Against the Titans

Nigeria

The long line of ADVENT vehicles and soldiers made for what Betos would call an intimidating sight. She was certain there were people who thought that they were being invaded by some hostile military, which was why she'd mostly plotted their path mostly along less-traveled routes. Although they were now getting close to the capital, so she'd had the majority of her soldiers set up a camp near Sarkin Pawa, which was one of the more desolate places in Nigeria.

It wouldn't be permanent, but it would suffice long enough for her to have a proper talk with the President of Nigeria. She didn't think it would look that good for her to march into their capital with an entire army behind her.

So she was instead just taking a few of her officers, Mox included, in full armor, since she wasn't going to be stupid about this.

Mox had assured her that she would be safe, but she didn't see a reason to take chances. She did believe Mox, but the President was only one person, and she could imagine that there might be some of his advisors who wouldn't be thrilled with her showing up. Not that she could particularly blame them in this case, since she'd be suspicious too if a small army showed up with the so-called intention to help.

"How do you even know him?" Betos asked Mox as they drove to Abuja. "I never asked that."

All of them had their helmets off, since it was far more comfortable without them on in the heat and humidity. Mox shrugged, his face not giving away what he was thinking. "Mutual acquaintance, he introduced us a while ago and we've kept in contact since. Nothing frequent mind you, and I wouldn't call us 'good friends', but I know enough about him to say I trust him."

"This acquaintance the same Mossad agent you joked about knowing?" Betos asked, amused. She'd always assumed he'd made that up, and it had been something of an inside joke between them for years, and she wouldn't have been surprised to learn he did have someone like that he was friends with. Mox was very easy to talk to.

"What? No," he chuckled. "He was from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, nice guy, don't know where he is now. I think he was transferred to a more sensitive position. But he knew quite a few important people."

"And so…what?" Betos asked, looking out the window at the dry land. "You just write the President when you feel like it?"

"To some extent," Mox explained. "But there was a reason I was usually chosen as an escort whenever Israel sent someone down to Nigeria. They knew I was a friend and thought that would improve relations. They asked me to keep that quiet, which is why I never told you."

"Fair," Betos shrugged. "Hopefully he's…reasonable about this."

"Oh, he'll be perfectly happy to accept your help," Mox said, then paused. "Although when he hears about your larger plan, this might not be as easy as we thought."

"It never is," Betos sighed. "I'm more concerned he'll want to use whatever we provide him to strengthen his own position, or worse, turn it against his neighbors."

"He won't support that," Mox disputed. "His cabinet? Different story. A problem that I didn't properly consider is that some of these countries…well, they aren't exactly friends. In fact, some of them hate each other."

"We don't need the people to accept each other right away," Betos said. "But if the governments work together, then the rest of the details can be worked out. Even if they don't like each other, it shouldn't be difficult to show them that ADVENT is a much more present threat. Besides," she tapped the pistol at her waist. "If that won't get them to at least listen to us, then what we can offer them will."

"That it will," Mox nodded. "I wonder if ADVENT has already covered up what we did."

Betos looked back out the window while she answered. "The few times we've got internet access, I didn't see anything major. Very likely they're keeping this quiet."

"Typical," Mox snorted.

"We expected as much," Betos said. "Should we become more established, we can work on making ourselves impossible to ignore. The greater concern is ADVENT taking preemptive action. They won't take long to figure out where we are."

"They have to go down half the continent," Mox pointed out as they turned onto another street. "No way are they getting that far without either the nations being aware, or fighting back. And I don't think they want to perform another hostile military attack so soon after Canada."

Betos shook her head. "I'm not worried about that. They aren't idiots. If they're smart, they'll be using XCOM Intelligence to keep an eye on us. I think we're too large to all suddenly turn up dead, but I wouldn't put it past them to assassinate you or me. Or anyone important who associates with us."

"Mhmm, true," Mox grunted. "We need to set up your own protection service. It's not like we're going back alive, so assassination is a valid concern."

"Or we need to establish a clear plan and chain of command if I die," Betos countered. "If ADVENT wants to kill me…realistically, I don't know how much we can do to stop them. I wasn't Intelligence, so I don't know their latest methods, but I was a Marshal. That isn't something I can predict well, and we don't have any former agents with us."

"I don't think ADVENT will be particularly creative if they want you dead," Mox stated, wiping some sweat off his forehead. "They are legally permitted to kill any of us now. It's not like they need plausible deniability."

That raised some alarm bells in her head, because Mox was right. "If that is the case…why aren't they doing anything?"

"My opinion?" Mox asked rhetorically. "They're likely predicting your plan, and they want you to fail at it. Best case for them is that it fails and distracts the most powerful countries in Africa, and worst they hope you otherwise weaken them, as well as yourselves. Or it could be because they don't see us as a threat."

"We aren't one," Betos said wearily. "Not yet. Even if by some miracle we unite the African countries in an actual military alliance, they still aren't strong enough to hold out against ADVENT."

"Yet," Mox clarified. "And they don't need to be. They just need to be strong enough to give ADVENT pause. If Africa is too much trouble for them, then they'll move on."

"In an ideal world," Betos nodded. "However, I don't expect things to work out that easily."

And they drove in silence the rest of the way to the capital, as Betos prepared for what would be the first diplomatic attempt of her life. Hopefully she wouldn't screw it up.

Vitakar, En route to designated coordinates

From the moment Nartha had strapped himself into his speeder, he was certain someone was watching him. However, now that the Nulorian knew who he was, he would have been more surprised if they weren't keeping tabs on him. There were no Zararch watching him, he was certain of that, having made sure to check and alter Zararch schedules as needed.

No, all they knew was that he was going to be investigating Nulorian activity in the Borelian Wastes. It would take him some time to get there, even with the speeder, but he knew he would make it on time.

Using the speeder was a bit conspicuous, since personal vehicles were rare, and most relied on the interconnected trains between and within cities. Personal vehicles were seen as unnecessary, and were usually only allowed for government workers. That had been one of the first shocking things about Earth, how it was more uncommon not to have a form of personal transportation.

Humans in general didn't seem to be fans of such concepts. They did exist, especially in the cases of planes and cruise ships, but those were only ever used for long distances. Public transportation was an afterthought from what he'd seen. Well, with a few exceptions, namely Europe. But it wasn't just owning a personal vehicle that was interesting to him, but how seriously some Humans took it.

Nartha liked his speeder. It was useful and got him places. But it was one of three models, different ones for different climates, and all of them were colored a dark gray. But some of the lengths Humans went to show off their vehicles, and the sheer amount of choice they had was amazing. He almost wished they could take some inspiration from the Humans and add some color to the speeders. It couldn't hurt.

He looked over at his GPS which showed him approaching the coordinates. It was going to be right on the Borial Strait, which led into the Manda, the ocean that surrounded the entire continent, and home of the Sar'Manda Empire. Wonderful. Hopefully the Nulorian knew better than to encroach on Sar'Manda territory, although technically the entire ocean was Sar'Manda territory.

In theory.

