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.

39. Research and Engineering VI

Research and Engineering VI

---

The Citadel, Research Labs

…Opening up…

…Surpasses…

…Free and clear…

…I know…

The Commander gasped as his eyes flew open, the world blurry and tinted in a faint purple light. He could hear things, whispers on the edge of his consciousness, occasional words and phrases.

And feelings. Ones that weren't his.

He took a breath as he calmed himself down as the pod opened up before him. Anticipation, concern, calm, confidence. Those were all emanating from…somewhere just outside. He blinked as the harsh light of the labs hit his eyes and looked away, reaching up with his hands to pull off the wires and tubes attached to him.

"Easy, Commander," Vahlen said as she came up to him and began helping. "You'll be disoriented for a few minutes."

The Commander decided to just let her do it, since he was irritatingly uncoordinated at the moment. "I think it worked," he said, looking over at her concentrated face. "You feel it too? Emotions, other people. Hearing odd things?"

She raised an eyebrow as she glanced over. "What do you mean odd things? Voices?"

"Not exactly," the Commander answered, a few more contextless words entering his mind. "More like unintelligible whispering, occasionally I'll think of a few words randomly that I know aren't mine."

"Fascinating," Vahlen murmured as she grabbed his arm and hauled him up. He stumbled a couple of times, but quickly righted himself and took a quick look around the labs. Same as before, really. Except all the scientists were at work, not really paying attention to him. The whispering seemed to be getting more intense now that he was fully awake.

"Why fascinating?" he asked, looking down at her.

"Because it appears that your telepathic abilities are not as immediately developed as mine were," she stated, eyeing him with curiosity. "I experienced a…well, overwhelming amount of full thoughts and voices initially, no whispers or anything like that."

The Commander smirked. "Are you doing it now?"

"Unfortunately no," Vahlen answered with a sigh. "I'm still trying to…well, sort through it. It's difficult trying to pinpoint specific people. Well, you're not that difficult, but I attribute that more to that I know you well and that psions are easier to pick out. Still, I can't exactly read your mind with the reliability that I would like to."

"You've tried?" He asked in bemusement.

She hesitated. "Honestly, not intentionally. As much as you trust me, I wouldn't do that without your permission."

Well, the good doctor had surprised him. He didn't really see a reason she'd lie, and since sincerity was one thing that he sensed rather clearly, he imagined it was coming from her. "I appreciate that," he told her quietly. "I wondered if you would or not."

"Don't mistake me," Vahlen warned lightly. "I've attempted it, but with less…controversial people. Our test subjects are good for more than science experiments. It's been a fascinating experience for sure."

"I might have to try that," the Commander said, rolling his shoulders. "So I suppose that my psionic powers are weaker then if they aren't as intense as yours?"

Vahlen scratched her chin. "Possibly, but I'm skeptical. Your projected sensitivity was slightly lower than mine, so I'd be surprised if there were major differences. It's more likely that you may be more…attuned to a different aspect of psionics than-"

The Commander suddenly sucked in his breath as he was hit with a feeling of expansion the seemed to come from everywhere. It was like another sense that he'd only realized now; tangible and not at the same time. The very air around him felt as though it could be changed, manipulated. He felt like he could reach out anywhere and touch something even if that was physically impossible.

"Commander?" Vahlen asked, concern emanating from her voice. "Are you-"

"Fine…" he interrupted slowly, getting himself accustomed to the odd feeling. "I think…something happened. Everything feels…tangible now. Strange…"

Vahlen cocked her head, curiosity shining in her eyes. "Tangible…how, exactly?"

The Commander looked around. "Like…ah, it's hard to explain. It feels almost like being underwater, that sense of being surrounded by…something, but without anything inhibiting me. See that cup there?" He pointed towards an empty mug resting on the edge of a desk about ten feet away.

Vahlen nodded. "Yes."

"It's almost as…" he cut himself off, as a potential answer came to him. He extended his hand towards the cup, trying to actually manipulate the area around it. The air around the mug began being distorted and faintly purple…and then the mug was suddenly flung back into the wall and shattered with a sharp crash.

The Commander lowered his arm, honestly rather excited at the possibilities this implied, and turned to Vahlen who clearly felt the same way. "Well," he said slowly. "I think I know where my abilities are focused."

"Telekinesis," she breathed enthusiastically. "Fascinating. I wonder if Alexei had a similar experience? A shame I never asked him before his death, but what you're implying means that each of these difference specializations isn't just a set of abilities, but how they perceive and feel the world," she began picking up her tablet and frantically typing. "I will have to perform more tests to confirm-"

"Easy, Moira," he chuckled as he guided his hand over hers and had her put the tablet down. "While it'd be interesting for sure, I think the focus needs to be on more pressing matters."

She cleared her throat, looking and feeling slightly embarrassed. "Right, of course, Commander," she affirmed with a sharp nod. "Speaking of which, I believe I should have a number of things to show you soon."

"How soon?"

"Within the day," she answered. "That should give you some time to get accustomed to your new abilities."

He looked down at his hand and flexed his fingers. Yes, some sort of practice was in order, not to mention all the other things he needed to get caught up on. "I agree. Where is Patricia?"

"Likely in the training area," Vahlen answered, nodded her head back. "She's been working with Iosif and Annette a lot."

"Well, hopefully she won't mind another trainee," the Commander said, looking to the exit. "You should probably go sometime too, especially since your abilities seem similar to hers."

Vahlen pursed her lips. "Perhaps, but I'd rather figure this out on my own, without outside intervention. I'm making good progress as it is."

Well, he figured Vahlen would prefer to figure something like this by herself, and he didn't doubt she could do it. But he preferred to get actual help instead of stumbling through on his own. He didn't have time to experiment, and would likely see combat again well before Vahlen, so it was more pressing he master this as soon as possible.

"How soon until Van Doorn finishes?" He asked, nodding towards the other pod.

"Later today," she answered. "I'll let you know."

Not long then. Good. "Thanks, Moira."

She smiled. "Anytime, Commander,"

"Right," he sighed. "Now to get back to work."

---

The Citadel, Training Area

Annette thrust her arms forward directing a light wave of purple energy towards Iosif who raised his hands too late. The wave slammed into them and threw him back several feet. Before he could get up, Annette directed acidic energy around her to converge over his body on the ground, hovering until she let it go.

With a groan he tapped the floor. "You got me."

Annette let the energy dissipate and slowly let the power fade from her, growing slightly dizzy as it faded out of her. Latrell came up and offered her a bottle of water which she gratefully accepted with slightly shaking hands. No matter how much she tried, she always felt unstable after coming off her power high unless she was completely exhausted. It was irritating…but it was probably a natural reaction to having that much energy leaving her so fast.

But it was always there, always within reach, just waiting for her to draw on it again. "I think that puts you in the lead," Latrell commented with a smile. "Eleven to ten."

She scowled. "Not good enough."

Not for her at least. She'd quickly found out that her and Iosif were complete opposites psionically. While her abilities were destructive and offensive, his were defense and shielding. He was the perfect counter to her, though that didn't mean he was invincible. The battle largely rested on who was faster; who could disrupt the other first.

She could utilize her powers quicker, and his required more concentration. So if she managed to get a blast of energy off of him, at the least it would disrupt him enough for her to begin more lethal abilities. Unfortunately, if she didn't then he was essentially invincible for any attack. A battle of attrition didn't work against him either, since at one point both of them had decided to test just how powerful his barriers were.

It had been rather decisive. She'd become exhausted sooner than him, and nothing she tried could penetrate the barriers he'd put around himself. So that allowed him plenty of time to come up with counterattacks. One disadvantage was that he couldn't attack and defend himself simultaneously…at least not yet, so that then turned into something of a stalemate where two more scenarios emerged where he beat her.

One, he'd either project his barriers onto her and essentially trapped her in a stasis field. Good news was that she was effectively invincible, bad was that she was completely incapacitated with no way to retaliate. From then it was an easy matter of him walking up to her, pulling out a pistol and placing it to her head. Once the stasis field was ended, boom, bye Annette.

In theory, all of them believed that it was possible for their abilities to be utilized without physical movements. In practice, it was essentially impossible even for the simplest attacks. She just didn't have the focus or concentration to will things into existence just by thinking about them. She'd better figure it out soon though, because if she ever faced some alien with similar abilities to Iosif, she had slightly better than a fifty-fifty chance of dying.

That was not counting being simply mind-controlled, because that was another way she lost. Iosif was more skilled than her in the telepathic aspects of psionics. She couldn't attempt mental attacks and physical ones at the same time, but he could perform both simultaneously, which did make sense since his were more defensive.

She didn't necessarily think he was more skilled at controlling than her, but he had far better mental defenses and she…well, didn't. And as long as his barrier was active, he had all the time needed to break into her mind and control her. It was disconcerting, feeling another mind in hers, feeling it manipulating thoughts. She wondered if it was better or worse that she was aware of it, because Iosif was very distinct. Very calculating and sure. Precise. He never stayed in long, but enough to ensure she knew she'd lost.

That wasn't even taking into account Patricia. She'd been observing this since the beginning, and had beaten all of them easily by just controlling them. "You're fast," Iosif commented walking up, wiping his forehead with a towel. "I need to remember that."

"Or just get your barrier up sooner," Annette sighed. "You've won every time you've done that so far."

He snorted, scratching his black hair. "Unlike you, I can't exactly throw one up as quickly as you throw one of those kinetic waves at me."

"I guess so," Annette muttered, wincing as she looked down at her raw arms, which were in the process of healing themselves. She'd never really thought about it much, but it was a disconcerting thing to actually see now that she watched it. It was…unnatural, and she'd preferred to put it out of her mind.

It still hurt, though.

"I'm curious," Iosif said, looking at her curiously. "You weren't in the military, but did you ever play sports? Basketball? Baseball?"

Annette was slightly surprised at the question, but answered it anyway. "I played football as a kid, but I wasn't really the athletic type. Why do you ask?"

He nodded towards her. "Your reflexes. You're faster than me, and are managing to keep up with me without any military background. I found that interesting."

"She was always fast," Latrell added, amused.

"Huh, you're right," Annette noted, with a mild surprise. He was right, she was managing to slightly beat a trained Russian soldier who should have outclassed her in every category. "I never really thought about that."

"Your psionic talents likely help somewhat," Iosif added, motioning toward her torn arms. "Probably some boost to your strength and clearly cellular regeneration. But it's impressive, nonetheless."

"Thanks," Annette said. "Although in all honestly, you're likely to win in an actual fight. I can really only win if I surprise you or am faster. In everything else you win."

"Which is why you need to get better," Patricia interjected walking up, her arms crossed and her face stern. "I've told you that physical attacks aren't what you need to be worried about. The only aliens that pose a major threat to us are Hive Commanders and Ethereals. They won't just attack your body, they will attack your mind. If you can't defend that, then you will lose."

Iosif inclined his head. "Point taken, Psion Trask."

"Patricia," she sighed. "No titles."

She then waved them back to the training floor. "Come on, we need to work on this." Annette and Iosif followed and stood about four meters apart, the same distance from Patricia, forming a triangle of sorts. Patricia clasped her hands behind her back as she addressed them. "You're both evenly matched, as far as I can see. But both of you have the same major weakness, which needs to be corrected immediately." She swung her head to Patricia, her unyielding eyes boring into Annette's.

"I'm going to mentally assault both of you simultaneously," she continued. "That should give you a better chance to defend. We are going to keep doing this until one of you manages to keep me out, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Iosif confirmed. Annette simply nodded.

Annette felt the psionic energy around Patricia spike as she gathered her own power, far more subtle, but just as dangerous as her own. Annette drew on some of that herself, in preparation for the coming assault, also noting that they were all being watched. Latrell, and some others were watching, clearly curious as to how this worked.

Patricia had demonstrated how to defend against a mental attack, which ultimately boiled down to focus, emotion and clarity. A clear mind focused around a specific emotion was a good start, so she said. Right, so she needed to clear her mind, no distractions. Closing her eyes first removed all the obvious ones, which enhanced the senses and emotions around her.

Those wouldn't do either. She could luckily block them out to some extent, but not completely. It would have to do. All except Patricia, she could feel her and knew she'd press the attack soon. Resolve. That was what she'd focus on. Patricia was not going to break through, no matter how much she-

Annette gasped as Patricia began her attack, which she did note was substantially weaker than her previous attempts. But even weakened, she was pushing against her mind, cracking her mental barriers with a practiced ease.

Five seconds. The words appeared in her head, not from her. Not good enough.

Patricia withdrew and Annette blinked open her eyes, her vision blurry. "Again," Patricia stated. "Prepare yourself."

Annette took a breath. Alright, at least five seconds was better than before. She nodded and repeated the same thing. Patricia did the same, and this time Annette sensed the attack before it came, which allowed her to prepare a little better. But not nearly enough as Patricia smashed through again with ease

Six seconds.

"Again."

Annette did so, preparing and barely even slowed her down.

Six seconds.

"Again."

The resolve she was trying to focus on was beginning to fall apart and be replaced with frustration. But she tried, she tried to grasp onto that shaky focus, and felt with dismay Patricia take her mind just as easily as before.

Seven seconds.

"Again."

Six seconds.

"Again."

Eight seconds.

"Again."

It kept going on and on, the times and words becoming a mantra of failure. It never stopped, it could have been minutes or hours and she had no clue anymore. She was frustrated, tired and growing angry. And yet Patricia still stood in front of her, smug and furiously calm. This was pointless, she wasn't going to stop her.

She was sick of this.

Instead of closing her eyes, she just glared at Patricia, her vision tinged with purple as she only focused on the center of her current embodiment of failure. Defense clearly wasn't working, and right now she didn't care anymore. All she wanted to do now was take her down some. Anger had served her well before, perhaps it would do so again.

So she focused all her anger on this situation, her failure and instead of waiting for Patricia's attack launched one of her own, directing everything she had on the woman who was the cause of this. Patricia took a step back, clearly not expecting the attack. Annette couldn't break inside, but she was surrounding her mind, assaulting it on all sides, preventing any kind of escape.

She smiled to herself as Patricia tried multiple times to leave, but as soon as she attacked a weakness, immediately forced her to retreat. She wasn't getting tired, her anger sustained her attack for as long as it would take, Patricia couldn't hold out forever, no matter how-

Explosion.

Annette blinked. What was-?

And Patricia took that opening and entered her completely unguarded mind once more. Two minutes. And withdrew once again.

Annette fell to one knee, her vision blurry as she realized that she'd unconsciously drawn on her own power. Her skin was currently in the process of healing. Patricia walked up to her, extended a hand which she grabbed and hauled her up. "Good job," Patricia complemented. "Always play to your strengths, Annette. You're not a serene person, so don't pretend to be. Anger is clearly your focus, so use it. Defense is not your strength so attack. Don't be something you're not."

It dawned on her that this was what Patricia had been attempting to do the whole time. Not necessarily to block her own attacks, but for them to figure out how best to defend themselves. "Smart," she breathed. "You figured that out ahead of time?"

"More or less," Patricia admitted with a smile. "I had some idea, and drove you toward what I thought would work. It took a while to get your fully angry, but I was right."

"And Iosif?" Annette asked, looking around for him.

"He was simpler, more controlled," Patricia answered with a shrug. "He knew what his strengths were and I just wanted him to improve. He can defend his mind better, but you can arguably perform a more valuable task. You can shut others down, prevent them from doing any more."

