temperatures, have fur that covers their body and stand much taller than others of my kind. In contrast, Vitakara from the Pareigh region are nearly opposite. They mostly resemble snakes with arms, have short fangs to incapacitate attackers and can withstand the harsh desert environments." Nartha paused for a moment, then continued.

"The most extreme example is the Sar'Manda. They live in the oceans and have established entire cities under the water. They have fins, gills, what you'd expect from an intelligent underwater race. They can't breathe air, but they don't really have an issue with that. I suppose they are mostly unique in that they rarely venture out beyond their underwater empire."

No wonder the Ethereals were interested in them. Vahlen had noted how malleable the species was, and that matched up with what Nartha was telling him. He wished he could have seen Vahlen's face when the human-sized snake-aliens were being described. "Fascinating," he said, shaking his head. "I suppose that must have caused issues? With being so different from each other?"

"Not as many as you'd think," he corrected. "For the most part…we're a peaceful species. Very rarely have wars broken out, but when they did…well, several races no longer exist. For centuries we believed that we were all separate species, but when it was determined that we belonged to the same race…well, it was a catalyst for us."

"I suppose it could have been either very positive or negative," the Commander guessed. "I can see war breaking out."

"It very likely could have," Nartha agreed. "Remembering our history, if even one race had refused and gone to war, we would very likely have destroyed ourselves. But fortunately, the opposite happened. We came together as one species and actually made moves to unite in full. Similar to your United Nations if it actually worked."

"What next?" The Commander asked.

"We entered a utopia of sorts," Nartha explained. "We advanced in science, technology and simple quality of life. There was no war, we were happy, stable and devoted everything to advancing ourselves. What finally changed everything was the breakthrough of genetic modification. Vitakara scientists determined how to change any aspect of our bodies and that opened up a….Pandora's Box is an appropriate human term."

"How?" The Commander demanded.

"Because nothing was off-limits," Nartha stated bluntly. "Now that it was possible, we could be the perfect image of ourselves. Intelligence, strength, appearance, all of that could be changed to what was considered ideal. Even the race could be changed if it was so desired. It was celebrated and everyone took the opportunity, considering it the ultimate expression of advancement. And everything was perfect for a few decades."

The Commander pursed his lips. "And I assume something happened?"

"We started dying," Nartha said grimly, his face darkening at the memory. "Thousands at once. Everyone thought it was an anomaly at first, since the majority of those dying were older, but what raised questions was how they found the bodies. Their skin was split open and their internal organs had either exploded, liquidated, or quit unnaturally. After a few more waves of much younger people died, they soon found a common cause: Genetic modification."

The Commander frowned. "That seems awfully negligent if that was the reason. Why didn't they test for it?"

"They did," Nartha emphasized with a hiss. "They spent decades trying to remove negative side effects. They thought they succeeded when there were no issues for years. What they didn't realize was that they didn't remove the side effects, they'd merely delayed them. Once they determined that, they then realized that anyone who'd been genetically modified was now a ticking time bomb. They had mere decades before the side effects manifested and killed them."

Just hearing the story made the Commander uneasy, not just because he could see some parallels with what they were doing here. "I assume the time varied on several factors?"

"Age, what was modified, how extensive it was and how much they were modified already," Nartha clarified. "Which was a problem…because the scientists, so sure of their own creations, were the most extensively modified of all. The short version, Commander, is that unless we could find a cure, our entire species would die within a century."

"Were there no unmodified Vitakara?" The Commander asked, shifting in his own seat. "Weren't there at least a few who didn't take the upgrades?"

"This wasn't something restricted to the elite," Nartha sighed. "It was a part of life. It was the equivalent of phones for you. Even if it is basic, everyone in the civilized world has one. And yes, there were those who chose not to be additionally modified. But it didn't matter since our children had been modified in the womb to ensure they came out healthy. They were already doomed, they would just be the last to die."

"I'm surprised everyone just accepted the risks," the Commander noted. "Do you have no skeptics?"

"Not when something has been proven," Nartha said, his lips curling up. "Unlike certain members of humanity, we actually listen to our scientists and trust that they aren't lying. Unless someone could provide some kind of evidence refuting an established and proven position, they were ostracized and dismissed. In retrospect, it was a mistake not to be more skeptical or deny other viewpoints. Perhaps someone would have noticed if the stigma of speaking against scientists hadn't existed."

"I assume there was panic once the public learned they could be wiped out?" the Commander asked after a few seconds.

