XCOM: The Advent Directive

by Xabiar

Australia has been annexed, the United Nations is in chaos, the world is under siege and the Ethereals have taken the field. Facing the full might of the Ethereal Collective, the Commander must rally XCOM, the newly formed ADVENT, and several other allies and rivals to unite the divided nations by any means necessary, for failure now will mean the fall of humanity once and for all.

43. Phantom

Phantom

---

Situation Room, the Praesidium – Classified Location

2/4/2017 – 10:12 A.M.

On one hand, this was going to potentially cause problems in ADVENT. The revelation that the Battlemaster had actually been telling the truth was…odd. In a twisted way, it did make sense, as from the dossier both ADVENT and XCOM had compiled on him, authorizing a strike like that in Seoul was extremely out of character. But that had never truly been in question, what had been was denying he didn't know it at all, or that the Collective wasn't behind it.

It would be easy to dismiss the evidence XCOM had provided as fake, but she knew that would just be denying an obvious truth. ADVENT would have to acknowledge that the Collective appears to have not been behind Seoul, which led to the next problem of how to actually distribute the proof of that.

The Commander said he was in favor of the raw footage being sent to media companies to edit as they wished, since the only ones who would be harmed would be the Collective. She personally disagreed with that, as ADVENT needed to figure out their own statement on this before even thinking of giving it to the media, not to mention she wasn't sure it was within the public interest to show even a portion of the sickness of Paradise, redacted, edited or not.

Paradise itself, as well as this Creator, were a completely separate problem. There was an army there powerful enough to stand against three of the most powerful Ethereals in the Collective, and an unknown alien and Human of unknown psionic powers. If the Collective started using soldiers like that against ADVENT, there would be problems.

However, the silver lining was that this whole operation was so secret not even most Ethereals had known about it, so there was a potential that these would never move beyond that space station. It didn't change the fact that one day ADVENT was going to have to fight and destroy those things, but perhaps they didn't need to worry about them quite yet.

That was mixed-to-bad news.

On the other hand, an alliance established with not one, but three Andromedon Unions was perhaps one of the most uplifting things she could have heard. "The Union that produces their spacecraft is part of this alliance?"

"Union Stuirah," the Commander confirmed. "Arguably the best designers of spacecraft in the known galaxy. Perhaps we can move past them some day, but for now they understand spacecraft much better than we do right now. You can see the implications for Atlantis."

"Yes, yes," she nodded, concentrating hard. "However, I know that Elizabeth is going to have issues trusting aliens with what is our most important project; a concern which I share."

The Commander surprisingly gave a small smile, as he shut down the holotable absentmindedly. "If there is any alien which understands your reservation, it is the Andromedons. I'm not suggesting we give them access to Atlantis immediately, but working with them to design our own spacecraft should be pursued. Their expertise can help us avoid mistakes we can make. More importantly, these Unions have a very good reason not to sell us out."

"The Ethereals." Saudia nodded. "That doesn't mean we immediately trust them."

"Of course not," the Commander rapped his fingers on the metal. "But there has to be enough trust to make this work. Viarior has a stranglehold over the entirety of the lesser Unions, allied with Viarior or not. They have dozens of factory worlds and off-the-maps facilities. Their logistics networks are unmatched, and they have been planning for something like this for a long time. I would trust them not to screw up, if only because they'll die otherwise."

Saudia knew the Commander was moving towards his own recommendations, or more accurately, more recommendations. "What do you have in mind?"

"Something to give us an edge," he said, taking a file and sliding it over to her. She appreciated that pretty much everything related to Atlantis or the Andromedons he never shared digitally, it was always through a physical medium in an isolated and secured location. A paranoia she understood, especially now.

She picked it up, and began reading. It was not an especially long document, but it was enough to keep her occupied for close to a half hour, mostly due to her reading part-way, and fitting that into the current war model. The Commander spent the time she read reviewing several of XCOM's own reports, as Saudia had unconsciously sat down into one of the nearby chairs, with only the hum of the base filling the air while she read.

Saudia finally closed the file, looking back up at the Commander. "Assuming that by some miracle everything works out perfectly, and in the end we beat the Collective, the Andromedons will know an extensive amount about our naval operations, strategies, tech, and tactics."

A nod. "Correct. But do you see another way to build a functional fleet, train crews, and be able to hold our own without being smashed by the much larger and more experienced Collective armadas?"

"Having Andromedons train an officer corps is a risk," Saudia pointed out, standing. "I don't want our eventual navy to be reliant on what they learned from aliens. We should develop our own understanding of naval combat, because this," she tapped the file. "Will give the Andromedons an advantage."

"Nothing says we can't do that eventually," the Commander added slowly, crossing his arms. "But perhaps at a time where we aren't facing the threat of extinction. Time is of the essence here, Chancellor. We are not going to win this war without alien help, and that is a fact we need to accept. Will that put us in potentially vulnerable positions in the future? Perhaps, but if we don't then there will not be a future. We are only as reliant on the aliens as we allow ourselves to be. That does not mean we can't learn from them or accept that they might have more experience than us in certain areas."

"I'll consult with Laura and Elizabeth," was all Saudia said. "Moving past that aspect, having the Atlantis facilities function solely as shipyards is a good idea, with other parts being produced by the Andromedons elsewhere."

"V'Zarrah suggested that," the Commander said. "While it would definitely be suspicious if a factory started producing ships, a thousand factories over a hundred planets, from a dozen different Unions, producing small individual parts for various projects will not raise any alarms. If we can focus our production on assembly instead of that and exclusive manufacturing."

"The fleet can be produced in a fraction of the time," Saudia finished. "And if we follow having the Andromedon train teams of officers, the moment the fleet finishes, we can launch our attack to take back the Solar System."

A smile was what she received in return; a smile of calm confidence with a curious satisfaction in his eyes. "Exactly, Chancellor."

Saudia had the feeling that there was more the Commander wasn't telling her. She'd had the feeling for some time. The Commander was curiously not particularly concerned as much as he had been earlier in the war. Perhaps it was because things were falling into place, such as an alliance with the Andromedons, but that couldn't just be it.

She wondered privately if they were in contact with another Ethereal wanting to defect. It would explain his attitude, and why he wouldn't necessarily share it with her immediately. Perhaps this Paradise incident was affecting the Collective more than she thought.

Or perhaps he was just in a continual good mood now?

It wasn't especially important. As long as they kept doing their jobs, the attitude of the Commander was unimportant. It did bring something to her mind, however. "Have you learned anything more about that pyramid?"

"Only that it's very dangerous and alien," he answered, the smile vanishing into his more typical neutral expression. "Aegis doesn't recognize it, but believes it's a precursor artifact of some kind recovered by the Ethereals. Perhaps Cogitian learned how to use it, although the current assumption is that it was placed by Isomnum or Sicarius to test it. We're still researching it in an isolated location, it may be some time before we learn anything more."

Plausible enough, that would explain how it came out of nowhere without bearing any resemblance to modern Collective tech, and this certainly fit the profile of Isomnum. It did make her wonder about the aliens who had made them though. There was always someone else out there, and even after they were gone, their legacy took far longer to vanish.

"We will be in contact shortly," Saudia said. "AEGIS will be sent in a few days to establish something more formal with these Andromedons. Pass that along to V'Zarrah."

"With pleasure, Chancellor," he inclined his head in farewell. "Until next time."

---

Fort McMurray, Alberta – Canada

1/24/2017 – 9:34 P.M.

Showtime was coming, and Neil wanted to do this in an actual sheltered building rather than around another fucking campfire. And they could do that now, since the Inquisitors had neutered any kind of resistance the aliens could put up. Security was under ADVENT control. Military leadership was under their control.

ADVENT had successfully taken control of Fort McMurray, and it was time to fully liberate it. But not before the Sargon of the region was disposed of. It was time to take the required actions, which was why the Inquisitors and several of his soldiers were around a deactivated holotable. He didn't care for the tech, not when paper still existed.

"We've set it up well enough," he began. "So far forty aliens have been lost on patrols, and even more have recorded finding the bodies and bones. Morale of the rank and file aliens is low and they're scared. Whoever's idea it was to leave a meal of Borelian meat that one time, I want to personally commend you."

"Thank you sir!" One of the men said, grinning through his beard. "Didn't take it well?"

Neil held up a small stack of papers. "Got them riled up enough to actually send multiple requests to command demanding to know if Humans actually eat their enemies. We definitely spooked them. None of them want to go out on patrols anymore, so I say we all did our jobs very well, and our good Inquisitors also pulled their weight."