"Guess I have something to work on," Annette said, grabbing a water bottle and taking a sip.

"We all do," Patricia agreed, patting her on the back. "But not now. You deserve a break."

"Won't argue with that," Annette agreed. "Are you taking one?"

Patricia chuckled. "No. This doesn't exhaust me anymore, so I can't use that excuse. Besides…I have things to do with the Commander."

"Ah," Annette nodded, feeling her become more focused as she clearly prepared to move on to other things. "I won't keep you then. Have fun."

"Thanks," she answered sarcastically. "Your boyfriend is in the Mess Hall, since I know that's what you're wondering." Food did seem like a good idea, so Annette thanked her and began walking that way, ready for a short break.

---

The Citadel, Situation Room

"What have I missed?" The Commander asked as they stood around the holotable. Bradford, Jackson and Van Doorn all stood at respective sides, and Bradford was the first to answer.

"Very little, relatively," he answered. "We've mostly been monitoring several of the major countries, especially those you selected for the Advent Directive."

"Anything interesting?" Van Doorn asked.

"Brazil has fully cracked down," Jackson answered grimly. "The Marshal has effectively and officially declared Brazil a military state until further notice. There's been reports of dozens of firefights between military and cartel forces. The police forces have been dissolved and reformed into a military division controlled by the Marshal. Pretty much every civilian organization with any power has been either removed or reformed."

"Let's hope she can finish quickly," the Commander muttered. "Harsh, but I'd rather Brazil be in control than rioting."

Both Jackson and Bradford didn't seem to agree with that, if their emotions indicated anything. But both of them were resigned to it. They knew this was likely the best that would happen, else allow complete chaos. "A lot of people are going to die," Jackson said to no one in particular.

"Yes," the Commander stated. "They will."

Van Doorn rubbed his forehead. "Anything from Israel?"

"Israel and Russia," Bradford added, focusing the holotable on Asia. "It appears that Nowinski took your advice. Both he and Savvin have been talking. With everything going on, that particular development is not attracting the attention it normally would."

"Good news," the Commander nodded, glad to hear it. "I'm sure they'll be able to work something out."

"Yes, how exactly to divide the Middle East," Van Doorn commented sarcastically as he turned to face him. "I understand why you did it, Commander. But encouraging Israel to actually go through with their mad plan is questionable, even for you."

"The Middle East will continue to remain unstable until it is united," the Commander defended, crossing his arms. "You know it's not going to happen on its own, no matter much you or the UN wants it to happen. If it isn't brought under Israeli and Russian control, someone else is going to do it. I'd rather it be allies than enemies."

"I doubt China wants the Middle East," Jackson commented.

"But the better argument is strategic," the Commander continued, not looking at her. "The more land that ADVENT controls, the better chances we have. The Middle East will not willingly conform to ADVENT law, and their countries could be actually put to use. Their factories, refineries and funding will be needed, and I will not ignore that just because it will violate their precious sovereignty."

"Or you just have a grudge against the Middle East," Van Doorn pointed out calmly.

"Forgive me for not respecting their regressive governments and cultures," the Commander stated coldly. "Islam may not be the controlling power it once was, but its influence still remains. The laws and norms established haven't gone away, not fully. Do you really disagree that it needs change?"

"It needs to be changed," Van Doorn agreed, some heat creeping into his voice, and frustration emanating out of him. "But is a war the way to do it? Do you really think they're going to change when a two countries, that a good portion still hate, invade their homes?"

"Maybe if we had time," the Commander admitted. "If we didn't have the threat of an imminent invasion. But we don't, Van Doorn. We don't have time to educate them on the error of their ways. But more to the point, I believe you underestimate just how ingrained their ways of life are. Change as you want it will take decades, and I find that unacceptable. Sometimes not everyone is right. Sometimes change needs to be forced. Diplomacy has been tried in the Middle East and they will not listen, in which case a new approach is required."

"A war," Van Doorn finished.

"Not an ideal situation," the Commander admitted. "But that is a possibility I don't consider inherently bad. It may not happen, and I won't allow it without cause."

"Don't be willfully ignorant," Van Doorn said, narrowing his eyes. "You know that if Israel wanted to manufacture an excuse they could. They aren't above staging a fake attack."

"I know," the Commander nodded. "But sometimes these kind of decisions are necessary. You know that."

Van Doorn clearly remembered the Hades Contingency, and Bradford likely did as well. "Again, I understand the reasoning," he sighed. "But I don't think it's the right decision here, and you should have informed us that was going to be discussed beforehand."

The Commander was quiet for a moment. "You're right," he admitted. "But Israel was going to enact their operation regardless, Nowinski implied as much. At least this way they might end the war quicker with Russian support and in addition ADVENT will become stronger as a result."

"What's done is done," Jackson interjected, raising a hand. "Van Doorn, the Commander's right in that Israel would probably have gone ahead with or without us knowing. That being said, this is something we should have known you were considering."

"I know," the Commander said, rubbing his forehead. "Anything else beyond that?"

"President Treduant has introduced legislation expanding powers for nearly all government entities," Bradford updated, handing him a file. "Along with issuing an executive order authorizing development of previously banned weapons such as chemical and biological weapons, as well as enhancing their nuclear arsenal."

Van Doorn raised an eyebrow. "Bold. Especially since the UN is still standing."

"I don't think she's overly concerned about the UN," Jackson said slowly. "The aliens have got the public scared, and very few are making an issue over this in the states. Similarly with Congress."

The Commander nodded. "So when you say her legislation is 'expanding powers' that means…?"

"What is sounds like," Bradford answered. "Increased funding, resources, authorization to take control of private institutions in states of emergency, as well as also allowing autonomy in states of war. Which mean-"

"They could bypass Congress entirely," the Commander finished slowly, a smile spreading across her face. "And the people in charge of these positions were appointed by her, correct?"

"Correct," Bradford nodded. "If a declaration of war is issued, the Executive branch would suddenly have the most power. Congress would be effectively neutered."

"Which would ensure that they couldn't interfere if they dislike her decisions," the Commander finished. "She's setting up to move America into ADVENT, with or without Congress."

"Except for the small problem that Congress has to approve this first," Van Doorn pointed out. "For some reason, I'm skeptical they'll be happy with the fine print."

"Actually…" Jackson began, her and Bradford exchanging a look. "President Treduant was very clever in how she set this up," Jackson continued, a tinge of admiration in her voice. "It was clearly written to get bipartisan support, and was deliberately phrased as something of a peace offering to them, or an apology if you prefer that."

"It'll probably appeal more to the Democrats, honestly," Bradford said. "It's giving them a lot of what they want. The departments of Education, Energy, Ethics, the EPA, they've been campaigning for more funding for those for years, and this will do that and more."

"And it'll appeal to the Republicans because it'll increase military funding, R&D, and the more radical ones will be emboldened by her executive order," the Commander noted. "She's likely calling on every favor to push this through, and I don't think it's a stretch to think she can pull it off."

He didn't add that if Nicole was taking his advice, she was going to ensure votes went her way via other means than favors. "So she's hoping that no one notices the little 'declaration of war' clause." Van Doorn guessed.

"Oh, they've likely read it," the Commander guessed. "But I don't think they consider it an issue, since Congress is needed to formally declare a war. So they hold the cards there, or so they think."

"And when an invasion hits, people will be screaming for Congress to act," Jackson finished. "Which will then ensure that Treduant controls the majority of government."

"Although Congress could repeal that part of the bill," Bradford noted thoughtfully. "It'd take time-"

"Not if the institutions gain autonomy from Congress," the Commander interrupted, shaking his head. "The first thing Treduant will have her people do is rewrite their own rules to include freedom from Congress. She's likely developed quite a few contingency plans."

Van Doorn whistled. "If she somehow pulls this off, it'll be one of the greatest political plays in history."

"I doubt she's doing it for the records," the Commander said. "But I agree."

"Well, in other news, our deployment of new soldiers arrived," Bradford updated. "Sending you the list now. We now have a respectable number of soldiers. Again."

"Shen also has some things to show you," Jackson said. "Vahlen too, for that matter."

"I'll check in on them," the Commander nodded. "I think if that covers everything major, we have a lot to do."

Jackson brushed some hair out of her face. "That we do. It might be a good idea to have a dedicated ADVENT Liaison, I can't coordinate something this massive and XCOM as well without a decline in quality. But I'm doing my best."

"I'll look into it," the Commander promised her.

"I'm going to find Patricia," Van Doorn said, rolling his shoulders. "I need to get used to my apparent ability to create energy shields. It feels odd."

"She'll probably put you with Iosif then," the Commander said. "Sounds like your talents are similar."

"Which are you, anyway?" Bradford asked curiously. "You never said."

"Indications are telekinetic," he answered. "Though I'm not really good at it yet."

Jackson snorted. "For some reason, I think you'll get better."

"That's the plan," the Commander agreed. "Alright, dismissed."

They all saluted and exited the room to go about their respective tasks.

---

The Citadel, Hallways

Back to the Citadel. Strange how ordinary it seemed now.

But as Abby walked through the cold hallways, it felt different. Before joining XCOM Intelligence, it had felt like home. Well, at least a comfortable place to stay at the least. But now it didn't have that feeling. It was just another quick stop before she was deployed to somewhere else.

She didn't really feel like a stranger here; it was more like going to a friend's house. Familiar, but not somewhere where you belonged. She really wasn't sure she'd ever be able to really settle down now, not after XCOM Intelligence. It had been a goal long in the future, when she was a more innocent, naïve doctor. She'd work for several decades, spend and save wisely, save people, probably fall in love somewhere along that, and then retire, hopefully in the process make the world a better place.

It was almost amusing to think about now, considering what she was doing now.

Was she still making the world a better place?

Maybe. That's what she was saying to justify murdering two people. All for the Greater Good. A concept she specifically remembered addressing in some argument with Patricia, with how some things couldn't be justified with that.

Maybe. Even if it could be justified, it still didn't change what she did was wrong. If people around her knew what she'd done, they would shun and condemn her, and she wouldn't be able to blame them. No matter how she looked at it, no matter who those two were or what she'd done, she'd murdered them.

There were excuses, but they seemed hollow. She was under orders, true, but she didn't have to follow them technically. She could have refused, backed Jochern and figured something out, but no. She'd decided Ruth's philosophy was sounder, Zhang knew more than her and refusing orders was wrong and illegal. It had felt cheap then, and it only felt worse as time wore on.

She looked up and sighed. She had no fucking clue where she was going; she was just wandering until it was time to see Zhang. The heartless Director was no doubt happy with her work and had said as much, though he already had another mission for her. Honestly, she was happy about that, it'd give her something to take her mind off everything.

She'd thought about trying to track down some of the soldiers, maybe Patricia. But didn't really think she could have a normal conversation with any of them. She wasn't the cheerful and friendly doctor they remembered. She was a spy, a shadow agent who did whatever it took to achieve the Greater Good.

What was bothering her the most about all this was that she'd realized she was good at it. Not once during those interrogations had she not had a plan, she hadn't hesitated, had been remarkably calm and resolved to do this as quickly and cleanly as possible. Not resolved to do it the right way, but the way that got the best results.

It seemed her first instincts when thinking about even joining seemed to have been correct. She was meant to do the dirty jobs so others didn't have to. Maybe she'd feel less guilty if she accepted that; her mission in life wasn't to save people, but hurt and kill them.

For the Greater Good, of course.

"Agent Gertrude?" She looked up in surprise as the Commander can walking down the hallway, looking as professional as ever.

She immediately snapped into a salute. "Commander."

"At ease," he said, smiling. "Glad you're back on the Citadel. Recently arrived, I assume?"

She gave a brief nod. "A couple hours."

"The mission was successful, I take it?" He asked.

He didn't know. "We got what we wanted," she answered neutrally. "I assume you've read the report?"

"No," he answered. "Zhang has only been updating me on…well, classified activities. EXALT operations have taken a lower priority."

"Oh." So pretty much her mission wasn't that important in the grand scheme of things. How typical. But such was life, unfortunately.

He frowned, his expression turning concerned as he appraised her. "Something is bothering you."

She pursed her lips. Was it that obvious? "Nothing important, Commander."

He tapped his head. "Some things have changed since you were here last. Namely that we can determine human psionics, of which I'm now one." She blinked as he continued. "Now I'm not quite as skilled as Patricia, but I can tell when people are either lying or downplaying how they feel."

Well…ok then. The Commander was a psion now, which she somehow wasn't completely surprised by. It seemed fitting that he'd also be able to control powers other humans couldn't. Well, she supposed it wouldn't hurt. Despite his past work, she knew that he was as sincere as he could be, and she couldn't really judge him the same way, especially with what she'd done now.

"We found two suspected EXALT plants," she explained tonelessly, leaning against the wall. "Zhang gave us orders to capture and interrogate them, then execute them when we were finished."

"Execute them regardless?" The Commander asked, frowning.

"Yeah," she sighed. "So I did. We got them to cooperate, then I killed them. Simple as that."

He stared at her for a few seconds. "I see. How did you get them to cooperate?"

"Jochern talked one into giving up what he knew," Abby said. "Basically lied. I did the same thing with the woman. Worst part was that one of them wasn't even EXALT, just a corrupt journalist."

"On Zhang's orders?" The Commander asked.

She frowned. "Yes. You didn't know?"

He was definitely less happy than before, if his hardened features were anything to go by. "Not specifics, no. I have rules when it comes to interrogation, one of which is honoring deals with captives. Execution is acceptable, but not when the subject cooperates."

Abby didn't think it was possible to feel worse, but the fact that she could have refused and still retained the Commander's backing made it worse. She was just a coward now, an automaton with no will other than her superiors. "No," the Commander stated, seemingly directed at her. "That isn't your fault. You got your orders and followed them, which should be commended. The fault lies with Zhang and me, for failing to make it clear to him my standards. I will be sure to rectify that immediately."

"I appreciate that," Abby said quietly. Well, at the least the next agents wouldn't be forced to do what she did.

The Commander paused. "For what it's worth, I know how you feel, and it's not something you ever get used to," he said quietly. "Killing an innocent person may be necessary, but it won't and shouldn't become normal. It's easy to hate yourself for it, but if you're not careful, it will dominate your thinking. The best thing to do is accept it. Don't negate its impact, but realize that it happened….and may happen again. That is a reality of intelligence work, Abby."

"That how it worked for you?" She asked without thinking, wincing internally as it came out. But the Commander didn't seem offended.

"It wasn't exactly the same," he explained, letting out a long breath. "I'd really never really killed any I considered 'true' innocents before joining the Commander. Bystanders, yes, but they were often just as bad as the ones I killed. Criminals and murderers who I felt no sorrow over killing. No, the first time I really killed people who I considered innocent was early in the War on Terror."

His tone turned reflective. "It was some town in Saudi Arabia, near some high-ranking Caliphate members. We determined a staging ground to launch operations, which ended up being a house owned by a small family."

Abby could see where this was going. "You killed them."

He gave a nod. "That we did. I did. I ensured it was quick and painless, but I killed them for no other reason than that they were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Were you under orders as well?" She asked, thinking maybe this was a catalyst for…something.