Nartha had always found the Sar'Manda both curious, and extremely annoying. The way they had evolved was so different from any other race, it was virtually an alien species all to itself. Their way of life, technology, food, clothing; almost every aspect of their society was alien, even to other Vitakara. They became annoying when it was apparent that they didn't care about anyone but themselves.

He was pretty sure the only reason they joined the Aui'Vitakar was because of some obligation, which they never did anything more than the bare minimum. If it didn't affect the Empire, they abstained, and if it affected the Empire negatively, they usually ignored it. Because really, how could you regulate an Empire that is completely underwater?

So the end result was that the Sar'Manda never really did anything, and the rest of the races ignored them, and everyone was fine with it. But it was still irritating to deal with them, especially when they refused to use translators. Even the Oyariah at least participated in government, even if they were Ethereal puppets.

He shook his head. He wasn't quite sure where that tangent had come from, but it did make him realize that the Sar'Manda would be rather useful if he hoped to turn the Vitakara against the Ethereals. Unfortunately, he wasn't even sure they'd care. To his knowledge, they had never actually hosted an Ethereal in their Empire.

But that was a problem for another day.

"Arriving at destination," the metallic voice stated as he pulled up to the edge of the Strait. "Disembark when ready."

"Here we go," he muttered to himself and popped open the hood with a hiss, then winced as the freezing air washed over him. He stepped out into the snow and took a few deep breaths; acclimating to the new climate. He was bundled well, but even without it, Vitakarians were very difficult to kill with extreme weather alone.

Adaptability truly was a gift.

It appeared the Nulorian hadn't shown up yet, so he rested against the speeder and looked around the so-called "Wastes". That pretty much translated to endless dunes of snow, not so much 'wastes' as the traditional word implied. It was beautiful though, especially from the moonlight shining down on it, giving it a sparkling quality.

The water in the Strait rushed noisily along, fairly rough for a river, but Nartha knew that it could be easily navigated with proper naval equipment. Then the water suddenly bubbled and a submarine emerged.

Nartha drew his weapon; eyeing the submarine warily. It definitely looked to be Sar'Manda, since they were the only ones who put any effort into naval tech, and this was not a commercial sub, but one used for personal use, or small groups. Given the circumstances, he supposed that the Nulorian had stolen one and were using it in their own operations.

A new thought struck him.

Maybe the reason the Zararch had never been able to track down the Nulorian was because their main base was only accessible by submarine. Which begged the question…how had they acquired it? Sar'Manda were notoriously hostile towards outsiders, and he couldn't imagine something like this would be ignored by them…unless they'd struck a deal?

Nartha snorted at that, even as he kept his weapon up. It would definitely be like the Sar'Manda to ignore a terrorist organization if they promised not to harm the Empire. It would fall within their expected behaviors. The 'roof' of the torpedo-shaped submarine slid down and three figures stepped out.

Two were Vitakarians, both bundled and helmeted with stolen Runianarch gear, painted with the glyph of the Nulorian, and there were other writings in Ethereal script that roughly translated to defiant, defender, and a phrase that roughly translated to bane of the puppets. Very melodramatic, and what he expected from such groups.

Although the armor of the other one simply had numbers, which he didn't know if they were kill counts or something else. The final figure was a Borelian, also kitted out in stolen Runianarch gear. However, the leader appeared to be the one with the numbers on his armor. The figure gestured and the other two raised their plasma weapons. Nartha didn't lower his own.

"You are Zar'nartha'intha?" The figure asked in an altered voice, albeit clearly male.

Nartha gave a single nod. "Yes."

"You wanted to meet with us." It was a statement, not a question.

"I suppose you did as well," he answered back. "Else you wouldn't be here." Nartha motioned towards the sub. "Interesting piece of equipment you have. Sar'Manda wouldn't give that up easily."

"Most aren't willing to give up what they own easily," he answered back neutrally. "We don't have issues taking from the puppets."

Well, maybe the Nulorian were brazen enough to steal Sar'Manda equipment and get away with it. "You know why I'm here," he continued. "Are you still interested in what I have to say?"

The leader motioned to the other Vitakarian who pulled out a kind of scanner and began approaching his speeder. "You've surprised us," the leader said. "Yet we also know you turned over valuable assets while preserving others. You may be genuine, but your methods have cost us."

"I am in the Zararch," Nartha reminded him easily. "It is unfortunate I had to turn over your allies, but I have to ensure my own treason is not discovered. If you noticed, I preserved the more useful ones for you."

"Asset classification is not up to you," the leader continued. "But there are considerations that have to be acknowledged. We are acting under the assumption that you will prove more valuable than them." There was a pause. "If that is not the case, we will be…disappointed."

Nartha gave a single nod. "Understood. Are we going to have this discussion here?"

"No," the leader said. "But before we leave, we need to confirm you are not bugged or otherwise compromised. I would request you leave your weapon as well."

"No," Nartha warned. "I am well aware of your reputation, and going wherever you are taking me unarmed is not something I will do."

The Nulorian leader eyed him for a moment. "Then understand that any sudden movements will lead to your immediate termination. We do not take chances, especially with traitor Zararch agents."

"Forgive us for not trusting you yet," the Borelian rumbled. "But I'm sure you can understand our hesitation."

"I can," Nartha agreed. "I don't suppose you'd share your name?"

"That is not relevant," the leader said unsurprisingly. It had been worth a shot. "The less you know, the better. If in fact you are genuine, that doesn't mean you will elude the Zararch forever. No one can withstand Sectoid psionic reading."

Another fair point. Nartha glanced backwards to the other Nulorian. "You're not going to find anything."

"I'll be the judge of that," the female Nulorian said as she continued. "But I doubt you'd be stupid enough to try and trick us."

"Stay and watch if anyone has followed him," the leader ordered her. "Nartha, come with us." They waved him toward the sub which had just enough room for one person per seat, and it was four seats long. They were larger than would likely be needed, but he could imagine the Borelian was thankful for the extra size.

"Second seat, mind the gap," the leader said as he stepped into the pilot seat and began powering the haptic display. "Strap in. Submarine travel isn't as smooth as you're imagining."

"Largely because of your driving," the Borelian commented dryly. Nartha almost started at a Borelian of all things making a joke. He shook his head in disbelief and stepped into the seat and strapped in. "No hard feelings Nartha, but I'll be holding a gun to your head the entire time," the Borelian said as she took the seat behind him. "No hard feelings."

Nartha just sighed and accepted that this was going to be an interesting ride. Joking Borelians and nameless Nulorian leaders who were bad submarine drivers. Whatever happened, he was looking forward to actually seeing how the Nulorian operated.

Argentina

Seasons were really strange in Argentina. Volk had been surprised to find that it was almost entirely flipped from the United States, or pretty much North America entirely. Winter was Summer, and Fall was Spring, and even then it varied depending on where exactly in Argentina you were. Being in the middle of the country, the climate wasn't…bad, especially since it was mild in the traditionally "fall" months.

Not that it really made a difference to him. The climate didn't matter, he and his people could survive it.

Didn't mean he couldn't have preferences.

Most people would, before a meeting with a fairly influential government, do some kind of preparation. Maybe dress up a bit, review the material that would likely be discussed, or leave a few minutes early. And had this been a meeting he considered actually important, then he might do that as well.