Cycelea smiled, as did the other Inquisitors next to her. "Guess your purple space magic came in handy," Walter grunted. "Fine. Thanks."

"So far we've controlled outgoing reports to not make the request for help seem unexpected," Neil continued. "But also not to a degree which would attract suspicion. Over the next week this will escalate. For the next week there will be patrols sent out and we will ambush and kill every other one. Make it seem to be a direct challenge to our target: Alberta-3."

"Can't believe they're called that," a woman muttered. "Dumb name."

"They're brutes, what do you expect?" Another man asked. "Surprised they managed it at all."

Neil just raised an eyebrow at the rooms chuckling. "From what I understand, names are assigned. And I'm going to make whoever thinks a Sargon is an idiot eat Borelian meat for a week if they say that again. These aren't regular Mutons, they're smart; probably smarter than you. And even if they weren't? We're still going to treat this as if we're killing a fucking Ethereal. Everyone clear on that?"

A chorus of affirmations and acknowledgements, and Neil gave a sharp nod. "Excellent. I've avoided burying anyone so far, and I'd like to keep it that way. So now for the heart of the matter – how are we going to kill Alberta-3?"

"Please don't tell me you didn't figure that out already," Walter said. "I'm not in the mood."

"Rhetorical question," Neil sighed, rubbing his eyes. Perhaps bringing their resident wilderness expert wasn't a good idea. Too late now. "Of course I have a plan, and if it's bad, I'm sure you'll say something."

"You know it."

"We don't want to attract the Collective's attention," Neil said. "Yet. So we need to kill the Sargon and make it appear to be an accident. That means that the killing is done off-base." He noted some inquisitive glances, and raised a hand. "How we do that is through sabotaging his transport. While the Sargon is touring the base Cycelea and her team will convert whatever aliens are guarding the vehicle, and then plant a bomb on it. Time permitting, food and drink will be poisoned as well."

"So it's detonated on the way back?" A man asked.

"No, that makes it too obvious," Neil shook his head. "Detonation will be done through one of his own. We'll have multiple sleeper agents hopefully, and they will detonate the bomb the next trip the Sargon takes. That way if any suspicion appears, it will be in the wrong city."

"What happens if the bomb is discovered?" Was the next question.

"Then the agents will assassinate the Sargon," Cycelea said. "The Sargon will die one way or another, but we're going to aim for the best possible outcome, not just one that works."

"Exactly," Neil said. "Truthfully I don't expect it to go off that smoothly. For all we know he'll come with mechanical soldiers or Sectoids or something we can't subvert. But previous intel makes me confidant this can be pulled off. Worst case scenario, we kill him here. We have control over the military leadership and the Mutons will obey without question, even if it is against their own."

"So what are we going to do during that time?"

"We'll be in the city when he arrives," Neil said. "Falia will suggest that Human shields are necessary. The Inquisitors, several of you, and I will be 'randomly selected' and accompany the Sargon out on his tour. If an Inquisitor or I gives a signal, we kill them. Otherwise we wait and listen. To further pull this off, one of us will be 'captured' and will be able to lead them into several ambush points which can be sprung if necessary."

"You really want him to see all of this?" A short-haired woman asked.

"I do," Neil said. "Assuming the best case scenario happens, the Sargon will inevitably write a report on what he found. I want any discomfort and fear to be spread. All the better if he blames it on rogue Humans and not ADVENT. I don't know if it's possible to unsettle a Sargon, but it's worth it to try."

"Question," Allen, one of the other Inquisitors asked, raising a hand. "We pretty much control the entire scenario here. Why not capture the Sargon instead of killing him? We could learn a lot from it."

"Too early," Neil shook a head. "I agree, but it's too early to do that. We're not equipped to interrogate a high-value target like a Sargon out here, and we want to keep a low profile as long as possible. Once we kill a few more, and the Collective knows something is up, then we can capture the Sargons. But good that you're thinking ahead."

"So worst case scenario," Walter spoke up. "Everything fails and the Sargon survives an assassination attempt?"

"Then we either kill the Sargon when he comes back to investigate," Neil said. "Or we get out of the region and move on to the next target before an army is sent after us. Which is why when the Sargon leaves we have a very limited window to liberate every civilian in this town. Commander Christiaens has been informed of the strike day, and civilians will be evacuated using some new kind of dropship. Impossible for the aliens to not notice it, so they must be dealt with before that point."

"Activate our moles?" A man asked.

"Precisely," Neil nodded to Cycelea. "Overseer Falia orders the Mutons to kill every alien not under our control. The Inquisitors will take care of the Mutons when finished. We'll restrain the aliens under our control, and let ADVENT command decide what to do with them. They want them, fine. If not we kill them and harvest some meat for the next journey. Worst case scenario we take out an entire alien base, and have automated reports that will be sent out over a period of a week."

"Win-win," Cycelea said happily.

Neil snorted. "We're not going to settle for that. We are going to kill the Sargon and liberate this town. Everyone clear on the plan? Because we're not going to be meeting here again."

"Yes, sir!"

"Glad to hear it," Neil straightened up. "If any of you miss coffee and want to make some, go for it. It'll probably be the last you have for a few more months."

---

ADVENT Intelligence Outpost, Brasília - Brazil

2/4/2017 – 11:49 A.M.

They were gathered again for a meeting which Jaylin figured was right before the day they were preparing to head out to meet the Argentinian representatives. In the meantime she'd gotten acquainted with the layout of the area they were going to be in, to prepare it for any ambushes as best she could.

Dr. Wepper wasn't present, largely since he was still doing some research on his psionic tampering theory, but he said that he hoped to start doing actual tests within a few days. Jaylin had to admit she didn't know if she'd feel better if there was, or wasn't verifiable evidence of psionic tampering. Even if there wasn't, she'd always wonder about it in the back of her head.

"Alright, everyone pay attention," Abby said, tapping the table. "I don't want to have to repeat this more than once. Tomorrow may likely be the first time we face the Phantom Division proper, and as such we're going over the plan one last time."

"We have acquired a team of sixteen Lancers," Silvio continued, allowing a satisfied smile to appear. "In addition to a half dozen agents of ADVENT Intelligence. The agents will be disguised as civilians, and the Lancers will be in ordinary ADVENT soldier uniforms. We don't want to tip off anyone we're ready for a fight."

"There will also be another Inquisitor monitoring the crowd," Marco interjected. "He will be in communication with me or Protopriest Kil."

"I will be similarly disguised," Kil added. "And I will be monitoring the Lancers for any kind of psionic tampering. Should that arise, I will immediately let everyone know."

"So I do want to ask one thing," Jaylin cleared her throat. "It's good that everyone will be disguised. But if we are attacked, none of us are going to be in optimal gear. Definitely not enough to stand up against the Phantom Division if they're as enhanced as you say."

"Armor won't matter to the Lancers," Silvio shook his head. "By that I mean it's not as important as they want you to think. They're extensively gene-modded, you can shoot them and they won't go down in a few hits. If they get their hands on weapons or get in close, the Phantoms will have a bad time."

Jaylin coughed again. "I would like to point out that there are those of us who lack this kind of modification."

"If we come under attack you'll be protected," Abby assured them, meeting her eyes which only showed confidence. "The focus will almost certainly be on me or the Priests. You and Leon will need to follow my own orders or those of the Priests. Don't risk yourselves unnecessarily. Understood?"

"Yes."

"On that subject," Silvio continued. "There will be Lancer Executor weapons packed into the transports, along with several more of their favorite toys. We also got authorization to bring two SHIVs along with us. Illusions won't work on them."

"A shame we couldn't get an MDU," Leon chuckled.

"Considered it," Abby said. "Sadly too noticeable and will definitely put any watchers on guard."

"Let's continue with the plan," Serena said.

"Yes," Abby confirmed, leaning on the table. "We will travel in three armored transports. I will be in one, Protopriest Kil will be in another, and Inquisitor Tasis will be in the third. If we lose one transport, I don't want to lose all of our Priests. Jaylin and Serena will be with me. Leon will be with Protopriest Kil, Silvio will be with Tasis. The rest of the seats will be filled with Lancers. The transports will be sufficiently stocked with weapons and gear."

So she would be with Abby. Jaylin felt better about that. Even if Abby was not the most powerful of the group, she felt more comfortable than being in the transport with a psion. Besides, she had learned that Abby was a reliable and dangerous woman in her own right. Then again, as the marked leader, she was potentially more likely to be targeted.

