Subversion
Blacksite 009 – ID: "The Prism" – Overseer: The Battlemaster
The Battlemaster thrust out his hand and an entire squad of ADVENT soldiers went flying into the air. He immediately transitioned with his sword hand into a slash that killed an Officer and Gunner. Gauss slugs were screaming through the air at such a high rate and velocity that it was actually beginning to slow him down.
A problem.
He dashed a short distance until he was back on the rocky shore of the city beach. He raised a hand and the air directly in front of him rippled, catching the gauss slugs shot his way while he observed his current situation.
The extended beachhead was covered in at least several thousand soldiers, a result of what happened when ADVENT decided to send overwhelming numbers at him. Not that it was helping, and he was now convinced that it was just to buy time until the bigger guns were sent his way. Theoretically, they would be distracted by several other attacks, but maybe that wasn't the case here.
Normally, he would have moved further into the city at this point, but he knew there were Purifiers in the army, and that would make it significantly harder for him if he was caught even in just an alley or street. Then there were the MDUs, which would be inherently harder to kill, especially in larger numbers.
It was actually nice to consider an opponent a threat for once.
Ah, there they were.
The MDUs charged out, along with a few hundred more ADVENT squads. The Officers were shouting and yelling at their subordinates to get into position, and the Engineers were using the bodies to form makeshift barricades, sealing them in place with Symbiote dispensers. The Battlemaster spent a few more seconds looking over the composition.
He couldn't stay here forever, but once he charged in again, he would be committed and vulnerable. There was the additional risk of an XCOM squad showing up, but if they had been interested in fighting him, they would have likely come by now. How many were supposed to be here? A minimum of ten thousand, so he still had a long way to go, provided they didn't retreat.
The lasers were starting to hit him, and even if they just sparked off his armor, sustained blasts would weaken its integrity. Luckily, he knew how to disrupt computer processors. The soldiers could be ignored for the moment, the MDUs were the primary threat. He executed several dashes in quick succession, all zig-zag patterns, until he was close enough to one of the machines. He lifted one up telekinetically, crushed it, and threw the scrap metal towards another one, and at the same time telekinetically grabbed a squad of soldiers around him with another hand, throwing it at another MDU.
With two temporarily taken care of, he stabbed forward at another MDU, through its center, where he knew the actual processor core was. ADVENT's engineers had been clever, using the head as a decoy that didn't actually control the machine. It was an easy target, but too easy, and he'd been fooled exactly once when he'd decapitated one and it had still kept attacking him.
So he didn't do that anymore.
He threw his sword towards another MDU, accelerating it to a speed that would penetrate a Sectopod, while extending his left hands towards another group of MDUs, twisting them and forcing their arms to crumple and ruin their weapons, which exploded in their hands. Unfortunately it didn't kill them, and they charged his position, still looking to beat him to death.
He was hoping they would try that.
He sent out a telekinetic wave which blew back any ADVENT soldiers near him and took the initiative by charging the machines himself. For most this would be suicide, but he was still taller than the MDUs by a significant margin. If anything, they were the only opponents ADVENT and XCOM had that were a reasonable size to face him.
One punch almost punctured the armor of one completely, while he grabbed another by the head and squeezed, crushing whatever was in there, then forcing his hand down into the more delicate systems. That one taken care of. He kicked another, sending it flying back and grabbing the damaged one, quickly twisting the limbs off, leaving the machine in pieces.
He extended a hand to where his sword was, and it flew into his hand, slick with oil and blood. More MDUs were coming forward, and soldiers were running away in terror to better positions, and he turned to face them, until he glimpsed the orange armor of a Purifier. He didn't even waste a second to clarify, but charged away, which in this case was to the right, unfortunately away from the water, which even if it wouldn't protect him, gave him a lot more room to maneuver.
Just in time, as the Purifier's flamethrower turned the immediate area he was in to a chemical inferno, killing several of their own soldiers. The Battlemaster quickly assessed if there were any more, and at the moment there were only three.
This was a problem.
One he could deal with. Two were dangerous. Three were deadly. The range of their weapons was extensive, he couldn't just charge up and slash them without risking them blowing up, and getting close enough to perform telekinesis would take a minimum of a half second, which could allow the remaining ones to easily cover his immediate area.
He dashed again as they began shooting the white-orange chemical at him, and the other two were spraying the places he was being led towards. A clear trap, but one he couldn't escape easily, since he couldn't even let those flames touch him because even if he wasn't in immediate danger, it would burn him, and Revelean had tested it enough to know it couldn't be put out by anything they currently had.
Jumping over it was also risky, though not to the extent where it was a high chance of him becoming wounded. The problem was that he was also a big target, and again, there was no way to put out the flame. He was going to have to solve this issue soon, so he might as well take a risk. Instead of continuously dodging to the sides, he charged forward and performed a slash of a precision he hadn't attempted in years.
And it was almost good enough. His intent had been to carefully sever the head of the Purifier, and he had, but had also clipped the tank. He immediately thrust out a hand sending the body flying backwards, while another hand shot out at the nearby Purifier also throwing him back. The decapitated one exploded, and the third one fired, and had started to fire as soon as he killed the first one.
He charged out of the way, but this time was too slow. Both of his arms were currently being burned, and his armor had locked up. Not good, and that brief pause had given the Purifier on the ground time to recover, and he was shooting another torrent of flame in his direction, this time scorching his right leg, which locked up alongside his arms.
And here it ended again. There was no way he could now get out of this, and both remaining Purifiers focused their weapons on him again and engulfed him in a final torrent of flame.
"Resetting field," came the voice of the CODEX system overseeing the simulation. "Unlocking armor."
The Battlemaster could move again, and the entire room disappeared, settling back down into a massive, flat room. The Prism, on its own, was comparable to a medium-sized Human city, like Las Vegas, now that he thought about it. The main part in any case. Very rarely was the entire size needed, but it was exceptionally helpful for actually simulating a battlefield.
The Battlemaster sighed and placed his sword on his back. It was a very good thing the Prism existed, otherwise he wouldn't be nearly as effective as he was today. The Purifiers were a much bigger problem than he had expected, even more so than the majority of XCOM or the MDUs. How the Humans had even discovered a chemical that dangerous, and thought to weaponize it, was something he was impressed by.
And should he get into a bad situation, there was a good chance he might lose. Right now the rate was close to fifty-fifty for more than three at a time. He could now handle two reliably, but three was still an issue. It was unlikely they would pose a threat for the more powerful Ethereals like Caelior, but they were a concern for him.
The good news was that in simulated full-scale battles, there was still a perfect success rate. Even now in order to fully be concerned about the Purifiers, they needed to be desperate. If he stayed within ADVENT lines, they would not fire on their own. The CODEX was ruthless sometimes, and that was likely contributing to some of his defeats.
Correction, the CODEX was as ruthless as he allowed.
It was unlikely that ADVENT or XCOM would be as smart, or as practical as some of the scenarios here, but his general rule was to assume his enemy was smarter than he was, and prepare for the worst. To date, the worst had not actually happened, but it made for an interesting practice. At least the Humans had something that gave him some pause, Sectoids were laughable, every last one of them; the Muton Praetorians and Sargons were a challenge, but the CODEX was still not good at processing how smart a Sargon actually was, but at least none of them could instantly kill him. Most Vitakara were weak and easily dispatched, with the possible exception of the Oyariah Titans, but even those were more entertainment than anything else.
Andromedons were the largest challenge, since they both had the Special Operators and had direct psionic counters. The issues were that the CODEX still hadn't got their more sophisticated tactics right, and the basic Andromedons were still easy enough to kill.
Where things got very interesting was whenever he put another Ethereal in the scenario, mostly Aegis, and he was more and more concerned with the results.
Namely, that there hadn't been a scenario where he had won against a fully hostile Aegis. Even if the CODEX was not as sophisticated as he'd liked, that didn't bode well for an actual encounter with Aegis. It was very likely that should he be encountered in the field, he was simply not strong enough to kill him. Only another, stronger, one could.
That immediately ruled out himself, Sicarius, perhaps both of the Guardians and Quisilia. In his mind, the best one to fight Aegis would be Caelior, Isomnum, Deusian, and perhaps Macula. This was one instance where he felt this would be best handled by the Imperator himself. There were simply too many unknowns, and the simulator wasn't able to properly detect or exhibit telepathy.
But for the moment, it was sufficient.
The main Prism room fell silent, and the Battlemaster waited for the CODEX to appear before him again. The room itself was a bright white when unsimulated, and composed of millions of 'blocks' which rose and fell to simulate terrain, buildings, and other physical scenarios. The Prism itself had three main levels, the lower two could combine into one massive one, although this was only used in space combat scenarios.
The top floor was more or less an armory of his weapons and suits, along with anything else that piqued his interest. Aside from that, it was rather bare and he hadn't really figured out what to do with the extra space, so he'd more or less converted it to guest barracks, as the Lurainian did train here on occasion, as did the Zararch.
The CODEX materialized in front of him. "Battlemaster, would you like to repeat the scenario or choose a new one?"
The Battlemaster realized that the gravity still felt off. "Revert to standard gravity, and no, shut down for today."
"Acknowledged," she said, and the Battlemaster felt the gravity return to normal. Most would likely not train on three times the standard gravity, but it certainly came in handy and allowed him to move unhindered even on high-gravity planets like Desolan. It was more tiring than usual, but it was a temporary pain he could endure.
The CODEX disappeared and the Battlemaster turned before pausing. "CODEX, countermand that order." He was suddenly feeling in a mood to relax a bit, and he felt he deserved an easier scenario. It wasn't as though he had anything pressing at the moment.
The CODEX appeared before him. "Acknowledged. Please state a scenario or create a new one. If you have any additional modifiers, please also state them."
"Sectoid Hiveship Scenario," he said, reaching for his sword. "Insertion beginning, bring down Spacesuit from Armory; standard Hiveship gravity." Which essentially amounted to standard Earth Gravity.
"Any additional allied or hostile forces?" The CODEX asked.
"No." He stated. "Only me, and only Sectoid forces inside."
"Additional objectives?"
"None, extermination."
"Any additional modifiers?"
The Battlemaster considered for a moment. Well, since this was not a serious scenario, he could afford to enjoy himself some. "Begin designated music tracklist upon start of scenario, Audiomachine, run on loop until end of scenario."
"Understood," she said. "Any additional modifiers?"
"No, begin construction."
"Bringing Spacesuit from armory," she said and disappeared, and he walked over to where it was coming down from to top floor as the room began darkening and changing. The Prism was the result of what happened when Sovereign technology was properly created and applied. Why the Imperator was so hesitant to use their tech was something he had avoided thinking about, but whenever he did, it made little sense.
It wasn't just the Imperator either, the majority of Ethereals were surprisingly suspicious of their technology, and he couldn't figure out why. On some level he suspected it had to do with pride, as Sovereign tech was far beyond even Imperial technology, but if that were the case, they would not be using Gateways.
There was clearly some suspicion on if it affected the users, and it did come down on some level to trusting the Sovereign Ones, which he had considered a valid reason at first, but at this point, he no longer believed that. If there were truly detrimental effects of Sovereign technology, the majority of the Collective would be affected simply because of the Gateways, not to mention constructs like the Prism itself.
On some level it was probably the Creator, and others unfortunately applied her insanity to Sovereign tech as a whole, even though her deteriorating mental state was likely due more to unrestricted boundaries and actual communication with the Sovereign Ones than use of their technology.
So what was the reason?
That was something to be solved after Earth was dealt with. But at least there were some who understood the value. Ironic that he and the Creator actually agreed on something. Fectorian was the only other one who was actively trying to figure out just how Sovereign tech actually worked, and the Battlemaster had been surprised to learn that the Imperator had ordered him to cease work on that, and instead focus on other, trivial projects.
Like that Avatar Project.