"None," he answered flatly. "But I determined there was no other way to ensure they wouldn't talk. We had no extra food or water to give them, and capture presented the risk of escape. And we couldn't risk the mission. It was wrong, I'm under no illusion there, but was it necessary? Yes, I believe so. Do I regret it?" He paused. "Yes and no. I regret that it came to that choice. But I would do it again, and I realize that I will likely have to make that decision again."

Abby looked up at him. "You really think the Greater Good can justify everything?"

"I believe in trying to accomplish what will cost the least human life in the long-term," the Commander answered slowly. "If more lives will be saved by letting several innocents die, than yes, it can. Innocent life should be preserved as much as possible, but not at the expense of even more dying."

"But you don't know more people will be saved?" Abby pointed out. "Do you?"

"No," the Commander admitted. "I cannot predict the future. Perhaps some of the acts I committed were unnecessary, but for many….I can say with confidence that many more were saved. You killed an EXALT agent and a man who was already corrupted. You've prevented EXALT spreading lies to thousands of people. You've done good, Abby, even if you don't feel it now. Helping people doesn't always mean healing them."

"I guess," Abby answered quietly, looking down.

"I'm not saying you should celebrate what you did," the Commander told her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Never that. Don't forget either, but realize that you've helped the world, even in the unlikeliest of ways. Accept your guilt, but move beyond it."

She gave a quick nod. "I'll do that."

"Maybe find something to take your mind off it," the Commander suggested. "Patricia will probably be happy to see you. I'll talk with Zhang to, you won't be put in that position again."

"Thank you, Commander," she said sincerely. "And for listening."

He inclined his head. "Anytime, Agent Gertrude."

He walked on, leaving her standing alone in the hallway. It hadn't exactly been comforting…but that had been something she needed to hear. She didn't feel better per-se, but at least she didn't feel worse. Perhaps she should take his advice.

With that, she turned and began walking in the direction of the Barracks.

---

The Citadel, Engineering Bay

While he could understand why Zhang had taken the complete ruthless approach, he sincerely wished that he might have informed him about that sooner. There were standards to be adhered to, even when utilizing torture. Especially then. Although it was true that was partially his fault for not specifying them to Zhang in the first place.

Well, that issue would be resolved soon. In the meantime, time to see what Shen had in store. The Engineering Bay was as busy as ever, even seemed more so, though that was likely due to that Shen had recruited more engineers for his projects, which was thankfully speeding up development of quite a few projects.

Shen was clearly expecting him as he stood close to the entrance, looking over some designs that rested on a table covered in writing utensils and tools. "New design?" He asked, walking up. Shen looked up at his approach, adjusting his glasses as he inclined his head.

"Commander, good to see you again," he began. "Yes, that is. Though I think you'll be more interested in the complete product."

"Which is?"

Shen gave a satisfied smile, and motioned him to follow. The Commander fell into step beside the elder engineer as they walked through the busy workshop, continuously humming and hissing as the machines and engineers worked nonstop. "Your people seem as busy as ever," the Commander noted. "Putting them to good work, I see."

"Always," Shen answered. "The staff size is large enough now that we can work on multiple major projects at the same time. Hence why we were able to have several major advancements to show you."

The Commander smiled. "Looking forward to it,"

They eventually found themselves at a very familiar place: the practice range. An array of weapons were laid out on a table in front of alloy targets. The weapons seemed far more squarish and rectangular than previous iterations, and there was a clear red energy contained inside the silver alloy that covered the weapons.

"Since I believe we've reached the pinnacle of ballistic technology, my weapons team has been working on improving our laser weapons," Shen explained as they walked up to the table. "Our current generation is excellent against unarmored targets, but suffers against more heavily armored targets like cyberdisks and outsiders simply absorb the energy itself."

"And I assume you found the solution?" The Commander said rhetorically, picking up the pistol variant.

"That we did," Shen nodded. "In fact, the solution was actually in previous experiments. One of the ways that the heat dissipation issue was originally solved was utilizing a form of rapid cycling, which had something of a 'drilling' effect from the near instantaneous heating and cooling. It wasn't really practical or powerful in its original form, but applying that to alien tech has allowed laser tech to become just as dangerous as gauss weaponry, if not more."

That sounded promising. The Commander set the pistol down and picked up the rifle. It was different from how traditional firearms looked. The barrel was almost a square, not round as was typical. A thin beam of red was viable at the core, with the power pack just before the trigger. It was far lighter than the gauss weapon, though a bit heavier than current laser weaponry. It lacked the solid feeling of the gauss weapons, but he supposed it made up for it in being supremely maneuverable.

He raised the weapon, aimed it at the dark gray target and fire. A beam shot out and tore into the metal, causing it to spark as the constantly fluctuating beam cut through it with ease. He quickly ceased the beam and looked at the clean hole the beam had left. "I'd say you succeeded," he said, setting the rifle down. "Excellent work."

"We've designated this generation of weapons as 'Pulse' tech," Shen said, accepting the compliment. "You saw the beam, so you can understand why we felt that was appropriate. Distinguishes the weapon from current laser tech more too."

"Impeccable naming as always," the Commander agreed, picking up the sniper rifle variant, which had the same squarish barrel as the rifle. "What have you tested this on?"

He fired a headshot at another target and the thin pulsing beam shot out and drilled a hole through the metal almost instantaneously as Shen answered. "Beyond sheets of varying alien alloys, some of the wrecks we've recovered." He wrung his hands together as the Commander set the sniper rifle down. "It worked exceptionally against the cyberdisk wrecks, though it is admittedly impossible to properly test without functioning ones. We also don't know if it will have the same weaknesses against outsiders, though I am optimistic it will be more effective."

"Regardless, this is major improvement," the Commander said, turning fully towards him. "Your team and you are to be commended."

"This is good news and bad," Shen said after a few seconds. "Bad in the sense that I am unsure how our current arsenals could be further improved. Unless an epiphany hits us, I don't see our infantry weapons becoming more powerful. This is the pinnacle of infantry weaponry, and I don't see that changing."

"We have yet to replicate their plasma weapons," the Commander recalled. "Are you saying that's impossible?"

"Of course not," he disagreed vehemently. "But it…well, their plasma weapons are largely still a mystery. We have to fully research elerium before we can begin to understand how they start. Unlike ballistic and laser weapons, plasma has no weaponized prototype. It is an entirely new line of research, which unfortunately leads to time difficulties."

"I believe Vahlen is working on the elerium to some extent," the Commander said. "But I understand. Our current weapons should be more than sufficient for the moment, although you did say the pinnacle of infantry weaponry, yes?"

"Yes," Shen nodded. "Our Raven and MEC weapon systems have many more improvements to go before I would consider them the pinnacle of anything. But those are two topics I will save for later, since I have something that I know you'll be interested in."

He waved him over to another table where what looked like a sleek and curved suit of armor laid upon it. Even more than the current Phalanx armor, it was completely sealed and even more armored, even if it was designed in such a way where it seemed smoother and less bulky than before. It wasn't form-fitting, but it was clearly built around the human body. It still lacked complete armor on the joints, but otherwise the legs, arms and chest were covered in a layer of darkened alloys.

"The Aegis armor," Shen stated, spreading his hands towards the suit. "The next generation of XCOM armor. This is as durable as we could make it without sacrificing an unreasonable amount of maneuverability."

"How durable?" The Commander asked, looking over the suit in interest.

"It can withstand a fully blast from an alloy cannon at close range and a pulse rifle takes roughly seven seconds to drill completely through," Shen answered confidently. "Unlike the Phalanx variant, this is estimated to be able to take multiple plasma shots instead of only one or two."

The Commander picked up the chest piece. "Well, let's test that out,"

Shen sighed, but didn't look surprised as the Commander suited up in the armor. "You named it after our Ethereal friend?" The Commander asked as he fitted the chest piece on.

"That was a coincidence, believe it or not," Shen answered. "The Aegis design was conceptualized long before that Ethereal revealed his name. I felt it was fitting. The word itself means protection and support, which is what I wanted this armor to be."

Protection and support. Interesting. He wondered if Aegis had chosen that name on purpose, or if it was his name to begin with. Which did beg the question of what he was. A protector for the Ethereals? A defender or sorts? That would make some kind of sense, and explain why he'd taken an interest in him. What better way than to defend your people than understand your enemy?

Although if that was the case, he wondered why Aegis wasn't taking a more active role in the invasion. He was certain that this new Ethereal was completely different, and Soran had said that the Ethereal who'd been overseeing Earth, Sicarius, had been replaced, presumably by this new one. Which made him wonder if Aegis was involved heavily in the invasion, or just acting out of pure curiosity.

Questions for later. He pulled on the gauntlets and rolled his shoulders and he took a few steps in the armor. To his surprise, it was actually more comfortable than the Phalanx armor. He felt protected, stable. It also seemed like he could move quicker, but at the same time, felt completely durable when doing so.

From what he could tell, this was an enhancement in every way.

His HUD initialized after he put on the helmet. "Feels good so far," he said, looking down at Shen. "Let's put it to the test." He picked up the pulse rifle and tossed it to Shen who caught it, a look of resignation on his face. "Sustain beam for five seconds," the Commander ordered, taking a firm stance inside the practice range.

Shen nodded and fired. The Commander didn't flinch as the pulsing beam hit the center of his shining armor and began cutting. The time clicked down in his head, and already he imagined he could feel the heat of the laser as it got closer and closer to his skin.

Four…five

The laser stopped and the Commander let himself relax and look down as the hole in his armor. The metal was a faint orange, so he refrained from touching it. Still, he could see it was almost through. But it assured him that Shen hadn't been exaggerating about the protection the Aegis armor offered, though that hadn't really been a concern to begin with.

Still, never hurt to be sure, especially since his soldiers would be relying on this for protection.

"Excellent job," the Commander complimented as he walked back. "All the soldiers will thank you for it."

Shen grimaced. "I really hate you having me do that, but I appreciate it."

The Commander took off the helmet and set it on the table. "So, anything else?"

"A few more things, yes," Shen said, motioning him to follow once again. After a minute the Commander realized they were headed to the Cybernetics Lab. Likely MEC related then. "I've ordered the construction of another Marauder and Ballista-class MECS," Shen continued. "Backups in case one suit is completely destroyed. We were able to salvage Myra's, but it's still in the process of being repaired."

"Acceptable," the Commander nodded. "You understand what we can afford here better than me. Although I assume that you have more than just that update."

"Correct," Shen nodded as they reached the door. It slid open and the Commander's attention was immediately grabbed as always by the massive MEC being built in the center. But unlike the last time, it was almost fully armored. "We are almost finished with the construction of the Goliath-class MEC," Shen confirmed. "I expect within a week or two it will be ready for field testing."

The Commander felt a smile creep across his face. He imagined that even the aliens would think twice when they saw that behemoth marching towards them. Although there was one problem. "How are you going to get that out?" He asked. "I don't think it's going to fit through the door."

"The arms and legs can be detached for transportation," Shen explained. "It will be reassembled in the hangar, although the current MEC transport will have to receive a power upgrade to even transport it alone."

"I'm looking forward to seeing that in action," the Commander said wistfully. "I doubt even the aliens could stand up to that."

"Not their ground units," Shen agreed. "A complement of anti-personnel, artillery and wieldable weaponry should ensure some response for any threat. A trade-off for its poor maneuverability, but I believe the benefits heavily outweigh the costs."

"I tend to agree," the Commander nodded as he looked at the twenty-foot machine.

"That being said, I have begun developing schematics for another class, almost the exact opposite," Shen continued, picking up his tablet and handing the device to the Commander. "We've developed suits to deal with specific scenarios, but we lack a highly mobile or single-target variant. I finally realized that size isn't necessarily an advantage, and thus the Jaeger-class was born."

Shen was right. The design was almost like a suit of armor similar to the Aegis gear, albeit a bit bigger. But nothing like the Ballista or even Marauder-class MECs. "It's be equipped with grappling and climbing gear," Shen continued. "As well as a gauss weapon built directly into the arms for long-range sniping regular soldiers can't perform."

"An assassin MEC, essentially," the Commander summed up, impressed that Shen had thought of that.

"I suppose that's accurate," Shen admitted. "Though it would have speed and strength that even genetically modified humans couldn't match. Versatility is the most important aspect."

The Commander looked at the designs. "I like it. However, I believe some kind of close-range weaponry should be added. Retractable blades or short-range ballistics."

"I'll look into adding that," Shen promised, "And there is one more thing." He pressed several buttons on the tablet and a very familiar design appeared before him. It was a UFO, but altered. The front half had been redesigned to be similar to a traditional cockpit and aerodynamic shape.

"Our own UFOs," the Commander said quietly, looking at Shen. "You can make these?"

"The Firestorm project is still in planning phases," Shen answered. "But we know enough to create a fighter powered by alien tech, far stronger than anything we have now."

"Could it be made spaceworthy?"

"I've designed it with that in mind," Shen answered with a nod. "I know we'll need a fleet if we ever hope to defeat the aliens. But this will get us started. Hopefully once ADVENT is up and running, these designs can be utilized by them to build our fleet faster."

"Well done," the Commander said, inclining his head. "You've outdone yourself again, Doctor."

He smiled at that. "I do my best, Commander. The fate of our species is at stake, after all."

A sobering truth. "That it does. Do you have anything else?"

"No, Commander," he answered. "At your command we can begin producing enough weapons and armor for our soldiers. I would request that we shift our focus to the Firestorm project and improving our MECs."

"Granted," the Commander confirmed quickly. "Thanks you, Shen."

"My pleasure, Commander," he answered. Saluting, he then went back to work and the Commander did the same. Now to see what Vahlen had been up to.

---

The Citadel, XCOM Intelligence Control

Sometimes a nap and shower was what was needed to feel better. As she headed to see Zhang, Abby felt as well as she probably could be, physically at least. Patricia had been away, so instead she'd just taken a shower and nap, while noting that it had been a rather long time since she'd had a solid night's sleep.

Well, time to see what Zhang wanted her to do now. She didn't think she'd get an apology from him if the Commander had talked to him, he wasn't really the type to be sentimental, nor did she think he could really understand. Regardless of what he was doing now, he had been part of the Triad. You didn't gain influence there by being a decent person, although even now she didn't think he was bad.

He was similar to the Commander. Both of them wanted to defeat the aliens and would do whatever it took to make that happen.

The doors to Intelligence Control slid open and Zhang was already waiting, standing over his holotable displaying a map of the United States. "Agent Gertrude," he greeted. "Welcome back."

She saluted briefly and walked up opposite him. "Thank you, Director."

His expressionless face showed nothing, but he did incline his head towards her, the white light above him illuminating his silver hair and scar. "The effect of our operations against EXALT's media network have worked. They are crippled inside the United States, largely thanks to your and others efforts. The information you gained on EXALT's meddling in the election will also be put to good use."

She just nodded. Right now she'd prefer if that mission was never brought up again. "What's the next move?"

His lips twitched briefly, and his tone seemed slightly harsher as he answered. He clearly wasn't a big fan of whatever he was going to say. "The short version is that we've scaling down operations against EXALT. The Commander has made efforts to ensure that they won't be bothering us anymore, so we are going to focus on the aliens, as well as hostile nations."

That lined up with what the Commander had said, but she did have questions about how that had happened. "What efforts, exactly?"

"That is classified," he answered curtly, leaving no room for doubt. Which either implied that something else was going on and operations were not being stopped, or that the Commander had actually forced EXALT to back down. The latter seemed unlikely, since if that were true, why would he not simply finish them off with their soldiers?