"Panic…" Nartha hissed. "Yes…And that was another instance where we almost went to war with ourselves. Several groups of frightened and furious Vitakara destroyed several dozen major institutes and labs. They were detained soon after, but everyone was scared. The scientists were rushing to find some way to cure or at least remove the modification. Some even continued to modify their brains in the hopes that more intelligence would help them solve the problem."

"It didn't work." The Commander guessed.

"No," Nartha shook his head. "They could not find a solution. More of us kept dying, and now it was mostly the younger generations and scientists. Our population had already been reduced to half of what it was and hope was running out. Every scientist, teacher and engineer was working furiously at all hours of the day, but the general population was slowly resigning themselves to death and a not-insignificant number began committing suicide, rather than wait for the inevitable."

His voice had turned sorrowful as he finished. The Commander wondered if he'd known someone who'd lived during that time. "That was when they came," he finished quietly.

"The Ethereals?"

"Correct, Commander," Nartha said tiredly. "Before the crisis, we were beginning to develop spacecraft, but abandoned it soon after we started dying, so we never detected them coming. We don't know how long they watched us before intervening. But I suppose it doesn't matter. They came and began working to cure us. And they did. In return for that, our leaders swore loyalty to them."

The Commander looked up, thinking. Quite honestly, he couldn't exactly blame them for making such a major decision like that. Considering that they'd been saved from extinction…he wasn't sure they could be faulted for that. "I suppose I can see why some would be loyal to them."

"We owed them," Nartha agreed. "But I'm certain the Ethereals didn't do it completely out of the goodness of their hearts. They knew how to use us and use us well. We didn't object of course, since everyone was so grateful to simply be alive. But the honeymoon period wore off a while ago. The Ethereals control everything our species does now."

"Like what?" The Commander asked.

"They use our genetic malleability in military operations and against hostile species," Nartha explained gesturing to himself. "Like me, and they use us pretty frequently. Every aspect of our government is controlled and members selected personally by the Ethereals themselves or a representative. At times they request batches of us for experiments for the sectoids, and other batches are placed on hostile or desolate worlds where our adaptability can be observed and then exploited."

"Explain," Vahlen said. He repeated the question.

"We adapt quickly," Nartha explained hesitantly. "We had to in order to survive initially as a species. So say this group of Vitakara was placed on a volcanic world with enough initial supplies and technology to survive. Initially it would be difficult, but possible. However, over several generations they would begin to change. Maybe their skin would be resistant to fire, maybe they can inhale smoke, perhaps they even grow some kind of picking tool from their arm. The point is that once they declare the experiment complete, they can pick them up and apply those same genetic advantages to any in their army."

Clever. That was something he would do if he had a hyper-evolving species at his disposal. Though he could see why Nartha might take issues with it. "Is that the extent of it?"

"Almost," Nartha sighed. "They dictate every aspect of our military and intelligence branches as well. We're allowed to appoint within the ranks, but they never promote someone to a position of power who doesn't have absolute loyalty to the Ethereals. They also heavily restrict genetic modification for non-military and regular citizens. Though I'm not certain that's a bad thing."

Given their history, he could see why that would be an advantage, and personally one he agreed with as well. Genetic modification should not be offered to everyone. Only those who needed it. "Although I suppose it isn't as oppressive as it could be," the Commander supposed.

"No," Nartha agreed. "It's…conflicting. Our lives have improved for sure, and we know more than ever before. But in return we've essentially been reduced to second-class citizens. Tools to be used when appropriate. My original dream was for us and the Ethereals to have an alliance similar to the sectoids, more as equals. But I know that will not happen. They see no reason to change the terms and none of my own people will speak up for fear of expulsion or execution. There is only one path if the role of the Vitakara is to change. We must fight."

He would have to listen to this conversation again later. There was so much information he was learning here that he wasn't fully processing it at the moment. But he was certain that whatever he decided, Nartha would not be executed. He'd earned that much, but now the question was if that outweighed the fact that he'd working against them for months.

"Ask him how he resists psionics," Patricia asked. "I can sense him, but only if I concentrate only on him."

The Commander repeated the question and Nartha smiled. "Ah, yes," he looked around at the glass. "Apologies, Patricia. It is a habit. It's not so much resisting psionics as keeping a specific mindset at any given time. I was taught it in case I encountered a psionic and it would at least be able to prevent them hearing random thoughts from me. It's no defense against a directed psionic probe, but it lulls passive psions into a false sense of security. I'll try not to keep it up to make it easier."

