Eagles Over Earth
Chapter 16: Confounding Light
May 21, 2020
On route to Ningbo, China
A few hours ago, Michael McNeil had been ordered to the briefing room with a handpicked squad with five other soldiers, and waited in complete silence before the Commander walked in, multiple doors sealing behind him for maximum secrecy. Dr. Shen and Dr. Vahlen were already inside the room. Seeing the three senior staff together, McNeil could guess how important this upcoming mission was.
"In two days' time, we will destroy an alien battleship," the Commander had begun. "You may have some questions."
Everyone did, but he motioned for them to stay silent.
"Intelligence indicates that the alien battleship is presently in high orbit above Earth. It's waiting for a signal to descend that we are going to replicate, thanks to the device that was recovered from Zhang during your mission in Hong Kong."
McNeil had all but forgotten Zhang had been carrying a black briefcase with him in Hong Kong, in that ferocious shootout in the cemetery.
"My team has determined that the device is a type of homing beacon keyed to UFO navigation systems," Dr. Shen said next. "Upon activation, the alien "battleship" will follow the beacon at extremely low altitude."
"Which makes it a prime target for attack," said the Commander. "The original purpose of the beacon was apparently to deploy the battleship as a show of force against the Asia-Pacific region. Instead, we're going to show the aliens what GDI can do."
While McNeil understood the basic principle of misdirection followed by ambush, pulling off such a stunt against the aliens seemed daring, to say the least.
"Last week, GDI assembled four transponders derived from Zhang's beacon," the Commander said. "Covert operative Guo loaded the transponders onto a high-speed train bound for Shanghai, but was intercepted by the aliens before he could finish activating them. Your task is to find Guo, clear out the station, and get the train moving."
A hologram of a transponder popped up. They were unremarkable blocky objects McNeil could've confused for a normal computer. It was hard to think they could be the thing responsible for winning this war, or at least achieving a major victory.
"Once active, that train will arrive at a GDI Army staging ground in twelve hours. GDI will then shoot down and secure the vessel with space, air, and ground assets."
Scans and size estimates of the ship in question appeared. McNeil had let out a low whistle of astonishment – that thing was at least the size of a naval cruiser, some two hundred meters long and forty wide. No wonder why it was called a battleship.
"The capture of this alien vessel could change the war," Dr. Vahlen said. "The amount of technology we could reverse-engineer – be it power generation, weapons, navigation, even faster than light travel – could advance science by decades!"
The Commander stepped back in. "To achieve all of that, we need that train moving first. Get going and good luck, Strike One."
Now McNeil was inside the Skyranger, heading for yet another mission, and re-analyzing his squad. Solovyova wasn't present, as she was recovering from yet another Meld surgery: a "mimetic skin" augmentation that could camouflage her perfectly in any environment. Medical complications had delayed her recovery, leaving McNeil as squad leader today.
Seated to McNeil's sides were Metra and Zhang, both heavy weapons operators. Since Guo reported heavy enemy activity before going dark, resorting to an explosive answer was the XCOM tried-and-true way. While Metra stuck with a SMG, Zhang also carried a new laser machine gun, able to provide highly destructive direct or suppressive fire. But Metra gave a constant stink-eye glare at Zhang, and McNeil hoped Metra's distrust wouldn't boil over. Putting the two on the same team wouldn't have been his first choice.
Pavlova served as their sniper. While remaining as quiet as before, she often looked down at her factory-fresh laser sniper rifle.
Lastly, Karl Ulrich, Paragon Squad's leader, had undergone MEC surgery. When McNeil had met him at XCOM HQ in the beginning of the month, it was the first and last time he shook real hands with him. Now he towered over the squad, packing a heavy machine gun just like Kwan's. McNeil didn't admit it, but there was something disconcerting about the friendly German face commanding a war machine powerful enough to pulverize tanks.
Ten minutes after disembarking from the Skyranger, they arrived at the train station to find it deserted and cordoned off by police tape, a leftover from Guo's initial operation.
"It's too quiet," Metra said, sweeping back and forth with her SMG.
"Agreed," Zhang replied. Metra gave him a dirty look and went back to looking. McNeil resolved to talk to them at his earliest convenience, lest he end up with another Parnell-Korba rivalry. The two hadn't come to blows since that mission to England, but McNeil dreaded the next time he had to command them both.
Why am I thinking about squad politics now? McNeil asked himself. I'm goddamn Oscar Mike. With that, McNeil motioned for the squad to follow him down the stairs to the platform, where their bullet train awaited them. Plastered with maintenance signs and devoid of passengers, it was painted an uninspiring red and white. Nothing about it was remarkable or special, which was probably the point.