He shook his head as he changed into the space worthy variant of his armor. The Avatar Project was useful in theory, but he failed to see how it was the game changer the Imperator seemed to think it was. Perhaps it was simpler than that. Revelean was one who believed there were some aspects of the universe that should not be tampered with, and he suspected the Imperator might agree with regards to specific aspects of Sovereign tech.
In the Prism's instance, one reason only Fectorian had worked on it was because the technology used to make it function as well as it did involved the manipulation of dark energy. It was how the scenarios were able to be so realistic. The opponents fought were more than just projections, dark energy was able to be concentrated in specific points to give the illusion that he was cutting through something, and he could feel cutting through something. Just as he could feel the fake gauss slugs hitting him.
Some aspects couldn't be replicated of course, like pain, burning, most forms of psionics, but it was far superior to nothing at all. If he suffered injuries, his suit would simply lock up and he couldn't use it. Apparently Fectorian still didn't understand how the manipulation of dark energy worked, because the Sovereign Ones had given him the exact schematics and instructions on how to build it, after he had inquired as to building a kind of simulator the Battlemaster had suggested once.
Implying that the Sovereign Ones had either had this already planned out, or they managed to come up with it in the space of a conversation. The Battlemaster was ignorant about much of the greater mysteries of the universe, but he suspected that being able to manipulate dark energy would be useful against the Synthesized.
He placed the helmet on, and waited for the HUD to initialize as the suit sealed itself. As much as it would be a failure of his to let the Humans get to that point, he somewhat wished he could fight in a proper space battle. However, when they moved on the inner galaxy, there would likely be plenty of opportunities then.
He'd ponder the Imperator's reluctance to employ Sovereign tech later. For now, he was going to take an enjoyable break to the tune of some excellent music. If there was one area where Humans were absolutely superior to all other races, it was in the absurd variety of music they could make. Ethereals had never considered it something worthy of 'entertainment' so the concept of listening to music just because it was enjoyable was one that had taken some time to fully grasp.
He'd considered the benefits of it when listening to some Vitakara music, at least from what little they produced, the majority of which had surprisingly come from the Oyariah, but had really never found it personally to his liking. Sectoids and Andromedons had absolutely nothing, and records of Muton War Chants still existed, but they just sounded like a lot of screaming.
Humans though, that was something they were good at. True, there was some of it he didn't care for, but there was enough that was for him to be completely satisfied. He personally found those from the rock, metal, and epic genres to be the absolute best, although Humans made quite good music for much of their entertainment, especially movies and video games.
After listening to some for the first time, he was beginning to understand why Quisilia had taken an interest in the species beyond a purely practical perspective. The Battlemaster found it somewhat depressing that Quisilia of all Ethereals was somehow the one he could most relate to recently. At least he saw this entire operation of at least some worth.
And he was not looking forward to bringing on Macula and Isomnum, but measures had to be taken. The next phases had to begin and more Ethereals were needed.
No, realities of war could come later. This was his break, and he was going to enjoy it.
"Begin scenario," he ordered, after checking his suit for integrity. "Ten second delay."
The room darkened, and the Battlemaster felt a sharp change in gravity. The area around him changed to that of space, and in the distance was a Sectoid Hiveship, a massive circular ship that gleamed in the artificial sunlight. Ten second delay was up.
The floor dropped out from underneath him.
"Scenario begun," the CODEX said, and the music began playing.
The Battlemaster activated the jets on his back and legs, shooting forward towards the massive ship which had noticed him and started to fire plasma. Fortunately it was easy enough to avoid and he was small compared to most space targets, and he sighted the hatch he wanted to enter. On most scenarios he'd spend some time disabling the guns, but he didn't feel like doing that at this point.
Using his jets to spin and dodge the plasma, he landed on the Hiveship with hardly a scratch, and with telekinesis he forced the hatch open and dropped inside on some terrified simulated Sectoids. With the music blaring in his ears, he began cutting his way through the ship, the troubles and concerns of the Collective fading to the background.
Desolan Orbit
At times, Nartha wondered just how realistic the goal of rebelling against the Collective actually was. As he sped to the primary orbital station over Desolan, he was now worried he had been overly optimistic about their chances.
Desolan itself was a barren wasteland. It had always been like that. Even today volcanos went off daily, and that was nowhere as prominent as it had been even a century ago. The one large body of water was contaminated with ash, and barely drinkable without severe filtering. He did recall there had been a project to fully purify the Desolan Bowl, but he didn't know how or if that was even happening.
That was not the only body of water of course, or the Mutons would have died out long ago. There were pockets of uncontaminated springs throughout the planet, all of which were continuously purified by Collective equipment to not destroy the last sources of water on the planet. From his understanding of Muton culture before their assimilation, this had been the most precious resource on the planet.
Muton tribes generally wandered until they found a spring, and went to war with each other for control of them. It was just one reason that they had been constantly at war with each other. The only reasons he could think of why they hadn't died out with the scarce amount of water was because they had evolved to not require nearly as much water as other species, and because their numbers had been much smaller, only in the hundreds of thousands, not the billions as it was today.
"This is Desolan Primary Station Two," the deep voice said, probably a Borelian from the inflection. "Please send identification codes or be fired upon."
Nartha's lips curled up. "Sending now. I'm on orders from the Zar'Chon himself."
"Noted. Processing now."
Yes, he probably was being overly optimistic.
Desolan was the heart of the Collective war machine. It was without a doubt the most heavily guarded planet in the Collective, and for good reason. To his knowledge there weren't similar War Camps on other worlds, or there wouldn't be until the Collective used up every piece they could of Desolan itself.
So that was why the Desolan Fleet alone dwarfed the entire Runianarch Navy, and it was about a quarter of the size of the Sectoid fleet, and a third of the Federation Navy. Just looking out his viewport he saw four Federation Carriers, a minimum of sixteen Cleanser Ships, ones which specialized in orbital bombardment, but were actually quite effective against smaller hostile spacecraft.
To make it even more ridiculous, there were no less than eight Sectoid Hiveships, the massive Dreadnought-class saucers that he was pretty sure were the size of an Earth city. The Sectoids didn't build many medium-class spacecraft, it was either very large, or very small. But each Hiveship contained hundreds, maybe thousands of Sectoid Fighters, Scouts, and Transports.
But the flagship of the Desolan Fleet was actually the one and only Vitakarian Dreadnought, the Elder's Maelstrom, built solely for the destruction of enemy Capital-class spacecraft, and higher. It was twice the length of a Hiveship, albeit only a fraction as wide, with angled armor plates that were symmetrical across all sides. It was largely due to the fact that the Maelstrom was essentially a massive gun.
Nartha didn't know how it worked, only that it was supposedly powerful enough to destroy a Hiveship in one hit. On top of that the hull was dotted with point-defense lasers, missile launchers, plasma and gauss turrets for both fighters and medium-class spacecraft, as well as a small fleet of Runianarch fighters and bombers.
The Vitakara didn't build spacecraft specifically for war often, but when they did, they were hard to match. Beyond the fleet itself, there were sixteen different orbital stations surrounding the entire planet, all with their own defenses, and each of the two hundred and eighteen Gateways to Desolan had a self-destruct sequence that any of the orbital stations could activate.
Hm. Perhaps that could be useful?
The point was that the chances of anyone posing even a slight threat to Desolan were very, very low. He wasn't even sure an Ethereal could take the planet unscathed. Even if the fleet was somehow able to be destroyed, there was the planet itself.
Desolan was no longer the tan, rocky planet it had been. The War Camps could be seen from space and were spread out all over the planet. Removing the billions of Mutons, and other Collective forces, Desolan was not a friendly place for anyone. The volcanoes were bad, but not nearly as prevalent as the dust storms, arid weather, and high gravity.
That was something the Humans would have to keep in mind if they fought here. Their gauss weapons, or any other conventional weapons they still employed wouldn't work quite the same, whereas plasma weaponry dominated here. At least there were no predators. The few other animal species found had been swiftly wiped out once the Collective had taken control, in order to remove as many threats as possible.
"You are cleared for landing at Station Two," the operator said. "You'll be able to take a Gateway to the surface within. The Station Commander has also requested a meeting before you depart."
"Understood," Nartha said as he angled his spacecraft towards the Hangar. "I'll be there shortly."
Now, how was he going to go about doing this?
He wasn't interested so much in the person killing the Berserkers as he was in the method used to accomplish it. Should he acquire that, it might be useful later in the war. He'd do a cursory search, but he doubted out of all the Zararch agents, that he would be the one to find the culprit. Framing someone might draw him out, but Nartha didn't consider that worth the risk. No, better to figure out how it was done, and use that later.
The Muton abductions on the other hand, that would be investigated thoroughly. That would be difficult, but no one could pull off an operation like this without leaving some obvious tells, and since they weren't Nulorian, it might mean they wouldn't be as professional and thus make his job more difficult.
The Zar'Chon hadn't given him a specific amount of time that these issues needed to be solved, but the sooner he wrapped both of these up, the better. At the same time, he needed to be very careful. The idea that the Zar'Chon suspected something was off with him couldn't be ignored, and he wouldn't put it past him to order another Zararch agent to tail him.
So first he would need to establish if he was being observed, while investigating the Berserker deaths, since he didn't plan to do much off the record with that assignment, and once he figured it out one way or another, he would proceed with the abductions. Then there was the high likelihood of encountering other Zararch agents, since more had been assigned to these cases.
The good news was that Zararch agents preferred working alone, so he hoped he was safe from that. A partner would severely complicate his job.
Entering the Hangar, he began bringing his ship down for a solid landing, taking a deep breath as he prepared to enter one of the most dangerous strongholds of the Collective.
Mars Observation Station, Zar'Chon Chambers
Ravarian wasn't quite sure he'd heard correctly. "How many did you say?"
"Three more," Quisilia repeated, as amused as ever. "Yes, the Battlemaster wants to move this invasion to a more comfortable phase. Short of a final invasion, this is the best way to do it."
"Good news then, I suppose," Ravarian said, still thinking furiously, although he knew Quisilia could just read his mind to know his true feelings. He had met approximately five Ethereals in his entire career, one of which no one else knew about. Now that was going to be extended to three more he'd never heard of before.
And he was going to be speaking to them. "Are you certain I am best for this?" He asked. "I am aware that not all Ethereals are as…open to listening to other aliens as you and the Battlemaster are."
"They'll get over it," Quisilia dismissed. "Both the Battlemaster and I believe it's past time the Ethereals let go of our admitted xenophobia when it comes to alien species. Treat them with respect, and you have little to fear."
"You say that," Ravarian said dryly. "However, my experience with Caelior has me skeptical. He did almost strangle me once. Should I expect a similar level of resentment?"
"Unlikely," Quisilia said, looking out the external feed of Mars. "Caelior is young and arrogant, and has clearly changed as you've noted. If there is anyone you should concern yourself with, it is Isomnum, but his part in the war will be…limited."
Ravarian frowned. "Why?"
Quisilia gestured and on cue Fluffy jumped into his extended palm. "Because of his abilities, to put it lightly. He has a rather warped perspective, one that has arisen as the result of his ability to drive people insane. It's a hobby of his, if I can be blunt, he makes Caelior look like a harmless kitten in perspective. But he is one of the oldest and most powerful Ethereals in the Collective."
Wonderful, an Ethereal sadist.
"That is also not inaccurate," Quisilia commented. "Still, be sure to never speak to him alone without me there. This goes for your people. Leaving him unattended will likely result in a large part of this station succumbing to sudden bouts of insanity."
"Maybe this should be held somewhere else," Ravarian muttered, bringing up a hololist from his palm. "This is sounding like a safety hazard for everyone involved."
"I would tend to agree," Quisilia nodded. "However, if you wish to change it, I suggest you do it soon."
"Will do," Ravarian confirmed. "And the Battlemaster wants me to present the information to them?"
"Also correct," Quisilia said. "They will be unfamiliar with the current political and military situation on Earth, and will need it explained clearly and concisely. They will also need an explanation on the various figures of interest. I assume the Battlemaster has informed you about how he plans to proceed?"