Either way, it seemed she wasn't going to find out. But there were some questions about the apparent future plans. "Define hostile nations," she said. "And what actions we will take."

"Hostile is a relative term," Zhang clarified, handing her a file. "But it covers any nation actively attempting to hinder or oppose us diplomatically, economically or militarily. Canada, China and Australia are being watched now."

Abby frowned. China made sense, to a degree, but Australia and Canada? "What are Canada and Australia doing?"

"Their councilors are causing trouble," Zhang answered. "And they represent their governments feelings on XCOM. We will be moving into a more public role in the future, and their people will be leading the opposition against us. Once we no longer answer to the United Nations, they will speak out publically."

Abby blinked. "How will we…we're pulling out of the UN? The Council? Can we do that?"

"The United Nations will not allow it, of course," Zhang answered slowly. "But that is not a concern. The initial stages of the Demeter Contingency have been authorized."

She had a bad feeling about that. "What is that?"

"What you're holding in your hand now," Zhang nodded towards the file. "In the event the Council and United Nations become a hindrance or threat to the defense of humanity, they will be dealt with."

"You're going to destroy the United Nations?" Abby asked in disbelief, not entirely sure she was understanding correctly. "But…why? Sure, they haven't always been the most supportive, but removing them entirely is…absurd. Sir!"

Zhang pursed his lips, and fixed her with his stone-gray eyes. "An invasion is coming, Agent Gertrude. The United Nations lacks the capability, power or resources to mount an effective defense, and as long as they exist, one which does accomplish that will not. It is an ineffective and powerless body, and incapable of uniting humanity by itself."

"It's a hell of a lot better than nothing," she argued, momentarily forgetting how outranked she was. "If the United Nations falls, that is going to be a massive blow to morale, because even if it never really achieved it, the appearance of the United Nations is important."

Zhang unexpectedly smiled. Barely, but it was there. "The Commander is well aware of that, Agent. Do you really think we would remove an organization that large without a replacement?"

Abby blinked. "You have one?"

"The leaders of the world are well aware of the failings of the UN," Zhang continued. "And some are willing to start over with something that fixes the flaws of the old system and has the chance of actually uniting humanity." He picked up another file. "This is the component to the Demeter Contingency, a Directive on how to proceed."

She took the beige file apprehensively, opened it and saw a familiar word. "Advent?" She asked, looking up.

"The name of the Directive and organization itself," Zhang confirmed. "I do believe the Commander was inspired by that operation we recovered from Israel. You need to understand what we are working to, Agent. If we are going to achieve a united humanity, people who oppose that are going to need to be removed. Do you understand that?"

She swallowed. "I do."

At least he said removed and not killed or executed.

"Now as for your next assignment, I doubt it will take long," Zhang continued, looking down at the map. "You are to recall agent Shira and her team. They were investigating Solaris Industries, and as EXALT is no longer a top priority, they are best used elsewhere. They dropped out of contact once they began, and their check-in isn't for a few days. Days we can't waste."

A retrieval mission. Well, she wouldn't complain, and it would be nice to see Ruth again. "How many and who?"

"As I said, agent Shira, along with agents Akello and Kalonymous," Zhang answered. "You know how they operate, and their area of operations is small enough that it shouldn't take long."

Abby nodded. Yes, it probably wouldn't take too long to track her down, although she wouldn't be surprised if Akello found her before she found them. "When do I leave?"

"Within a couple hours," Zhang answered. "Is that sufficient to prepare?"

She suppressed a sigh. Well, glad she'd rested when she did. "Good enough."

"Then you have your mission," Zhang nodded. "All relevant information will be forwarded to you. Once you've finished reading the files, destroy them. Our plans cannot be revealed yet. Understood?"

"Understood," she confirmed.

"Dismissed, agent," Zhang said. "Good luck."

She saluted and left, looking down at the files that held the plans to either save the world, or destroy it for good.

---

Seattle, United States of America

He was flying solo for this one.

Well, almost.

Mary was watching the general vicinity through the cameras, but otherwise he had the rest of his team holding back and keeping an eye out in other places in case the Chronicler showed up there. Besides, he didn't want to spook Ruth. She was Kidon, so if she got any hint that she was being watched, she'd either bolt or worse. And he didn't really want to track her down again.

Mary had managed to find her taking a meal in a nearby restaurant which was unsurprisingly close to Solaris Industries. He didn't know what her plans were or why she was there, but the best situation was likely to just approach her directly and explain what was going on. She'd likely appreciate it more than subterfuge.

At least that was the plan.

He pushed open the door and took a quick look around. Typical restaurant setup. Small bar, tables and chairs spaced out relatively evenly with a few patrons sitting at them.

"Can I help you?" Cerian looked towards the young waitress waiting expectantly for his answer.

"No, thank you," he answered. "I'm meeting a friend."

He walked past her and made his way to where Ruth was sitting, a small table near a window looking out into the bustling streets. She was absentmindedly stirring her drink with one of the cheap plastic straws, a half-eaten sandwich in front of her. The Kidon agent herself was dressed in regular civilian garb, red shirt, unbuttoned jacket, jeans and leather boots. She looked almost normal, though just from how she passively observed everything around her he knew she was more than she appeared, even had he not known who he was.

She would have been classified as a 'potential problem' and he'd have definitely kept an eye on her. But as it stood, she could actually be a very useful asset. Ruth didn't fail to notice him walking up, frowning, an expression that seemed unnatural on her face. She'd always seemed rather cheerful in pictures, so maybe that was why he thought that.

"Hello," she greeted slowly, a clear warning in her tone. "Is there something you want?"

"To talk," he said, keeping his tone normal as possible. "I know why you're here. I know you're with XCOM, agent Shira."

Her expression didn't change, but she tensed up microscopically, thought to most it would look like no reaction at all. She appraised him for a few seconds, furiously trying to figure out who he was. "I know you," she muttered. "We've met before."

"Yes, we did," he said, taking the seat opposite her. "Paris, remember?"

She leaned back, crossing her arms. "Ah, yes. That. Well, that's interesting. Perhaps you should explain who you are and why you're here."

"Cerian Irelan," he answered, inclining his head. "Formerly of the United Nations, currently employed as an independent operative of the Council."

"You've been spying on us," she stated flatly. "I'm impressed you were able to do it without us noticing."

"Observing," he corrected. "And I'm very good at what I do. I know how Kidon operatives work, and that doesn't change, now employed by XCOM or not."

"I see," she said, pursing her lips. "And what exactly have you found out?"

"Why you've been conducting highly suspicious operations," Cerian replied. "Russia, Paris, Israel. EXALT. It didn't take me long to come to the same conclusions, which is why I'm here now. You want to investigate Solaris Industries too, correct?"

"Correct," she nodded. "And since you're speaking now, I can only assume that you succeeded or you need help."

"Unfortunately, it is the latter," he sighed and pulled out the picture of the Chronicler. "There is a major threat here. Have you ever seen this man before?" He handed her the picture.

"No," she shook her head after looking at it for a few minutes. "I assume he's an EXALT officer? Security chief?"

"Not as far as we know," Cerian clarified. "He showed up a few weeks ago, and doesn't appear to hold any rank, though they seem to let him go wherever he wants. He's title is the 'Chronicler' or at least that's what he calls himself, but we don't know his official position, only that he's very dangerous."

"How?"

"He's a psion."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Impossible."

"Tell that to my dead partner," Cerian responded evenly. "Or my other one who nearly killed me and herself because she was mind-controlled. Purple eyes, telekinesis, I know I didn't imagine those things happening. Your intel may be wrong, but don't tell me it's impossible."

She narrowed her eyes. "You've met him."

"Twice," Cerian said. "The first time I didn't know who he was, only that he knew things he shouldn't. I decided to investigate since he had somehow compromised our operation and wanted to know more. We found his residence, but he knew we were coming and showed me who he really was. For whatever reason, he hasn't warned EXALT, saying that they aren't the real threat."

"EXALT is working with the aliens," Ruth said. "Unless he knows something we don't, they're as much a threat as them, not to mention global stability."

"Agreed," Cerian nodded. "Which is why he is now the threat we need to neutralize. I think we can both agree that EXALT having access to a psion isn't good for anyone."

"It still makes no sense," Ruth muttered, rapping her fingers on the table. "If EXALT already has a psion, why are they trying to experiment with creating psions? Unless…"

"Unless they don't know," Cerian finished, nodding. He'd come to that theory after thinking about it some more. "Which would explain why he's hesitant to reveal us. It would raise questions, especially if we were captured alive."

"So then what is he doing?" Ruth wondered. "Is he using EXALT? Manipulating them for his own ends?"

"Possibly," Cerian said. "But he's a wild card beyond our control, and I'd prefer we not find out what his plans are. I hate to suggest it, but he needs to be killed. Interrogation isn't an option, not with what he can do."

"Citadel Command needs to know about this," Ruth stated, shifting in her seat. "We didn't come to fight a psion. We're not prepared. We need backup."

"If you call for backup, he'll know you're coming for him," Cerian pointed out. "We'll lose the chance to deal with him here and now. It's not ideal, but if we want to kill him, it has to be now and possibly get what we need from Solaris Industries."

Ruth laced her fingers together. "And I assume you have a plan?"

"That depends on if you would be willing to work with me."

She cocked her head slightly and gave a small smile. "I think that removing a hostile psion would be in all our interests. Tell me your plan."

---

The Citadel, Research Labs

The Commander looked at the stress ball in his hand and took a breath. Time to try this again. He looked directly at the ball, focused on it and willed it to rise. Up. The air became distorted around it, and with growing excitement he watched it rise a few millimeters. Higher. It continued rising until it was hovering a few inches above his hand.

He gritted his teeth, trying to maintain the hold a few seconds longer. Three…two…one. The ball fell snugly into his hand again as the world came into focus once more. He tucked the ball into his pocket and began walking forward. That was the best so far, not exactly the most impressive things he'd done, but he was getting better. Now he just needed to do it without the world fading around him.

Which was the biggest problem so far. He couldn't seem to do anything without concentrating on it at the extent of all else. That said, he had only had these abilities for barely a day. All things considered he could be worse.

The glass doors to the Labs swished open and he stepped inside, enjoying the blast of air that accompanied it. A few dozen scientists were all working on various projects, looking through microscopes and a few were working on the autopsy of those Muton Elites they'd recovered. He stood still for a few seconds, looking around for…

There.

He made his way to Vahlen who was looking intently through a microscope. Upon reaching her, he tapped her lightly on the shoulder, making her look up. "Commander," she greeted with a smile. "Good to see you."

"You too, Moira," he answered, returning the smile. "Busy?"

"I actually wanted to discuss this," she explained, picking up a small vial filled with a bluish liquid. "Recognize it?"

"The blood we recovered from the Ethereal," he recalled, looking at her with new interest. "Have you learned anything?"

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "Possibly. This wasn't an uncontaminated sample, so I put a portion through filters and kept the rest as found. Neither may be an accurate reflection, but I came to the same conclusions from both."

The Commander nodded. "Which are?"

Vahlen handed him a tablet showing a complicated-looking chart which he could only assume was linked to the blood in some way. Well, he might as well look at this incomprehensible gibberish. "The blood itself is highly acidic," Vahlen began. "Not enough to eat through steel, but enough to seriously wound an unsuspecting human."

"Is that natural?" The Commander asked, looking up. "Wouldn't that damage their bodies?"

"I'm assuming they modified their bodies extensively to tolerate the enhanced acidity," Vahlen continued. "But I think that the acidity itself is a result of genetic modification and not natural intrinsically. Because from what I can extrapolate, it seems like an Ethereal is immune to all forms of sickness and poison."

"So the blood is acidic to make it kill anything hostile?" The Commander guessed.

Vahlen frowned, clearly not liking his highly unscientific answer. "In a sense…" she began slowly. "But it's more an extrapolation. If the Ethereals have the capability to modify even their blood, it's not much of a stretch to make themselves immune to nearly all kinds of ailments."

The Commander raised an eyebrow. "You're guessing."

"Forming a theory based on coincidental data," she corrected. "But…essentially. I'm trying to get a complete DNA recreation, but it's difficult without a tissue sample. Blood is useful, but it doesn't have what I need to create a complete picture."

"It's more than we had before," the Commander reminded her. "And useful information, regardless."

"Hmm, true," she agreed, resting lightly against the white table. "I would likely find more with more time, but I didn't expect this in the first place, and other projects have taken priority."

"As they should," the Commander agreed, then motioned back to where the few scientists were performing their autopsy. "Learn anything about the Elites?"

"Quite a bit, actually," Vahlen nodded, her eagerness showing on her face and emotions. "Each one has been extensively modified and enhanced in nearly all aspects. They are nearly invulnerable killing machines that won't stop until they are dead. Excluding their size and strength, their mind provided the newest insight."

She reached over and flipped the image on the tablet to an image of what looked like a brain, with different parts mapped out and noted on. "Their minds are programmed," she explained excitedly. "Well…to an extent. But there are clear similarities, commands wired directly into the brain itself. Simple statements that nonetheless kick in unconsciously."

The Commander looked at her, hoping she picked up that he needed more examples. "Clarify?"

"Right," she nodded. "In the case of the Muton Elite, there is clearly a command similar to an IF statement wired into the brain. You know what that is, right?"

The Commander nodded. He wasn't a programming expert, but some concepts weren't that hard to understand. "Right."

"So the command is essentially, 'If pain level is greater than tolerable threshold, turn off pain sensors,'" she explained. "A crude and simple command, but one that works. The brain controls every aspect of the body, including shutting down organs…or ignoring pain. This has obvious disadvantages, but these commands might ensure the subject lives in a dangerous situation."

The Commander immediately saw where she was going with this. "You've applied it to the Manchurian Program."

"Correct," she smiled, satisfaction emanating off her. "And successfully."

The Commander blinked. "Already?"

"I was already close," Vahlen explained, motioning him to follow. "But that muton was the final key."

Vahlen reached the door to the Genetics Lab and entered her code. The door slid open and they walked forward. "How have you applied it?" The Commander asked.

"I'm working to perfect simple statements," Vahlen explained. "Mostly modified IF statements and basic subroutines. Audio commands are the easiest method of implementation so far, which I've been experimenting with."

The second door to the Genetics Lab slid open and revealed more scientists working on dissections, experiments and operating complicated equipment. Vahlen led him over to a corner where a human male was standing stoically, head down and eyes closed, with an IV attached to his arm.

"This is subject twelve," Vahlen introduced. "Patient Zero for the Manchurian Program."

"I assume he's under control if he's out of the cells?" He asked as he looked over the seemingly sleeping subject.

"Yes," Vahlen confirmed as she removed the IV. "I wanted to work with a black slate before moving to incorporating commands in a conscious subject. I've 'reset' him for lack of a better word. He's alive, but cannot comprehend anything so he poses no threat. But that makes him ideal for testing commands." She stepped back. "Command: Awake."

Instantaneously the man's head jerked up and his eyes opened. It was odd to watch. The eyes were blank and the face expressionless, as he didn't respond to anything, not even the two of them. He just stared sightlessly ahead. "He doesn't see anything?" The Commander asked slowly, resisting the urge to wave his hand in front of the man.

"He sees it," Vahlen clarified. "But he doesn't understand anything. He can't compute it, to put it into programming terms. He is the living equivalent of a simple C++ or Java program."