"Is it clear?" Pavlova asked from the back.
"Hell no." Guo emerged from the bottom of the platform, carbine in hand – he must have been hiding underneath the train. "There's at least six Thin Men here."
"What?" McNeil immediately began sweeping the area as Guo brushed off his sleeves. "Where? And what were you doing under the train?"
"They jumped to the roofs." Guo motioned his head upwards. "And I wasn't keen on my six to one odds, so I hunkered down. Now that you're here, though…"
"Strike One, proceed," the Commander ordered. "Get that train moving."
As the squad fanned out, Pavlova scaled the side of the last train car, crouching at the air conditioner unit at the top and inspecting both the station and buildings around.
"Clear!" she called.
Ulrich stomped forwards, his MG held in a steady position thanks to the MEC suit's gyroscopic stabilizers, while Guo, Zhang and Metra followed close behind. McNeil hung towards the back, wary about Guo's warning. Six Thin Men, at least. Martlet Squad was wiped out by Thin Men; Van Doorn, too. McNeil was not going to underestimate the snake-like aliens as threats.
Still, they found nothing. The Commander ordered the squad to spread out and stay alert, taking cover behind benches and announcement boards around both sides of the train. Still, the aliens remained elusive. With nothing left to do, Guo activated the first transponder, ducking inside the train and activating it with a single flick.
"Good, that transponder is in place and operational," Bradford confirmed.
Maybe today will be easy, after all, McNeil thought. Maybe we can just get this mission over with before the aliens show up.
"Thin Men!" Pavlova called out from above. "Three, coming from the left entrance!"
Her rifle spat death and she confirmed a kill as the rest of the squad immediately moved to engage. Ulrich began to aim in place, but before he could shoot, a blast of plasma splashed against him, throwing off his retaliatory fire to shatter several windows instead.
"More Thin Men, right exit!" Pavlova warned. She fired again but missed as suppressing plasma fire came in.
"Strike One, hold your ground!" the Commander's stern voice cut in.
Guo was struck next, his armor absorbing most of the hit but piercing enough for him to let out a ragged cry of pain. Zhang was nearly head-shot but ducked just in time, causing the plasma to burn off the top of his helmet rather than his face.
Pavlova dropped down from the train's top – the only reasonable choice, as several poison gas clouds enveloped the air conditioner. If she'd stayed up there any longer, McNeil had little doubt she'd be dead.
"Commander?" she cried out. "What now?"
Ulrich took another two hits to the chest, and he stumbled back, forced back to break line of sight. The aliens' fire didn't let up an instant, now switching over to suppress Zhang and Metra, preventing them from launching their all-powerful rockets.
"I'm being lit the fuck up here!" Metra cried out.
"I can't get a clear shot!" Zhang reported, real worry creeping in his voice for the first time since McNeil had met him.
For his part, McNeil couldn't believe it. He had an intact and fully capable squad barely fifteen seconds ago. Now Ulrich and Guo were wounded, Zhang and Metra were pinned down, and Pavlova was out of position. In seconds, they were going to be wiped out, destroyed by an alien force that had the decisive upper hand in positioning. Was this how Martlet Squad felt in their final moments? Torn apart with equal horror and disbelief?
Only McNeil had thus far remained untouched and unnoticed. For a split second, he concentrated: to the sources of incoming fire, to his team's overlapping curses and callouts, and to his own beating heart. He exhaled, took a deep breath, and attacked.
He started with his disc grenade, blowing away a Thin Man that had maneuvered to less than thirty meters away. On his next steps, he was engulfed into a poison cloud but ran through without taking a breath, ignoring every unconscious urge to breathe. Dodging behind a large digital display, he felt a wash of heat from consecutive incoming plasma streams. At least two aliens had him in their sights.
No matter. The next second, he had double-tapped one alien in the center mass, dropping it onto the train platform where it exploded into a green cloud.
Cadet! What, foremost, does an assault require to succeed? General Solomon's stern voice demanded from memory.
McNeil had fumbled the answer. He couldn't remember what he said by now, but most certainly remembered Solomon's response.
Wrong! It is momentum, Mack! An assault requires momentum to succeed!
The Commander vocally urging the same, McNeil ran to the next space, eliminating a Thin Man on the top of a ticket booth, then another one on a balcony. A third popped out from the same balcony, but a stream of machine gun fire hosed it away: Ulrich must have recovered.