"The overall plan," Ravarian clarified. "Some details were intentionally vague, although this seems to be why. It is an abrupt change in strategy, but one I feel will ultimately serve us better than simple warfare."
"It will be interesting to see how this plays out," Quisilia mused, turning away again. "If nothing else, this is an excellent warm-up exercise for the main event. Really, if we cannot properly subdue a technologically inferior species, what hope do we have against the species of the inner galaxy?" He laughed briefly at the end of that.
"To be fair, we are intentionally handicapping ourselves," Ravarian pointed out. "This war could be over in a matter of weeks if we truly wished to conquer them."
There was the sound of Quisilia sighing. "Part of that is due to your unfamiliarity with our future plans, but please, if all we were interested in was the subjugation of the Humans, we wouldn't be going through this whole charade, would we? No, conquering a species is easy, but if all we wanted was numbers, we'd just do what we did to the Mutons."
Fluffy jumped down from Quisilia's arm as he turned to fully face Ravarian. "The Humans are important. We want them on our side, not now of course, but that is what the new strategy intends to change. You are well aware ADVENT has its own secrets and black operations. ADVENT has enemies, and we do not need to stoop to petty lies to discredit them."
Quisilia turned back to the external feeds, which showed Earth. "The Empire made many mistakes in retrospect, and this war has highlighted the flaws of the Collective itself, many of which the Humans have directly, and indirectly, exposed. We need to change, we cannot rely on force to win our wars, it did not work before, and it will not work in the future. At some point we will face an enemy more powerful than us, and we cannot afford to face it with just this Collective."
Ravarian listened intently. The Ethereal Empire was something Quisilia rarely referenced, but he didn't completely see the point of doing this the hardest way possible. "At the same time, Quisilia, there is little the Humans could do to stop us if we really wanted it. All that is needed is for their leaders to be influenced to do as we wish."
"A short-sighted answer," Quisilia said coolly. "One that has long since passed. Humans are capable of psionics, that strategy is no longer viable for long-term operations. Too much has been done that they will never surrender willingly, not so long as Aegis is with XCOM. If we were to simply conquer the Humans, and treated them as the Mutons, it is unlikely we could harness their own ingenuity. It is impressive, is it not, how they have still managed to hold out? We will need that in the future."
Ravarian decided to let the matter drop. He could see Quisilia's point, but at the same time believe it was ultimately an interesting experiment that cost time, resources, and lives. However, he was very sure that Quisilia was not telling the entire truth. The real reason they were treating the Humans this way might be something only he knew.
Maybe one day he'd learn it, but for now he'd complete the objectives set out for him.
"The inner galactic species," he said. "You are concerned about them."
Ravarian didn't know much about the inner rim species, aside from that Sicarius and Quisilia had gone on missions of their own, and that the exact details were only shared amongst themselves. But he was growing more and more curious about them as time went on, because once the Humans were dealt with, that was where their attention would be turned towards.
Quisilia just looked at him for a short time, almost as if coming to a decision. "Not the species themselves, but what they represent. You will learn in good time, Zar'Chon, prepare for the meeting. I will see you there."
And the Ethereal promptly vanished in front of him. Cryptic hints, excellent. Well, he'd be thinking of that for the rest of the day. Or at least the time he wasn't spending putting together a presentation suitable for five beings who could kill him with a single gesture.
His job was rather stressful sometimes.
Helion-7 Primary Hive
The Battlemaster had always found it curious that despite the Sectoids being ludicrously small, even compared to other species like Vitakara, their architecture was open, tall, and massive. Helion-7 was the pinnacle of Sectoid architecture, as the entire planet was composed of nothing more than hundreds of Hives, megastructures housing millions of Sectoids that extended deep into the ground.
Sectoids didn't have commodities like nearly every other species. They didn't have homes, belongings or possessions. They didn't sleep. They only required nutrient injections every week for food and water. All they ever did was whatever task they had been bred for. So every piece of equipment, building, and technology was always manned by at least one Sectoid drone.
But now it was certainly different.
There were noticeably fewer Sectoids than before, and the Greater Sectoid Hive had slowed down production of nearly everything to deal with the sudden plague. There had been little that could be done, and while the Battlemaster hadn't personally overseen it, the most common tactic was complete sterilization. Entire Hives were terminated if they were infected or no, and to be safe all the nearby ones were sterilized as well.
It was another reason the Battlemaster didn't like the species. Rather than try and find a way to stop or reverse the disease, they simply terminated those they found without further explanation. It was especially galling because Revelean had agreed to help, but when he went to the Hive Commanders, he had been told that they were 'solving the problem.'
The Battlemaster would never understand the logic of those who would rather have control over a force of organic drones over a much smaller, but smarter alternative. Yet the entirety of Sectoid culture, if it could even be called that, revolved around it. Sectoids were grown to do one specific task, and that task was all they knew. They were completely useless anywhere else.
The only ones with any sort of individuality were the Hive Commanders.
And they were utterly emotionless. Were it any other species he would call them overly cruel and wasteful. But they were not Ethereals. This logic was simply what they understood and to them, he knew that every other species was viewed by them as overly emotional and compromised.
For this they made excellent scientists for performing the more unethical experiments of the Collective. The Battlemaster had always found them strangely fascinating in how they worked, while at the same time being repulsed by them. They didn't have emotions, well, that wasn't completely correct. But the only ones he had ever seen from them were anger, arrogance, and fear.
And even then, he wasn't sure if they were ever truly afraid, or if they just pretended to be.
Hive Commander Zero-Zero-One will speak to you now, the scratchy voice of his Sectoid guide said in his mind. Follow us.
So he did. His escort was unsurprisingly the Helion-7 Defenders, who had also seemed to be spared from the plague itself. They were considered the most dangerous force on the planet with the exception of the Hive Commanders, and even then that was debatable with how they worked. The Defenders wore orange armor that covered every part of their body, unlike most Sectoids, and had the ability to link directly to a Hive Commander. Supposedly their power was just below a real one, but the Battlemaster didn't know for sure. To his knowledge, they had never been used in combat before.
His armored boots made almost no sound on the alloy floor, which radiated warmth, a side effect of the massive elerium generators that powered the Hives. It was a bizarre property of the metal here, but one he quickly got used to. They traveled through the towering archway and multicolored shields that permeated Sectoid architecture, and into a room that had what passed for individuality with the Sectoids.
The function of most Sectoid rooms was very clearly stated on the outside, a recent addition from incorporating Ethereal Script into their language, but here there were several combinations of technology that would never exist in any other room in the Hive. There were cloning tubes, dissection tables, stasis chambers and several glass chambers where this particular Hive Commander kept his specimens.
At the moment, Hive Commander 001 was over his ridiculously short dissection table, currently in the process of surgically removing the eyes of another Sectoid. For what purpose, the Battlemaster could only guess at. What unnerved him about Sectoid experiments was that they didn't use any form of anesthetic during their experiments. They had a drug that induced complete nervous system paralysis, but kept the subject very much alive.
To the Sectoids, anesthetic was something that accomplished nothing, and thus they didn't use it. There was little he could do to stop the practice, but that didn't mean he liked it, nor would he tolerate it in front of him. He reached out with his telekinesis using a lower hand and squeezed, and the body jerked as the innards of the Sectoid were suddenly crushed, killing it instantly.
Hive Commander 001 looked up at his approach, setting down his scalpel and tapping a button on his wrist that retracted the spindly mechanical arms that were assisting his project. Battlemaster, welcome. The Battlemaster could detect the sneering tone immediately, the unfiltered voice of the Sectoid entering his mind instantly.
He knew he was most certainly not welcome, but just something 001 was doing as a courtesy, as if they hadn't determined his true motives long ago.
Sectoids did not have names. Not even the Hive Commanders. They simply had numerical designations, and Hive Commander 001 was supposedly the first, and by extension, oldest Hive Commander. He had been instrumental in shaping the Sectoid species into what it was today. Because of this he was regarded as the unofficial leader of the Greater Hive Commanders, even though they didn't have standard ranks.
The spindly alien with ruddy orange skin barely reached to his knee while standing at his full height, but the solid golden eyes of 001 were incapable of expressing anything but sheer disdain and arrogance. Ethereals did not intimidate him. Nothing did.
The Imperator was not fooled. The Sectoids believed that the Collective was only a means to an end, and that the Greater Hive Commanders were preparing for the day when they were powerful enough to take control of all who they deemed lesser species. How little they knew, and how easily they had been manipulated into believing their actions were of their own accord.
Hive Commander 001 did not bother to hide his disdain for aliens, while most Hive Commanders at least made a pretense of an alliance. He rarely interacted with other Ethereals, instead staying on Helion-7, a recluse in the goal of advancing his species. The only reason the Battlemaster suspected they were speaking was because the Greater Hive Commanders had deemed it important to assure the Imperator that they were still committed to the Collective.
Yet it was clear 001 was not going to enjoy doing it.
"What is the status of your species?" The Battlemaster asked, knowing 001 would despise small talk. As did he, especially when dealing with Sectoids.
We are moving forward, 001 answered, turning to the Battlemaster slowly, tapping several buttons on his wrist gauntlet which brought forth a small floating platform he stepped on. The diseased are purged and the drones will be replenished in weeks. XCOM mistakenly believed such a disease would cripple us. The drones can be replaced easily.
The Battlemaster was unimpressed as 001 rose up to eye level on the platform. "You refused Ethereal assistance. While it certainly was not possible to salvage all of the drones, we could have prevented the bulk from succumbing to the disease."
The Hive Commander blinked once. The drones have served their purpose, and the previous iteration was flawed. We will begin phasing out the remaining defective drones once our numbers have been restored to sufficient levels."
Phasing out. Which meant that whatever drone hadn't been killed soon would be. Such a waste of perfectly usable units. "Then what is your solution? Your method of creating drones is clearly flawed. Another disease could do the same thing if you retain your methods."
Walk with me, 001 essentially ordered as he floated forward. The Battlemaster followed, both of them escorted by the Helion-7 Defenders. The method is perfectly serviceable. Genetic diversity leads to divergence; to individuality; to a number of unknowable factors that would threaten the Greater Hive Commanders. If the drones die to these infernal tricks the Humans create, then little of value has been lost. The Greater Hive Commanders still stand, and we are all that matter.
"So you will do nothing." The Battlemaster stated flatly. "Is it really a strain to ensure that if another bioweapon on this scale does hit, it wouldn't halt your entire species?"
XCOM will not do this again, 001 disputed, the voice sneering. They are sentimental fools who believe this act horrifies us, or that we are crippled for years. If only. The drones mean nothing. They will be replaced, and nothing will change. Let the Humans build their weapons, let them see how little effect it has on us. A drone does not feel fear, it does not care if it is wasting away, it only will work to complete the task for which it has been assigned.
Self-serving imbecile. The Battlemaster was well aware that the drones could be replaced, and that they didn't necessarily care as they died horrific deaths. But the problem was that, regardless of effectiveness, the Sectoid Fleet had been reduced to nearly a tenth of its strength over a period of months, and while that didn't affect the war on Earth much, against an actual enemy, those months were vital.
Not to mention morale suffered as the non-Sectoids saw the effects of a bioweapon that turned the being to little more than mush.
"Then use templates," the Battlemaster said evenly. "Diversifying every single Sectoid is impractical, but additional templates would reduce the chance of being wiped out again. It is wise to take precautions, if for no other reason than the next enemy we face who does this might not be as weak as the Humans."
No, 001 growled into his head. We will not subject our species to the chaos of diversity. There are defined roles for our species, and that is how we have avoided petty conflict for thousands of years. Diversity leads to individualism, which leads to disobedience, which leads to conflict. The fist of the Hive Commander clenched at the sheer gall the Battlemaster had to question him. We will not change simply because you demand it. We care nothing for your arguments of morality, effectiveness, or resources. What you suggest undermines the structure of the Greater Hive Commanders, and this will not be permitted. These orders will not be recognized, no matter if them come from you, or by-
The Hive Commander stiffened as he felt the psionic forces converge around his body. The Battlemaster slowly walked around the large open hallway to stand in front of him, a hand raised with the fingers in a C position, as if gripping something. "You forget your place, Hive Commander Zero-Zero-One," the Battlemaster said coolly, slowly applying more pressure. "It is one thing to disagree with our ideas and standards, but it is another to simply refuse our direction."