But Volk knew exactly how this was going to go. Government rep (he didn't care enough to learn the name; didn't matter anyway) would review what they did, he would agree, they would say 'thank you, here is your next list of targets' he would accept, take the equipment they brought as payment, and leave. Rinse and repeat.

Or more unlikely, they would just terminate their contract and he was on his own.

Volk did not personally care if the Argentinians wanted to work with him or not. If they did, great, if not, then it wasn't as though there was a shortage of work. Elena regularly brought at least a dozen letters every week from people requesting help, and if one seemed like a worthy cause, he'd send one of his people to extract them.

Barack managed all incoming messages, and Volk was happy to let him do the advertising/moderating. He had helped set up the initial points of contact, but over the past five years it had gotten much larger than he'd expected. Generally, most people were respectful of his time and only tried contacting if they were in mortal danger. Then there were the idiots who thought that being censored on the internet was equivalent to being held in prison for writing an expose on a powerful government official.

Whatever, the point was he was never short on work, and with ADVENT on the rise, business would definitely not slow down.

He set the book he was reading down on his lap as he mused on the state of the world now. ADVENT became more and more odd the more he looked into it. It was a strange juxtaposition of differing countries and cultures trying to form a unified front. There were places where people were treated badly like all Brazil under the lunatic Luana, and then there was the Middle East, which, from the accounts he had gotten, was potentially worse.

And on the other hand, the other countries with established democracies like the United States were…he had to admit, not exactly what he would call 'problematic'. The only issue was that ADVENT had shown a clear willingness to use their power to shut down those who stood against them, and Brazil, the Middle East, and Canada were proof that no matter how reasonable ADVENT presented themselves, they were ultimately ruthless and merciless to those they disagreed with.

Well, he wasn't going to bring it crashing down, but he'd do his part to help out the people affected by them. And if he got paid for it, that was just a nice bonus.

He heard a couple people walking towards him and looked up to see Elena and Ali, one of his best operatives, walking up. Both were fully armed and armored, filtering masks strapped to their waists. "Good book?" Ali asked rhetorically. He'd never thought Volk's habit of reading was a particularly good usage of time, and made sure to rib him about it whenever it came up.

Not that Volk cared that much. Reading was one of the few things he enjoyed, and if someone didn't like it, then that was just too bad. He was entitled to some entertainment now and again. "It isn't bad," he asked, holding it up. "Thought it was rather topical."

Ali snorted once he saw the cover. "War of the Worlds. Ha ha, very funny."

"Keep your sarcasm," Volk chuckled, bookmarking his spot and standing. "I like it."

He'd gone on something of a science fiction-alien invasion binge lately for obvious reasons. It amused him quite a lot to read about how different people imagined aliens would be. All of them were mostly wrong, but that was to be expected. Some were closer than others in descriptions, some were even more alien than the real ones.

Volk wondered if any aliens had actually read any books of the genre, or watched any movies for that matter. The mental image of one of those Sectoids watching Independence Day and taking notes about what not to do was one he found especially funny. It was nice reading about how the Humans managed to find the one weakness of the alien, or otherwise defeated them with Human ingenuity.

Unfortunate that was likely not going to happen in the real world. He was certain ADVENT would try their best though, and he would certainly watch with interest.

"Anyway, we're ready to go," Ali said, bringing him back to reality. "Don't want to keep the suits waiting."

"It won't kill them to wait a few minutes," Volk said, slinging his own rifle over his shoulder. "But they are paying clients, so best stay on good terms. Let's go."

Vitakar, Unknown

The Borelian had been right. Or maybe all submarine trips were like that. Either way, the pilot had driven like what appeared to be like a madman, but what Nartha suspected was an attempt to completely disorient him. Spinning, complete reversals of direction, sudden plunges and rises, it was a good thing he didn't get sick from this.

If disorientation had actually been the goal, it had succeeded without question. Nartha had absolutely no idea where they were, and were now rising into what appeared to be a cave.

"Up and out," the leader said, as the top opened up and cool air rushed in. So likely still in Borelia somewhere. Definitely a natural cave, which was currently kitted out with elerium-powered lights, caches of non-perishable food and a lot of weapon caches. Not just knockoffs either, but genuine Runianarch plasma rifles.

The Nulorian should not have had this much high-end equipment.

There were more Nulorian in the cave itself, mostly Vitakarian, but there were a few Borelians in the mix as well, all of them either had weapons pointed at him, or were eyeing him suspiciously. Nartha figured the only reason he hadn't seen different races was because of the climate. It was a documented fact that there was at least one person of every race, with the exception of the Sar'Manda, who was at one point Nulorian. Oyariah were almost unheard of, and the climate here was bad for Dath'Haram and Cobrarian. They likely occupied warmer bases.

"So, where to?" Nartha asked lightly as the leader walked forward, and the Borelian gestured for him to follow.

"Just follow me," was all the leader said as they walked into a stony corridor. "You'll talk to one of the Nularis, leaders of our cells. Don't bother asking for names again, he won't give you his."

"Not that you'll need it," the Borelian said behind him. "You're getting to speak to him. Be grateful we aren't just interrogating you."

Nartha sniffed. "It would be a pointless interrogation, and you'd be fools to assume I don't have something in mind should you betray me."

"Typical Zararch," the leader muttered as the corridor turned. "That is a reason, yes, but you wouldn't be the first Zararch agent I've killed."

It appeared this was somewhat personal then. Fair enough. Nartha was somewhat disappointed he wasn't actually meeting Miridian, the infamous leader of the Nulorian, but he wasn't surprised. He assumed that should this go well, and he continued helping the Nulorian, he'd meet him eventually. But for now, one of these Nularis would suffice.

"In there," the leader said, stopping to unlock a metal door. "Take as much time as you need."

"Thank you," Nartha said and stepped into the room.

It was much dimmer than the well-lit corridor, with only a few light posts in the small room. In roughly the center was a massive figure sitting at a beautifully carved Dath'Haram treetable, reading something on a haptic pad.

An Oyariah.

Well, this was certainly interesting. He wasn't entirely shocked they existed in the Nulorian, but one in a relative position of power was an unexpected twist to this operation. No wonder the other Nulorian had felt comfortable leaving him in here alone. Oyariah were almost impossible to kill without specialized equipment, and his plasma rifle wouldn't be powerful enough on its own to kill him.

Oyariah themselves had always been an intimidating race, even though their numbers were much smaller. They towered over every other race by several heads, even their smallest ones were eight feet high in Human measurements. But that wasn't what made them dangerous.

The race itself had armor for skin. Nartha wasn't completely sure of the biology behind it, but Oyariah had a simple weak layer of skin like most, and over time they would go through a scaling process which eventually hardened to something resembling stone. Over a period of years they would eventually grow what essentially amounted to their own suit of armor.

Most Oyariah, once the armor reached a certain point, began maintaining it more strictly. It wasn't uncommon for them to sculpt their bodies into different patterns and styles. Some opted to only have what amounted to light armor, while others allowed their bodies to be as difficult to kill as possible.