Fuck yeah, McNeil thought. He wasn't alone after all. When three more Thin Men jumped from a nearby apartment roof, their legs grotesquely bending to absorb the impact as they looked up at him, McNeil didn't stop moving. One of them was lacking its trademark sunglasses, and regarded him with unmistakable viper eyes: yellow irises and thin black pupils that could've been from the devil himself.
He returned the look with a headshot, turning that head into boiling blood as he finished his advance with a hasty roll forwards. One plasma burst smashed through his cover and skimmed his midsection, burning off a fair chunk of his armor but leaving him unscathed aside from a large first-degree burn.
More Thin Men leapt into the fray, in two separate teams of three each. Was every city in the world already filled with these infiltrators? He noticed some of the Thin Men were wearing more casual outfits, not dissimilar from Guo's, that could conceivably blend in a Chinese city.
One of the alien squads began to spread out, but the other was content to begin suppressing fire. McNeil felt a painful flash of heat, this time right next to his head, and only realized a moment later it was a rocket: fired from Metra, and landing directly in the middle of the second Thin Man pack, destroying them where they stood.
"Got the bastards!" Metra reported. A storm of heavy laser fire mowed down another two Thin Man as Zhang confirmed kills on them.
"There's one left, who's got a shot?" McNeil called out, before realizing his laser rifle was empty.
"I'll suppress it!" Guo shouted, his silenced carbine spitting subsonic bursts that were almost indiscernible in the wider kinetic turmoil.
"Incoming, more aliens, above!" Pavlova shouted, back on the train top. Despite the warning, McNeil began to grin. His entire squad was back in position and back to killing.
Then Pavlova's warning bore fruit: a blue beam seemingly from nowhere pulsed to existence on the platform, and a huge shadow approached: a Muton, somehow transported right into the station, on top of a train car and in position to flank them all.
"Fuck!" McNeil swore as it began to turn its huge rifle at him.
Ulrich riddled it with a storm of MG fire, throwing its aim off enough for the alien to utterly destroy a series of streetlights, blinking out and casting everyone with new shadows. Zhang added his lasers and the Muton flopped over, slipping off the train, its rifle breaking into pieces.
"Where'd that fucking Muton come from?" Metra demanded.
"Be advised, Strike One!" Bradford said. "The battleship has reached low altitude and is dropping in reinforcements!"
"Oh, this keeps getting better," Metra said.
"Guo, get on the next transponder!" the Commander ordered.
"Sir!" Guo shouted, bounding forwards as McNeil tried to kill the last Thin Man, but it had taken excellent cover. Thankfully, Guo skidded right behind the transponder and activated it with a single hit.
"It's on!" he shouted.
That was all he said before two streams of plasma boiled away the side of the train covering him and went straight into his head. McNeil shot the Thin Man dead in the next second, but couldn't bring himself to feel a thing: especially as even more Thin Men arrived, dropping down or sniping from rooftop positions as the blue beam from above reappeared.
"Guo!" Ulrich shouted. "No!"
"He's dead," Zhang said. "Leave him be."
The push onto the next two transponders didn't take as long. Metra launched two rockets in quick succession, demolishing a Thin Man each, while Pavlova got back onto the train and began sniping freely. Three more Mutons sequentially dropped from above, but Zhang took himself to task to stagger them before Ulrich finished them off.
McNeil led the way to the fourth and final transponder, flicking it on with a switch just like Guo had done. No plasma struck McNeil, not that he would have known if it did.
"We've got it, all of the transponders are now transmitting!" Bradford said.
"Ulrich, to the train's front," the Commander ordered. "Get it moving."
McNeil took the chance to catch his breath and reload as the huge German crushed by. As he released his laser's power pack, another Muton dropped onto the train, but Zhang's laser burst went wide.
"Dammit!" Zhang swore, but the Muton now had the luxury to take aim at Ulrich and fire a long burst into the moving MEC Trooper, who was less than a meter away from the front car. He fell face-first into the pavement, his legs giving out.
"Ulrich!" Metra screamed. The Muton wasn't done yet though, unbuckling a small ovoid object from its waist – a grenade – and looking towards Metra, who was trying to bring her rocket launcher to bear. McNeil's next shot grazed the Muton, but it wasn't bothered by the slight burn at all.
A sniper laser through the temple most definitely did bother it, enough for it to drop its own grenade and vaporize its feet. It collapsed through the melting train roof, and Zhang finished it off for good with a long, steady burst right on target, perhaps recompense for his earlier miss. Metra peppered it with a burst from her SMG just to be sure, but from the splashes of yellow blood everywhere, it was clear that it was long dead.
"It's done," Ulrich said.