"And what can this program do?"

"Command: Walk forward," she ordered, and the man began walking at a slow, but steady pace. He just kept walking straight, directly towards a table.

"Is he going to stop?" The Commander asked as he watch the man get closer.

"Command: Stop," Vahlen called, and the man immediately came to a halt. Turning back to the Commander, she continued. "No, impact detection wasn't part of it. I might add that later, but he will keep walking until given the command to stop. Be it into a table or off a cliff."

"Interesting," the Commander muttered, eyeing the man. He couldn't really sense him psionically either. He existed, but had essentially no brain functions. Much like a MEC soldier, only somehow worse. An unnatural state between living and dead.

"Command: Shutdown," Vahlen ordered and the man lowered his head and closed his eyes, standing perfectly still.

"How long do you think it will take for more complex commands?" The Commander asked.

"The commands themselves are not the difficult part," Vahlen said, making some notes on her tablet. "It's integrating them with an existing personality without destroying it that's going to pose the greatest challenge."

Which was the most crucial aspect. He really just wanted a check on psions, a means to which they could be harmlessly neutralized if they went rogue. A way to utilize sleeper agents with no fear of betrayal. He didn't want empty automatons, dead men walking. But that was a process, and Vahlen was accomplishing it quicker than he honestly expected.

"Well done," he complimented. "What other updates do you have?"

Another burst of satisfaction emanated from Vahlen. "I believe it's time to utilize the Sectoid Virus," she answered, motioning him to follow as she approached the subject cells. "The testing has gone on long enough to put it into action."

The Commander nodded, eager to see what she had in store. Vahlen unlocked the door, and both of them stepped into the white room filled with glass walls and broken people. The stark white of the room and its cleanliness contrasted with the living beings around him. Terror. Resignation. Pain. Hopelessness. The defiance that he'd seen in the early days was gone.

The subjects were huddled against the back walls, eyeing the two of the fearfully, praying that they wouldn't be next. Praying for something to happen to free them from the hell they were trapped in. Were they not deserving of this, the Commander might have wondered if this was going too far. But unfortunately for them, this was perfectly justified.

This was simply what they deserved.

The genetic abominations were gone, and the cells contained more than just humans. At the far end were three cells containing Sectoids, all at apparently different stages of the virus. They stopped at the first one. The gray alien was moving, eyeing them blearily with its golden eyes, but not moving too much.

"This is one week after being infected with the virus," Vahlen explained. "From what I have observed, the nervous system is affected the most immediately. The sectoids don't like moving, and their psionic ability is disrupted as well. I would compare it to a bad cold in human terms. Bad, but endurable."

The Commander looked into the second cell, which was a night and day difference. The pale skin on the creature was swollen, engorged into an almost transparent sheen. The cell was spattered with yellow liquids, as was the creature itself. Pus and blood was leaking from its nose and eyes, and the eyes themselves seemed almost shriveled, like a dried piece of fruit. The alien was still moving, but barely, shuffling back and forth in a trail of its own blood and fluids.

"The end of week two," Vahlen continued as she eyed the pitiful alien, cold satisfaction emanating from her. "The body is beginning to break down into its basic components. The skin and eyes first, as well as the internal organs. As you can see, the alien is completely incapacitated, and unable to function properly beyond simple movement."

The Commander nodded and they moved to the final cell. The thing inside was almost unrecognizable. Lying in a puddle of its own blood, fluids and body parts, laid the sectoid. The gray skin it had was gone, presumably melted off. Most of the muscles were either dissolved completely or broken and withered. The eyes were simply sockets, smothered in yellow goop that had once been the eyes. The skull, ribs and joints he could see to varying degrees. The alien was motionless, but the Commander could sense it was somewhat alive. Somehow.

"Week three," Vahlen finished. "The skin, muscles, eyes and organs are broken down, ultimately killing the sectoid in the most debilitating and painful way possible. This subject will likely expire later today, once the brain or heart breaks apart."

It was horrendous, unusual and cruel. Which was exactly what he wanted. The sectoids might not care about themselves, but the Ethereals, Vitakara, maybe even the mutons would see what was happening and wonder if something similar would happen to them. They would feel terror, fear, horror, and their morale would suffer.

If nothing else, it sent a clear and indisputable message.

"Exactly what I wanted," the Commander stated approvingly, turning to Vahlen standing straight with pride. "And you're certain there are no adverse effects on humans."

"Completely," Vahlen confirmed, pointing to the cell next to the week-three sectoid. "Subject Seven has been exposed to the completed version of the virus, multiple times as well and has shown no ill effects." The Commander looked over the cowering man in the cell. Yes, he looked perfectly fine, and Vahlen wouldn't have given her word if she wasn't completely sure.

"Do you think this could affect the Hive Commanders as well?" He asked.

"Perhaps to some degree, since they share similar DNA," Vahlen answered with a shrug. "But without a live subject, I can't know for certain. If they are affected, it will not be as intense, and potentially survivable. But against the main sectoid force it will work without a doubt."

"Then we need to determine how to deploy it as soon as possible," the Commander said. "The Sectoids seem to control their ships, so if we could distribute the virus now, it could significantly hamper their fleet."

"You have a plan?" Vahlen asked inquisitively.

"An idea," the Commander mused. "Two, actually. But that will be for everyone. You have something else?"

"Right this way," Vahlen led him to another cell on the far end, but this one had a chryssalid inside. The cell to the right held another sectoid, and to the left held a human who was pushed as far away from the alien as possible. The chryssalid itself seemed oddly calm, occasionally scuttling around, but otherwise didn't seem aggressive.

"You actually managed to grow one," the Commander noted, impressed.

"Thanks to the Sectoid cloning equipment," Vahlen revealed, looking on her creation proudly. "Utilizing it, we can create as many as needed for when the time comes. I did make some adjustments to the alien beyond its interpretation of human life."

"Such as?"

"I've removed its ability to reproduce," she answered. "It was too much of a risk, and I felt it could get out of control too easily. To compensate for that, I've increased the lifespan significantly, allowing it to be utilized for up to six months, as well as enhancing it's chitin plating, strength and eyesight."

"And making it hunt aliens," the Commander added.

"That too," Vahlen agreed. "Although all I've really done is simply alter the response it has to detecting alien and human pheromones or scents. If I've done this correctly, it should…ignore humans, only treat them as vegetation or inanimate objects, whereas aliens will trigger the instinct to attack and kill."

"I assume this is the test?" The Commander asked, nodding towards the cells.

"I wanted you here for it," Vahlen confirmed. "Ready?"

He nodded. "Go ahead."

Vahlen walked up to the panel in front of the chryssalid cell, and a few seconds later the glass wall separating the chryssalid and sectoid rose. The chryssalid didn't waste a second and charged the chittering sectoid which scrambled back, but to no avail as the alien beast began tearing its apart, yellow blood staining its mouth and purple plates. Its claws ripped the body to shreds, killing it within seconds. Once finished, it scuttled around, clearly looking for more.

"Now for the real test," Vahlen muttered, and began manipulating the keypad again and the glass wall between the human and beast opened up. The chryssalid turned around at the sound, and began slowly making its way over to the human. Not as a hostile, but in apparent curiosity. It stopped a couple of feet from the terrified human, looked around, apparently got bored, and began walking the other way.

The Commander smiled.

"It worked," Vahlen breathed, relief evident in her voice and feelings. "I did it."

"Never had any doubt," the Commander congratulated. "Thanks to you we have another weapon to unleash on the Ethereals."

"Yes," she agreed, turning to him. "Now that I know the genetic code is sound, I can grow more. Once the Manchurian Program becomes more sophisticated, I could implement commands in them, allowing our soldiers to order them. But as of right now, I think only psions could manipulate them successfully."

"Have you tried?" He asked.

"A bit," Vahlen answered, glancing back at the chryssalid. "Its mind is far different. Simpler, but scattered. I'll practice on it some later."

"Well, I'd say you've earned your pay here," the Commander said. "You've definitely done more than even I thought."

"You trusted me with this," Vahlen reminded him. "I only want to validate that trust."

There was a brief silence. "Speaking of which…" the Commander looked at her. "I think you deserve a break. A short one, at least. Besides, we need to talk."

No smart quip in response, but she did smile. "I think so too. Sometime this evening? Your office?"

"Sounds good," he smiled. "See you then, Moira."

"You too," she answered quietly. "You too."

---

The Citadel, Training Area

"I'll admit it, he's a good shot." Iosif said as they watched the two soldiers take turns shooting a stationary target. While not as in-depth as the actual shooting range, it was sufficient and not many people took advantage of that, preferring to use the training area for more physical training.

Still, Iosif was right. Chan Jin-Taek was an excellent shot. All of the North Korean soldiers that had recently arrived were some of the best Patricia had ever seen. She was more familiar with their capabilities, having access to all their files and had been one of the few who'd gone through and approved the list together with the Commander.

Nearly forty soldiers had arrived, bringing their total soldier count to just over sixty, excluding MEC soldiers. Good enough, and she suspected that all of them would be needed over the coming days. All were drawn from the best of the best, all across the world. So far they were intermingling well for the most part. The training area was packed with people, making it difficult for her to get a general sense of the people around, but she wanted to observe to make sure the first few days didn't get out of hand.

Luckily the North Koreans had tended to keep to themselves, apparently knowing that they weren't exactly viewed favorably, even after the alliance was announced. Most of the soldiers seemed to be keeping them at a distance initially, more guarded than anything else, because how did you treat a person who'd grown up and indoctrinated in a country that was so opposite to one most people lived in. Though the North Koreans did seem happy to talk if approached, and apparently also willing to have shooting contests as Lesedi had asked to have a shooting match.

Chan had just missed the center, leaving an opportunity for Lesedi to get ahead. He stepped back and Lesedi stepped up and raised her gauss sniper rifle. The Recces operative took a breath, and fired. Patricia cocked her head, trying to see where she'd hit.

"Not bad," Chan said, narrowing his eyes at the target in the distance. "Nearly on mine."

"I think we're even," Lesedi responded, setting the rifle to the side, turning around to walk back to the smaller Korean man. "This is three for three, unless you want another round?"

Chan gave a humorless smile, one that fit his oddly childish face well. "No need, you've proved you're skilled. Admittedly surprising."

Oh dear. Patricia frowned as she heard that, but Lesedi simply chuckled. "Get used to it," she told Chan as she walked past, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "That's how you get challenged to the ring."

Chan looked somewhat confused, but apparently didn't feel the need to comment further, instead shrugging and grabbing his rifle. "Impressive," a new voice said. "I believe that is the first time Chan has found someone who can match him."

Patricia turned to see another woman, one of the North Koreans, who she'd identified as the unofficial leader of the group. A large scar from the corner of her left eye down her cheek marred her tan complexion, which really only added to her already serious demeanor. Her emotional state reflected it, a combination of control, intensity and pride.

Pride. If that was one thing that made the North Koreans easy to identify, it was that. They had a fervent loyalty and national pride that she'd never seen or felt in any soldiers. Not even the Americans were as patriotic as them. It wasn't a blind loyalty either, these soldiers had a true dedication to their country that she found fascinating.

It made sense to some extent, since she was certain that each soldier was indoctrinated from birth to believe in the ideals and superiority of North Korea. But could that really last this fervently without it being at least somewhat justified?

"He wasn't bad either," Iosif commented, bringing her back to the current conversation.

"We've been trained for years," she answered, clasping her hands behind her back. "I would be disappointed if we couldn't hold our own."

"Iida, correct?" Patricia asked, remembering her from the file.

"Correct, Psion Trask," Iida confirmed, inclining her head. "Formerly an officer of North Korea's Anti-alien division."

"Pleasure to meet you," she answered. "I suppose we're fortunate your military could spare some soldiers for XCOM."

"XCOM is ground zero in this war," Iida stated. "Unlike some others, the Supreme Leader understand the threat facing us, and will devote as many resources as possible to ensure we succeed, including sending his best soldiers."

"How ironic that he's treating this more seriously than most," Iosif commented thoughtfully. "Nothing against him personally, but I didn't expect him to be at the forefront of this."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Iida said neutrally. "Unless you've been raised there, it's difficult to comprehend, especially with the amount of propaganda about him and my country."

"Which is not entirely unwarranted," Iosif added. "North Korea isn't exactly the bastion of freedom and tolerance."

Iida simply raised an eyebrow. "You're one to talk. You're Russian, correct? Special forces?" She paused, looking up briefly as she thought. "CT agent? Spetsnaz?"

"The former," Iosif confirmed. "And while Russia admittedly has a very checkered past to put it lightly, at the moment we're doing better than you in those criteria."

Iida simply cocked her head. "You say that is if it is something to aspire to. Unchecked and absolute freedom is dangerous. People are too easily swayed, too easily controlled to make informed decisions. Decry our state if it makes you feel better, but there is a reason we are more prepared to handle the invasion than others."

"And what reason is that?" Patricia asked carefully.

"Because the Supreme Leader has rallied the populace," Iida answered proudly. "Turned the efforts of an entire nation towards the defense against the aliens; inspiring them to work to a goal beyond themselves. Our citizens are not driven by selfishness or self-preservation, but by a common goal that they all believe can be accomplished."

"You don't think that's a little worrying?" Iosif asked, frowning. "Having a populace in such a malleable state could easily be turned to chaos. What if someone else not quite as noble as the Supreme Leader takes control?"

"Supreme Leader Gwan has contingencies in place in the event of his death," Iida answered. "Not a surprise, of course. But he's well aware of the weaknesses of his government, but ultimately, it is the best one available."

What Iosif was clearly struggling with was that…to be perfectly honest…North Korea wasn't a dystopian state. Patricia had read everything that XCOM had on the country, its people and leadership…and it was eye-opening. The Supreme Leader hadn't lied. For all intents and purposes, the population was being treated well, crime was almost non-existent and it had one of the most productive populaces in the world, with an advanced military to match.

Iseul Gwan was a dictator in the most traditional sense. He was judge, jury and executioner over the entire nation. It was built in his vision, with opposition swiftly crushed and dissidents silenced.

But he was a good dictator, at least as good as someone like that could get. It made sense that Iida was so fervently loyal to him and so convinced that North Korea was an almost perfect state. Not only had she been conditioned to believe that her whole life, but had actually seen the effects of totalitarianism implemented positively. Unlike similar failed states, Patricia couldn't point to an impoverished populace, extrajudicial killings or government corruption as proof that Gwan's government was wrong.

And she wasn't convinced it was completely wrong, and if the Advent Directive was anything to go by, the Commander clearly believed that some aspects were worth preserving. What was the saying? Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others.

The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced the quote was wrong. It wasn't so much the form of government that mattered, as much as the execution. Democracies could be worse than dictatorships and vice-versa, but it largely depended on the people putting them into place that determined their ultimate success or failure.

"So why did you join the military?" Patricia asked, ready to change the subject, and to hopefully shed some light on how North Korean life was.

"I was chosen when I was fourteen for military service," Iida answered proudly. "After I was transferred to our military academy, I made it my goal to become part of the leadership. A few years of training later and I became an officer, one of the youngest to do so. Recently I was moved to our anti-alien division after the Supreme Leader created it, and had been working to improve and command it, until my transfer to XCOM."

Iosif narrowed his eyebrow. "How old are you?"