But what most people found unnerving about the Oyariah were their faces. Or more specifically, the lack thereof.

Every part of their body grew armor, and their faces were no exception. Because of this, and due to evolving in underground caves, and facing the monstrous animals that dwelled down there, the senses of Oyariah were the best of any race, although they were naturally blind. Their eyes still existed, but had they not surfaced and joined the Aui'Vitakar, it was entirely possible they would have lost them altogether.

Since sight wasn't needed in their underground cities, most Oyariah simply let the armor cover their eyes, permanently blinding them. Their mouths functioned mostly the same as the other races, but like the rest of their bodies, they had to carefully maintain the armor growth if they wanted to use it properly, else it would cover the mouth.

There were some Oyariah that let this happen, especially the Runianarch Titans, who instead took nutrient injections in place of actual food. It offered great protection, but there was a high price to pay.

This Oyariah had his mouth visible, as well as the eyes which were a silky white, although the armor around those parts was delicately designed to what appeared to be overlapping layers and Oyariah Hieroglyphs cut into the cheeks. Genetic engineering made it possible for Oyariah to see, and it was one of the few genetic procedures that was still allowed on Vitakar, and almost all Oyariah who visited the surface underwent it.

Including Nulorian, it seemed.

"You are Nartha," the Oyariah rumbled in a gravelly voice. "The Zararch agent who has supposedly turned against the puppets."

Nartha gave a single nod. "That is correct."

The Oyariah set down the haptic pad to look at him fully. He stared for a long enough time that Nartha was wondering if he was waiting for something. "Vitakarian. Recent genetic tampering. You were on Earth."

Another nod. "I believe I mentioned this."

"Zararch agents lie," the Oyariah growled. "You could have made that up. You can forge documents with us none the wiser. You have resources we don't. I do not trust without proof, and now I have it."

Nartha crossed his arms. "And how did you determine that?"

The Oyariah pointed. "You still bear the smell of a species that I have never encountered. Your body reeks of the chemicals of genetic modification. The Zararch were attempting to replicate human likenesses. I know this. You were one of them. You were turned into an infiltrator, then you reverted to your natural form. The appearances change, but your body chemistry is forever altered."

The Oyariah drew in a nasally breath. "It is not surprising you are unfamiliar with the capabilities of my race, but you are not a liar. Not yet. We shall continue."

Nartha took a few steps forward. "I assume you acquired the contents of what I wanted delivered to you."

"Yes." The Oyariah stated, resting his thick black-armored hands on the treetable. "I was skeptical. But I cannot prove what you provided is not genuine; and if it is, that is something we can exploit. If the Elders can die to these primitive Humans, then they can die to us."

"Whatever the Humans are, they are not primitive," Nartha shook his head. "The Ethereals made that mistake, and now one of them is dead. They are fighting when they should have died. Underestimating Humanity is a mistake, and they are the reason I am here to begin with."

"So you say," the Oyariah said, the black skin armor seeming to absorb all light in the room. "The Humans do not matter now. They cannot affect Vitakar, and until they can, their accomplishments are pointless to us. Let them fight the Elders and die. I did not approve your visit to discuss what the Humans can do for us, but what you can."

Nartha couldn't entirely blame the Nulorian for dismissing the Humans right away. Right now there wasn't anything that could be done. However, once the Humans figured out Gateways, that would be a different story. "Fair enough…Nularis," he said, deciding a title was better than no name at all. "You know where I am placed, and I can help you."

"You are ruthless with my contacts, but you do possess some tactical insight," the Oyariah growled, standing. "Despite systematically dismantling our operations in Intha, you did preserve our most useful assets, if not coopted them. Some of my brethren do not approve, but we all have roles to play. You have proven so far your intentions are genuine, so I am willing to entertain what you can do."

"That would depend on what you want," Nartha said slowly. "I cannot predict where I will be sent next, but I can make impacts in other ways. Dropped Zararch interest. Vulnerable equipment shipments. Recruitment. What exactly do you envision for a Zararch mole?"

The Oyariah stared down at him intensely. "I want you to damage the Collective and the puppets that rule it. Kill, sabotage, or otherwise disrupt the war machine of the Collective. You will not ever be one of us, but that does not mean you cannot help us accomplish our objective, and we need to spread."

"To the colonies," Nartha said. "Desolan. The science facilities."

"A means to an end," the Oyariah dismissed. "Yes, but those places are irrelevant, with the possible exception of Desolan. The only damage is to hit the military. The Lurainian. The Runianarch. The Zararch. We need our people in there. That is how you can help us."

Nartha considered a few moments. "Understand that I can't just allow large quantities, nor do it often," he warned. "It would draw attention. It is possible, but be realistic about the-"

"I do not require dozens of operatives," the massive stone-covered figure rumbled. "One or two will suffice for now. Provided you follow through, of course."

"As for colonies…" Nartha paused. "That might be easier. I have a contact in the Aui'Vitakar who would likely take care of the…more legal aspects. If one or two were to be added, that could be arranged."

The Oyariah turned his head slightly. "I don't suppose you'd share who this is?"

"She is in the Cobrarian Hierarchy," Nartha said simply. "That is all you need to know."

"Good," the Oyariah sat back down. "I don't care how you do it, only that it gets done. Our communication is established, and we will continue with it until notified otherwise."

This was going much smoother than he'd anticipated. Excellent. "Then that will be all. I expect I will be recalled soon. And as a final warning, I would abandon this location, as I will be including the 'clear remnants of a Nulorian base' in my report."

"Anticipated," the Oyariah stated bluntly. "We will be gone. Understand this, Nartha, whatever goals you have for working with us, they are not the same as ours. You may wish to inspire us to fight for some ideal of freedom, but none of us care about that. All that matters is that we kill as many of the puppets as possible. That is our goal, nothing more."

Nartha pursed his lips. "I'm aware of your methods. But I hope you see that can change."

"That is a discussion for the future," the Oyariah said, picking up the haptic pad again. "But I am not optimistic. Fare well, Zar'nartha'intha, may the Elders rot in the void."

On that clear dismissal, Nartha turned and left. The Nulorian would be a useful blunt instrument to wield against the Collective to destroy the worst aspects of it, and weaken it overall. However, that wasn't going to be the goal of his mission. It was something that could be achieved; he just had to work hard to realize it.

Besides, if the Nulorian didn't come around, there were plenty of others that would.

Nigeria, Abuja

Betos was fairly sure that this was the largest city in the entire country, or at least the most sophisticated from a modern standpoint. It didn't seem too different from some of the cities in Israel, not even taking into account the various European and American cities. Still, at least here it wasn't the third world country she had feared. Good.

And right now she was being escorted by the Nigerian Armed Forces to meet President Ndulue Okon, with Mox at her side. There was a decent amount of attention from the civilians who were watching as well as the scattered media. Although she couldn't help but notice some of those filming were being confronted by other soldiers.

She frowned at that. While she could see why the President didn't want this to be a major public event, that didn't exactly give a good impression. Then again, ADVENT was surely watching local media…

No, ADVENT would know where she was. Trying to hide it was pointless. She'd have to bring this up with him once they met.