McNeil turned to see Ulrich dragging himself out of the front train car with his arms, his suit's legs stripped down to useless, half-melted steel pieces. At a tortuously slow pace, he crawled away, his face of complete determination, not a smidge of pain visible.
"Are you all right?" McNeil scrambled over to the fallen trooper.
"I need a vacation," Ulrich replied. "But I'm all right."
Seconds later, the train screeched away and soon disappeared beyond sight. Further above, a faint, flickering shadow began to move in its direction: the alien ship. But McNeil didn't focus on it. He instead looked back at the speeding train, almost gone in the night already. In their rush to get it moving, they'd left Guo's body where it lay, still at the second transponder. He hadn't considered him a close friend, but they understood each other, at least. Guo had been with XCOM since its founding and was there when Navarro died.
Now he was gone too, and McNeil could only wonder when he would join him.
While McNeil expected to fly back to base via Skyranger, the Commander had a very different order this time. Ulrich got a pass home thanks to his MEC suit being ruined, but the rest of them were flown towards the Army staging ground near Shanghai. As the Commander explained, he wanted them kept there to serve as a reserve and get over the jet lag. For privacy's sake though, they wouldn't be tucked in a typical barracks.
"The Marriott?" Pavlova read aloud their destination, an impressive five-star establishment, but as they soon realized, the glamor was fading in most places. With the closest Tiberium fields less than ten kilometers away, the entire city would be too dangerous to live in in a year's time. Anyone with the money had already left for good, likely to the burgeoning Antarctic colonies or other polar regions. Yet millions of people remained, among them some very confused hotel staff staring at the four heavily armed soldiers walking in. If they recognized them as XCOM, they were smart enough to keep their mouths shut. Besides, their place was already reserved and paid for by GDI Far East Command.
Which was a relief, as the living room alone was nearly as large as the entire men's sleeping area at XCOM HQ and the windows were draped with gold-lined curtains. McNeil had half a mind to go straight to bed, but he'd never been in a place like this and doubted he ever would again, so he decided to enjoy it while he could. Metra opted to shower first and sleep, but Pavlova, Zhang, and McNeil all stayed up.
McNeil thought back to the last time the three of them were together – Saint Petersburg. They had all exchanged some stories about their past, though Zhang had remained rather tight-lipped. Perhaps he was amenable to speaking this time.
"It's a beautiful city," McNeil remarked at the view of Shanghai. "Been here before, Zhang?"
"Many times. My old group was active here before the Tiberium got too close."
"Over there?" Pavlova pointed to the faint green glow of the nearest Tiberium field, which also revealed a complete and depressing absence of manmade lights around.
"Yes. Most of the world's cities are little different now," Zhang observed. "I often wonder how long humanity has left."
What a downer, McNeil thought. Not that Zhang was wrong in the slightest. Most scientists projected that Earth would be all but unsuitable for human life in ten years. Nothing short of a miracle could reverse the extreme environmental degradation wrought by Tiberium. As Mcneil had seen in his last mission, even the alien abduction filaments were apparently weakened by Tiberium.
"Well…" McNeil said, struggling to move on from the conversation, but couldn't pull his eyes away from the crystal field. "I think we'll find a solution. Someone will find something to stop Tiberium soon."
"Do you really think so?" Pavlova muttered, wrapping herself up in a blanket. "People have been saying that for decades. My mother did, for instance, but she never said anything right to me."
"She could be right just this once."
Pavlova slightly smiled. "Yes. She could be."
"Even a mother like yours must have some wisdom," Zhang said.
"About which vodka was cheapest, sure." Pavlova sighed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bring her up like that. Zhang, did you ever tell us about your parents?"
"I don't think you have," McNeil said, trying to encourage him.
Zhang's mood shifted to a more pensive state. "That's true. I suspect you would like to know more than just my parents, though. Would you rather know my whole past?"
"Yes," they both replied.
Zhang took a deep breath. "You two chose a better path with the military, but I joined the Triad at sixteen." He told them about the first tasks he completed as a messenger, and the first person he killed: a boy his age who'd deeply insulted the gang's leader. He told them of his rise through the Triad's ranks, mostly due to a superlative talent for murder that culminated during the Tiberium War, where he assassinated various GDI, Nod, and other operators alike – even a GDI commando.
"You killed a GDI commando? How?" McNeil asked.
"This was shortly after the war ended," Zhang said. "One of our deputies attempted to betray us to GDI, who sent a commando to extract him. I killed the deputy with a sniper rifle and the commando with a Vervack Falcon pistol. I have kept his dog tags ever since."