"Twenty," she answered simply.

"Really?" Iosif couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. "That seems awfully young."

"According to your standards, yes," Iida nodded. "Although if military training and schooling were combined, I suspect that it would be more common."

"Question," Patricia said. "Do you have combat experience?"

"Unfortunately not," Iida admitted, a little shame emanating from her. "Combat operations are only for veterans, which have mostly consisted of retaliation strikes against South Korean terrorists. I suspect that had a truce not been agreed upon, and I wasn't transferred to XCOM, that I would have seen combat soon enough."

Iosif and Patricia exchanged a look. "Some advice," Patricia cautioned. "I would be careful mentioning South Korea around Carmelita. She likely won't take kindly to being called a terrorist."

"I've been appraised on the current roster of South Koreans," Iida answered calmly. "They've fought at the behest of their leaders, and I bear them no ill-will because of it. They follow orders as do we. But I will not mischaracterize them. They performed attacks against the state, and by extension the people. That is terrorism."

"They didn't kill civilians though," Patricia pointed out. "It was military targets."

"Our state is like a machine," Iida explained. "Disrupting it affects everyone. When the terrorists sabotage our factories they are directly hurt the people who rely on those jobs to provide for their families. When they take out the power to our cities they kill the patients in our hospitals. When they attack our soldiers they sow fear, division and distrust within the civilians. Terror, Iosif. They are not looked upon as heroes, but terrorists fighting for misguided and meaningless ideals. Fighting on behalf of a populace that does not want their help. Tell me, has South Korea ever asked if our citizens want to be freed from this 'tyranny'?"

"I highly doubt the Supreme Leader would let them give an honest answer," Iosif said. "That's the equivalent of a criminal being asked if he's sorry he committed a crime while on trial. You're not going to get an answer other than the one you want, not because they believe it, but because they have no choice."

"But it isn't a lie," Iida insisted. "Our people are content."

"Perhaps," Patricia interjected thoughtfully. "But are they really? Or is it only because they don't know any better?"

Iida pursed her lips. "Does it matter?"

"Depends on the goals, I suppose," Iosif shrugged. "For a controlled populace, probably not. But if you want to change people's opinions of your country, it does. How can you say the people are truly content if they haven't been exposed to anything else?"

Iida frowned. "Just because something is different doesn't mean that it is wrong."

Patricia sensed that this wasn't going to lead anywhere. Iida wasn't going to change her mind, and she suspected Iosif wasn't either. "There is no perfect government," she said. "Each has good and bad, but that can be debated later. Both of you aren't going to change your minds, so perhaps you should step back before both of you create a shouting match. I'd prefer to avoid that here."

Iida gave a quick nod. "Understood, Psion Trask."

"If you insist," Iosif sighed.

"Work off your stress some other way," Patricia said, motioning to the training mat. "Maybe have a quick match."

Iosif snorted. "That wouldn't be a fair match."

"I could swear that was a challenge," Iida stated, grabbing his arm and guiding him towards the mat. "Go on and try me."

Patricia snorted as they walked off. She didn't really have an interest in seeing how this played out, but figured they'd keep it civil. Well, as civil as could be. In the meantime, she needed to find Creed. There was something both of them finally needed to talk about and she didn't think she was needed here, everyone was getting along and unless something major changed, it would stay that way.

Leaving the mass of soldiers behind, she strode out the door towards the barracks.

---

The Citadel, Holding Cells

He really wished something would happen.

At this point he could only really assume that the Commander was still trying to figure out what to do with him, too busy to decide or had simply forgotten. The latter he didn't really believe, so it was a question of the first two. He had the feeling there were important decisions being made, but it was maddening not being able to know what they were. The guards wouldn't tell him, and no one had bothered keeping him in the loop.

Thus he could only speculate.

There was an Ethereal in play. That he knew for certain, and one he hadn't seen before. Likely the replacement for Sicarius. Which was good in that it meant that the Ethereals were still treating this more or less as an experiment, continuously pushing to see what the humans could do. But the very fact that an Ethereal had showed itself meant that the endgame was near.

Very near.

So what was going to be the endgame? Nartha supposed that it would ultimately come down to if the Ethereals managed to find the Citadel. They wipe out XCOM and it was over, and they could easily subvert the fractured human governments, possibly through EXALT. In fact, they would likely use EXALT as the human face of the Collective. A way to show the humans that everything was alright and they could be trusted.

A moderately bloodless invasion could be easily spun. If humanity could be enticed to surrender without a fight…no, that was impossible at this stage. The existence of extraterrestrial life wasn't a hidden secret. People knew about the aliens….him…they knew and they were hated by enough people to make any sort of peace impossible.

Not unless the leadership was purged. In which he could see Sicarius, together with the Zararch, carrying it out. The other solution was even simpler.

Just invade.

Despite the Commander's efforts, human technology wasn't advanced enough to protect them. With several Ethereals leading the charge, defeat would be inevitable. Essentially, humanity's survival hinged on the Commander. If he fell, if XCOM fell, everything would be lost. No contingency plan he had would change that.

As it stood now, even that was a long shot.

The cell door squeaked open and he looked up in surprise. Well, it seemed he was getting a visitor. Finally. Although it wasn't the Commander who walked through, or anyone else from his Internal Council. Instead it was Shun, who seemed fully recovered more or less from her injuries. She closed the door and just stood still, appraising him under her inquisitive gaze.

"I knew something was off about you," she finally said, breaking the silence. "I thought you were here to watch XCOM for the Japanese, maybe even keep an eye out on the Chinese soldiers here." She took a few steps towards him until she was right before him, looking down on the seated alien. "I did not expect that you'd not even be human."

"I'd not be a good spy if I wanted you to think that," Nartha answered. "But yes, I deceived everyone here."

"And they betrayed your own species," she finished, pulling up a chair and sitting opposite him. "Not what I'd expect from a spy, and from what I heard, your reasoning was surprisingly straightforward. You did it because you think we can win."

"You have a chance of winning," Nartha corrected. "Which is admittedly more than any other species I've encountered. The Ethereals are clever, they search for species that are still developing, who are far weaker, and then are assimilated if they prove useful. That is a stacked deck if I've ever heard one. The fact that you are still standing is a sign that things are different. Not everything can be chalked up to the Ethereal's experiments. Humanity poses a challenge, if not a threat. You can't understand exactly how unprecedented that is."

"I'd expect so, given who you are," Shun nodded, clasping her hands together. "But you don't need to defend yourself. I wanted to thank you for doing it."

Nartha blinked. Hmm, this was interesting. "Thank me?"

"You might be the reason we'll win," she shrugged. "You could have just kept playing your role, and I doubt we would have suspected anything for a while. But you didn't. It took courage to do what you did, and I can respect you taking a risk even if meant you might die."

"Death wasn't really a concern," Nartha felt obligated to add. "I didn't think the Commander would kill me. Not until he heard what I had to say."

"He is predictable that way," Shun agreed, brushing her hair back. "One of the reasons I'm still here, actually."

Nartha cocked his head. "Why wouldn't you be?"

Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at him in confusion, before her eyes flashed in realization. "Ah, right. You were in here, which means you've missed a lot. Short version is that China withdrew from the Council. After I recovered I received orders recalling me. I resigned and here I am."

He was honestly somewhat surprised. Shun had been rather loyal to the Chinese, even defending them in some cases. That she'd quit, even in protest, and they let her said a lot. "I suspect they weren't happy?"

"The Chinese aren't grandiose," Shun sighed. "They were perfectly fine in the end. Dishonorable discharge and essential exile from China. I've likely been blacklisted and stripped from all records. I'll likely never be able to go back without being arrested, I'm as good as a traitor to them."

She looked forlorn as she said that, resignation in every word. She was upset, but clearly at peace with her situation. "I'm sorry," he finally said. "But I'm glad you stayed. XCOM needs people like you."

"Not your fault, I knew what I was doing," Shun said sadly. "But I don't understand it. My superiors aren't stupid. We're better than this…infighting. People already look down upon my country, and this is only going to make us look worse. And the Commander is going to reduce China's influence to nothing, strip it in retaliation for what he sees as a betrayal. The worst part is that I don't even blame him. It doesn't make sense."

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. It seemed she'd wanted to get that out for a while now, though he wondered why she'd said it to him. Perhaps because he'd been friendly to her when people were more suspicious? Was it as simple as that? "How do you know the Commander will do that?" He asked. "For all his influence, the Commander is not omnipotent."

"Because of what he's done already," Shun said, looking up. "XCOM is allied with all of China's enemies. Taiwan. ASEAN. Mongolia. North Korea if you can believe it. He's sending a clear message to China and the other countries are taking note."

ASEAN. If he remembered correctly, that was a coalition of nations that were banded together to give themselves a better chance against superpowers like China, and quite a few were in and near the South China Sea which he knew was a sensitive issue among them. Who was in it? The Philippines, Thailand…if XCOM had made an alliance with them, then that was big. Taiwan was more symbolic, but was still a victory, as was Mongolia and….

He blinked as he registered the other country Shun had mentioned. "North Korea?"

"Yes," she nodded. "He brokered a peace treaty between the North and South too while he was at it."

He shook his head in disbelief. That development he hadn't expected, though it was greatly reassuring to hear that the Commander was making large diplomatic strides across the world. Even regimes like North Korea would be essential in the coming invasion. "Interesting. But I don't think you have to worry about your country. China is not going to be reduced to nothing. It has a role to play and I suspect that the Commander has a plan."

She pursed her lips. "So do I, and that worries me."

He couldn't disagree, because he saw what she was worried about. Attacking China and imposing a new government would be so outlandish as to be unbelievable, but with the resources of XCOM, the MECs and psions….that might not be far off. But such an act would create chaos, and Nartha also believed that was the last thing the Commander wanted to deal with right now.

"What else has happened?" He asked after a minute or so had passed. "Anything of note?"

"That Ethereal attacked New York," she said, shifting in her seat as she crossed one leg over the other.

He winced. He could imagine. "How bad was it? How many died?"

"Civilians?" She paused, her eyes dimming as she recalled. "Several million, including Marines. We fortunately only lost a couple of our own, although we barely managed to push back the Ethereal. Patricia and Iosif only barely managed to delay the Ethereal long enough for help to arrive."

Nartha blinked, not sure he was hearing correctly. "Wait. You won?"

"I wasn't on the mission itself," Shun corrected. "But we won in the sense that we forced the Ethereal to retreat."

A new stirring of optimism appeared inside him. He actually let out a laugh. "That's excellent! Do you even know how big that is? You fought an Ethereal and didn't die!"

"An achievement everything is grateful for," Shun agreed, cracking a smile. "But I watched the cams…it could have easily gone the other way."

"But it didn't," Nartha insisted excitedly, smiling. "XCOM faced an Ethereal and lived to tell about it. That's unheard of. Not unless the Ethereal planned it, and by the sounds of it, he didn't."

"Agreed," Shun said, returning the smile. "But maybe these aliens are more manipulative than we thought."

A sobering thought, which did bring him back to reality somewhat. "Unfortunately a possibility. Ethereals aren't normal…they don't think like us. They make plans in the years, not months like humans. But even this is more than should be possible, but if this was unplanned…this Ethereal will likely retaliate."

"I think we're all expecting that," Shun nodded, her voice slipping back to resigned. "I guess it depends where it happens. Another city, or even here."

"At least if it happens here you'll be prepared," Nartha remembered. "The Atlas Protocol is still in effect, correct?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "But…well, I'm not sure I would pose a threat to it. Something like that scares me."

She sounded almost embarrassed by that. He didn't know why, since anyone who didn't feel that way had a highly questionable mental state. "You should be. No single normal human can stand up to an Ethereal and live. Only psions could, and that's theoretical."

Shun sighed. "It's not just that. Psionics in general unnerve me. No one says anything, and everyone seems to be ok with it just because Patricia is in charge. But it's unnatural. I don't like the idea of me being controlled and never knowing it."

Nartha sighed. "Trust me, I know that feeling. On the bright side, being around Patricia isn't nearly as intense as an Ethereal."

"You probably would," she nodded, the paused for a few seconds before continuing. "What's it like, if you don't mind me asking?"

He instinctively shivered as he recalled the memories. "Both unnerving and not. Simply being around an Ethereal warps your mind, changes how you think in real time. You know this isn't right, but you're powerless to do anything about it. You're at the mercy of whatever the Ethereal wants you to think. One Ethereal commanded respect, awe and resolve. The Battlemaster, he's called. A warrior that you immediately felt emboldened by and loyal to simply by standing near him a few seconds. Another was an Ethereal called Sicarius, one who simply observed as a shadow, removing herself from my mind until I forgot she was there. There is no privacy, no control when dealing with Ethereals. You only hope the effect isn't painful or prolonged."

She shuddered. "I'm not sure how you could be alright with that. It's the deepest violation someone can perform on another. The mind should be a sanctuary that can't be accessed just on a whim."

"To be honest, I never really thought about it much," Nartha revealed. "Ethereals were always on another level from anyone else. I never really…worried, or even really comprehended that my mind was being violated. I just…accepted it, I guess. I had nothing to hide. I was loyal. It was expected, no one challenges the Ethereals or questions them without reason."

"Indoctrination," Shun said. "I guess that makes sense. I really hope that the Commander understands how dangerous these powers are."

"I'm sure he does," Nartha told her slowly. "But I don't think he views them in that way. Everything is a tool to him, which can be used for good or bad. Used to his advantage or detriment. He doesn't use tools that aren't reliable, so I suspect he has a way to keep psions in check."

"Even on himself?" She questioned. "He recently was determined as a psion. Would he put a check on himself?"

Another interesting development, and one he wasn't really sure how he felt about. The more advantages the Commander had, the better. But as a psion…one like the Commander able to manipulate the gift was a terrifying thought. But the question was a good one, and while the Commander did seem like he would be one to impose a check on himself…he could really go with the truth. "I don't know," he admitted, looking down. "People do have great plans until they are affected personally. It's not exclusive to your species. I'd like to think he would, but I don't know."

"No reason you would," she said with a nod. Both of them sat in silence for a few minutes, Shun looking at him intently. "So what about you?" She finally said, lacing her slim fingers together. "You seem very…calm. Content, almost."

Nartha shrugged and leaned against the cold stone wall. "I'm still alive, which I'm grateful for. I can't really do anything until the Commander decides what to do with me. All I can do is think, pace and theorize. It is boring, to be perfectly honest."

"A terrible fate," she teased wryly. "Well, I can sympathize and if you'd be alright with it, I'd like to ask some questions."

He raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"You, your species," she said, as if it was obvious. "I wasn't kidding when we had those retrospectively awkward conversations. I'm curious about the aliens. I want to know more, if you're willing to talk."

He straightened up and looked at her with new interest. Another unexpected development…and not an unpleasant one. She seemed genuinely curious, and that was admittedly surprising to him. Vahlen had asked him a number of questions about his species, but he'd gotten the impression that she was doing it to learn better ways about how to kill, experiment and exploit them. Zhang and the Commander had pressed him on the operations of the Zararch for the same reason. No one had expressed an interest out of pure curiosity.

Well, it wasn't as though he was pressed for time. "I'm flattered," he said, sounding happy even to himself. "Go ahead."

"I guess some basics," she said, biting her lip. "I assume you normally don't look that way?"