"Upon arrival at the building, everyone will help establish a perimeter," Abby continued, bringing up a small hologram of the layout. "Silvio, Serena, and I will go in and meet the representatives. We expect the talks to take several hours at least. During this time Inquisitor Tasis will be monitoring the meeting psionically, and Protopriest Kil will ensure that there aren't any threats in the immediate vicinity."

"After talks conclude one way or another, we will return in the same way we arrived," Silvio said after a few moments. "And assuming nothing happens, we return here and figure out what to do next. This is if everything concludes without any sort of attacks."

"If we are attacked, it will either be during the talks itself, or on the way to or from the location," Abby said, the hologram now showing the route. "Nebulan seems to prefer isolation, so if we are attacked, it's more likely it'll be along the route. However, if she wants to be unpredictable, it may happen during the talks."

"And if we're attacked?" Leon asked. "Illusions will be a problem."

"You let me worry about that," Kil nodded to him. "That's my job. To make sure any illusions are blocked or at least distorted enough for you to know they aren't real. Kill the things that are living; which I expect the Lancers will also do perfectly fine."

Leon just frowned. "I don't mean to insult you, but are you sure you can defend against an Ethereal?"

Kil was silent, then pursed her lips. "I don't know. The best I can hope for is to delay her long enough to let ADVENT know we're under attack and they send reinforcements."

"I will also be able to help," Marco added. "Two telepaths are better than one. Illusions can't kill either. If you all or the Lancers kill the real attackers, she won't be able to do anything."

"Aside from taking control directly," Abby said dryly. "But I agree. If she loses her ground soldiers she'll back off. And from talking with Aegis, illusions are most effective on the unshielded. Blocking them should not take much energy, and more importantly, if Nebulan wants to apply them to everyone she'll need to break each mind, which is more difficult and takes longer. And I will also be helping."

"Right, you were a soldier," Jaylin remembered she'd mentioned it once. "Guess you have experience with this."

Abby gave a thin smile. "More recent than you think. I have a…specialized suit of armor. I'm letting you know so you don't mistake me for an enemy if I have to use it."

That didn't especially surprise Jaylin, especially since she'd come from XCOM, who likely had more advanced armor than even ADVENT. "Sounds good."

"Keep in mind we are assuming the worst-case scenario," Silvio pointed out. "It's very possible that Nebulan herself will not be involved and she'll just send a team of Phantom Division operatives, if she attacks at all."

"Exactly," Abby confirmed. "Prepare as if we know she's going to attack, but don't be surprised if nothing happens. That's a major part of what we're trying to find out – who knows what. We're going to learn something important from this, and attack or no, we will have a much more concrete plan moving forward."

She straightened. "Everyone get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a stressful day. Dismissed."

---

Borelian Wastes – Vitakar

2/7/2017 – 5:16 P.M.

The good news was that Miridian was taking an interest in him.

The bad news was that Miridian was taking an interest in him.

What Nartha had deliberately tried to avoid thinking of, despite the necessity of it, was that the vast majority of Nulorian were terrorists that almost everyone would universally agree would be better off dead. It was one thing to target the Zararch, or the military; that Nartha could understand easily enough, and it was justifiable from a certain point of view.

But the Nulorian were considered terrorists for very good reason. Nothing was off-limits for them. Civilians were the most common, sabotage was another common tactic, poisoning, assassination, and worse. They also had a very barbaric tactic of capturing low-level government officials or soldiers and torturing them to death and sending them in untraceable messages. Not to the public, that was always blocked, but it did have the effect of making any Zararch who reviewed it uneasy, especially since much of the videos were scripted to provoke and enrage the Zararch agents they knew were watching it.

And these were still the best people to take down the Collective on Vitakar. Dealing with the monsters in the Nulorian was going to be an entirely separate problem, and he didn't know how willing Miridian would be to any kind of concessions. Probably none, judging from who he'd sent to meet him.

"Cold?" The Dath'Haram asked him, a low droll voice which was misleadingly conversational. It was just on the edge of continuously amused, and more upbeat than the situation demanded.

"No," Nartha stated in response. "I dressed well enough."

The Dath'Haram simply showed his teeth in an approximation of a smile, as the snow flurried and dusted them in the fine white powder. "Zararch agents are always prepared, or so they think. I sincerely hope your friends also thought ahead. If they show up."

Being in the presence of Nul'sorras'haramoalian was one of the most uncomfortable experiences he'd ever had in his life. The Dath'Haram moved like water, had a voice that would put most at ease, and was half a head shorter than himself. A very unthreatening individual, had Nartha not known he was also one of most infamous terrorists in the entirety of Vitakara history.

He was one of the Nulorian who was known throughout the Zararch – and openly accepted it. The debates had raged on if Sorras was actually insane, or if there was a much greater meaning or message to his attacks. He'd exclusively attacked the Dath'Haram his entire life, killing men, women, and children without mercy. Schools were rigged and bombed, families were slain in the middle of the night, and even Bladedancers had been executed by him.

Nartha had not failed to recognize the golden-trimmed hilt of a Bladedancer sword. No Bladedancer would ever part with it willingly; they would rather die first. Which meant Sorras had killed a Bladedancer, though by what means were up to debate. Although, when was he ever going to have the opportunity to interview the most infamous known terrorist in the Nulorian?

"That blade," he indicated the sword. "How did you kill him?"

In a one-second flourish the sword was in the hand as Sorras looked at it with pride. "Ah, you'll have to be more specific, Zararch. I've killed three of those Bladedancers, and each one in…different ways." He fixed his glistening eyes on Nartha. "I presume you want to know if I beat one in combat, or if I used less savory means."

"I've been curious," Nartha said slowly. "You have quite a reputation."

"One I've done my best to maintain," he said smugly, letting the blade tip sink a hair into the snow. "The first one I killed in combat, sword-on-sword. They called it an assassination, but it's in the nature of the Zararch to lie. It was isolated, but there were some witnesses. After I ensured they wouldn't run off, I fought the Bladedancer." His tone turned almost longing. "Skilled warriors they are. Ones who won't answer a threat with pacifism." He spat the last word. "I eventually won, obviously. Broke his sword and displayed the corpse. I foolishly thought that might get my spineless race to actually do something, but no."

He paused for a minute, and they both listened to the snow being battered around in the wind.

"I'd proven to myself I could kill a Bladedancer on their own terms," Sorras finally continued, sheathing the sword slowly. "I had no reason to repeat the process. I slit the throat of another in her sleep and took the blade I'd rightfully earned the first time. The third stepped onto a mine I'd laid. I suppose it just proves that if not in a duel, Bladedancers are not hard to kill. That's the truth, Zararch. I presume I've answered your question."

"Completely," he said neutrally.

"Mhmm," he hummed knowingly. "You don't like me, do you?"

Nartha figured Sorras would understand honesty. "If I didn't need you, I would kill you."

The Dath'Haram simply nodded. "I don't expect you to like me, or understand. But I think you will eventually. You impress me, Zararch, regardless of your personal feelings. Any of our kind who can break the conditioning we grow up in, especially in the Zararch…that is commendable. It is no surprise Miridian has begun to recognize that you were no mole."

Nartha grunted. "And what does it take to meet him?"

"Soon," Sorras promised. "Sooner if you were telling the truth about the Humans who can transverse to our world. I am skeptical, but that is why Miridian sent me. He knows I will tell the truth of what I see."

Nartha checked the time. "We're just entering the timeframe for arrival. Knowing XCOM, they will be here soon."

Sorras just nodded and then sat down cross-legged on the snow as they lapsed into a silence that stretched out over minutes. He barely felt the cold, either because of his clothing or because he had blocked it out of his mind. It was dying down slowly, and the sun was beginning to set. Then there was a sudden blue-green flash and a group of armored soldiers suddenly appeared from nowhere.

Sorras was immediately on his feet, and Nartha already moving to greet the group. XCOM must have upgraded their armor, because the soldiers before him were in suits that were much larger and bulkier than the Aegis-class armor. A very noticeable upgrade, in addition to the plasma weapons they wielded. Although, as he took a closer look, some of the suits were a little slimmer and sleek, and there was Fiona in her stony armor, sword still attached to her back.

"We made it," she said, motioning the group forward. "Hello Nartha. Hope you weren't waiting too long."

"Not too long," he answered. "Glad you made it."

"So," the armored form of Shun said, looking around. "This is Vitakar?"

He smiled. "Yes, though not one of its most scenic locations."