They entered the Presidential Villa which seemed to be a pleasant place just from the well-maintained landscaping and expensive furniture in the villa itself. The floors were tiled; a shiny tan for the color which their boots clacked on while they walked. Betos ignored most of the luxury, instead thinking about what was coming next.

Almost none of the soldiers had addressed them directly, except for the captain who had given instructions to follow. She wasn't sure if they even understood English, but they had most certainly been taking second looks at their armor and weapons. "In here," the captain said, stopping in front of two wooden double doors.

He opened them and Betos and Mox stepped into it, and were immediately greeted with a room that equaled the other ones in terms of luxury, with an abundance of the color white. The walls, tile, and most of the furniture was white, and bookshelves lined the walls, while in the center was a table prepared for three with the President standing and waiting for them.

He wasted no time. "Marshal Betos," he greeted, stepping forward and extending a hand. "Welcome to my capital."

Betos took the extended hand, getting a good look at the president. "A pleasure, President Odon." He stood slightly taller than her, maybe six feet, had short graying hair, with a short beard to match. He wore some small-rimmed glasses as well, which gave him a more scholarly look than anything else.

He wore a standard black suit that contrasted sharply with the colors of the room. For that matter, all of them were in contrast to the color scheme. Well, not like they were trying to win any contests. "Mox," he also greeted. "A pleasure to see you again."

Mox inclined his head. "The feeling is mutual, Mr. President. I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Indeed," Okon nodded, motioning to the table. "However, this is the world we now live in. While we discuss this, I had food prepared so we can talk like civilized people."

"Appreciated," Betos said automatically. In truth she wasn't really hungry, but no point in turning down a gesture of hospitality. They took their seats, her and Mox opposite each other, with President Okon in the middle. She looked at the dish before her. Some kind of steak she guessed, with a mixture of vegetables on the side. Not bad.

"I was surprised to hear from you, Mox," Okon finally said as they tentatively ate. "Especially when you asked for what I can only assume is asylum."

"Not asylum," Mox immediately dismissed, shaking his head. "But a potential opportunity. You have been keeping track of the events in the world, I presume?"

Okon gave a grave nod. "It is troubling. Both the aliens and ADVENT."

"And what is your opinion towards ADVENT?" Betos asked. "Do you foresee Nigeria joining?"

Okon gave a short laugh. "If that were the case, we would not be speaking. ADVENT is too…dangerous…for my tastes. For such a powerful organization to arise in such a short time…" he shook his head. "Whether this was planned ahead of time, or merely a coincidence is irrelevant. I will not willingly bend the knee to such an organization."

Betos quietly set her fork down. "You would not be able to stop them."

"No," Okon admitted grimly. "That is unlikely. All that can be realistically hoped is for ADVENT to ignore us. We have our own problems here, and if we focus on them, we can hopefully avoid both the aliens or ADVENT."

"You do not consider the aliens a threat?" Mox asked.

Okon took a sip of water. "Perhaps. I am more familiar with the aliens than you might expect. Nigeria was one of the countries to initially fund XCOM. However…XCOM was never completely on our side. By the end they were deliberately defying the sensible members of the overseeing body," he paused, shaking his head. "The Commander of XCOM is not…someone who can or should be trusted. Seeing him have such influence in ADVENT is concerning."

This was interesting. She and Mox exchanged glances. "Why?" Betos asked.

The President was silent for several moments. "I will not give details, Marshal, suffice to say I do not trust someone who would burn half of Earth if it meant defeating the aliens. Everything is expendable to him, and men like that in such positions are dangerous. Suffice to say I want nothing to do with him. Do not ask for more."

His tone was even throughout, but Betos was fairly certain he was actually afraid of the Commander of XCOM.

Why?

He was ruthless, for certain, but that was not much different from quite a few people in ADVENT. What made him so much worse?

Either way, it sounded like that was a big reason why the President was so leery of ADVENT. Curious, but something she could look into later. "ADVENT wants to unite the world under their rule," Betos said, changing topics. "It might not be now, it might not even be until the war is concluded, but they will try and see this accomplished. If nothing is done, that will happen to not just Nigeria, but Africa itself."

Okon looked skeptical. "Unlikely. It would be far too much trouble than it is worth."

"No, Mr. President, it would not," Betos disputed calmly. "ADVENT captured the Middle East in roughly a day. Do you really think taking a continent would be something impossible for them?"

"China perhaps has the right idea," Okon said. "Stay out of their way, and they will overlook us. I do hope you are not suggesting we fight them?"

"Of course not," Betos shook her head. "That would be suicidal. No, the only reason they do not want China now is because they would be too troublesome to properly deal with, especially during the alien invasion. And the more important reason is because China is large."

"Size didn't stop Canada," Okon noted.

"There were some additional factors," Mox chimed in. "Namely that the military betrayed the government to help ADVENT. Had that not happened, they would not have annexed the country so easily."

Okon looked at her, his eyebrow raised. "You have an idea, Marshal?"

"If you wish to preserve any sort of autonomy, you need to establish yourself as a continental power like China has," Betos began. "You, to be honest, are too small for ADVENT to consider any kind of threat, let alone a diplomatic power. But if several of the countries were to unite under one unified alliance, that would be a different story."

Okon stared at her in what she could only describe as disbelief. "You want to unite the African nations?"

"That is the simple explanation," Betos confirmed with a nod. "Not the non-binding alliance you have now. An actual military and economic alliance. It is the only thing ADVENT would recognize."

"You would have us ally with Sudan, Libya, and Congo?" He asked in shock. "And be as equals?"

"Ideally," Betos nodded. "It's-"

"I do not believe you know what you are saying," Okon said, his tone suddenly cold. "It is one thing to maintain diplomatic relations with these countries. That does not mean that they are worth allying with, let alone trusting."

"Betos meant no offense," Mox quickly interjected. "And it doesn't necessarily mean that they would be equals per-se. This would need a leader, after all."

No, Betos thought, that's not how this should work. But she held her tongue since she had badly underestimated just how strongly the President felt on the idea. "I did not mean to insult you," she said carefully. "But please look at this from a logical standpoint. Trust is not required yet, but even if it is tenuous, it will send a signal to ADVENT that they can't do whatever they please without consequences."

Okon took an audible breath. "You are excused this time, Marshal, but do not suggest again such a notion that they would be of equal importance to us. The more important question right now is what you can offer us. If I am to…support…such an idea, with us dictating the terms, then we will need something from you."

Betos carefully and slowly set her pistol on the table. "We have the schematics to develop the gauss weaponry ADVENT uses. If it could be mass-produced, your army has the means to potentially equal ADVENT's own. It would give them more pause than conventional weaponry. In addition, you'll have the support of my own soldiers."

"I see," the President said, his original calm returning. "Quite an offer. One no one else would have here."

Betos was not exactly reassured by that phrasing. "I assume that this weaponry we are gifting you would be used responsibly," she said neutrally. "It should be as a deterrent to ADVENT, as well as any other threats."

"Of course," the President said quickly. "We would not want to emulate ADVENT, would we?"