You will not kill me, 001 said, eyes brimming with fury. The Imperator will not allow his little soldier to disrupt our great alliance.
The Battlemaster chuckled. "The Imperator does not care what you think. You can simply be replaced, is that not what you espouse? I know Hive Commanders can be created, and the first generations deteriorate over time. Perhaps it is time to phase them out."
Do not think to compare me to the thoughtless drones, 001 spat back, although he did seem slightly worried now. Although still surprisingly unafraid. Your false equivalence is the tactic of one who is in an inferior position. Do you honestly believe you are one to fear?
The Battlemaster appraised him. "Fear is not a detriment, Zero-Zero-One, it can save your life. You are inflexible; your methods are outdated and inferior to the coming wars; if you are incapable of working with me out of your arrogance and pride, then there is no further use for you. If you will not make the necessary adjustments, then I will find another who shall."
With that he reached for his sword and the Helion-7 Defenders reacted, although he had anticipated this and with his free hands, directed his telekinesis at the escort and squeezed. The aliens squealed as their helmets and armor caved into their bodies, which leaked yellow fluid as they began bleeding out.
Battlemaster!
He didn't look over at the new contingent of scurrying Sectoids coming towards him, for fear it might be a trick. He telekinetically pulled 001 towards him until his hand was snugly around the spindly alien's throat. Then he turned to see the one who had addressed him. It was another Hive Commander, this one without any armoring, clothing or gadgets, but from his posture and tone, the Battlemaster knew who it was.
"Hive Commander Zero-Two-Nine," he said. "This does not concern you, or the Greater Sectoid Commanders."
I am unaware of the dispute, 029 said calmly. But you do have our oldest Hive Commander in your grasp, and by default I believe we are entitled to know why you are attempting to kill him.
"I, and the Collective, have tolerated his antagonistic behavior towards aliens, but my patience is at an end," the Battlemaster stated, just as calmly. If nothing else, 029 did pretend to be a diplomat even if his ambitions were the same as all the others. "There is a point where willful ignorance of the realities of conflict and military matters are dangerous to the Collective. Zero-Zero-One believes that there is nothing to be changed as the result of the XCOM bioweapon, believing that the introduction of measures to negate this from happening again will bring about the destruction of your species."
I understand our history and ways are not your own, 029 said with a nod, a mannerism he'd adopted from his years of moving between the Collective as a representative of the Greater Hive Commanders. Nonetheless, I believe that his death is an extreme step. You are not one to kill out of a simple disagreement, Battlemaster, it is unlike you.
The little orange alien was clever. "Zero-Zero-One refused Ethereal assistance, and has stated there are no changes to be made. He will not listen to reasons as to why this path is unacceptable. This is not his first offense either. He believes he is beyond consequences. If the Greater Hive Commanders will not reign him in, then I will."
Let me assure you that 001 spoke out of ignorance, 029 said quickly. To say that we are doing nothing is absurd, but it is understandable you would come to that conclusion, as we have not informed him of certain projects taking place. If you would walk with me, we can discuss this more rationally and I can assure you that we will return fully to the Collective stronger than ever.
That was a lie if he'd ever heard one. 001 was as close to a leader as the Sectoids had. The idea that anything would be done without his knowledge or permission was absurd, unless things had really changed in the Greater Hive Commanders. But for now he would indulge 029. All he cared about was results, and if an attempted execution forced the Sectoids to act, then that was fine.
With a flick of his wrist he tossed the tiny Sectoid away without a look, and walked towards Hive Commander 029. "Then show me what you are doing."
Of course, Battlemaster, he said as he began walking down another hallway. Right this way.
Desolan, War Camp 402
Nartha's meeting with the Station Commander had been short and to the point. It had essentially boiled down to 'do your job and don't interfere without approval.' Simple enough, and he'd figured that there was no point wasting time and headed directly down to the surface.
Desolan Gateways operated differently than other ones in the Collective. Instead of being accessible by any other Gateway, they were instead only accessible by certain other linked Gateways. Supposedly. Nartha wasn't sure if that was actually true, or a piece of misinformation from the Zararch. The advantages to that would be that Desolan wouldn't fall under a surprise attack, and the disadvantage would be that they had no way to easily counterattack the planet should it fall.
So from what he could tell, the idea of locked Desolan Gateways could go either way.
But for the moment, he was immediately not enamored with the planet itself. From the moment he'd stepped outside into the War Camp, the heavier gravity set in, and just walking around was strenuous. The planet was somehow even more arid than he'd anticipated, and overall he was not comfortable at all.
Still, this was the first time he had properly surveyed a Muton War Camp up close.
It was…interesting. One word for it, anyway.
Nartha had never seen so many Mutons in one place before. He couldn't take a few steps without bumping into a twelve-sized unit of Mutons, all without armor which he'd found surprising. Instead there was some other kind of textile clothing they wore, heavily padded, but it cut down their bulk by a noticeable amount. He'd also found it interesting that not all Mutons were completely covered. Some had bared arms and legs; others wore face coverings; it wasn't uniform, and that was surprising to him.
The War Camps were without fault divided up into specific sections. Each one was massive, and from birth to deployment, all phases were covered. The birthing stations were where the females continuously birthed Mutons, which were then taken to Infant Control, where they were watched, fed, and taught basics of language for the first few years of their lives.
Beside that began the Development Grounds. From what Nartha understood, this was where the equivalent of Muton adolescents and teenagers began their training. It was largely conditioning, with weapons training only coming in the latter years, before they were transferred to the Filter. The name appeared to have been a joke at first, but had stuck as it was extremely appropriate.
The Filter took the training of the Development Grounds, and amped it up to lethal levels. There were live-fire exercises, extreme conditions training with no additional equipment, and near suicide missions. Only about half of the Mutons survived the harsh training here, as opposed to the ninety percent from the Development Grounds.
Should a Muton survive that far, they became a full Muton soldier, and spent the rest of their time in the Staging Area, which was an all-in-one training ground for Mutons, complete with training ranges, exercise machines, war games, which were assigned to them on a daily basis. The operation for each War Camp was a logistical nightmare to his untrained mind, but by now the system was clearly established.
Then there was the War Camp Command, which oversaw all operations and was run by the designated Sargon, the so-called 'intelligent' Mutons. Nartha had never met one, so he was curious as to how different they were to regular Mutons. The Command Center was a simple four story block that extended to the sky, and Nartha simply walked through the door.
The Vitakarian sitting at the desk noted his approach, and nodded in his direction. "The Sargon is awaiting you. First door to your right."
"Thank you," Nartha said, pleasantly surprised he was actually expected. He followed the instructions and walked down the steel hallway briefly before turning and entering what appeared to be a small medical bay, although small by Muton standards. It was rather large for most others. The Sargon himself stood in front of a desk, clad in green armor, with a curious sash over the armor looped around his shoulder, on which was the emblem of the Collective.
The Sargon was also larger than the standard Muton, and seeing him manipulate a delicate object like a haptic pad was not something he was expecting. "Sargon Desolan-402," he greeted. "You were expecting me."
"Agent Nartha," the Sargon answered in a strangely cultured voice, as he turned to face him. "Good, you've come. You are aware of me, so I will not introduce myself. I'm glad to see the Zararch are finally taking an interest in this matter. It has become more serious the more I have looked into it."
Nartha nodded. "The Muton abductions. What have you found so far?"
"That this has been happening over the course of the past five years," he answered immediately. "This is not just restricted to this specific War Camp either. Multiple Sargons across Desolan have reported similar anomalies as information is transferred to them. As a result, the exact number of potentially abducted Mutons could be between two hundred thousand, to five hundred thousand."
That was extremely interesting, because it confirmed several things. One, that this had been going on long before the Humans had entered the picture, so this wasn't related to them, and two, that whoever was behind this was both extremely smart as well as had a sizable army on their hands. Certainly not a large number in the grand scheme of the Collective, but it was nothing to scoff at.
Still, some things were not adding up. "How exactly could that happen?" Nartha demanded. "Is the integrity of our security and records that easily broken?"
"Allow me to explain what we believe is the issue," the Sargon said. "There appear to be a couple different phases when Mutons suddenly disappear. Just after they are born, or in their youngling years. After that there does not appear to be any activity. However, this appears to be done at extremely rare intervals."
The Sargon paused. "Whoever is behind this believes that we will not investigate one anomaly, so their actions are limited. For newborns only one of one hundred that day will go missing, and there will not be similar anomalies for a month. Or a newborn is reported as dead, but the body was never delivered for recycling. This also happens with the younglings, one may suddenly disappear, and one out of ten thousand is not something we would notice otherwise."
"But since this is happening everywhere, it's more noticeable," Nartha surmised. "Clever."
"Indeed," he rumbled. "Had this not been noticed, I suspect it would have continued without our knowledge. But now that we are aware of this issue, I am confident that we can pinpoint the perpetrators due to their predictable tactics. We fortunately have access to the complete records as to those who interacted with the abducted Mutons, and in this War Camp, these are the ones you should question."
He handed the pad to Nartha who began scrolling through the list. This was good and bad. The Sargon was right that it wouldn't take long to correct, and the Zararch wouldn't hesitate to kill every one of the suspects after a thorough interrogation to solve this issue. There were other Zararch agents working on this too, and unless these people had prepared for this contingency…they would not last long at all.
So he had to act fast.
"Thank you," he said, downloading the information to a data cube. "I'll begin investigating immediately."
"Excellent," the Sargon said, sounding pleased. "If you should capture one of them, please bring them back alive. An operation this large should not be allowed to flourish longer than it already has."
"It will not," Nartha lied. "I will speak to you again when I have results."
How he was going to get those results was going to be interesting. If things didn't go well, he might be better off letting the Zararch win this round. There were, at the moment, so many variables in play that he doubted he could successfully maintain his cover and help this group out. But first he would see what he found before writing this off.
Helion-7 Primary Hive
The Greater Hive Commanders recognize the need to change, Hive Commander 029 said as they walked down another hallway. The Battlemaster didn't fail to notice that there were more Defenders trailing behind them, for all the good it would do them. Hive Commander 001 has expressed his desire to retain the original methods of drone creation, but it is by no means our only option. Even as we speak now we are making experimental genetic alterations to our drones that will only serve to benefit both the Greater Hive Commanders, and the Ethereal Collective.
"Clarify," the Battlemaster stated, not interested in 029's smooth diplomacy. The little Hive Commander was very good at talking, especially with aliens, and made obvious attempts to seem reasonable, but at the moment the Battlemaster was not willing to indulge that. "Simply changing the genetic structure and retaining cloning methods is not fixing the problem. You are still vulnerable to another similar bioweapon."
Apologies, Battlemaster, I was not clear, 029 said quickly, the tone bordering on the line between condescending and earnest. You are aware that our drones perform different functions in the Hive and Greater Sectoid Fleet, and the Hive Defender Force, as well as other positions under the Greater Hive Commanders. These Pilots, Soldiers, Scientists, Leaders; they have all had the same genetic sequences, with only minor alterations, which is why so many succumbed to the bioweapon.
They slowed as the hallway showed views into other rooms. Cloning chambers where drones were being grown by the hundreds per room, and grey Sectoid scientists were huddled over machines and microscopes performing with a chittering fervor. This event has made us realize that our efficiency is simply lacking, 029 said, gesturing to the work being done. We have failed to optimize the drones for their specific purposes. For example, there is little reason that a Scientist and Soldier should have equal intelligence, or durability. The balancing act is something of a concern, for we do not want to increase the drones to a dangerous level of sapience, but there is no question that there is room for improvement.