He chuckled. "No, I've been heavily modified to pass for human. My species is the Vitakara, if you didn't know. Within the species itself are six races, all drastically different from each other."

"How different?" She asked.

"Before we became all interconnected, the majority of Vitakara stayed in one place and adapted to that environment," Nartha explained. "The Borelians settled in the arctic lands, you've likely seen the corpses of a couple that the Sectoids were experimenting on."

"Yes," she nodded. "It's hard to believe that you and that are related."

"We're highly adaptable," Nartha shrugged. "That's what makes us so valuable to the Ethereals. We can be genetically modified to be whatever they want. Versatility is literally in out DNA, even beyond your own species."

"So what are the others?" She said, indicating for him to continue.

"I suppose the Dath'Haram are next," Nartha continued, figuring out in what order he was going to explain this. "Jungle dwellers, primarily. Shades of green skin, extremely flexible with prehensile hands and feet. There aren't numerous and are among the more reclusive of the races, but they're experts at engineering, biotech and camouflage. The Zararch, the Vitakara intelligence equivalent, usually uses them as assassins or spies."

"Hmm," Shun scratched her chin. "Are any being used on Earth?"

"Certainly," Nartha said. "I don't know for sure, but I believe that the majority of Vitakara that you've designated as "Gen-1 Thin men" are actually from this race. The abilities displayed match up with their innate skills. You've seen some of them jump extraordinary heights, yes? Snap broken limbs back together? Dodge lasers and bullets with unnatural ease? Then that was likely a modified Dath'Haram. It would also explain why they were so disproportionate. Dath'Haram are naturally thin, and have reptilian eyes and normally asymmetrical faces. Not ideal for spies, but the Ethereals and Shapers wanted to experiment, I suppose."

Shun frowned. "Shapers? That sounds ominous."

"An archaic term, but a fitting one," Nartha explained. "Masters of genetic modification. They work outside the Vitakaran government directly for the Ethereals. That particular group consists of both Vitakara and Sectoid members, all under one Ethereal, I presume. There may be more, but every genetic modification is first developed or approved by them."

"Huh," she mused. "Interesting. Please continue."

"Then there are the Cobrarian," Nartha said slowly, wondering how she'd take this. "They are…well, snakes with arms. The resemblance is oddly uncanny in some ways. Imagine a snake with arms and you'll have a good idea of what a Cobrarian looks like."

She looked at him suspiciously. "You're kidding, right?"

He smiled. "Not even a little. Desert dwellers, as you can imagine. One of the more controversial races too, which has often put them at odds with the Vitakaran government at large."

She crossed her arms. "How so?"

"They…are a very internally controlled society," Nartha said, knowing he had to clarify something first. "I suppose I should explain briefly how the government operates. We are all technically under one species-wide government, but in practice the races themselves have autonomy over their territory to a degree. For the most part, all the races and their respective 'local' governments follow the laws themselves, as they are enforced by the Zararch."

He took a breath. "The differences and difficulties often come from cultural norms each race has. Some are technically illegal according to Vitakara law, but are so ingrained in the culture that it's often not worth it for military or Zararch intervention."

"So you basically have a United Nations?" Shun asked, frowning.

"…To an extent," Nartha scowled, trying to explain it. "But not an entirely accurate comparison. The overarching Vitakara government does ultimately have complete authority, but each of the races has a smaller local government overseeing their territory. They also have a limited military for protection, as well as their own structure and customs. To keep some check on them, the peacekeeping forces are run only by the government as well as the greater Vitakaran military. The Zararch also keeps an eye on all the races, and regularly enforce laws. They are essentially the police and intelligence branch combined."

"I think I understand," Shun said slowly. "But why not standardize things? It just seems unnecessarily difficult."

"Because for the most part, they don't need to be," Nartha explained. "We're not a violent species by nature, and usually work together well. Much of the differences are superficial, but there are admittedly exceptions. But not enough to warrant a standardization."

"I see politics is a cross-species phenomenon," Shun noted wryly.

"It always will be," Nartha agreed. "But as I was saying, the reason the Cobrarian are controversial is due to…well, how they treat the respective genders."

Shun furrowed her eyebrows. "I didn't realize that was a thing. We still deal with it here, to an extent, but I'd think that a species as advanced as yours would have moved past that."

"That is true, for the most part," Nartha admitted. "But it's more complicated. Nine out of ten Cobrarian born are female, which as you can imagine, leads to the majority of the species being one gender. As a result the Cobrarian local government is run exclusively by a female hierarchy."

"Hmm," Shun mused. "If males are that rare, I'd almost think they'd have at least some kind of influence."

"Oh, they do," Nartha stated, somewhat amused. "Which is why they don't have any official power. The hierarchy meant well, thinking that they shouldn't have influence over legislation because they might ultimately assume control because of how essential they are to breeding. But it's led to the males of the species ultimately feeling marginalized and glorified breeding machines."

Shun frowned. "Couldn't they just leave? They are allowed to do that, right?"

"They are, and that is becoming a problem," he explained. "In the past they couldn't, but since the races have united, it has essentially given them an out and quite a few have been taking it. The problem arises because if there aren't enough males left, there becomes a breeding crisis which last I heard, is becoming more and more of a concern to Cobrarian Hierarchy."

"Hmm," Shun said. "Well, I don't think they can really do anything about that."

"The Cobrarian Hierarchy is going to change," Nartha shrugged. "It has to. The males want a place in the government, and until that happens, more of them are going to leave until it becomes a necessity. The Hierarchy will likely try to petition the Vitakaran government to put some kind of stop to it, but I doubt that will happen. But it was a rather heated issue when I was last on Vitakar."

Shun snorted. "Perhaps I'll ask more about that later, but keep going with the races. This is fascinating."

"The Oyariah are another more reclusive race," Nartha continued. "They live in extensive underground cities, many of which run directly under the continents. They have stone-like skin, are incredibly strong and can see perfectly in the dark. A downside is that they are blinded by any sort of direct light, which means their cities are pitch dark, and very few actually migrate beyond that."

"How could they integrate anywhere else then?" Shun asked. "That seems like a big liability."

"Genetic modification," Nartha explained simply. "Quite a few Oyariah get it applied at birth these days, especially with their influence on the surface beginning to grow. They are also slightly a problem."

"How?"

"They are fanatically loyal to the Ethereals," Nartha sighed. "Vitakara are not normally religious, but the Oyariah are an exception. They don't view the Ethereals as gods per-se, but definitely beings of a higher power. As a result the race is forever loyal to them, and I'm certain the Ethereals themselves utilize their political influence. Even though it's not proven, I know that the Zararch suspect that the Ethereals are funneling them advanced technology to surpass the other races, increasing their economic and social influence to substantial amounts."

"A problem," Shun agreed.

"Agreed," Nartha said. "And one that'll have to be dealt with. Moving on, the Sar'Manda are perhaps the most numerous and reclusive of the races. They dwell in underwater cities that expand throughout all the oceans. They control an underwater empire as large as what the rest of the races control on land. They're perhaps as you'd expect, webbed hands and feet, gills, fins, bulbous eyes, all on a vaguely humanoid figure."

"Are they independent?" Shun asked.

"Technically, no," Nartha answered, shifting in his seat. "They are part of the Vitakaran government. But they contribute very little politically, not to the extent they could. They are a mystery to many, and very few ever migrate to the surface, since in a similar situation to the Oyariah, they cannot breathe air. This is fixable by genetic modification, of course. But very few Sar'Manda see the need since there is no reason for them to leave their underwater empire."

"So they're an apathetic military power," Shun summed up. "Alright."

"A military power that isn't much of one," Nartha clarified. "Underwater? Yes, it's unlikely anyone could defeat them. But above? No, their strength is in the water, but they could not challenge anyone on the surface and win."

"Your world really is fascinating," Shun murmured. "It sounds similar to Earth in ways."

"Vitakar is bigger than Earth," Nartha agreed. "But to me, Earth seems like a less-intense version of Vitakar. Everything is more extreme, more dangerous. What you consider dangerous weather here is at worst a mild storm."

"I'd like to see it one day," she said wistfully. "But back to the topic. What's the last race?"

"The Vitakarian," Nartha finished. "I suppose you can guess from the name, but they were the ones to really unite the races under one banner, in a sense. They were the first to determine we were all one species, and were more advanced than the others, which led to them establishing the name our species, and since they believed they were at first the only kind, gave themselves the name Vitakarian."

"Is there are reason they were more advanced?" Shun asked.

"Yes," Nartha said with a nod. "Unlike the other races, the Vitakarian were nomads. They went where the weather was favorable, and never really settled down, leading to them not developing an affinity to any environment. Since they didn't have to deal with extreme environments, this allowed them to focus on advancing themselves. We're also referred to as the 'template' race because we're the most genetically malleable of any of the races."

Shun raised an eyebrow. "You're a Vitakarian?"

"I am," he smiled. "Our form isn't all that dissimilar to humans. With the exception that our skin has no color initially, and it either lightens or darkens depending on exposure to sunlight. Our eyes are a solid color, which changes depending on the oxygen level and brightness. We also don't naturally have hair, but many Vitakarian change that with genetic modification."

"Huh," she looked at him, almost in a new light. "So this isn't really that much of a change?"

"The body?" He asked. "No, and because we are already similar to your species in build, the Shapers were able to create a much more realistic human, which is why I can convincingly pass as one."

"So can the modification be reversed?" Shun asked, appraising him once more. "Or is it permanent?"

"No, it can be reversed," Nartha assured her. "The Shapers have a process for restoring a modified agent to a 'default' state, for lack of a better word. I've undergone it several times, and it's worked every time."

"I see," Shun was silent for a few minutes and stood. "Thanks, Soran. This…well, it's a lot to think about."

"You might as well call me by my name," Nartha said, remembering she didn't know it. "Soran was only a cover."

She cocked her head. "Well, what is it?"

"Zar'nartha'intha," he said. "But I'll accept Nartha."

"Long and complicated," she mused. "Well, I might have to ask about that later, provided you're willing to have a few more questioning sessions?"

Nartha smiled. "Well, I don't have anything better to do."

"True," she agreed with a smile. "I'll see you later, Nartha."

"You too," he said, giving her the Commander's salute. "Be safe."

"I'll do my best," she assured him. "I don't want to end up in the med bay again."

She walked to the door and exited, leaving him alone. But now he did have something to look forward to in the future before his ultimate fate was decided. That had been surprisingly nice, and had reminded him how much he missed his planet and people. It was good to talk about it with someone.

Even if that someone was a human.

---

The Citadel, Barracks

Patricia brushed back her hair absentmindedly as she walked into the barracks, noting that it was mostly empty. Not much of a surprise at this time, since most of the soldiers were either training or in the mess hall. A TV was playing the news in the background, which she was glad for since the silence otherwise would have felt odd to her.

There were some of the newer soldiers at various corners, separated from each other, who were either reading or sleeping, but she wasn't interested in them. There was a very particular person she wanted to see now, and his mind was so familiar to her now that she could nearly always pinpoint exactly where he was.

Creed was sitting on the bed in regular black XCOM fatigues, reading one of his books. He looked up as she approached, emitting a happiness that was reflected in his smile. It was flattering, and as much as she wanted to know what he was thinking exactly, she refrained. Mostly because it was the right thing to do, but also because she didn't want to find out she was interpreting him wrong. Well, one way or another she'd find out soon.

"Hey," he greeted, standing up. "Finally done looking over the soldiers?"

"For the moment," she said, looking up at him. Funny it was times like this when she really saw how much bigger than her he was. It was an intimidating height, but one she'd never personally felt affected by. Gah, a mental tangent she didn't need now. "As long as the North Koreans don't say anything too offensive we should be fine."

"I saw a couple of them training," Creed nodded. "I was impressed to say the least. They might even be as good as me."

She chuckled at that and leaned back against one of the bunks. "That's really high praise, coming from you. You who are so much more skilled than everyone else."

"Which is true for the most part," Creed pointed out with a raised eyebrow. "But that doesn't mean I won't accept when someone is just as good."

"I really want to see one of them spar with you," Patricia said with a smile. "That's be a good test."

Creed snorted. "I…don't think so. Not to disparage the likely skilled Koreans, but if Carmelita couldn't beat me, I'm not sure they'd have a chance."

Patricia cocked her head. "Uh-huh, sure. That's the reason, and not because you're worried you'd lose."

Creed groaned. "I do hate how easy you manage to manipulate me."

"That is your own fault," she said, crossing her arms, lips twitching in amusement. "You walked right into that."

"I concede that," he admitted, raising his hands. "Although I'm somewhat at a disadvantage, since you can read minds after all."

He clearly meant that to be an amusing jab, and his feeling reflected that, but it made her uncomfortable regardless. Creed may know better, but she did wonder how many did believe that she spent every conversation casually reading the mind of the one she was conversing with. Or worse, controlling them for her own ends.

With the amount of new soldiers here, she knew it was only a matter of time before something was started about her. The secret mastermind manipulating things for her own ends, using her powers to unwittingly turn them into puppets. Hopefully not, but the scary thing was that that invented conspiracy theory was possible. She was the most powerful person here, and that was slightly terrifying.

"Hey, you ok?" She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked into his concerned face. He actually felt bad now, thinking he'd somehow upset her. Well, slightly, but it wasn't because of him.

"I'm alright," she sighed. "Just spaced out briefly." She paused, deciding to just finally get this started. "Are you comfortable around me?"

He blinked, clearly not expecting that. He radiated surprise and confusion. "What kind of question is that? Of course I am."

"It doesn't bother you?" She pressed, needing to know. "I can read your mind. Affect you and you'd never know it. That doesn't concern you at all?"

"Is that what's bothering you?" He asked, taking a step toward her. "Maybe if it was someone else, but you? No, I trust you. You've actually been in my mind and even then you didn't intentionally go into it to read my mind, you did it to save me. Anyone with that much restraint is fully trustworthy in my eyes."

"Maybe not intentionally," she sighed. "But I'd be lying if I didn't see some things that raised questions."

Now he felt slightly concerned. But of course he thought she'd seen something she might disapprove of. "Like what?"

"Nothing bad," she quickly amended, scowling as she tried to think of the best way to say it. Any other time she'd always been a fan of the straightforward approach, but it was furiously elusive this time. "But…I don't know, it kind of caught me off guard."

She definitely had his full, undivided attention, as well as his curiosity. "You're normally not this evasive."

"Shut up," she growled, then sighed. "Right, so when I was in that memory, I talked to you," she held up a hand to cut off his question. "No, you didn't know who I was, your mind was still stuck in the memory, in the past. I had to convince you to complete the memory as it was originally, not taking revenge and killing her."

"As much as I'm glad I'm that reasonable in my dreams, I'm somewhat surprised," Creed said. "How did you convince me you were…real? I guess."

She took a second to try to drone out her furiously beating heart. "It wasn't as hard as you think. You didn't know my name, but you trusted me implicitly. Couldn't say why of course, but you knew me somehow. You actually thought I was someone else because of what you felt."

He smirked. "Who? A psychic little sister I didn't know about?"

"No," she stated bluntly. "Your wife."

That shut him up, and his current emotional state was thrown into turmoil, and just from reading his suddenly blank face and slightly reddening skin, she could guess it likely amounted to something like "Fuck."

It was almost funny.