"Oh, I don't know," she said, reaching up to take off her helmet, and shaking her hair free. "I've seen worse views." She stepped forward and pulled him into a quick hug, which almost caught him off guard but he recovered in enough time to embrace her armored form. Not especially comfortable, but he could look past that.

"Greetings, Humans," Sorras said, stepping forward and giving Nartha a curious look. "It appears the Zararch agent wasn't making this up. Miridian will be very interested in this. Who is the leader?"

"Me, right now," Fiona said. "Fiona Dorren, although when I'm not around, it's Agent Jarvis."

"We can make more formal introductions out of the cold," Sorras answered. "But first I will introduce myself as Sorras, one of Miridian's best and most trusted operatives, and rather infamous to the Zararch."

Which was putting it very lightly, but Nartha could correct the record in private. XCOM needed to know that Sorras wasn't necessarily someone they should treat as a close ally. "Let's move in," Nartha said. "We've got a lot to talk about."

---

Zararch Command, Collective Mars Base – Mars

1/26/2017 – 12:11 P.M.

For the first time in a long time, Ravarian was pleasantly surprised with something the Ethereals had done. Granted the reforms by the Battlemaster were needed changes on the whole, though he was not especially clear on why he was restricting usage for the captured Humans and taking some kind of internal revenge on the Creator, who he was still not clear on what had happened in her Blacksite.

What was the point of transferring Human captives off-planet and not utilizing them? Was it some bizarre development of a conscience? Was it some kind of justification for transferring to clones? Mildly irritating, but nothing he could do and Quisilia had essentially said to accept it. Well, it wouldn't stop the Transference project, although given his new directive, perhaps he should hold off inserting the conditioned Humans immediately.

"What changed?" He wasn't completely expecting an answer, but he did want to know the sudden shift in mindset. Especially from the Imperator.

Quisilia looked up from his phone, Fluffy curled up around his feet. "I suspect you will not like the answer."

Ravarian narrowed his eyes to slits. "I've had to deal with answers I don't like for some time, I can hear another."

Quisilia put the phone away. "Our esteemed XCOM guest. She agreed with it."

The Ethereal was partially right. Part of Ravarian did not like the answer, the other part was surprised she had given one at all. "She agreed?"

"Yes."

Ravarian waved an arm. "Why?"

"Because Miss Trask is, at her heart, someone who understands the mindset of the Imperator and his goals," he answered. "Rather remarkable, yes, and I think he's convincing her that they have very similar goals for her species."

That was…unlike anything Ravarian had heard. It struck him as profoundly wrong that the Imperator was successfully turning the most powerful Human psion to his side, and if Quisilia was to be believed, without using his own extensive psionic abilities. Words alone. It did not seem natural or right. It was unnerving.

He was no interrogator or negotiator. He was direct, skilled, and intelligent, yes, but his skill was not in convincing individuals to give up their secrets, or necessarily playing a role. He could act, true, but he was not a natural. He could never sway an enemy to his side with words alone. He could make offers, threats, and other kinds of coercion, but oration was simply not something he could master.

But the Imperator could not only turn one to his cause, but a psion and XCOM soldier for good measure. People with that capability unnerved him more than psions, assuming that the Imperator wasn't using them already.

He pushed that aside, and focused on the part he especially did not like. "Why, exactly, are we basing our operations on the opinions of an XCOM soldier, who I will note, is not actually on our side?"

"Her influence is limited," Quisilia dismissed. "And I suspect the Imperator would have approved this operation regardless. But having her approve it? It will assist in the Imperator convincing her to turn. A win for all involved, as far as I am concerned."

Ravarian sighed. "In which case, we should begin the infection points. If China is a target, we could likely infect anyone in a major city and watch it spread immediately."

"A possible issue is that it will arise too fast," Quisilia pointed out, telekinetically raising the cat at his feet into his hand instead of reaching down. "China could quarantine a city immediately."

"We bypass this by infecting an individual in an airport," Ravarian clarified, bringing up a holomap of China. "Preferably one with flights to Africa. This will spread the virus internationally. I would prefer to avoid having more than one patient zero, because ADVENT might become immediately suspicious otherwise."

"You assume they won't blame this on us?" Quisilia asked dryly.

Ravarian snorted. "Of course they will. But I wish them luck definitively proving it. One patient zero is a fluke. If several pop up at once that is clear evidence of some kind of targeted distribution. And smallpox is something which could theoretically arise naturally, as Humans stopped vaccinations for it years ago."

"I presume those vaccinations are still useful?" Quisilia inquired.

"Sectoid estimations believe they will be," he nodded, remembering the report. "But they will only be useful in preventing a spread. It is not a cure, and their stockpiles of the vaccines are low. It will take time for the world to adjust. I suspect ADVENT and parts of Africa will be able to mobilize fast enough. China should be devastated, which weakens the country severely. All according to plan."

"And we have the cure to give to Betos," Quisilia finished with a satisfied breath. "I suspect ADVENT will wonder how she developed this, but they'll be too busy with the outbreak to fully pay attention to her or the SAS."

Ravarian frowned. "I would attempt to keep this quiet as much as possible. That might be what pushes ADVENT to attack her, and right now, it is too early."

"True," Quisilia agreed. "And can it spread to Collective species?"

"No." Ravarian shook his head. "The virus appears to not affect alien life whatsoever. Not unless there is a concentrated effort, all Collective species are immune to the disease. Our own forces will be safe."

"We will want to time the virus to launch with an attack," Quisilia mused. "In the meantime, we should begin the creation of a plausible patient zero. Nebulan could perhaps assist in acquiring us a useful subject. Perhaps someone recently from a remote location; South America or Africa, where he was exposed to smallpox and unknowingly brought it back. Yes, this could work."

"I'll leave that to you," Ravarian nodded. "I also think that Nartha should be terminated soon. We have acquired useful information from him, and I do not want a double agent running around the Collective, especially now."

"I haven't checked up on him in some time," Quisilia noted. "I'll do a final extraction, bring back what I learn, and we can determine the best method to remove him. Though I will confess he is not a recent priority. One double agent cannot do anything when cut off from Earth, and rebellion within the Collective is completely out of the question. Any plans he can conceive of can only be executed after years. Hardly an immediate or pressing concern."

"Agreed," Ravarian said. "But my point stands."

"We will deal with Nartha after China," Quisilia said. "Until then, keep him confined to a place where he has limited influence. Vitakar is good. He will only have the Nulorian for company and not a group which is actually dangerous."

"I've done that already," Ravarian answered with a nod. "He won't be a problem."

---

Isolated Location – Argentina

2/4/2017 – 8:18 A.M.

One day.

Volk sipped from his cup of water as he listened to the ambient silence of his room. Elena was still sleeping, and wouldn't wake up for a few minutes yet. He'd forgotten how nice it was to have a modern and clean room to live in. Normally he and his crew lived in conditions much worse than this. Granted, if the aliens hadn't known how to construct an entire facility in a remote location over a short period of time, he would have wondered as to how advanced they really were.

But they had come through, and now everyone was happy.

Now came the first part of what Volk was considering to be a long, drawn out campaign. The assassination of an XCOM Intelligence agent would draw attention, as well as the attack of an ADVENT convoy. No matter how it turned out, the heat was going to be turned on them, and he was curious both how ADVENT and XCOM would respond, but also Asaru and the Phantom Division.

He heard the bed rustling and glanced over to see Elena on cue sitting up and moving to get dressed; no sign of morning fatigue as usual. "Morning Elena," he called. "Sleep good?" No response, which meant that she had. If she hadn't, she would have woken him up in the middle of the night. But he still considered it polite to ask, and he knew some part of her appreciated it.

As she changed, he pondered what he would do if he had a clear shot at Abigail. Asaru wanted her alive, but he wasn't sure that it would be safe to risk capturing her. By all accounts she was a dangerous operative, and one underestimated XCOM at their own peril. If it came down to it, he would kill her if he had the chance.

Well…not quite. Wound her first. If things were heated or going south, he could kill her.

Elena walked out of the bathroom and straight for the griddle as she had every morning since they had actually set up stoves and brought in ingredients. She was already dressed for a mission, minus the mask and hood down. He gave a short cough as she walked past him. "Elena?" She paused, and looked to him. He pointed at the plate opposite his. "I made you breakfast already."

She didn't immediately ignore him, which was a…good sign, and slowly walked over to the table and looked down at the plate of pancakes. Stacked three pancakes high, each layer buttered, and topped with an extremely generous helping of powdered sugar, they were to Volk, perhaps the unhealthiest iteration of a classic breakfast he had ever seen. But Elena loved them for god knew what reason and would never eat any other kind of pancakes.