The Battlemaster didn't know for sure if this was actually something the Hive Commanders had planned, or if 029 was improvising on the spot to spare the Hive Commanders from further embarrassment. As long as it resulted in change, he didn't necessarily care. "So the genetic diversity will ensure that one strain will not cripple your species again."
Yes, 029 confirmed, drawing out the s making it sound like a hiss. Several Hive Commanders have taken an interest in how the bioweapon was engineered, it can be replicated for different genetic strands, and we will certainly test it to ensure that if one strand is compromised, it will not affect the others.
"Good," the Battlemaster nodded as they walked. "That is all that is required. I suspect the Greater Hive Commanders have additional plans beyond this?"
Many, 029 confirmed, the smallest hint of arrogance in his voice. While only simple drones were killed, this attack by the Humans was something that we will not sit idly by and ignore. Their supposed mastery over genetic engineering is nothing compared to our own. They will be punished for this action, and we will ensure their world will die.
His curiosity was piqued. "I want specifics."
They stopped in front of another room, this one filled with hundreds of Earth plants, fruits, vegetables, alges, and numerous kinds of vegetation either held in stasis or potted. Their army is useless if it starves, 029 said. It is useless if it cannot breathe, it is ineffective against something that it cannot see. We are working on a successful and subtle contamination and subversion of their plant life, turning their food sources into poison, killing the plants outright, and otherwise ensuring that the very planet the Humans wish to protect becomes their enemy.
Well, there was certainly merit in that. He would have to check with the Imperator to see if the deployment of such things would be allowed, or if the Imperator wanted to preserve Earth as it was. Yet he found it an excellent response to the bioweapon. "An impressive effort," he complimented. "I suspect the Humans will not be able to stop it until it is too late."
They will not, 029 assured him, walking forward again. They believed they were clever by delaying the effects of their bioweapon, a subtlety that can only be respected, but they have underestimated how easily that can be turned on them. On the scale of months to years, weeks are nothing. Even if they were able to counteract our modifications, it will be far too late.
The Battlemaster wondered if they were being too long-term. He doubted this war would last years, and even months was pushing it. Once he spoke with the Imperator and got specifics on what was, and was not permitted, he could deliver specific instructions on what these plagues were supposed to do. Faster-acting ones were preferable, and should the Imperator wish Earth itself not be touched, he could simply have Revelean reverse-engineer the plagues with antidotes and restore Earth after the war was over.
That would be an acceptable compromise. The Sectoids enacted retribution, the Humans were crippled, and Earth was restored at the end.
This will take time to fully materialize, 029 cautioned. But we have more…practical…improvements that are soon ready to be deployed. We have been lax in the maintenance of our military forces, as there has not been a need until now, and our own forces are…insufficient…for the task at hand, and fail to adequately match the prowess of other Collective forces.
Translation: We do not want to become obsolete.
Good. The Sectoids needed to realize their contributions would be further reduced if they failed to evolve with the changing times. Their fleet would likely one day be overtaken by the Federation, Mutons were already better soldiers than Sectoids, and the Vitakara, and likely Andromedons would overtake them in the science and engineering fields with time. The Sectoid species was defined by its stagnancy, something that would need to change.
Fortunately, it appeared that would happen.
"Then what are you doing to fix this?" The Battlemaster asked as the shimmering shield in front of them disappeared, and they stepped into a large arena, the oncoming group entering into an elevated area overlooking the lower floor. Standing in rows of ten, and blocks of four rows each, were armored humanoid figures.
We have invested considerable resources into the creation of a combat unit, 029 stated, clearly proud as he looked down upon the small army. The Hive Vanguard, the synthesis of Human and Sectoid genetics to create a superior fighting unit as well as greater psionic prowess than any drone before it, excluding the Helion-7 Defenders.
That was incredibly unexpected. The Sectoids creating a purely combat unit was a major step, because despite their fleet, the Battlemaster firmly believed they considered war merely a distraction and problem, not something they intentionally sought out, nor prepared for. At no point had he expected the actual combination of alien and Sectoid genetics.
They truly were fearful of becoming obsolete, it seemed.
The soldiers below him were slightly taller than the average Human, and armored from head to foot. The armor was an obsidian black, and smooth, but not too thick. On the chest was the insignia of the Greater Hive Commanders, a strange mishmash of shapes and lines that made no sense to him, but likely meant a lot to the Hive Commanders on some telepathic scale. Their helmets were simple and had no visible eyepieces, but a few breathing apparatuses on the nose. The wrists were also altered. They carried no weapons, but the left gauntlet certainly looked like a heavily modified Sectoid wrist plasma blaster, and the right one had some sort of smaller, but complicated device on it.
On a likely telepathic cue from 029, the armored figures reached up and removed their helmets in unison, giving the Battlemaster a look at the more visible changes to the unit. Their skin was no longer a grey, but closer to a pinkish flesh color, their eyes were much closer to Human-sized, and were a solid black orb instead of an orange one. Their heads were also in a much better proportion to their bodies. The only clear aspect they retained from the original Sectoid template was the mouthless faces, as it seemed nearly every other aspect had been improved with Human genetics. They even had five fingers now.
The Hive Vanguard is superior to standard ADVENT soldiers in every way, 029 said. Armor designed to lessen the impact of gauss weapons, an ability to coordinate instantaneously with nearby Vanguards telepathically, and more importantly, the ability to link with nearby enemies without full mind control.
The Battlemaster looked down at the Hive Commander. "Why not simply mind control them?"
Make no mistake, 029 clarified. They can, but that takes considerable effort, as Human minds are more complicated and…unorganized…hindering a smooth subversion. But this allows a simple telepathic link, which will allow the Vanguard to predict incoming attacks with ease and strike where the Humans do not expect it.
Ah, that was a very clever tactic. A shame he wasn't telepathically capable, because that trick would be invaluable to test out, mind-reading without mind-control was a very valid tactic in hectic battlefronts.
Now I will demonstrate how much more effective these Vanguards are to certain current Collective forces, 029 continued, and on another telepathic cue, the Vanguards put their helmets back on, and marched to the far left end of the room, save one who stood alone as a door on the opposite end of the room slid open, and a half dozen Sectoid Leaders scurried in.
This is the most dangerous ground unit we have deployed, 029 said as the Vanguard raised the left hand and began firing. Let us see how six of them fare against one. One of the Leaders was taken out by the plasma bursts, and the others began raising their augmented arms to return fire. The Vanguard responded by holding up its opposite arm, with the smaller pieces moving quickly, and without warning a small purple shield materialized in front of the Vanguard, easily protecting it from the worst of the plasma.
The Battlemaster noted with interest that the shield did appear to draw on psionic energy, there were purple distortions around the hand, and he knew what a psionic shield looked like. Now protected, the Vanguard killed another two Leaders with the plasma blaster.
"The shield," the Battlemaster said. "I have not seen a similar device."
It is a recent development, 029 said as the Vanguard thrust its left hand forward, shooting a bolt of psionic energy which killed another Leader. The psionic gauntlet draws upon psionic energy and manipulates it into specific shapes. The configuration it is now in is a shield. There is a close-range melee configuration as well. Let it be demonstrated.
The purple shield around the Vanguard dissipated, and the pieces of the gauntlet reorganized themselves, and then there was psionic energy molded into the crude shape of a blade jutting from the wrist of the Vanguard. It extended well past the wrist, and was a standard blade design, although the edges were composed of nothing more than unstable psionic energy.
It charged forward at the remaining Leaders, sliced down at one and the blade cut through the unarmored alien with ease, and at the same time, the Vanguard shot the final Leader in the face with the plasma blaster. Once done, it disengaged the gauntlet, stepped back through the carnage, and seemed to be waiting for more orders.
"Impressive," the Battlemaster complimented, impressed with the initial performance. "I assume that the psionic blade can cut through armor as well?"
Of course, 029 confirmed. Not as easily, certainly, but it can penetrate ADVENT armor with direct slashes and stabs. Even the weapons of the Templars would likely not be able to stand against them for very long. Pure psionic energy cannot be stopped so easily.
"Move the Vanguards you have completed into the Collective Military," the Battlemaster ordered. "I am aware that you don't have many, but the ones you do will suffice for Earth, and more can be grown later."
It will be done, 029 promised, as the Vanguards reassembled before him. I expect they will serve the Collective well, and will show the Humans the inferiority of their species.
The Battlemaster kept his amusement of that statement in check. Inferior was objectively incorrect, but competition would serve the Sectoids well, now that they knew their psionic aptitude was no longer special. For their place in the Collective to be retained, they would need to earn it.
And the result would be a stronger Collective. Which was all he wanted.
He would be very curious to see just how the Humans would respond to this. He expected it would not take long for them to similarly adapt.
Blacksite 007 – ID: "Watcher" – Overseer: Quisilia
Of the few Blacksites Ravarian had visited, Quisilia's was by far the most confusing, from a logistical and psychological perspective. There were no clear directions, there was no symmetry, and some of the rooms seemed like logical impossibilities. He'd taken a wrong turn at one point, and found himself suddenly standing in open space, although that couldn't have been possible. He'd not thought about it at the time, and slowly backed out. Maybe it was a transparent substance, or external feeds, but still, why would Quisilia need that?
Probably just to screw with his head.
It wasn't the only confusing thing. He'd spent a good few minutes walking in circles in a seemingly never-ending hallway, which shouldn't have been possible. The Blacksite must have had some kind of ability to change internally, and he was just the unfortunate victim of either programming, or Quisilia making his life unreasonably difficult.
But eventually he'd arrived at what he assumed was the central room, and if it wasn't, that was just too bad. If Quisilia wanted to move, he could lead him there himself. Ravarian wasn't going to waste more time navigating this labyrinth. It was also the first time he saw other beings on the station. They all appeared to be analysts heavily cybernetically modified, especially their heads. They didn't pay attention to him aside from a few glances to the side.
There were actually a fair number of Sectoids, in addition to the mix of Vitakarians and Dath'Haram. There was also an Oyariah Titan, surprisingly enough. What they were doing he didn't know, and as soon as he'd entered the room, they'd cleared out, presumably to let him prepare. He didn't know if Quisilia was actually on the Blacksite, but he assumed he'd show up whenever he wanted.
Probably wanted to make another Twitter status update.
He grimaced at the thought. It would be just like Quisilia to reveal there was something important happening.
But he pushed that thought to the side and began preparing. The room was unreasonably open, with some consoles on the far walls, but otherwise it was just empty spaces aside from the large haptic projector in the middle. Along the far wall were external feeds of space, the current ones focusing on the system sun, although Ravarian knew they weren't nearly that close to it.
He hoped.
Luckily the haptic projector was standard, and he had no trouble operating it. So there were three major points of note he wanted to address: The situations in Africa and South America, and the current problems in Australia. He knew the Battlemaster would likely add some more to the plan, but this would set the stage and context.
Ravarian had not considered there was anything more going on in Australia until he had taken a closer look at the reports. The Human resistance was one thing, but the recent attacks displayed were not their usual tactics. Something was extremely wrong on the continent, and he couldn't figure out exactly what that was.
The most obvious tell had been the so-called 'revolt', where it seemed like literally every Human had suddenly turned on the Collective forces stationed there. The video recovered was concerning, as it depicted Humans fighting with a resilience and aggression they didn't normally display. All in complete silence, and even including the children and elderly.
That was bizarre. Humans never risked children, and even if the Commander wouldn't hesitate to kill them if the circumstances justified it, this did not seem to qualify. There seemed to be clear evidence of psionic meddling, but that would imply there was another Human psion on the level of Patricia in Australia, and then the obvious question became who?
The initial suspicion was an XCOM psion, but that didn't seem likely the more he thought about it. They wouldn't waste a psion there, not yet, and one on this level would have been used against them by now. Since ADVENT didn't have psions of their own, it couldn't be them. So that left two options, an independent Human psion, or an alien traitor.