He coughed. "Uh-"

She held up a hand, cutting him off. Now he felt nervous, very nervous, and clearly afraid he'd crossed some kind of line. "Stop feeling nervous, it just…surprised me, that's all. I didn't know you felt that way about me," she suddenly frowned, and flushed, realizing she might have jumped to conclusions way too fast. "Provided that….is how you feel." She finished quickly.

"Ah," he swallowed, then visibly composed himself. "Yes, yes it is. Though this wasn't quite how I planned on bringing it up."

Patricia raised an eyebrow. "I'm curious now."

He scowled uncomfortably. "Well, uh, preferably after I got some indication you might feel the same. I didn't want to make it awkward if I was wrong."

That was somehow the most predictable thing she could have expected. Yep, he really was a typical man when it came to romance. "You want to know something? I'd actually wondered if you felt that way, but I also didn't say anything because it could be easily misinterpreted. What exactly would have been a clue, anyway? Me making you breakfast?"

He actually physically thought about that. "Well, I'm not sure, I mean-"

She started laughing, cutting him off. "Stop overthinking this," she chided. "Both of us are, honestly. I didn't think it would happen to me, but here we are."

"Well, uh," Creed said slowly. "You still haven't said if you-"

He was cut off as she grabbed him by his shirt and pushed him into the side of the bunk. Before he could say anything she leaned up and kissed him. It was long and lingering, as perfect as she could have possibly wanted. She broke contact and looked up into his stunned face, her body pressed into his.

"That answer your question?" She asked quietly, smiling at him.

"Clearly," he answered happily, quickly getting over his surprise. "I wish I'd done it earlier now."

"You have restraint and respect," Patricia said, placing a hand on his chest. "I admire that, really. More than you know. But no need to hide now." She leaned up for another kiss and felt alarm run through him mixed with desire.

"Patricia…" he breathed as she reached to take off his shirt. "We're not exactly alone…"

"Don't worry," she told him as she maneuvered him onto the bed with ease, resting on top of him as she quickly located all the minds around the immediate vicinity and sent a simple command: Sleep.

She looked around to be sure and noted happily that the few people here were slumped over in a deep sleep. That problem taken care of, she returned her attention to the one man who warranted it. Without wasting any more time, she leaned down to kiss him once more, intending to make this last as long as possible.

---

The Citadel, Office of the Commander

He was going to tell her.

No matter what happened, she deserved to know. He wouldn't take this further unless she knew everything.

The Commander looked at the ground, his arms resting on his knees with his hands clasped together. He wondered if she'd figured it out on her own, or at least theorized who he was. Or maybe she didn't care. She might not even care about who he really was, but she needed to know, regardless.

Not just her. The time for secrecy was over. The Internal Council also needed to know. They'd known him long enough, worked with him to where they could reach their own conclusions free of the propaganda that surrounded him. While he didn't think that Vahlen would be particularly bothered…he didn't know about the rest. Shen and Van Doorn…he didn't know how they would react.

He shook his head. But regardless of how that went, Vahlen would know first. As well as what he'd done, Farida in particular. That, he wasn't sure how she would handle. Vahlen wasn't the type to get simply infatuated. She was most likely smarter than him, and knew just from XCOM what he was capable of. He hadn't hid who he was, which was a ruthless, pragmatic man who did whatever it took to achieve victory.

And yet she didn't seem deterred.

Perhaps it was because he understood her possibly better than anyone before. Her drive for a better world, doing whatever it took. Words that were easy to say, but could only be pushed so far before people backed off, and she'd dealt with that all her life from people who didn't realize there wasn't a painless path to progress. But he did, and in return he'd given her a freedom she'd not thought possible.

He supposed when put like that, it would be enough to get her attention. Completely accidental too. At least in the beginning she'd struck him as the type who wasn't interested in any kind of romantic relationships, and to be honest, he hadn't expected to develop feelings for another woman after Farida either for a variety of reasons, but one of the largest being that the number of women who would even entertain that notion knowing who he was was almost non-existent.

Well, that was still to be determined.

But he'd eventually realized that he'd read Vahlen wrong. It wasn't that she wasn't interested in a relationship, she just hadn't found anyone who was compatible with her. He snorted. Compatible. A cold mechanical word, and yet that was probably exactly how Vahlen thought. It was just how she was, thinking in analytical and technical terms. It was of the traits he liked about her.

The door to his office hissed open and Vahlen walked through, still dressed in her typical scientist attire and lab coat which indicated to him that she'd likely just come from the lab. She felt calm, controlled, and he wondered how he felt to her in comparison. He stood as the door closed behind her. "Vahlen, glad you came."

She was clearly amused at that. "Did you really expect otherwise?" She asked, walking over to him and stopping at a much closer proximity than was normal.

Still, he smiled. "Not really," he motioned to the nearby couch he'd been sitting on. "Want to sit?"

She brushed her hair back and returned the smile. "If you insist,"

Both of them sat down, angled towards each other. Vahlen didn't waste any time making her opinion clear. "Commander, under other circumstances I might find observing how much you're delaying this interesting," she reached over and rested one of her hands on his own. "But I know why we're both here, and I'm not sure what you're waiting for."

Well, she had a point. No point dragging this out any more than was warranted. "Right. We both like each other, I think can agree on that."

She was definitely satisfied at that, but only raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised it took you that long to figure it out."

The Commander cocked his head at her. "I'm not that dense. I'd determined as much a while ago, but deliberately held back for…well, several reasons."

She nodded. "I figured as much. At first I wondered if you weren't interested, but then determined that you were, at least on some level, but not going forward for some reason."

"Right," he let out a sigh. "So, first things first. If…this is ever going to go anywhere, you need to know some things about me." At her encouraging nod, he continued. "I told you that I was part of the Commander's team, a high-ranking one who defected. That's a lie." He paused, and looked directly at her as he revealed the truth. "I am the Commander. The UN faked my death, presumably so they could use me again one day. For XCOM, it turns out."

She blinked, realization emanating from her, some faint surprise, but not nearly as much as he had expected. She was silent for a few moments, looking blankly off to the side before speaking. "I'd wondered if that was the case. Even at the beginning, something never really added up. You knew so much about what had happened, details that even his-your advisors shouldn't have. Your contingencies, tactics…I'd thought you'd just taken inspiration, perhaps had some epiphany about how the Commander was right…" she trailed off, looking back at him, her eyes piercing his. "But the actual explanation is much simpler, apparently. You were so similar to the Commander because you are him."

He nodded. "I would have preferred not to lie, but it was necessary, at least in the beginning."

"Yes, I suppose so," Vahlen muttered quietly, looking down. "It would have been difficult to rally XCOM behind you, knowing who you were."

"It would have been impossible," the Commander amended. "Valid or not, there was too much sentiment against me for there to be any sort of unity. People will shut out someone like me, regardless of what I have to say."

"A good plan," Vahlen admitted. "Create an alter-ego, one who could get away with using unheard of tactics with no one the wiser. Although now that I'm thinking about it…you never really hid who you were. Not really. Your past you lied about, but the personality of the Commander was never something you bothered to change."

"Which was that?" He asked.

"A pragmatic, ruthless and determined man," she said, looking back up at him. "But also an intelligent, rational and considerate one."

He hesitated for a moment. "That doesn't bother you?"

The corners of her lips turned up. "Does this change anything about the man I've known the past year? Are you suddenly different now?"

He shook his head. Vahlen was right. He had never really moderated his true opinions towards how he handled XCOM or the aliens. Maybe a bit at the beginning…but never completely, and definitely not now. "I don't think you're someone who is a monster or deserves to be hated," Vahlen continued quietly. "You think like me, you're really the only one who's ever understood what I've tried to do my entire life which is to help. I see a problem and a feel obligated to do whatever I can to solve it, to fix it. I've done dozens of horrible things in my life, I'm not blind to that, but I could always rationalize it; justify it in ways that let me sleep at night."

She looked down. "When I was younger I wondered if something was wrong with me. People didn't understand me, didn't think like me. For a while I wondered if I was wrong, if what I wanted to work towards was going too far. But I eventually accepted that I wasn't like normal people and that it wasn't a bad thing. It's gotten me here today, and the same could be said for you."

He nodded. "That it did. I never expect to be forgiven for my crimes, but I do not regret them and I'd do it again if given the choice."

"And I'd support you," Vahlen nodded. "Regardless of what people say, you did make the world a safer place, and now you're to save it."

"Well," he gave her another smile. "Not alone."

She gave his hand a squeeze. "Not alone," she repeated, then both of them lapsed into silence for a few moments. "Are you going to tell the rest?"

"Yes," he nodded. "They need to know now, especially with the Demeter Contingency being activated. My identity is the one threat the Council has been hanging over my head and I want to remove it for good."

"Then I assume you know some of them won't be as understanding as I?" Vahlen said carefully.

"I know," the Commander said. "And I'm expecting it to a degree. If they want to leave, then I'll accept it, but all of them are rational, intelligent people. They know enough to make their own conclusions without their perception being tainted by lies or propaganda."

"Hopefully," Vahlen murmured. "But I hope they don't do anything rash."

He shrugged. "I suppose we'll see."

Vahlen shifted on the couch. "Is that what you wanted to say? Nothing has changed about how I feel about you if that's what you're wondering."

"Half," he sighed. "You know I was married, yes?"

"And that she died," Vahlen recalled. "That doesn't bother me if you're concerned about that."

"No, not that," he sighed, standing up. "Do you want the long or short version?"

"Long," she said without hesitation. "Go on."

Right. This particular sequence of memories he'd never wanted to think about again, but she deserved to know. "I met Farida quite a bit before the War on Terror. It was back when I was with the CIA, on operations. One such operation took me to Iran, to investigate their progress on acquiring nuclear weapons and sabotage them if possible. Essentially I made a mistake and trapped myself in the nuclear facility."

"You met her there?" Vahlen guessed.

"Yes, and she helped me get out before the Iranians found me," he confirmed, remembering the event. "But that unfortunately made her a liability, at least at first. We parted ways and I was debating how best to deal with her since she knew I was an American agent when she somehow found me when wandering through Tehran."

Vahlen raised an eyebrow. "She found you?"

"I suspect she followed me," the Commander explained. "Or knew I'd be on the streets. Whatever the case, she asked me what I was doing and then asked to help."

Vahlen frowned. "I'm glad she did, but why?"

"She was one of the nuclear scientists," he continued. "She was terrified Iran was going to use them on their enemies, Israel and America to be specific. So I tentatively agreed and over the next few months we sabotaged their nuclear program beyond repair."

"I assume you grew close during that time," Vahlen commented.

He chuckled some. "Yes. Very. Not what I was expecting but it…well, it happened quickly, but it didn't feel rushed or wrong. She was intelligent, rational and funny."

"Funny?" Vahlen noted.

He raised an eyebrow. "My sarcasm would not be what it is without her. Moving on, I ensured she had asylum in America after the mission was over, and we…stayed together after that. I convinced my CIA handler to let me train her as an agent, and after that was done, we began our operations across the world. We married about a year after we began working operations, when both of us were sure this was what we wanted."

"The War on Terror happened then," Vahlen guessed.

"It started and I was given my orders," the Commander nodded. "I then built my team, Farida among them. She was fully on board at first, willing to strike back against the terrorists."

"But didn't stay that way for long," Vahlen finished, seeing where this was going.

"She began to express doubts when I ordered the first crucifixions," the Commander confirmed. "It didn't get much better from there. When we carried out the Caliphate Massacre, began executing hostages instead of rescuing them and hitting civilian areas where terrorists were hiding, she became more and more outspoken."

"Didn't she know you'd do that?" Vahlen asked slowly. "Or did you just…start it during the War on Terror?"

"She knew what my plans were," the Commander said quietly. "I never lied. But on the operations we were on before…the scale wasn't as large. The problems easier. The people not so innocent. She knew intrinsically what I was capable of…but now I don't think she believe I would go through with it. But when I did, well it changed her."

He sighed. "I tried to get through to her, make her understand why I was doing it. For a while I thought I was working, even if she was becoming more reclusive; closed off even to me."

Vahlen was silent for a moment. "Was she a Muslim?"

"When I met her, yes," the Commander said. "But not a devout one, since she renounced her faith when she came to America. But on some level I think she never forgot. The Caliphate's teachings did call to her in some way, which she admitted multiple times."

"Did something happen?" Vahlen asked, clearly thinking ahead. "She died in an attack?"

He gave her a sad smile. "I almost wish that had happened. An attack happened, yes, but it was I that almost died. It was an ambush, one that was so coordinated that they had to have known everything about it. I barely had my team make it out alive, and at first shrugged it off as a botched attack."

Vahlen's face fell as the implication hit her. "Oh."

"I didn't ignore it, of course," he corrected. "But it didn't occur to me at first there was a traitor. Not until it happened to another team and they didn't survive. By then I knew something was wrong, and only a few people knew the details, Farida among them. I didn't want to believe it, of course. But I couldn't deny the possibility."

He sighed. "So I told her, privately, of another operation that was going to be launched. But this time we'd set the ambush. The Caliphate soldiers showed up in the location I had leaked and we wiped them out. It was all the proof I needed."

"What did you do?" Vahlen asked quietly.

"I treated her the same as an enemy asset," he answered quietly. "I interrogated, tortured and extracted everything she knew about her contacts and what she'd revealed to them. Once that was done I executed her and left the body in the desert."

The mix of emotions coming from Vahlen were about what he expected. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. "Did you ask her why she did it?" She finally asked.

"No," he shook his head. "I didn't. It didn't matter, not anymore, and there was no excuse that could justify it. Perhaps it was a penance for her, perhaps she thought I went too far and wanted to stop me, perhaps she wanted to scare me into calling off the op so I wouldn't get killed. I'll never know, and neither do I want to. But I remember her now as another victim of the War on Terror. One I wasn't able to save."

"I'm so sorry," Vahlen said, standing up to face him. "I…had no idea. Not about that."

"It's not something I tell," he shrugged. "I never expected to tell it to someone. No reason to. I didn't think I'd ever find someone like that again, and I really wasn't sure I wanted to."

Vahlen took his hands in her own. "And I managed to change your mind?"

"You're under no illusions about who I am," the Commander said gently. "The good and bad. When you kept persisting, even after what I've ordered, that did make me wonder. And the more I thought about it…well, here we are. But I don't want secrets, not anymore. If we're going to do this, you had to know everything about me. Especially the things I'd prefer to forget."

"Thank you," Vahlen told him, sincerity emanating out of her. "For trusting me enough to share this. I know it's not easy for you. But you did and that only reaffirms what I already know. You're someone who cares, about XCOM, humanity, me. You're more concerned about what would make me comfortable than what you'd want. You didn't have to tell me this, but you did so I'd know, and I don't think you can be nobler than that when it comes to this."

His heart was definitely beating much faster now. There would be no better time. Both of them wanted this, and if what he'd said hadn't deterred her, than there was no reason to hold back anymore. He gently took her chin with his right hand, leaned down and kissed her waiting lips.

It was a sensation he wished could last forever, but time sadly didn't stop and the kiss ended too quickly. Though he didn't delay long in giving her another one while sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to his room.

Fortunately, he knew where to go from here.

---

A/N: BenRG, if you're still reading this, know that I didn't ignore your suggestion on a possible upgrade for the laser weaponry. Just took a little while to implement it correctly, sorry.

Also, I don't expect to write another chapter this long. Though I have been wrong before.

-Xabiar