"We would need a more permanent location to stay," Betos continued. "But we would help construct it, of course, as well as training your own forces on ADVENT tactics."

"I believe I can permit this," President Okon nodded. "But you must first prove what you say is true. Once we have the schematics, you and your soldiers will be relocated to a more suitable location."

She wasn't comfortable with the deal hinging on if she was willing to give him the weapons. That was not her goal, but it seemed to be what he was focusing on. Perhaps wisely, since it would provide an effective deterrent to ADVENT.

And in the end, there wasn't much of a choice if she wanted this to work. "Done."

He gave a broad smile. "Excellent! I very much look forward to working together, Marshal Betos. I have a feeling that we will bring great change to the continent. In the interest of cooperation, of course."

As they shook once on the deal, Betos couldn't decide if the President was mocking her or not, but either way she couldn't help but feel this was not going to turn out as well as she was hoping. But she was committed now, and would do her best to make this work.

Vitakar, Intha Zararch Base

"For your time off, you certainly accomplished a lot," the hologram of the Zar'Chon said as he addressed Nartha from the Communication Room of the Zararch base. This was one area where there was no question of which species had the better technology. Humans still hadn't mastered or really even completely figured out having simultaneous worldwide communications in a realistic fashion.

Vitakara communication rooms were essentially a small circular radius with a holoprojector above, which could be configured for haptic displays as well, although that wasn't needed as much. The holograms themselves were nearly photorealistic, with the figures only having a faint shimmering outline that you had to intentionally look for to truly notice.

He might have to see about getting this to XCOM. They could probably use it.

"Thank you," he answered the Zar'Chon, inclining his head. "The Nulorian presence in Intha should be crippled for the foreseeable future."

"They have spread further than I am comfortable with," the Zar'Chon muttered, looking at the hololist displayed from his prosthetic limb. "Nearly a half of one percent of the population of Intha was suspected Nulorian, and three quarters of them actually were. Unacceptable. We will need to take steps."

Nartha internally winced. That was not good, but the Nulorian had to be expecting it with how they were becoming more brazen and recruiting more people. At some point the Zararch were going to come down on them hard. And unfortunately, he wouldn't be there every time. However, he was curious if the Zar'Chon knew anything he didn't. "Based on what I've found, the Nulorian are getting prime weapon models smuggled to them," he said. "That shouldn't be possible. Every weapons shipment is checked. And given the hideout I found, they also have submarine tech, which has the same sort of restrictions. Even more so since all commercial submarines are from the Sar'Manda Empire."

"The Sar'Manda are being questioned now," the Zar'Chon said coolly. "They did appear to have notified us that one of their submarines were stolen."

Nartha frowned. "And we never acted."

"No, we did," the Zar'Chon said slowly. "We recovered the sub. However, perhaps they forgot to inform us of a second one."

"Or that hideout was older than I thought," Nartha noted. "It is not like the Sar'Manda to lie."

"No, it isn't," the Zar'Chon agreed with a nod, his eyes seeming to grow brighter. "Regardless, that is not your concern. The Nulorian are not a major concern at this moment, and they will likely not become one. Your job here is done."

"Understood," Nartha nodded. "What is my next assignment?"

The Zar'Chon glanced down at the hololist projecting from his hand. "We have a potential problem on Desolan. There have been several instances where Muton Berserkers have died due to unexplained chemical overdoses. This would not normally be a problem, except that is has been happening every day for the past two weeks. This indicates this was a staggered attack, as well as sophisticated."

Nartha thought for a moment. "The number of people who both have access to chemicals of that potency as well as the knowledge to apply them can't be high."

"Desolan is home to nearly a billion non-Mutons," the Zar'Chon reminded him. "Not including the ones in orbital stations. The list is exhaustive, which is why you will only be tasked with a specific list. I have multiple Zararch agents who are going to take other parts. I don't know if this is a larger or coordinated effort, but it needs to be stopped."

Wonderful. Well, he had a clear objective, one to possibly subvert, but to do so he would have a suspect list that would likely number in the thousands, and also be working against dozens of other Zararch agents. That was going to be a daunting task, but he kept a straight face. "I'll head there immediately. Is there anything else?"

"Yes," the Zar'Chon nodded gravely. "This Berserker incident is unfortunate, but one which doesn't hurt our output. The larger concern is that there are entire groups of young Mutons who have disappeared. This has been happening over the past year, and is subtle enough that we haven't been asked to look into it until recently."

Nartha blinked. "How do entire groups just disappear?"

"Muton development is not a well-documented ordeal," the Zar'Chon said emotionlessly. "Many Mutons die before reaching a useful stage. Most bodies are accounted for, but in general no one cares if some are left unknown. This was all well and good until we realized that there have been as many as fifty-thousand to one-hundred thousand Mutons that are not accounted for."

Now that was interesting. Barely a drop in the Muton war machine, but it was still a significant amount. "My point still stands," Nartha repeated. "If even a fraction of those are legitimately unaccounted for, there is no way they could be hidden easily. The entire planet is War Camps if I recall correctly."

There was a brief pause. "That is what I want you to find out," the Zar'Chon said. "I suspect that there are some traitors in the ranks. Running the camps isn't glamorous, but it is necessary. Unfortunately, there are some who don't believe the treatment of them is humane and might be 'liberating' them as a form of penance."

Nartha was not familiar with the Muton situation, but he found it somewhat hard to believe that. Mutons were barely sapient, and while conditions might not be ideal, risking both their life and position to help them seemed preposterous. Perhaps there was something to this he wasn't seeing. Mutons were a weapon, and if he could locate the ones behind this, a Muton army that size would come in handy.

Assuming of course, he actually could find these people while keeping the Zar'Chon happy. But that was a problem he could puzzle out later. "I'll find these traitors," he promised. "Do you want me to prioritize this issue, or the Berserker one?"

"The Muton disappearances are more pressing," the Zar'Chon said. "Focus on that, although do some investigation into the Berserker overdoses as well."

"Acknowledged and understood," Nartha nodded. "I'll head there now."

"Good luck," the Zar'Chon said, and promptly severed the connection, leaving Nartha alone in the room.

He'd wanted to ask about Earth, but figured that could be saved until next time. As he turned to leave, he began formulating potential plans as to solve these next problems. The Nulorian were certainly going to find this interesting, and he'd best keep them informed of his position. Maybe he could even help smuggle some agents to help assist with this.

The Nulorian could do a lot with a group of Mutons, and perhaps this rogue Vitakara poisoning Berserkers.

But it was going to be a lot more difficult than Vitakar. Time to get back to doing what he was good at.

Argentina, Undisclosed Location

Volk was continuously amused that no matter the situation, government types always had to be as conspicuous as possible when 'acting officially'. He would personally have dressed in something a little less conspicuous if he was meeting a small group of assassins/terrorists, but no, they still showed up in their suits like the good mouthpieces they were.

To be fair, there was no one around the area. Volk had several of his people scouting the area to make sure no one was listening in, while the meeting itself took place in a small house which was falling apart. The smell of rot and decay permeated the house, but Volk had been in worse. The two suits before him clearly hated it though. He'd hate to see how they'd like living in the wilderness.