Neither seemed likely. Whoever this psion was, they clearly had experience and training, likely of a pre-Invasion time period. And there had been no instances of psionic activity from Humans before that. And an alien traitor seemed equally unlikely since the only ones outside Ethereals who were psionic were Sectoids, and the only Sectoids that could do this were Hive Commanders.
It seemed absurd to think that a Hive Commander of all things was a traitor, but it unfortunately made more sense than a surprise Human psion not connected to ADVENT or XCOM.
Either way, that situation needed to be dealt with.
The other continental situations were luckily more straightforward. In South America their way into influencing the region was Konstantine Volikov, who had established contact with certain South American countries who were not a part of ADVENT. Volikov had enjoyed clear success against ADVENT, he was clearly intelligent, methodical, and had the loyalty of his elite band of assassins.
There were several different avenues that could be pursued in convincing him to work with them. He was a pragmatic altruist, and if he could be convinced that the Collective would be better for the people than ADVENT, he would likely fight for that. However, there were a few problems with this entire situation.
The first is that Volikov reportedly didn't consider the Collective any better than ADVENT, and given what had happened, Ravarian couldn't blame him from coming to that conclusion. He was only fighting ADVENT out of some moral sense of duty, or because he just disliked authoritarian governments. Either was a possibility based on his background, and that was not especially great news for them.
Ravarian was assuming that the Battlemaster would state that there would be no mind control utilized, so that meant that whoever was sent down would need to convince him, and Volikov was not going to fall easily. He appeared to somehow detect when people were lying or not, and if he learned that the Collective was lying to him…they wouldn't likely be able to kill an Ethereal, but it made their job in South America much harder.
So, they were best off not lying to him.
He supposed he would learn just what the Ethereals had planned for Humanity after the war was over.
Africa was likely going to be the easiest. All they needed to do was convince Betos that the Collective was a friend, and she would believe them. She was looking for a reason, and all they needed to do was provide it to her. Once that was done, then assisting her in uniting Africa would be the next logical step. He suspected that would not be difficult.
"As do I," Quisilia agreed as he materialized in front of him. "Betos will not be a problem. Idealists never are."
"No, but if we're too obvious, it will bring ADVENT down upon them," Ravarian noted, shutting down the projector for the moment. "That isn't preferable until Africa is successfully united against ADVENT."
"Considering-" Quisilia suddenly stopped. "Oh, wonderful. I was not expecting him here."
Ravarian was about to ask who, when the door behind him slid open and another strange alien stepped through. Ravarian blinked as he got a good look at the being. It stood nearly as tall as Quisilia, wore light grey armor with the same Elder emblem that was on Senorium's armor in the center of the chest. It was similar in protection to Zararch combat gear; offering protection, but prioritizing maneuverability over everything else.
The most obvious feature was the hood that covered the alien's head, and within it were two glowing blue eyes, and the outline of a smile underneath it. A sniper rifle of some kind nearly as tall as Ravarian was strapped to his back, and a similarly large pistol was at his waist. The conclusion seemed obvious after he had processed it a few seconds. Another one of the Creator's Chosen as she'd called them, this one a severely altered Vitakarian it seemed.
"I do hope you have the Zar'Chon suitably protected," the alien drawled, the voice already oozing with sarcasm and dryness. "I would hate for him to go insane from a simple conversation."
"I would be more concerned for your own sanity," Quisilia answered, stepping forward. "I do not recall inviting you here. How exactly did you know?"
The alien spread his hands in front of him, a Human gesture that was the equivalent to 'not my fault'. "I only follow the orders of the glorious Creator bitch," he said, the mockery catching Ravarian off-guard. Hearing an Ethereal being referred to in such a way was unheard of. "And her glorious Creatorness has decreed that I be her representative in this meeting which is no doubt going to be important, so take it up with her if you've got a problem."
"Who are you?" Ravarian demanded.
"Ah, right," the alien said smugly. "Where are my manners? I am officially known as Venadiar, Watcher of the Elders, and Hunter of the Creator." He sniffed indignantly. "And yes, it is an idiotically long name no one ever remembers. But I don't like it, so just call me Dave, or simply my title as Hunter, I could really care less."
Ravarian's lips twitched. "I suppose you two get along." Excellent. Now there was another mini-Quisilia who seemed to be just as bad of a troll. 'Dave the Hunter' indeed. Still, he had no doubt that this Hunter was extremely dangerous. He didn't appear to be psionic, but he supposed looks could be deceiving. And he'd alluded to Quisilia making sure he was 'protected'.
"Well, since I'm here, what are we waiting on?" The Hunter asked, striding over to the haptic projector. "I don't have all day, and I have things to do."
"You can postpone your hunting trips," Quisilia said, amused. "I can promise this will be more interesting than killing some Mutons."
The Hunter pulled out his pistol and appraised it. "As long as I finally get to go to Earth, I'm fine with that. I'm rather tired of the same damn planets over and over. I could kill pretty much everything in my sleep, aside from the 'prohibited units'." He moved his head in a strange way, and had Ravarian not known better, he would have assumed he was rolling his eyes. The Hunter took on a wistful tone. "I'm rather interested in Earth. The Humans seem to be a fascinating species, much more so than everyone else."
Ravarian was not sure if that was an insult or not. "What exactly is your purpose?" Ravarian asked. "Despite your title, I doubt the Creator has many enemies."
The Hunter snorted. "Please, everyone hates the bitch. Find me someone who doesn't, but the difference is she's too high on her own self-importance to notice, in addition to being a fucking lunatic. So yeah, I don't get many actual orders. So I spend a lot of my time just talking to the poor souls who get sent to her. Fascinating stuff, especially from the Humans. Shame they only last slightly longer than Vitakara."
He tapped his head, giving an eerie smile. "Can't talk to people long unfortunately, most can't take it. As for what I do the rest of the time, well…" he lifted the pistol, looking at it fondly. "I go hunting. You name it, I've likely killed it. Well, except Sargons and the 'special' units. Ethereals get annoyed when you shoot their pets." Another indignant sniff. "As if they can't just grow another one. Cheapskates."
Despite indications to the contrary, Ravarian was wondering if the Hunter was actually saner than the Creator. He was definitely not normal, in more ways than one, and anyone who spoke with such bluntness to and about Ethereals was obviously not thinking clearly. "Well, you finish up…whatever you were doing," the Hunter said with a wave. "I'll just stand over here until things actually start."
Ravarian shook his head, and turned back to the projector, bringing it up as he tried to focus on what he was going to present. It likely couldn't get more outlandish than this.
Blacksite 009 – ID: "The Prism" – Overseer: The Battlemaster
The Battlemaster was rather surprised that Macula had come to speak with him before the meeting itself. He was an Ethereal who tended to keep to his own affairs, and had a standing tendency to intentionally avoid Collective matters. The Battlemaster was aware that Macula wasn't impressed with the alien species, and isolated himself performing deep recon for the Imperator in the inner galaxy.
"I have never bothered to visit this place before," Macula mused, looking down into the empty box in the idling state. His voice was unchanged from the last time they had spoke nearly three years ago, a deep thoughtful tone with touches of condescension in it. "It perhaps might be worth an experimental run."
"You would likely fail," the Battlemaster said bluntly. "The Prism is not tailored towards receiving or simulating telepathic attacks."
"Please," an obsidian blade flew towards one of Macula's gloved hands. "My telepathy is not something that I need to practice. I've had plenty of that lately, but I feel my combat skills have deteriorated as a result."
"If you wish," the Battlemaster said, not caring one way or another. While Macula's reasons were rooted in his own arrogance, he would never discourage practice. Macula was one of the more interesting in the Imperator's entourage. The Imperator had never said where he'd come from, nor had Macula bothered to answer that.
Some things were obvious, his skill with telepathy and preference for short bladed weapons meant he was almost certainly part of the Division of Shadows, but other than his name, nothing else was ever said. His attire didn't help either. The Battlemaster didn't know if Macula was trying to be a Battlemaster, Overmind, or Shadow, since his attire had elements of all three.
The silver armor was extremely limited, only covering the legs, arms, and chest. The rest was a blue alloy weave which was under the armor, and the main component of the gloves. Then he also had a cape that was identical to the Battlemaster's except the color was a deep blue, and the material wove around the chest like a shawl; moderately obscuring the chest armor.
Unlike most Ethereals, Macula did not have a helmet, but his head was obscured by a hood exactly like the Overmind's, one that hid the face entirely except for the glowing orange eyes. The look was certainly unique for an Ethereal, but it didn't seem practical for open combat. Knowing Macula, he had likely made it just because he looked good in it.
"I assume you didn't come just to inquire about my Blacksite," the Battlemaster said, walking up beside him, easily towering over the smaller Ethereal.
"All business, you never change," Macula chided. "Perhaps I just wanted to say hello before you inevitably reveal what your plan for Earth is. There are exciting developments in store, Battlemaster, ones that extend far beyond one little planet."
"Do tell," the Battlemaster said, looking down. "You have found another inner galactic species?"
"Considering the state those species are currently in, I'd say we have little to worry about," Macula said. "All trying to subvert and one-up each other, at some point they will enter open warfare with each other, and our time to strike will be then. They will not expect us."
The Battlemaster was unsurprised at the news. "It appears the galaxy never changes. Peace is only temporary."
"That's only part of the story," Macula amended. "The situation is more delicate than that, and for now the Imperator wants Earth handled first. I admit, I didn't believe this venture would prove to be so interesting. Who would have thought a little primitive species would be such an issue?"
"Even with our limited incursion, we underestimated them," the Battlemaster agreed. "As it stands now, they are highlighting the issues of our own strategies and military. They have proven useful."
"But not a challenge, I suspect," Macula sighed. "No matter. Whatever you have planned, I am rather interested to see what the future holds."
"I am curious," the Battlemaster inquired. "You wanted to assist in this. Why?"
"Because Humans are new, and my experience with them is non-existent," he answered with a wave of one hand. "The Vitakara are laughably simple, the Sectoids are boring, and the Andromedons are too paranoid to have any sort of experimentation done to them. With Humans there are no such restrictions. While the Synthesized War certainly was our defeat, there was something I miss about killing thousands of thralls with my blades and mind alone."
The Battlemaster could empathize with that, even as little sense it made logically. He could not deny the satisfaction of combat and victory. "There will be no shortage of that, but our strategy must be subtle as well. The phase of simple combat has passed. I approved your request because you can think strategically and are capable of subtlety. Both will be needed."
"A challenge I cannot refuse," Macula said easily, in a mock bow. "But you have been fighting them longest. I would prefer your honest opinion. How much of a threat do these Humans actually pose?"
The Battlemaster thought for a moment. "They are only as large of a threat as we allow them."
"And if we allow them to become one?"
"Their numbers are few, their territory is limited, and they cannot reproduce quickly," the Battlemaster said. "But they can adapt quickly, they are innovative, and they are capable of using the Gift. Should they become a threat, they will be dangerous indeed. And if Aegis is fully on their side, our chances lower drastically. At that point the Overmind would be needed."
"Interesting," Macula mused. "More than I expected. And not Deusian?"
"We do not want Earth destroyed," the Battlemaster shook his head. "I will save the Reaper for when she is needed. The Overmind will be sufficient, and I doubt we will reach this point."
"As do I," Macula said smugly, turning away as he began walking towards the internal Gateway. "I do not believe there is any point in delaying, Battlemaster. I am curious what you have planned, and it wouldn't be appropriate to show up late, would it?"
The Battlemaster agreed. The sooner they started this, the sooner the next phase could fully begin. ADVENT would likely attack in America within the next few days, and their next attack on Korea would likely follow soon after. At the same time, the rest of the Ethereals needed to establish themselves. Much needed to be done.
No point in delaying, as Macula said.
Desolan, War Camp 402
Fortunately, the list of possible suspects that could be behind this was fairly short. There were ten in total, two guards, one instructor, two medical professionals, and five teachers who worked with the youngling Mutons. Nartha would not have been surprised if there were at least some, or all of them working together.