He held in a sigh of relief as she sat down, looked over the meal closely, shot him a suspicious glance, peeking under one of the layers to make sure he hadn't put syrup under it (a previous attempt he regretted after Elena had dumped out all of syrup in retaliation), and satisfied, began eating it. Well, it was better than her throwing it away and making it again the exact same way.

Stickler for details, she was. But part of her lovable charm. Even if he screwed up on something like pancakes, she'd let him know it just wasn't acceptable.

He let her eat in silence for a few minutes, letting his mind wander back to the upcoming operation. They knew that the entourage was going to have support. He was expecting at least some ADVENT special forces, they had to anticipate there might be an attack, but perhaps they'd bypass it with just standard soldiers because of a numerical advantage?

Possible. It was unlikely all of the estimated dozen soldiers would be Lancers or Dragoons. Then again, it wasn't known just how much ADVENT knew about the situation. This could be them testing the waters, or it could be they were laying a trap of their own. Two sides of intelligent enemies playing mind games. He was honestly very curious to see how this would play out.

Elena stopped eating, her eyes focusing on him. "This is good," she said quietly. "Thank you."

An ecstatic Yes! went through his head and he smiled. "Knew I'd get it right some day."

"Mmm," she hummed, and ate some more. "I will not die tomorrow."

He blinked. "What?"

"Tomorrow," she said, continuing to eat. "I will not die. You do not need to worry."

Oh, he saw where she was going with this. Stupid of him to think she wouldn't notice the timing of him making something innocent like breakfast and the potentially lethal mission the next day. "Call it an unfounded concern," he shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "I don't want to have any regrets."

"We are prepared; we possess numerical, tactical, and psionic superiority," she listed off. "ADVENT psionic assets have been identified. XCOM Agent has been identified. Route is known and planned. We possess advantage in combat; snipers will engage at long range. Safety in distance."

"Like I said," he repeated. "Unfounded concern. But…I don't know what to expect. This will be different than the first time."

She had finished the pancakes, and was swirling the fork around the loose powdered sugar and getting what she could from it. "ADVENT soldiers most effective when prepared and engaging in medium-range environments. Psions occupied by Asaru. Phantom Division possess technical edge over ADVENT. Isolated location prevents immediate reinforcement."

"Alright, alright," he held up a hand in mock surrender. "You made your point. Still won't feel better until it's done and we're both back here."

"Yes, we will both come back here," she pushed the plate forward slightly and tapped it with her fork. "You will make this again for me. More sugar next time."

He gave a mock sigh. "Understood Elena." She gave a rare smile in return, though only for a moment. "Come on," he stood. "Let's make sure everything is ready."

---

Library of the Temple Ship – Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective

1/25/2017 – 1:00 P.M.

It was indeed a whole new world which had opened up to him. It was almost difficult to believe that just over a week ago he'd been stuck on Earth and resorting to forcing a woman at gunpoint to awaken the power within him. But he had succeeded, and now he resided in what he was quickly finding to be the most fascinating place in the galaxy.

Ironically enough it wasn't a planet, or even the Temple Ship itself, although that came with its own kind of wonder, but the Library, one run by the Ethereal Cogitian. Ivan was personally shocked that so few people were bothering to explore this vast wealth of knowledge within this room. It wasn't just digital copies of books either, but physical records, artifacts, and other things which he couldn't even begin to recognize.

Adding to the mystique was that fact that, sadly, the vast majority of records were in Ethereal Script and not English. Which wasn't unexpected; had the Ethereals had their records in English it would have raised a substantial amount of questions. The CODEX System was going through and slowly translating things into all known alien languages, not just English. But he wanted to learn the language himself, and in the meantime Cogitian had helpfully gone to the trouble of translating a few general documents he felt would be interesting.

And they most certainly were. While he was certainly no historian, nor had previously had much interest in Human history, there was something that drew him to the various alien species, and the old Ethereal Empire in particular. Perhaps it was the alien factor, perhaps it was because he was one of the first Humans to know of it, or perhaps it just drew his attention.

In any case, it was fascinating to see a radically different culture develop and grow, until it ultimately collapsed around them. History seemed to repeat itself well beyond Earth. No matter the power one faction had, eventually it would collapse for one reason or another, even if it was one hundred years old or one thousand. It wouldn't necessarily die forever, but it would be changed.

The Ethereal Collective was the change of the Empire. Time would tell if the Imperator learned from the mistakes of the past.

He suddenly felt something in his head, which meant that there was someone else that had just come into a room. He was still getting used to that. Telepathy was still a new and odd sensation, and at some times threatened to become information overload as his brain unconsciously picked up every thought, emotion, and fired neuron in whoever he had interacted with, presuming they hadn't protected himself.

The Overmind had taught him a way to suppress it without it being too overwhelming, but spikes would still happen whenever someone new came by, and he wasn't expecting it. In fact, one reason he enjoyed the library was because very few people did come by. Still, he wanted to know who it was who came by. They'd likely been here longer than him, and he knew there were at least a few more Humans around. He might as well meet them-

His eyes widened as he caught sight of who it was. Impossible, this must have been some kind of telepathic trick. Ivan carefully set down the Ethereal tablet, shook his head, and looked again. Nope, it was still the same person. Leaning back in his chair, he wondered if it was a clone or some strange lookalike.

Because why the fuck would Patricia Trask be here?

If it wasn't her, then she must have had a twin. He'd seen her several times on the television, and the media had liked to use her as one of the poster girls for XCOM and the war against the Collective. Yeah, he definitely knew her face, even if she was out of her armor and wearing some silvery outfit.

Didn't look bad on her though.

The chestnut-haired woman suddenly perked up, then looked over to him and Ivan felt the presence of another telepath probing his outer defenses – which unfortunately were not exactly that great. This isn't good at all.

And there she was, walking over to him. She stopped a few feet away, and leaned on one of the display cases, looking at him with her piercing eyes. No question that it was her. "Do I know you?"

Ivan snorted. "Unlikely. But you might be surprised how many people know about you, Patricia Trask."

Her lips curled into a humorless smile. "So I see. And I suppose you didn't expect me to be here." How she ended that statement made it very clear it wasn't a question. One she'd probably heard before.

"Can you blame me?" He asked. "Aside from the Commander of XCOM, you're the last person I'd expect here unless as a prisoner." He paused. "Or are you?"

"No," she answered neutrally. "I'm free to leave whenever I want."

There was a short awkward silence. He coughed. "If you don't mind my asking…"

"Because I can't yet," she said, looking away. "I've…learned things here. Things which are…important. I have to make my next decisions very carefully. No, I can't tell you why."

That had…not been the answer he had been expecting. Although he wasn't sure any answer would adequately explain her situation. But she didn't necessarily appear to be completely on the Collective's side, which was also an interesting development. "You're new here," she said after a moment. "We haven't met."

"Ivan Smirnov," he inclined his head. "Formerly defense attorney, formerly unemployed, now training under the Overmind as a psion."

"The Overmind?" She cocked her head. "Interesting that he's found his own trainee. Seems a lot of Ethereals are getting them."

"Including you?" He wondered.

She sat down in a nearby chair, staring off into space. "I've wondered. Maybe. Unlike you I didn't come by choice." Her lips twitched. "Well, technically I did come by choice, though one where there wasn't any actual option."

Kidnapped then. That made a lot more sense than her defecting. Although what was keeping her here was a question he didn't know an answer to. "Odd that you're still here, no offense."

"Trust me," she said dryly. "I know. Sometimes I don't know if I have some kind of Stockholm Syndrome where I don't want to leave, or if the Imperator is really affecting my mind. Just excuses though. I'm not going to blame someone or something else for my own choices, Imperator or not."

"You've spoken with the Imperator?" That was different. Had the Imperator wanted Patricia Trask to be his…what? Apprentice? Trainee? Speaker? Well, whatever he planned, he certainly didn't aim for the average individual.

"Many times," she said. "It's…illuminating. You'll understand when you meet him."

"When?" He gave a little laugh. "I'm not expecting to. Not for a while anyway."

"I think you will," Patricia said seriously. "He will make a point of it soon."

"We'll see," Ivan said. "What did you come in for, anyway? This isn't usually a populated place."

"Research," she said. "Theoretical psionics. The Empire had a lot of them, even if most never really pursued it further. Maybe there's something to them. Ethereals can become stagnant over time."