Nonetheless, they had fulfilled their end of the deal and two more of his people were loading the supplies into their own vehicles as they discussed the finer points of their arrangement. Volk only had Elena with him, because she was one of the few he trusted with his life; because she visibly unnerved the suits, especially with her mask and robotic demeanor; and most importantly, because she would know if they lied to him.

He really hated liars.

While he'd been summarizing their operations, Elena had her right hand placed directly on his shoulder, while the other held a pistol. While it was certainly a kind of public intimacy, it meant something much different to Elena. For whatever reason, that was their method of communication during these conversations. If either one of the suits lied, she'd let him know without making a sound.

"So to sum up," Volk finished. "We did our job, the Peacekeeper bases you wanted hit were and we didn't take any casualties. All in a day's work for us. Questions?"

The first suit rested his folded hands on the rotting table, looking intently at him. Of the two he looked the most normal, with darker skin and cropped black hair, even if he was looking a little too intently at him. "You and your people have performed well. We are pleased."

"Wonderful," Volk said without any joy. It was exactly what he'd expected. "So, you want us to do it again, or do you not need us anymore?"

The second and more conspicuous man narrowed his one good eye at him. "You seem awfully dismissive of a potential government funded opportunity."

Volk snorted. "No offense, but I like spending my time wisely. Honestly, these briefings are pretty much telling you what you already know. You either like it or you don't, and you're happy. So we either keep it going, or we don't. Simple."

"We are satisfied," the first suit reiterated. "And we wish to continue working with you. However, this next task will be slightly more challenging than the last."

He pulled out a small map and placed it on the table. "How familiar are you with Uruguay?"

Volk frowned, looking on the map. "Never been there. Why?"

The second suit stared at him. "A question for you, as it relates to your skills. Could you launch an attack and make it appear as though it came from a specific country, but not be able to prove it?"

Volk cocked his head. Well, this was going to be a little different. "Frame a country? Quite likely, it isn't hard."

"Without being able to prove it definitively," the second suit emphasized. "This little detail is important."

Volk didn't like it. "Again, I certainly have the capability, but I've never felt the need to do that."

"Then this will be your first opportunity to put that to the test," the first suit said. "We need you and your people to attack ADVENT, and subtly implicate Uruguay in doing so."

Volk stared at them in disbelief. "And just why the fuck would I do that?"

The first suit frowned. "Because that is what we're hiring you for?"

"Hold," Volk said, raising a hand. "Now just what would this accomplish?"

His answer wasn't going to change, but he was very curious to hear the rationale behind this. "We can't say," the first suit said slowly, his face not betraying anything. Elena slowly squeezed his shoulder, and Volk's lips curled into a humorless smile.

"You're lying," he said coolly. "You can tell me, but you don't want to. Not that it matters what you want, because I'm not doing anything like that without more information."

The second suit furrowed his eyebrows. "Good assassins generally don't ask questions."

Volk heaved a dramatic sigh. "I do a lot more than just kill people you know. Contrary to what you like to believe, that isn't the main purpose my little band of people exists. Yeah, sometimes my job involves killing people, but please, don't pretend like you think I'm a damn assassin. So give me an actual reason or I'm done."

The suits were clearly baffled, which he found unreasonably amusing. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with us. Whatever your other clients, they cannot provide as much or as high quality as we can. You are a professional, and we are more than capable of paying professionals well. You would not walk away from this."

"I don't need you," Volk said bluntly. "Yeah, your gear is nice and fancy, thanks for that, but please, don't act like you're the greatest thing since the toaster. Guess what? I was around before you guys found me, and I'm definitely not short on work. While I'm sure the idea of doing something just because it's the decent Human thing to do eludes you, I don't live by that same philosophy. I'm not in this for the damn payment, so promising it isn't going to change my decision at all."

He looked pointedly at the suits. "So, make up your minds. You going to tell me or not?"

They exchanged a look, clearly unhappy with how this was going, then the first suit sighed and began talking. "Argentina is currently in talks with several other South American nations, all of whom are concerned about ADVENT. Argentina wants to establish a continental alliance to maintain some level of autonomy in the future, since we're certain ADVENT has their sights set on us."

"Unfortunately, no country right now wants to risk dealing with ADVENT," the second suit continued. "They are under the impression that if they stay quiet, they will evade ADVENT's notice. It is a foolish and shortsighted decision, and so we are looking into ways to propel them to the table."

"Marshal Luana is unstable, and highly reactionary," the first suit said, a finger resting on Uruguay. "Her irrationality can be exploited, and if she can be provoked, say, to unjustly invade a small defenseless country…that might be enough to convince the holdouts that ADVENT doesn't care if you follow their rules. If they think you're a problem, they'll take you out."

Volk sat back. There was no pressure on his shoulder from Elena, so they were almost certainly telling the truth. The story made sense, and from a purely logical standpoint he could appreciate the tactic. It was brutal, targeted, and effective.

Very ADVENT-like.

"Interesting strategy," he finally said. "You could have just said that from the beginning." Volk then leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "However, my answer remains the same. I could do what you ask, but I'm not going to."

The face on the first suit hardened. "And why not?"

"Because, representative, I'm not in this for the same reasons you are," Volk answered, his voice even. "Your government talks in terms of alliances, power dynamics, and practicality. I talk in terms of people, and there will be a lot of people hurt if ADVENT is provoked into invading another country. People are the first things taken out of consideration in decisions like this, so someone has to step up, and in this case it's me."

He took a breath. "I'm not going to intentionally bring ADVENT down on Uruguay just because you want it, no matter how justified you think you are. I think ADVENT is a problem, and worth fighting, but not at the expense of the very people you claim to want to protect. Send us to hit some ADVENT Peacekeeper outposts near Uruguay if you want, that I can do. If ADVENT comes to that conclusion, then well, too bad. But my role is only going to be one of killing Peacekeepers. You get that?"

The first suit nodded. "A real god damn robin hood," the second suit muttered under his breath.

Volk smiled at that; he was more altruistic than most, certainly, but he wouldn't go that far. Still, he liked that nickname better than the melodramatic and childish 'Grim Reaper'. Please, he was deserving of a much better nickname than that.

"Fine," the first suit finally said, standing up. "Give us a couple days to put together a list of attack points as well as your compensation. No need for us to meet again; we will convey what we want through one of your contacts. Do not disappoint us."

"Save your threatening insinuations," Volk dismissed with a wave, which infuriated the second suit even more. "We'll get the job done."

The suits didn't say another word, and left the building, leaving him and Elena alone. She took her hand off his shoulder and he glanced up at her with a smile. "I don't think they like me very much."

"I estimated there was a one in two hundred chance they wished to cause you harm," she said calmly. "Had that number risen much further, I would have shot them."

Volk chuckled. He still wasn't sure if that was Elena's version of a joke, or if she actually had calculations running in her head during all conversations like this. He definitely knew she would kill them without hesitation if she felt they posed a direct threat to his life. It was rather sweet, but he really hoped she was joking in this instance.