He returned his attention to the Commander. "But we should look to the future, Commander. Regardless of what you do to me, decisive blows need to be dealt and your species unite if you want to survive. You know what you're fighting now, and I cannot dictate your war further. But please remember that not every alien species that you fight is completely irredeemable or evil. All are pawns of the Ethereals and some of those pawns are willing to rebel."

The Commander was silent. "I will remember that," he promised, inclining his head. "Though I will not make promises. If the choice is between humanity or another species, I will ensure we survive, no matter who dies in the process."

"Let us hope it doesn't come to that," Nartha inclined his head. "But if you want to strike a blow against the aliens now, I can help you."

"Go on," the Commander prompted.

"They have built an underground base in the Middle East," Nartha revealed. "It's under the control of the sectoids and is where the majority of experiments on your species are taking place. I know where it is. In the event that my cover was compromised and I had to leave, I was instructed to head there."

The Commander leaned forward. "I think that would be a good plan. I'm also curious about one more thing, what about EXALT?"

"I know little about why the Ethereals want to use them," Nartha shrugged. "But I do know that if they underestimate the Ethereals, they will be reduced to puppets. They are a distraction, Commander. You would do best to focus on the real threat."

Easier said than done. "At this base…I assume it will be heavily defended?"

"Yes and no," Nartha revealed, shaking his head. "You will find no turrets or armies of soldiers. But if it's under the sectoids, you have more to be worried about. Their experiments are arguably just as dangerous and highly unpredictable. But your greatest threat will be the Hive Commander, assuming the sectoids deemed it necessary. While not as powerful as an Ethereal, a Hive Commander is at least as dangerous as Patricia."

He made a mental note of that. "So now for one final question, for now," the Commander said, tapping his finger on the table. "What about you? What do you expect or want from this?"

"Nothing much more than continuing to fight," Nartha answered. "Though I know the soldiers will trust me no longer, and you likely have issues as well. But I want to be involved in some way. Or execute me if you feel I pose too much of a risk."

The Commander was silent for a few seconds. "I will decide that later," he finally said and stood. "You've earned a reprieve from execution. What you've provided will change the war, so thank you, Nartha. Your fate will be decided later."

He nodded. "Very well, Commander. Good luck." The Commander turned around and exited the module, trying to process everything he'd learned.

---

The Citadel, Situation Room

"I think it's safe to say we're in much deeper than we thought," Van Doorn commented. "That…it's hard to think the same after hearing that."

"Assuming he was telling the truth," Zhang muttered, but the Commander could tell from his tone that even he didn't believe his words.

"He was," Patricia assured him quietly. "Everything he said was true. Trust me, I made sure. He even stopped whatever psionic distraction he'd been doing."

"It doesn't look good," Bradford said, his voice clearly subdued. "Even if the Ethereals are only as half as powerful as he claims…we don't have a defense to that. We're not ready."

"Especially if they send their army of mutons with them," Shen agreed somberly. "Not to mention we can't hold a sustained air battle with them. Their fleet could simply bombard us into submission."

"Unless we take them out," Patricia argued. "It worked with the dreadnought!"

"And can we rely on that every time?" Van Doorn demanded. "It doesn't matter how many we take down, they'll just send more! When it comes down to it we're one planet and one species. How many do the Ethereals control?!"

"But what is the alternative?" Zhang asked quietly. "Surrender and assimilate into the Ethereal Collective? Allow them to turn us into weapons and pawns?"

"Not a chance," Patricia muttered.

"Enough."

Everyone stopped and looked to the Commander, who had his back turned to them. He was looking at a screen displaying the general area that Nartha had identified was the alien base. On the surface there seemed nothing but sand and rock, but a subterranean scan had revealed a clear underground base that extended far below.

He'd been watching it, deep in thought and the rest of them had continued talking as normal. But now he held their attention as he turned around. A newfound resolve and determination was in his eyes and was reflected in his voice. "Our task is no more impossible than before," he stated, looking at each of them. "If you thought that I didn't consider this possible, or even if you didn't consider it, wake up and face the facts. You heard what Nartha said. We should never have lasted this long. But we have. We weren't supposed to take the Dreadnought, but we did. We were not supposed to pose a threat, but we do."

He paused, his tone frosty. "We should not worry or agonize about what the aliens are capable of. We know now how powerful they are now, what they can do and what they have at their disposal. Knowledge is power and now we can adapt to prepare. We are not going to stop. We are going to drive the Ethereals off Earth forever."