"Well, good luck," he said, picking up his tablet. "There's almost too much for me to find. Not to mention I can't read half of it."

"I wouldn't worry, Ivan," she said, standing up. "I know exactly what I'm looking for."

---

Project Phobos Research Facility – Washington D.C.

1/30/2017 – 3:54 P.M.

The dossier on Kane had not exaggerated just how big the man was. He was actually bigger than Creed, which the Commander found somewhat impressive. He certainly had the physique to be an XCOM soldier, and the skill if his records were anything to go by. The Commander was curious as to how he hadn't been selected for special forces, though that could be due to his age. At only twenty-three and with unresolved anger management issues, perhaps he'd been deemed too much of a risk.

"I expect the Ethereal told you about me," Kane said. "Did he have anything interesting to share?"

Interesting to share? That was...one way to put it. "Aegis has never encountered anyone quite like you," the Commander answered carefully, wanting to only share as much as necessary at the moment. "Your experience and recovery was not something he considered to be possible, and your reaction to psionics is also...unique."

Which was leaving out how it was the first time the Commander had heard Aegis sound uneasy. He had said that Kane had the mind of an unsound man, yet who still retained himself. A man who lived in constant mental fury and torment. Aegis had advised "caution" when deciding what to do with him. Something that the Commander planned to take into account.

Kane grunted and replied coldly, though with the slightest hint of amusement "I don't blame him for thinking that, no one should have been able to survive that with their mind intact. Who knows, perhaps I didn't." Kane paused for a moment, appearing as though he was looking through the Commander, through the world around them, his mind elsewhere. "Tell me Commander, do you believe in Hell?"

The Commander had an inkling of where he might be going with this. The dossier had mentioned that Kane had been raised in a religious family. Based on how Isomnum operated, it was quite possible this was related to what he had experienced. He fixed the man with a firm gaze. "No. Not in the context of religion." He allowed a brief pause. "Sometimes I wish I did, but I cannot say I do believe in such. I am not exactly what you would call a...religious individual."

"I see; understandable, neither did I, not really anyway. While my parents believed; still believe," he corrected quickly. "I began to doubt. As a child I was frightened, that's what the point of it was, to scare me, to make me obey. But as I grew older I put it behind me. At least I thought I did. Then he showed up…that's when I learned the truth. Hell is real, but it isn't something so simple as a physical place, no, it's a state of mind."

"When you say he," the Commander interrupted, wanting to confirm his suspicion. "You mean Isomnum?"

"Yes, Isomnum, the Dread Lord as he calls himself." He gave a short, bitter laugh, his eyes still unfocused and looking elsewhere as he responded. "The doctors said I was only out for a few weeks. If only. No, for me I was there years, decades maybe, in a hell of his and, as I know now, my imagining."

There was a momentary silence, before Kane leaned forward, his voice dripping with intensity. "You see, that's what they get wrong. We create our own hell, Commander; in our minds, in the shadows we dare not tread, we build it brick by brick with every thought we push away, every forgotten trauma, every hidden fear, it all goes there. And when he appeared, when the world went dark, it was waiting for me." He stated, finally meeting the Commander's gaze.

The Commander shifted in his seat, eyeing the man with a cautious curiosity. If nothing else, this was perhaps the most accurate insight into the effect Isomnum caused in his victims. They knew how the Ethereal used his powers, but every time the victims were too far gone to acquire an understanding of what they endured.

Until now.

"But you still managed to beat it," he said to Kane. The exact details of what he had endured were personal, and the Commander didn't have a desire to pry, but the process by which he overcame them? That he wanted to know. "How?"

Kane was silent, his face impassive, his mind once more seemingly in a far off place. "It's...hard to explain in words. I don't know if anyone who hasn't been there can truly understand. "

"Try," the Commander asked.

Kane thought hard for some time before slowly, haltingly, he posed a question. "Tell me, what do pain and fear mean for you?"

The Commander frowned. "Elaborate. In what context do you mean? What I've personally experienced, or the words themselves?"

"For humans, or life in general, what is the point of it? Have you ever asked yourself that? Why we feel them at all?"

In truth he really hadn't. He'd accepted those as realities of life long ago, and didn't see much of a point in asking questions he knew couldn't be answered. "Not especially. Pain serves as a warning to us, fear as well. Information we can use to either help inform our choices...or let it dominate us. Those are just parts of life. Does there need to be a deeper reason to exist beyond biology and evolution?"

"No, that's enough for the moment. I'm not the smartest guy around, but from my experience I came to a similar conclusion as you did. They taught us how to deal with fear and pain in boot camp, tried to anyway, the rest we learned in the field. I get the feeling you were military before all this, or at least received combat training. Not sure what branch but you've obviously seen action, so you probably know what I'm talking about. Pain is the body warning us of danger, telling us something is harmful, it hurts so we don't put ourselves in danger again, ideally at least. The same is true for fear, but with the mind."

Kane looked at his hand and spoke. "If you touch a hot stove it burns, that makes you pull your hand away. Then you fear that, you avoid making the same mistake in the future, that way you stay alive and healthy. It's all to keep us alive. But what if you are in pain, what if you're afraid, but can't do anything about it?"

He looked back at the commander and with just a hint of anger in his voice continued. "What if you can't escape the pain? What if you can't escape death? What if you can't do anything? You can't run, you can't hide, you try fighting but it just results in more pain, even worse sometimes, and then you go through it all over again, because death isn't the end anymore. Instead of freeing you it just starts the next nightmare. It's all pointless, all the fear, all the pain, you can't stop it or do anything about it."

With his anger growing more and more apparent Kane went on. "What purpose do they serve then?"

The Commander gave a single nod. "In that context, nothing."

"Exactly!" He slammed a fist onto the table. "Nothing! Not a damn thing! In that moment it only exists to torment you, as a tool make you suffer! And at my lowest point, when my mind was in tatters, my body mangled beyond recognition and experiencing things no human could possibly survive, it all became clear."

Kane's anger subsided for the moment but he resumed speaking shortly. "It didn't mean anything. Pain, fear, death, nothing at all. It certainly wasn't changing anything about my situation, and just like that suddenly things...changed. Like a fog was lifted from my mind and everything was clear. In that moment I remembered why I was suffering. Who did this to me, and just like that I knew what it was I had to do. I felt angry, furious, like you wouldn't believe, fear was gone and pain seemed far away, still there but also somehow not."

Clenching his fists hard enough to turn his knuckles white as he looked down at them, Kane's eyes were now hidden in shadow beneath his brows. "So I attacked. Or tried to at least, I think my guts were spread all around a room at the time, each being tortured by a different being. Demons, aliens, both? Hard to say. I died, again, but when I woke back up I didn't run, I fought."

"From that moment on I never again cowered, never again ran, if they came for me I would fight back, if they broke my arms I would kick them, if they cut off my legs I would bite them, if they broke my teeth I would bash my head against them over and over, so long as it was possible to fight back I would, and when I died I'd do it all over again." A bloodthirsty grin ripped across Kane's face as he recalled what he went through.

"At first I failed, over and over and over again." He said, waving his hand now in small circles. "But eventually I started to win, it was slow going but I managed to kill some of my tormentors, not Isomnum, or the other two, not yet, but the lesser manifestations? His minions? The lowly servants? I could kill them just fine. Then I kept going, and when something died, it didn't come back again, but I did."

The Commander cocked his head, noticing something that hadn't been mentioned before. "The other two?"

"His overseers, those second only to him, the two he came to save back in D.C., the Battlemaster and the Warlock. In my nightmares they served him, reported directly to him, protected him and carried out his will. It wasn't always one of them or Isomnum torturing me, hunting me, but I always knew they were out there somewhere, always knew they were responsible. Somehow."

Hm. It might be a problem if Kane put the Battlemaster on the same level as Isomnum. Especially around Aegis. That would be something to watch for, though the Commander didn't know if that outlook towards him or the Warlock could be changed based on what he had been through. "And you eventually killed all of them," the Commander finished. "That was the solution. Once that was done...you woke up."

"Yes, the very thing meant to prolong my suffering was the key to my victory, because I never truly died. I could continue to throw myself at them as many times as it took, and it took a lot of tries, for all of them. First the Warlock, then the Battlemaster, and finally Isomnum. As I beat him into a bluish pulp with his own limbs and at last crushed his skull I woke up, and found myself in what looked like a hospital bed, tied down and stuck full of tubes."