Cells tended to operate like that, with none of the individual ones knowing much about the others. If he was in charge of a Muton smuggling/slave ring, he would have every single member on a need-to-know basis. They would either be assigned targets for dead drops, or they would have free reign over choosing them, but would still have dead drops. They would never actually meet another cell member.
He would also have contingencies both he and cell members knew if, say, a Zararch agent came poking around. Either some ways of alerting him, or otherwise indicating that the cell was compromised. To be safe, in a case like that he'd likely prefer to intentionally deceive the Zararch agent in question and sacrifice a less important cell member. Deters the agent, and he would be able to return to business soon.
That was how an intelligence professional, or Nulorian operative would run it.
The biggest question was why they were doing this. Two possibilities existed: They were doing this to build an army, or other kind of operation where they were being compensated for gathering Mutons for some specific purpose. It was a pure business arrangement, and he would expect a well-run operation if that was the case, as well as professional cell members.
The other was that they were doing it because of the perceived moral wrongdoing regarding the species. He was well aware that usage of Mutons was considered slavery by some, and that might be enough to convince some of them to act. He had never really cared too much about the issue. The Mutons were barely sapient, and all complaining about it caused was getting the attention of the Zararch.
It just seemed like a waste of time. There were much more important matters than a species of idiot brutes. The Sargons didn't seem to be like that though, but he knew that was because they had been specifically modified, so they didn't technically count. If this was the motivation of these people, then his job was likely going to be easier. Idealistic people made mistakes.
The youngling schools were one of the more interesting parts of the War Camps. It was here where they were conditioned and prepared for the harsher parts of training. Basic speech, pattern recognition, basic firearm safety, basic physical training, everything was taught here. It was essentially a school of nothing but drill instructors.
As a result, the teachers were Vitakarian, Dath'Haram, or Borelian. Borelians generally taught weapons training and physical education, and for once this was one area where male Borelians actually dominated the field as opposed to their female counterparts. Dath'Haram exclusively taught language and pattern recognition, as well as some basic mathematics, though that was optional. Vitakarians could do either, and they were the minority of teachers.
He showed his identification to the guards at the door, and they stepped aside as he strode into the massive hallway. It was extremely wide, due to the fact that Muton classes marched in rows five wide and ten long, and they never deviated from this. The main hallways were large enough for two full classes to march past each other, with some room for the rare bystander at the side. The entire building was built for pure function. Hard angles, grey walls and floors, sharp white lighting, and no additional decorations of any kind.
Nartha walked over to classroom seven, where one suspect Dath'merina'haramal was stationed. He'd singled her out because of her name, that she was a Dath'Haram, and she'd been working roughly since the first known incident. There were too many red flags here to be ignored. That she'd kept the prefix Dath instead of Runi or Zar meant that she was technically a civilian likely from the Council of Dath'Haram, since teachers fell directly under their authority.
That was already suspicious. Nartha was surprised that that was even allowed, especially since of all the races, the Dath'Haram had, on average, put on record the issues with the treatment of the Muton species far more than anyone else. Actually, they were the only ones to publically hold any sort of stance on the matter. They never gained any traction, but it was always a Dath'Haram behind the latest moral outrage. That the entire species was incredibly pacifistic, far more than Vitakarians, was another oddity. The question of why a Dath'Haram would not officially join the military, but actively work on grooming soldiers was highly suspicious.
So he stayed to the back of the class behind Merina as she spoke to the assembled Muton younglings, and he simply observed the class. She typically dealt with classes ready for graduation to the next stage, so by now the Mutons were extremely disciplined. The younglings really didn't look too different from their adult counterparts. Their skin was a little pinker, and there were less wrinkles on their faces, but there was no mistaking their species.
For five-year olds, they were already fairly strong. They were about the size of a Human teenager, and far bulkier on average. They didn't wear armor, not yet, but they wore brown padding and thick boots and pants. Their arms were bare, and each one was assigned a mock plasma rifle which shot out little plastic pellets, which did go at speeds fast enough to hurt, but not puncture Muton skin or kill.
His understanding was that was part of a game, where instructors had classes fight each other to begin preparing them for the war games later. It was taught as a game, but not for fun. Each youngling was graded and scored based on performance, and their rank rose or decreased as a result. The highest ranking Mutons were at the front of the class, the latter in the back.
Nartha did find it impressive that whoever Merina asked a question, all of them answered at once. They were simple questions, ones with yes or no answers, but the response was immediate and always correct. Their voices weren't even high-pitched, which he was ultimately not surprised at. Definitely a species of soldiers, he couldn't think of a better suited one.
"All of you have performed adequately today," Merina finished. "Dismissed!" All the class displayed their rifles in a form of a salute, he guessed, then marched out in a very orderly fashion. He suspected there were some Human teachers that wished they could teach Mutons. Humans were rather disorderly sometimes. Especially the children.
"Highly disciplined," he complimented, stepping forward. "I didn't know they were capable of doing that."
The Dath'Haram woman bared her pointed teeth at him, their version of a smile. "You would be surprised. They catch on quickly."
"So it seems," he agreed. "You are clearly skilled at your job. I work with Mutons occasionally, and I might guess that the younglings are smarter than the adults sometimes."
Merina put a haptic pad into her bag slowly. "I am not surprised at that, actually. Mutons don't survive the War Camps without some kind of psychological damage."
Good. Her responses were useful. "You would know more than I," he conceded. "I've only just arrived."
"Really?" She asked, closing her bag, looking up thoughtfully. "What do you do? No one comes here just because they can."
"I'm from the Runianarch," he lied with an easy smile. "I had to speak with the Sargon about new batches of Mutons. While he figures that out, I decided to take a tour. The War Camps are something even we don't see that often, yet it is an essential part of the Collective military."
Merina was deliberately keeping her expression clear. "There are reasons for that. Ones you've no doubt seen. Or if not now, you will."
He cocked his head in apparent interest. "If you don't mind, what? Everything seems to be up to standards. Even the children aren't disrupted. I've been pleasantly surprised."
Merina sighed. "True. The Collective keeps things running smoothly. But sometimes sending off these younglings is just draining," she motioned to the door. "By the end of it, at least half of those younglings will be dead. And the survivors conditioned beyond recognition-" she suddenly stopped, realizing she'd probably said too much. "But it is necessary for preserving the integrity of our army." She finished.
What was it with these people being bad liars? Regardless, he had plenty to work with now. He let some concern in his voice. "I'm aware the situation isn't ideal, but having half those younglings eventually die is unreasonably steep. That seems like a gross misuse of resources. Are you not exaggerating?"
"Ha," she chuckled darkly. "If anything, I'm being generous. You haven't gone into the Filter, have you? Go there and then ask if I'm exaggerating."
"Apologies," Nartha interrupted. "I didn't mean to offend you."
"No, it's fine," she relented, slinging her pack over her shoulder. "Not your fault, and you're at least somewhat concerned with it. Whatever way you look at this, it just seems like something is just wrong with it. If half our trainees are dying, maybe something needs to be changed."
"I will have to look into this," he promised earnestly, frowning. "The Sargon will be providing an explanation to me."
She looked at him with new interest. "I wish you luck with that, really. Most just ignore the problem."
He sniffed. "Ignoring problems is why there are certain problems in the Collective. I will not do the same here."
"In that case," she paused. "Well, if you begin making some headway, please let me know. I'm Dath'merina'haramal."
"Runi'nartha'vitiary," he answered in return. He would need to forge a record for that in case she bothered to look. She wouldn't find anything at best, or would find there was a Nartha in the Zararch. However, Nartha wasn't an uncommon name, which was why he kept it. Better there be many results than an odd few.
As she walked away, and he exited the room to go talk to the next teacher, he figured that had been a fruitful talk. She was definitely still a suspect, but now one who was more inclined to listen to him. Should he play this right, if she was involved, she would lead him to who was in charge. If she wasn't, then he had a contact here in the future.
She was perfect for being turned against the Collective, but depending on how the rest of the operation went, she might have to be sacrificed. Maybe he could give her to the Sargon once he made contact with the actual cell leader; there was more than enough circumstantial evidence for an arrest, and a Sectoid mind-probe would confirm one way or another.
But that was an inelegant solution. Right now, everything was on track.
Blacksite 007 – ID: "Watcher" – Overseer: Quisilia
At last, all of them were here for the meeting. The more Ethereals arrived, the more Ravarian felt out of place in more ways than one. He was unquestionably the smallest one in the room, an unusual feeling since he was tall even among Vitakara, and that these Ethereals, and the Hunter for that matter, could likely kill him with a single thought or gesture.
It felt like a minefield where if he said the wrong thing…well, that would be the end for him, despite Quisilia's assurances.
First Caelior had arrived, which wasn't too bad. If nothing else, Ravarian was familiar with him and how he worked. At the moment they had a somewhat working relationship, and Caelior at least knew he was of some use. Ravarian swore that the Hunter had a death wish since his first greeting was calling Caelior "Little Storm", which naturally enraged the young Elder.
So Quisilia had kindly responded by throwing one of his knives at the Hunter, impaling him in the chest. Ravarian had been stunned at the overreaction, as that was likely a fatal wound, but the Hunter had just sighed and said. "Yes, yes, I won't do that again. I get the message." And proceeded to pull it out with barely any trouble. He'd apparently noticed Ravarian staring, since he gave him an eerie smile soon after.
The Battlemaster and the Ethereal Macula had arrived soon after, the latter Ravarian was still unsure about. He didn't talk much, and had yet to address him directly, but from his conversations with the Hunter, he got the impression that this Ethereal didn't really respect anything that wasn't an Ethereal. It didn't even seem like he was toying with the Hunter like Quisilia would, but simply considered them an amusing distraction at best, complete with derision and patronization.
The Hunter didn't seem to care, and continued his irreverent streak by taking his own jabs at Macula, ones that Ravarian didn't fully understand, but actually seemed to make Macula pause, and look at the Hunter with a little more…not quite concern, but it was definitely something more than disinterest.
If the Hunter worked for the Creator, he likely knew quite a lot about the Ethereals that even Ravarian didn't have any idea of.
And with that there was already plenty of tension in the air. Quisilia attempted to defuse the situation, but it wasn't helping that Caelior was less than impressed with Macula, even if he didn't say so. Nor did the Battlemaster seem to overly care either way.
Then Nebulan had arrived, and that had eased tensions. Of all the Ethereals, she seemed one of the more respected ones. She wore red robes with exposed arms, similar to the Ravaged One if his uniform had been pristine, but unlike nearly every other Ethereal, she had no helmet, nor any other means of hiding her face.
Ethereal heads were interesting. They were smaller than he'd realized, but rounded in a similar way to Vitakarian and Human ones, with slits in their faces where the nose would be, they had no visible ears that he could see, but they did have lipless mouths that stretched across their lower faces. What was extremely strange was that they didn't really have chins, but the mouth was only slightly elevated from the neck itself.
It made him wonder if at one point the Ethereals hadn't had mouths at all, and it was just an addition they had made later. It certainly looked like the head and neck were almost one complete organ, and the neck was longer than most species. Along the neck were visible cords and depressions, that rose and fall as the Ethereal breathed. Ravarian tried not to stare, but it admittedly was the first time he'd seen an unmasked Ethereal. At least he wasn't looking at her fiery eyes.
Nebulan had actually greeted him, and they'd had a pleasant conversation about basic updates before the final Ethereal had shown up: Isomnum.
Just from looking at him, Ravarian knew he was going to be both insufferable, and cause problems for everyone else. He wore similar attire to Macula, save the grandiose cape and hood. But instead the helmet was close to a death mask of an Ethereal, and portrayed the silver face of the Ethereal without a mouth. It was clearly tight to Isomnum's actual head, and covered the entirety of the head and neck, as well as moving as easily as if it were an actually functioning head. Truth be told it was extremely unsettling, and even with Quisilia protecting him from the worst of it, he felt the urge to get away now before he risked losing his mind.