Well, he'd treat it as such until something actually happened. "Well," Volk said as he stood and began walking out of the house. "I guess we should start looking at Peacekeeper outposts near Uruguay."

Mars, Forward Observation Station

Ravarian was relaxing, which was quite different to what other people prescribed that word to. He considered relaxing as time for reflection on what had happened so far and what might happen in the future. Not even in the context of likely outcomes based on fact, but simple unfiltered and unfounded speculation. Highly unprofessional, but no one but Quisilia would ever know he was thinking it.

He sat on a comfortable chair which displayed a truly wonderful view of space, as he had his windows configured to an outside display. In the distance were the stars and the occasional moons of Mars. Every so often it would configure to a different set of cameras, sometimes focused on Mars itself, or Earth from the Moon Forward Establishment. Not quite the same as having windows to the galaxy, but there was no way the Zar'Chon's chambers would have such a clear weakness.

What also helped his relaxed mood was the small gray feline curled up in his lap. Quisilia, much to his chagrin, had actually gone through with his offer to get him one of the infernal furballs, and a box had suddenly materialized in front of him one day, with a message attached which said "She reminds me of you. Enjoy!"

And with dread in his heart, he'd opened the box, and sure enough there was a small gray cat within it, a kitten from the size but one old enough to walk around and constantly meow. He'd considered giving it to one of the staff here; one of his analysts had expressed affection for the felines, but after watching it look up at him with those big eyes and meowing, he didn't have the heart to get rid of it.

So he'd let it follow him around, and to the little furballs credit, it didn't seem to mind him not giving it attention as much as a normal person would. Taking care of it was far more trivial than he'd expected, thankfully. He'd set up automated food and water dispensers, as well as specific waste disposal, although it took a few days to get the stupid animal to realize that was where it should defecate.

But otherwise the cat took care of itself. It ate, drank, cleaned itself, and much as he didn't want to, Ravarian found himself liking the animal, and it was a pleasant feeling when the cat suddenly jumped into his lap and made itself comfortable, purring all the while of course. But it seemed to know when it was appropriate to do it or not, and if that was Quisilia's influence, then he would have to thank the Ethereal for that.

He supposed that if he was adopting this cat, it did deserve a proper name. He'd settled on Cali'Zar'Chon, or the Little Hunter of the Zar'Chon. Much better than naming it something idiotic like Fluffy.

So he sat there, petting the cat occasionally, and thinking.

Things were starting to stabilize on Earth. The annexation of Canada was disappointing, but the Zar'Chon knew things were at a turning point now. Someday, future Zar'Chons would look back on this entire operation and wonder how it could have ever been bungled so badly. In retrospect, this entire situation was the result of a series of mistakes and freak coincidences.

The Ethereals and their inexplicable tests were certainly something to consider, but there were factors they'd had little control over initially. It was unlikely the situation would be nearly as threatening if the United Nations hadn't decided to put the Commander in charge of XCOM. Remove the Commander, and you remove EXALT, ADVENT, and likely XCOM itself from consideration. He was the catalyst to everything, and even should he die now, it wouldn't reverse what he had set in motion.

EXALT was another instance of this, but to a lesser effect. The Ravaged One had overestimated his control and power, and as a result left a nearly broken Saudia alive. Foolish. He should have either killed the leadership or not intervened at all. All he'd done was turn Saudia against them. Remove her, and the current incarnation of ADVENT ceased to be.

One pattern, regardless of the big picture, kept emerging. They kept underestimating the Humans at every turn. There had even been talk before this entire situation if the Humans would last a month, but they had responded in the form of XCOM. The Collective had slowly ramped up operations in intensity, and they had responded by adapting their technology and fighting back.

They had attempted to terrorize the Humans, a poor tactic, and XCOM had responded by solidifying Germany as a nation against the aliens. They had retaliated by trying to destroy Beijing, and XCOM had destroyed the Dreadnought that was sent.

Ravarian grimaced as he continued remembering. They had believed they could control EXALT, and had ultimately been subverted by the fiendish Humans. The attack on the Citadel had ended with the death of an Ethereal. The invasion had prompted a violent unification of Humanity. Even now the Humans were not panicking, but only escalating their tactics.

From an objective standpoint, it was both impressive and admirable.

And concerning that only he and the Battlemaster seemed to acknowledge it. He had accepted at this point the Humans would not surrender, and it was only a matter of time before they developed psions en masse. Then the situation would get problematic.

Once more, he had to wonder what the Imperator was thinking.

Humoring the Humans made no logical, tactical, or practical sense.

So why do it?

"Because the Humans ultimately do not pose a threat," Quisilia answered, appearing before him. "He has plans in motion, Zar'Chon, and the notion that a single species, on a single planet could stop them is laughable."

"Hello to you too," Ravarian said, not being remotely surprised. Quisilia had lost the ability to surprise him a long time ago. "I assume there is news?"

"Of a sort," Quisilia said humorously. "I'm quite glad I accompanied Nartha on his little adventure. Truly interesting. An Oyariah Nulorian, not something seen every day."

"He certainly covered his tracks well," Ravarian grunted. "Had we not discovered he was a traitor, I would not have suspected much. He did locate and remove Nulorian collaborators, but not all of them."

"Oh, he seemed quite proud of that," Quisilia said with a wave. "Not important, and those Nulorian are quite barbaric. Had I not been there, the initial team sent to meet him would have interrogated him for information and killed him."

Ravarian frowned. "I thought they would be smarter."

"Oh, their leader certainly was," Quisilia amended. "That Oyariah I mentioned. Too bad he was stupid enough to send operatives that hate Zararch. They planned to just say he attacked and were forced to kill him. Foolish, but they'll be on the receiving end soon enough. Won't be quite as funny when it's revealed that one of them is Zararch." Quisilia finished with a laugh. Ravarian suppressed a sigh at what passed for the Ethereal's more tangible form of entertainment.

"So he has established contact with the Nulorian," Ravarian said, focusing on the main topic. "I presume you have the method how?"

"Of course," Quisilia confirmed easily. "What is also interesting is his little talk with Sareech. I believe a visit to the Hierarchy is in order. I doubt they'd like the loyalist males being summarily executed for their treason. At the hand of an elder, some might even consider it an honor."

"I'd prefer we deal with the Hierarchy in a more subtle way," Ravarian cautioned. "Let them work for now. If Sareech becomes a larger problem, I will remove her. But remove her, and it might spook Nartha. Unless you feel he's served his purpose?"

"Not yet," Quisilia said. "Sending him to Desolan is good, but I'd prefer you give him some reason to visit the Federation. The Nulorian are not a threat. The Andromedons are different, and I would rather not take my chances quite yet with the Federation. Their distrust of telepaths is rather inconvenient at times."

"Noted," Ravarian said. "Then Nartha will stay a hostile asset for a while longer."

"My work is done for now," Quisilia said, walking away. "I believe the Battlemaster is working on the next phases of Earth operations. I expect he'll notify you of them shortly."

"Understood," Ravarian said, then sighed as he decided to give the Ethereal a small victory. "And Quisilia?"

The robed Ethereal turned around. "Yes?"

"Thank you for the cat."