At last leaning back in his chair and seeming to relax Kane finished his tale. "At first I thought it was a trick, another nightmare. They had to sedate me several times before I figured something was different and actually tried listening to them. I was free, I hadn't escaped Hell, I'd conquered it, all my fears, all the pain, everything, it was over. I killed it all. Unfortunately this also meant I'd failed."

His story was certainly one of the more interesting ones the Commander had heard. He was impressed that throughout all of that, Kane had managed to retain his sanity. At least enough to hold a calm conversation. Perhaps he still wasn't quite right mentally, only a telepath would know, and all he could sense from Kane at the moment was an intense resolve. But he seemed, at the moment, to be stable enough.

"Thank you for telling me that," the Commander said. "I'm not sure even I would have been able to overcome a similar situation, nor would anyone else. You did though. But you want to join XCOM now, not return to ADVENT or keep assisting in the Phobos project."

The Commander rested a forearm on the table, maintaining eye contact. "You could likely join the Lancers with your skills if you feel you've done all you can for Phobos. But you specifically want XCOM. Why?" He did know the answer Kane had given to Saudia, but was curious if he would elaborate on it more.

"Like I said, I failed. They're still alive!" He growled, his hands gripping the table so hard they looked about to bleed. "What happened to me isn't unique, I'm just the only one to come back on my own, and while I've done as much as I could to save the other victims not all of them made it. They weren't the first casualties of this war, not his first victims, and they won't be the last. It won't end, not until those responsible pay."

He was getting angry again, and breathing heavily. "They must die. Isomnum, the Warlock, even the Battlemaster, them and the rest of the Collective, only then can there be peace for us. So long as that monster, no, that creature lives no one is safe. That is why I am asking you to let me join XCOM, the Lancers are good, damn good, but they don't fight Ethereals; they can't handle them, but I can, and XCOM does fight Ethereals. More importantly, you kill them."

Sitting up straight and after a few moments once more seemingly calm, he looked straight at the Commander, his eyes hard and his face set. "That is why I want to join you. They took everything from me, they have innocent blood on their hands and until they are defeated this war will never end. Let me help you Commander, let me have my vengeance. It's all that is left for me. You've read the reports, I'm immune to telepathy, or damn close to it, Isomnum has no hold over me anymore, and he never will. I have a better chance of running into Isomnum or the others with you than with anyone else and if you let me I will end them."

"I've done all I can here, they have everything they need from me and at this point I'm little more than a third wheel. There's no one else from the attack that can be saved either. This is the last thing left to do. Maybe if I kill them for real the last few soldiers will wake up, but I doubt it. At the very least the ones who didn't make it might rest easier, and no one else will ever need to fear the Dread Lord again."

He had the right mindset for fighting an Ethereal, the Commander couldn't disagree on that front. But XCOM wasn't composed of one man armies, and the soldiers within it needed to be reliable. On that front, he was unsure how well Kane fit, if he did at all. "You've made your case for why you want to join. I can't disagree with it. What I need to know is how reliable you will be."

"I don't have a use for lone wolves and one-man armies," the Commander said, lacing his fingers together. "I give my soldiers freedom in how to carry out my orders. But I expect that these orders are followed, as well as those of my Squad Overseers. Joining XCOM, there is a chance that you will not fight Ethereals. If you saw Isomnum, and you received a direct order not to engage, what would you do?"

Kane frowned and looked down at the Table between them as he considered his response. "I can't think of any reason to spare that filth so I'm going to assume what you really want to know is if I will follow orders or act on my own, am I correct?"

"Correct."

Looking up from the table to meet the Commander's gaze Kane answered. "Before my...encounter with Isomnum I was a soldier, had been for years. I was trained to follow orders, it was drilled into me, because when soldiers act alone or disobey there are consequences. For them, for the mission and for the men fighting beside them."

"Joining XCOM would mean I report to you, and if I got sent to the field I would report to the Overseers. If I went rogue I'd become a liability, that's what your worried about. The truth is I'm not entirely sure what I would do, I have no desire to endanger my allies or the mission, while my immediate goal is vengeance against those three I am fully committed to victory in this conflict."

Kane let out a rare sigh in frustration, the gears in his mind furiously turning. "If disobeying you or the Overseer meant putting others needlessly at risk, or posed a threat to the mission or even the war...I would like to think I could put my own goals aside. I would like to, but if you put me in a room with him right now and told me not to hurt him I do not know what I would do."

The Commander was not completely surprised to hear that. An honest assessment of what he might or might not do was a point in his favor. It was far better than lying to himself, and if Kane had said the opposite of what he had just stated, he would be suspicious. "I see, and had suspected as much. I can't have someone who would put his own priorities before the mission, no matter how much they were justified."

He leaned back in his chair. "That being said, I think there may be a workaround for your own situation. If you come to XCOM, we can make you tougher and stronger than you were before. But you would also receive the Manchurian Restraints to prevent you from endangering a mission or soldiers. It would not be as restrictive as our psions, but considering your unique circumstances, I feel it is warranted. I do think you would be an asset in XCOM, Kane, but only if I know you are reliable."

Kane grimaced as he considered the offer. "You're asking a lot of me, I'd be trusting you with my own mind, I just escaped from one mental prison and now I find I may need to submit to another. All for the chance to kill those bastards, unless you decide I can't."

"Yes," the Commander said. "To protect XCOM and others in case you are not yourself. And if it makes you feel better, I do this to everyone who might pose a risk. Granted, not for the same reasons as yourself, but my psions, own Internal Council, and even myself are under the Restraints. Not common knowledge, but I don't make exceptions for anyone, myself included."

He was clearly debating things internally, weighing his options and trying to decide what to do. After minutes of silence, punctuated by occasional grumbling and muttering before he seemed to come to a decision. "And if I agree to this...you will let me fight for you? Give me the chance to end those scum?"

"Yes," the Commander answered. "I will."

Another pause occurred before Kane set his expression and looked the Commander in the eyes. "I do this for you then I need to know you're serious. One thing I will never do, Manchurian restraints be damned, is surrender or allow these bastards, this "Collective" to win. Are we on the same page here? I want them crushed and this Imperator of theirs punished! Along with everyone else who was behind this war. I will give up everything, suffer anything, for this. Are you prepared to do the same?"

"I can promise this much," the Commander said slowly. "We will defeat the Collective and kill the Imperator, or die trying. There is no other acceptable outcome."

"Then I agree to your conditions, when can I start?"

"Immediately," the Commander said, standing up. "I've ensured that you can return to the Praesidium on the Skyranger with me without delay." He extended a hand. "Once we arrive, R&D will figure out how to begin applying the Restraints and gene mods. Welcome to XCOM."

Kane shook the proffered hand firmly and gave a single, resolute nod in response, before turning away to gather what little he had in his quarters. Then paused briefly and asked. "One last thing, you have information about them right? On Isomnum and the rest, along with everyone else in the Collective that matters, including combat footage?"

"Yes, we do," the Commander confirmed. "Some of it is classified, but combat footage, information, and basic dossiers on the Ethereals and aliens is available to everyone. If you want to research yourself, it will be open to you."

"Yes, that should be enough, thank you sir."

"Excellent," the Commander said, and after a few minutes allowing Kane to gather his few belongings, walked out of the room, with the newly christened XCOM soldier close behind him.

---

Borelian Wastes – Vitakar

2/8/2017 – 7:11 A.M.

The outpost was quiet for the moment, with the other XCOM agents sleeping and their armor and weapons stored safely away. Having now gotten a closer look at the Titan and Warden armor as it was called, Nartha was almost jealous that he didn't have a suit of his own. Although fortunately they had packed equipment for more clandestine operations.

Though if Sorras had anything to say about it, the strikes would soon be very loud.

For now though, Nartha and Shun were largely alone in the quiet morning, this being the first time they'd had to talk without anyone else around. Shun wasn't in her armor any longer, though it was cold outside and even chilly in the outpost, so she was somewhat bundled up in socks, pants and a sweater.

To help wake and warm her up, he'd made her a classic Zararch Morning Stimulant.

Judging from her expression, she did not like it. "You don't like sweeteners do you?"

"Doesn't need any," he took a drink of his own stimulant. "Anything else would dilute the purity of the mixture. Wakes you right up."

Shun set her cup down. "Oh, I definitely believe that. Once I tasted it I definitely woke up."

"Ha ha," he said, wishing rolling his eyes would be even seen by Humans. "I've taken this for years. Morning Stimulants work, trust me."

"And why is it called a 'Morning Stimulant'?" She lifted a hand, making air quotes. "You couldn't even come up with a name for it?"