Then the Hunter in all his infinite wisdom decided to speak. "And the grand edgelord has finally arrived."
If Ravarian could have facepalmed at that, he would have. Humans had some excellent ways of displaying emotion. Isomnum had just looked over at the Hunter, who began blinking rapidly and started backing up, muttering to himself and reaching for his pistol. "Do not ruin the mind of the Creator's pet," Macula warned. "As insufferable as he is, she would not be pleased."
"If the insect speaks to me again, that he speaks for the depraved Creator will mean nothing," Isomnum said, his voice reminding Ravarian of the Ravaged One, a combination of vibrations and combined high and low pitches that had the result of inducing headaches in the ones he was speaking to. It conjured images of ancient monstrosities and layered screams of the void.
He sincerely hoped Isomnum didn't speak much during the meeting.
"Enough," the Battlemaster ordered, commanding them to gather around the haptic projector. "We will begin now."
So they did.
"The first phase of taking Earth has begun," the Battlemaster said, bringing up a hologram of Earth. "The purpose of this was to determine the extent of ADVENT and XCOM's ability to wage an effective war against us. They are adapting, and skilled. It is unlikely they will fail to adapt as the war progresses, but I have determined that it is unlikely their threat will decrease. ADVENT is worthy of being subverted, as the Imperator originally suggested."
"As should be anticipated," Nebulan said. "The Imperator does not make idle suggestions."
"That needed to be determined first," the Battlemaster continued flatly. "Regardless, the war is ongoing, and it is time to move ADVENT to where we want them. They are expecting a continuation of the same strategy. Major attacks on cities. These will continue, but our reach will be far larger. Earth is composed of seven continents, six of which are relevant," said continents were highlighted yellow on the blue display. "From here I will divide these into our respective spheres of influence."
"Imagine that," the Hunter said. "The great Battlemaster giving up his authority."
"No." The Battlemaster disputed. "Let me be perfectly clear: I am in command of this operation. Before launching any operations, you will inform myself, Quisilia, or Zar'Chon Ravarian, and only after I give my approval will you be allowed to proceed. There are no exceptions, is that understood?"
A few of the Ethereals, Caelior and Nebulan, nodded. That was not sufficient for the Battlemaster. "Say you understand, or leave."
"Understood, Battlemaster," everyone said, with various levels of resignation. Ravarian was relieved to know that. The Battlemaster was still without a doubt the most reasonable Ethereal. Under him there was a much lower chance of stupidity taking place.
"With that understood, here is where we stand." The image zoomed to the Americas. "My sphere will be North America. Over the coming months it will become a battlefield where a large part of the conflict will take place. America holds a major cultural place in Humanity, and they will fight hard to keep it. Within days they will launch a counterattack, and it is entirely possible we will lose ground. This will be expected. Until our final time has come, this is a part of the world we will both win and lose often."
"Believing the Humans will win will make it a reality," Isomnum noted. "There is little point in entertaining their insignificant fantasies of rebellion."
"With Aegis still aiding XCOM, that is exactly what we should do," Quisilia cautioned. "You may have forgotten what exactly Aegis can do, Isomnum, but I have not. XCOM will not escalate this conflict, but this works both ways. They have more to lose doing it to us, but we must not forget that provoking Aegis will yield the same result on an admittedly smaller scale."
"Then why bring me here?" Isomnum growled. "I will not restrain myself for the sake of a few billion alien lives. Aegis is a coward who will never kill one of us. The Humans and our thralls are insignificant."
"Some thralls would argue otherwise," the Hunter muttered under his breath.
"You are deluded if you actually believe that," Quisilia chided. "Aegis won't kill you, but I doubt he wouldn't stand in the way of blasting your shrinking brains out, while he keeps you trapped in a stasis field. I doubt you'll be laughing if that happens."
"Quiet," the Battlemaster interrupted, lifting a hand. "Isomnum, your role will be explained shortly. Suffice to say, Quisilia is right. I do not want to force Aegis to pick a side, not yet. We cannot rely on our abilities forever. If we cannot defeat the Humans with some degree of convention, we are useless against the inner galactic species, much less the Synthesized. Now…"
The image shifted to South America. "Zar'Chon, inform us of the current situation."
His turn. "Yes, Battlemaster," all attention on him, he pointed to the continent. "South America is in a curious and unstable position. ADVENT only has control of roughly half of it, the bulk concentrated in Brazil," said country turned red, along with other ADVENT-controlled countries. "Right now Brazil is controlled by Marshal Luana, one of the more heavy-handed and dictatorial leaders of ADVENT. She is a warmonger, arrogant and easily manipulated."
A hologram of the Marshal appeared. "ADVENT has at some point attempted to curtail her authority," Ravarian continued. "But their efforts have been ineffective, or she is ignoring them. Either way, her actions, which include launching several invasions of other countries with scant evidence, has put every non-ADVENT country on notice, specifically Argentina and Chile."
Once those countries were highlighted in green, he continued. "Officially, they are doing nothing except refusing ADVENT membership. Unofficially, they are backing a small terrorist organization led by a certain Konstantine Volikov, unofficially referred to as the 'Reapers.'"
"A melodramatic name," Macula noted dryly. "And uncreative."
"Volikov apparently dislikes the name," Ravarian shrugged. "But it is born as a result of their actions. The Grim Reaper is one of most well-known Human icons, transcending cultures and languages. The Reaper is Death, and Death cannot be killed or stopped. Having Volikov and his people be compared to it is nothing to scoff at."
He briefly paused. "Many people have tried to kill Volikov, and failed. The Reapers leave body counts in the double digits with each attack, and reportedly have yet to suffer a casualty. The situation is tense there, and if ADVENT knew there was alien influence, they would annex the region. But if we were to act through the Reapers, and by extension, the Argentinian and Chilean governments, we could prepare the region to resist ADVENT, as well as weaken it."
"This Volikov," Nebulan said, looking at him. "Tell me about him."
"A potential problem if we underestimate him," Ravarian warned. "He's an expert assassin, marksman, survivalist, and close-quarters specialist. And this is what we've been able to learn. He's managed to evade both the Russian and American intelligence agencies, has penetrated and killed multiple members of third world countries, and those under authoritarian regimes. He does not view either ADVENT, or us, in a positive light. At best he considers us equally as bad."
"And you think he is actually a valid opportunity?" Macula asked skeptically.
"All Volikov knows of us is what ADVENT has shown," Ravarian reminded him. "He has never met an alien to his knowledge, and if we were to present ourselves as a reasonable party, and assist him in his goals, I am certain he would be inclined to at least listen to us. However, he will not tolerate dishonesty from us, and has an uncanny ability to figure out if someone is lying."
"Which is why you will contact him, Nebulan," the Battlemaster ordered. "I do not care how you do it, but you will ensure he is on our side. No mind control, and no lies, those are your only two restrictions."
"Why handicap ourselves?" Macula asked curiously.
"Because at some point, we will not be able to solve our problems by brute forcing them," the Battlemaster answered. "I want Volikov on our side. And I want him to do it of his own free will, not because one of you made him. Not only is this risky, since Volikov would likely have a contingency in place now that he is aware of our capabilities, but you don't know how to think like a Human. ADVENT would determine alien influence much faster if you did this the fast way. You will handicap yourself, and if you are not smart enough to figure out how to do otherwise, then leave and someone else will do it for you."
"It has been a while since I have attempted something like this," Nebulan mused. "I will ensure that Volikov inevitably works for us, using only my other talents, of course. I assume we can bring our own personnel as well?"
"As long as I have approved it," the Battlemaster nodded. "For you, Nebulan, the fewer, the better."
"I will not need many," she said. "I already have an idea of how to enter."
"I assume you will be using your Asaru persona?" The Battlemaster asked.
Ravarian didn't know what that was, but Nebulan gave a single nod. "Of course."
"That is settled," the Battlemaster confirmed. "The Asian sphere will be overseen by Caelior. Korea is where ADVENT is currently preparing, and it will likely need to be taken next. After this, China is a problem that will need to be dealt with sooner than later."
"I am looking forward to it," Caelior stated. "I will lead my forces to victory as I have before."
The Hunter made the motion like he was rolling his eyes. "You had one victory. Don't let it go to your head, Little Storm."
"One more smart comment and this blade will go through your-" Quisilia began before he was interrupted by Macula.
"There are simpler ways of subduing the simple-minded, Quisilia," he said, amused. "The Hunter will not trouble us for the remainder of this discussion."
Ravarian waited for something to happen. A few seconds stretched out and he glanced over to the Hunter to see what he thought, and the Hunter had one hand raised, mouth partially open as he appeared to be starting to speak, but he didn't move further. After a few more seconds, Ravarian confirmed that the Hunter wasn't moving at all. He glanced back towards Macula, who was returning his attention to the Battlemaster. For all intents and purposes, it looked like he had somehow frozen the Hunter mid-sentence.
Interesting.
"Quisilia, you will go to Australia and end this resistance," the Battlemaster continued. "Our own current forces have proven insufficient, and our own operations are being impeded at a higher rate than is acceptable. Kill all of them, and bring any XCOM agents back alive, as well as any other figures of note."
"With pleasure," Quisilia said easily. "I could use a distraction. Hopefully they will provide at least some challenge."
"Zar'Chon, now explain the situation in Africa," the Battlemaster said, the image changing to the continent in question.
"Of course, Battlemaster," he nodded. "If any of you were not aware, there was a defection of several thousand ADVENT soldiers and personnel, led by Helsa Betos, a former Marshal of ADVENT. Their reasons boiled down to ethics. They felt ADVENT was abusing its power and were too harsh against civilians and perceived enemies. Betos in particular is extremely naïve and idealistic, though her beliefs about ADVENT are not unfounded, and we are extremely fortunate that she had no contact with any of our own forces, else she might have stayed out of obligation to defending her species."
He paused. "But as it stands now, she is our gateway into control of Africa. Her likely goal is the African states all united as one force that is against ADVENT. In practice, this will likely be impossible without an African intercontinental war. The region is extremely volatile, something that most Humans are surprisingly ignorant of. Africa in general is ignored by most of the world, and as a result much goes unchecked."
"So what do you recommend?" Nebulan asked.
"Betos has made contact with Nigeria," Ravarian said. "We need to contact her, and assist in helping her unite the others, because if she tries to do it herself, she will fail. Barring that, we could use Betos as a cover to turn the various states into puppets, under our direct control. By the time ADVENT realizes what is happening, the region will likely be compromised. If we continuously supply Betos with our technology, and she passes it along, Africa now becomes a more dangerous place for ADVENT to try and invade."
"You will contact Betos, Macula," the Battlemaster said. "Do what you wish with the African states, but I want Betos on our side. Treat her as an ally, alien as she is, and no more or less. The constraints I stated for Nebulan apply to you as well."
"Noted." Macula said dryly.
"Isomnum, when the time is right, you will attack Moscow," the Battlemaster said, looking towards him. "I have no intention of restraining you, but you will not operate outside of where you have been ordered. Russia is a place considered secure for ADVENT, and the Russians are recognized as a tough and hard people. Stereotypes are not always accurate, but they work to our advantage here. The sight of their leaders exposed to…you, will shake the morale of the entirety of ADVENT."
"Then I await my time," Isomnum said simply.
"That is the overview," the Battlemaster said. "It is being put into effect immediately. Begin your preparations, the second phase begins now. Dismissed."
A/N: Research and Engineering VIII coming next (Bunch of XCOM files on the Sectoids should be coming soon as well), and then there will be an actual battle. Been a while since there was one of those, but it'll be worth it, and then it will ramp up from there. Anyway, on an unrelated note, if anyone knows of any good artists, I'm thinking about commissioning some for the major characters/events written so far. Depending if I find a good one of course, which is why I'm asking around in addition to doing my own research. The more photorealism, the better, not interested in more cartoonish drawings.
So thanks in advance (Send thorugh PM preferably. Keep the reviews about the story). Thanks everyone for reading as always!
- Xabiar