The Commander pointed at them. "When have we ever stopped from doing what was necessary because it was impossible or never been done? Look what we've accomplished by ignoring what was said couldn't be done. MELD, MECs, genetic modification, XCOM itself!" He began pacing, making sure to keep his tone measured. "Impossible is a word that held no meaning for us before, and it will not now. The Ethereals may outnumber us ten to one, but we do have the tools to defeat them."

He nodded towards Patricia. "We've seen the effect of one psionic. But one is not enough. We must have more. We've seen one MEC decimate dozens of soldiers, so we must innovate and make more. I've experienced my own enhanced abilities and know that's only the beginning of what we can do."

The Commander jabbed a thumb back at the screen. "We have precious little time before the Ethereals come in force, so we must not simply accept that we have to work with this divided, petty and vindictive world. We can't afford it any longer. We as a species must begin preparing for war, regardless of what China or the Council thinks."

"But-" Bradford began.

"I was content to have XCOM be simply the spearhead," the Commander cut off bluntly, with a hard stare. "But if the world continues to be as petty and stupid as I've witnessed, that might have to be reevaluated. We now wield military and political power. Perhaps we should use it."

The Commander shook his head. "But first we will cripple the alien operations on our planet," he turned back to the screen. "And once we storm their base, we will move to the next. When the next UFO lands we will take it as well. We will continue turning Earth into a death trap for any alien that dares step foot on it."

He turned his intense gaze to Vahlen. "How goes progress on the Sectoid Virus and Chryssalid project?"

Patricia turned in surprise to Vahlen, but the Commander didn't care at the moment that she knew. He'd been considering bringing her into the Internal Council for some time now as a psionic and soldier representative, since she was often on the front lines. Though she'd of course have to be brought up to speed on…certain projects, the Commander was certain he could trust her.

"The virus is entering the final stages," Vahlen updated, even her voice subdued from the gravity of the situation. "I'm refining the effects now from the data I've gathered, but it will work-"

"Can you have it ready to deploy by the end of the month?" The Commander demanded.

She hesitated, then finally nodded. "I can, though I'll have to devote several more resources towards it. The Chryssalid project is entering testing phase. It would help if I had a few more test subjects for implementation testing-"

"Done," the Commander stated. "You'll have them by the end of the week. Bradford, make it happen."

He swallowed. "Yes, Commander."

The Commander turned his attention to Shen. "Finish your designs for the prototype MECs you showed me and begin production. That is your top priority now. Understand? You'll have pilots when the time comes."

The elder engineer looked somewhat taken aback by the intensity of the Commander, but nodded all the same. "I will, Commander."

The Commander's gaze swung to Zhang. "Your directive has changed, Director. I want EXALT's propaganda network crippled now. Have your agents identify EXALT personnel, then interrogate and execute them. We knock them out of commission for a few months and they'll likely spend that either dealing with the aliens, frantically trying to rebuild. Should they attempt to retaliate, ruin Solaris Industries."

Zhang stood at attention. "It will be done," he promised.

The Commander focused his MELD-rimmed eyes on Patricia. "Psion Trask?"

She straightened up immediately. "Yes, Commander?"

He motioned to the screen. "We have an alien base to assault. Are you ready?"

She gave him a salute, her eyes filled with resolve. "Give the word, Commander."

The Commander picked up a tablet containing a list of soldiers. "Here is our personnel list. You know the soldiers better than I, their strengths and weaknesses. Choose two squad's worth, including Myra for the assault, and gear up for it."

She took the tablet gingerly and began scrolling through it. "Van Doorn, have some of the soldiers secure Nartha and bring him up here."

Van Doorn blinked. "Why?"

"Because I want to see if he's as useful as he claims to be," the Commander answered, turning his attention to the screen. "If he really wants to help, let him prove it." He looked over at all of them still standing still. "We all have work to do. Our timeframe is months, if that. Let's get to work. Dismissed."

All of them rushed off to perform or start their tasks.

There was one issue he hadn't spoken to them about: the actual uniting of humanity. But luckily, he had an idea and what had initially seemed like a worst-case scenario might wind up being their best chance.

He'd thought he'd have time to plan a little more thoroughly, but that didn't seem to be an option anymore. Change needed to happen now, and his power to do so was limited.

So the initial stages of the Directive needed to be put into motion.

But that was for another day.

Right now the target was the alien base.

Time to hit them where it hurt.

---

A/N: The next chapter is written and is being reviewed now. Since it might not be finished before Sunday, I want to wish everyone a Merry Christmas in case I don't get another chance to and once again thank you for reading my work. Seriously, thanks to every single one of you.

-Xabiar