To McNeil's surprise, Zhang dug them out from a concealed pocket in his jacket. While worn and faded, they were no doubt authentic.
"Dariel MacInnis," McNeil read aloud, also noting a design of a skull labeled with the number 6. "Holy shit." The name was vaguely familiar. No doubt MacInnis had a storied combat record in the Tiberium War. He probably didn't think it'd end with the man sitting across from McNeil, though.
"For that, the Triad bestowed on me the title Chilong: the Hornless Dragon. And yet, years later, I betrayed them in almost the exact same manner. Though this time, you were able to protect me. You and your XCOM squad, McNeil. I owe you deeply for this."
McNeil turned to Pavlova, hoping she might have a response, but she was still.
"Pavlova?" he asked. As he realized a second later, the sniper was sleeping, with a snore almost too quiet to hear, even for McNeil. "Oh. Er, Zhang, I don't think there was anything boring with your story," McNeil said.
Zhang shrugged. "She must be exhausted, and it was a long story." He stood up to grab a pillow for Pavlova, but had a question for McNeil too. "What did you think of it?"
"It's… " McNeil thought of many possible words. Terrifying. Impressive. Disturbing. Enlightening. "Humbling," he decided. "I've killed lots of aliens, sure, but never a first-rate like a commando. At least not to my knowledge."
"There are better things to be proud of. Your leadership is one."
"About that…" McNeil trailed off, realizing something with terrible clarity. "Shit. I left Guo behind," McNeil admitted. "I barely thought about it, but after he was killed, nobody recovered him. His body must still be on that damn train."
"You've never left a soldier behind like that," Zhang supplied.
"Until today…" McNeil said, picking up on Zhang's undercurrent. "It's what you did, isn't it? When you left the Triad."
"Yes."
"How do you deal with it?"
"I take comfort that I'm fighting for a greater cause. These aliens are the enemy of all humanity. Defeating them is nothing less than saving the world. It is a far more noble task than raising cash for criminals."
"Right."
"But is that what you are fighting for?" Zhang looked at McNeil. "I want to know what you're fighting for, McNeil."
"I'm fighting to win against this invasion."
"I asked what for," Zhang pressed. "Not what."
McNeil was about to say for GDI, or perhaps for XCOM, but reconsidered. Really? Did he regularly stick his neck out for the world government, sales taxes and all? That wasn't quite right and Zhang knew it, so McNeil told him the truth.
"I fight for the people under my command. For those who are counting on me." For those I love, he was about to say next, but that sounded sappy as fuck, so he didn't.
Zhang nodded. "In most circumstances, that is the best answer a leader can give. But not here."
"But not here?" McNeil frowned. "I don't follow."
"Because you cannot only fight for people: that's what I did in the Triad. I spent my entire life for the people I swore a blood oath to, and with them, I committed more atrocities than I can hope to atone for. You must have another cause to fight for."
"Fighting to protect my soldiers isn't enough?"
"Not at all. Because they will fail, and you will fail. We will suffer more losses, and you will question everything about yourself. I saw that happen with Guo's loss today. That doubt will hurt you more than any physical wound can."
"Dammit, you sound like Parnell," McNeil grumbled. "After Navarro died, he told me not to worry about it, essentially. Said to focus on killing the enemy."
"Hmmm." Zhang paused. "I wouldn't have put it that way. Killing is our means, not the end. But he has a point. Consider this, McNeil: what if you lose every single soldier under your command, but win the war? Is that a victory for you?"
"No," McNeil admitted. "Or at least, one I couldn't live with."
"Then you must change that. A soldier may scream in pain and for home, but you cannot listen to that. Guo died today to finish a vital mission. In times like now, it is the best death one can have."
"You're speaking for a dead man," McNeil warned.
"I'm speaking for every soldier here." Zhang met his alarmed eyes with a lethal calm, one that McNeil now understood could only belong to a man with such bloody hands. "You are a squad leader. You cannot be afraid to spend our lives."
Even on that note, McNeil managed to get a full night's sleep – the hotel bed's comfort was unrivaled. But the words stayed with his dreams and for the rest of his life.
Author's Note: There is nothing quite like losing a soldier in full cover to a Thin Man critical hit. Rest in peace Guo and many others.
I also hope you also enjoyed the Zhang backstory I added. He's clearly a man with tremendous baggage, and I wanted to explore it in the context of the Tiberium universe. Of particular note, the name Dariel MacInnis should be familiar to players of Renegade…
Still, as you've read, a massive operation is set for the next chapter. How will Operation Gangplank go? You'll have to stay tuned to find out.