"I hardly think your species is in a better position," Nartha pointed out smugly. "You just call yours 'coffee' which I will note is just the name of the plant." He smirked. "'You couldn't even come up with a unique name for it?'"

Shun just looked at him, and without breaking eye contact, downed the rest of the Morning Stimulant. "Cappuccino, latte, mocha, affogoto, espresso; go ahead and tell me we call coffee all the same thing."

"I don't understand half of what you said," he answered. "What were those?"

"Kinds of coffee drinks," she elaborated. "All of which are different, I might add. And on Earth, we refer to 'coffee' in the generalized sense. I guarantee if your species was in charge of naming coffee, it would be 'coffee type 1' and 'coffee type 2' and so on."

He blinked. "What's wrong with that?"

She seemed to find that very funny. Shaking her head, she answered. "Technically nothing, I guess. But it's not exactly creative, is it? Not very unique or memorable."

"Yes…" he was not sure he wanted to engage in this topic. "I believe that we have a different standard of naming conventions. At least you will never be confused if you see something labeled by my species. I would never have known what a capochi-capacina-"

"Cappuccino," she supplied.

"Yes, that," he accepted. "I would not have known what that is if you didn't explain it. How do you know so much about coffee anyway?"

"Half that stuff even non-coffee drinkers know," she snorted. "And I had a friend who was a big coffee drinker. Always kept wanting me to try new stuff. I spent way too much money at Starbucks," at Nartha's confused look, she added: "Coffee place. Very popular, even in China."

"Ah," he nodded. "I wished I had spent some time in Human restaurants. If only to compare the difference."

"Oh, how are Vitakara ones?" She asked, resting her forearms on the table.

"Very high-quality and formal," Nartha explained. "People only go to them for special occasions. Birthdays, gatherings, birthing announcements, that sort of thing. Likely less than Humans tend to go, if I recall some of your species tendencies."

"Yeah," Shun gave a smile. "Humans don't really need a reason to eat out other than that's what they feel like. Yeah, it's for special occasions too, but that isn't it the majority of the time. Anyway, moving on from food and coffee, I'm wondering something."

"What?" He asked.

She grew noticeably more serious. "The Commander gave all of us access to documents on the Nulorian. They aren't exactly…"

"Terrorists," Nartha supplied. "That's what we called them in the Zararch, and it hasn't changed."

"And Sorras…"

"I know." Nartha paused for a moment, releasing a sigh. "Not exactly people I'm comfortable enabling, especially now that I've begun thinking about it more."

"Is there no one else?" Shun asked. "You made contact with the Hierarchy, yes?"

"A representative, but the Hierarchy is too embroiled in their own problems to focus on a unified resistance," Nartha said. "It's a start, but it will take time for anything to develop. The Nulorian are the best option we have. The best we can do is hopefully keep them in check."

Shun rested her chin on a fist. "What about the Sar'Manda? No one seems to have looked into them."

Nartha cracked a smile. "Are you kidding? The Sar'Manda told an entourage of Ethereals to, borrowing a Human expression, 'go fuck themselves', metaphorically speaking."

"Which is good?" She pointed out.

"Not if you know a lot about them," Nartha explained. "The Sar'Manda do not care about anyone outside the Empire. They could care less who wins this conflict. They could care less if the Aui'Vitakar existed at all. If half the species killed themselves in a war, they wouldn't think about intervening. Isolationist is being generous, and they only bother to maintain trade and their place on the Aui'Vitakar as a formality, and half the time their members don't show up for voting."

"Still," Shun said. "I think we should at least look into the Sar'Manda. What do we have to lose?"

"We insult the Manda'valrain and he orders our execution, or turns us over to the Zararch," Nartha answered. "The Sar'Manda despise being told what to do by someone else."

"Aren't there Sar'Manda in the Nulorian?" She pointed out.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean anything," Nartha reminded her. "One of the first ones I met was an Oyariah. Plus Dath'Haram. It's not surprising a Sar'Manda would also join at some point. Honestly, Miridian would know more about the susceptibility of the Empire. But don't get your hopes up for that."

"I hope Miridian is reasonable," Shun said, standing to go fill her cup with plain water. "I don't think the Commander wants terrorists deciding how to run the next Vitakara government. And if AEGIS is going where I think they will, there may be two competing counter-governments."

Nartha blinked. "What?"

"Oh, right, you wouldn't have heard," Shun sat down. "The Vitakara defectors have been working with AEGIS."

"As in…the Ethereal?"

"The, ahem," she cleared her throat. "Alien Emissarial and General Integration Service. Diplomatic branch between ADVENT and alien governments or parties."

"Makes sense," he nodded. "And they're…doing what with the Vitakara?"

"Nothing so far," Shun said. "But Zhang's said that they're working on establishing an independent Vitakarian government. Opposing the Aui'Vitakar."

Nartha whistled. "The Zar'Chon is going to hate that. Although I'll be honest; ADVENT being involved so closely makes me question its…legitimacy. It is better than the Aui'Vitakar, but I don't want another puppet government."

"I don't think it will be that," Shun assured him. "The Commander wouldn't allow for that, and I don't think Saudia will either. In any event, it hasn't even been announced yet." A short banging interrupted them, and Nartha stood and moved to the door where the knock came from. A quick look outside confirmed it was who he hoped it was.

Unlocking the door, Sorras stepped inside. "Good news for you, Zararch," he bared his teeth. "Miridian wants to speak personally. To you and this XCOM Commander. The teleporter too. Two weeks." He looked to Shun. "Inform him at your leisure, Human. Miridian is giving you plenty of time to make this work."

"And what do we do until then?" Nartha asked.

"We are going to plan," Sorras said, his voice hungry. "For the first time we are in striking distance of the puppets who have enslaved our species. Now we will prepare to burn it all to the ground." He alternated glances between the two of them. "And this time, we will succeed."

---

Palace of the Argentine National Congress, Buenos Aires - Argentina

2/5/2017 – 1:13 P.M.

"I can assure you, representative," Director-General Nesto Al Sadd said. "Argentina has had no contact with any radical anti-ADVENT terrorists."

Well, she would know from that question if he was lying or not, assuming the Inquisitors were doing their job. But in the meantime, Abby was content to let Serena do most of the talking. The Argentinian government had at least sent only high-ranking officials to speak to them, such as the esteemed Director-General of Argentina's intelligence arm, the Foreign Minister, as well as the Minister of Justice.

He is telling the truth, Marco telepathically told her. At least as far as the question was worded.

A good start then. At the very least they would be able to get a very clear idea of who, if anyone, was involved with alien infiltration. "Unsurprising," Serena said seriously, briefly inclining her head. "We had suspected as much, as it would be a curiously risky decision with ADVENT on your border. I am sure you are well aware how seriously we take the alien threat."

"Abundantly," Foreign Minister Charro Milani said, still eyeing the trio with guarded suspicion. "We are well aware of how ADVENT treats those who they view as an inconvenience."

"Threat, Minister Milani," Serena smiled. "A threat. If it was merely an inconvenience which drove ADVENT policy we would be fighting other countries as much as aliens. We simply do not have time to hunt down everyone who perpetuates lies and propaganda against us."

The three men clearly did not particularly like her from that, and each of them were no doubt wishing to be anywhere but here. There was a clear power disparity in the furnished room they inhabited. The Palace was extremely luxurious, certainly the nicest place Abby had ever been in. It was probably common for diplomats though, since she imagined they rarely interacted outside these controlled environment.

"Regardless of the word choice, the answer remains the same," Al Sadd repeated. "We have no contact with the kind of groups you say."

"How certain of that are you?" Abby interjected, speaking for the first time since the introductions. "We are aware that ADVENT is not looked upon with fondness in this country. Is it possible that officials could be in contact with these groups and hidden it from one or all of you?"

"No," the Minister of Justice, Timo Herrera shook his head emphatically. "No officer or individual within my department would ever work with a terrorist. We enforce the law as is dictated, we do not support terrorists in any capacity, whether they perform actions we are sympathetic to or not."

Abby was inclined to believe him. Marco soon confirmed this.

"Director-General?" Serena asked pointedly.

The man was slightly hesitant to answer. "I do not believe so."

He does not believe that, Marco informed. Press him.

"You do not believe so?" Serena said. "So you do not know?"

"It is unlikely."

"That is not a denial," Silvio noted. "Compared to your colleague, it sounds like it is a possibility, albeit a small one."

"All I can tell you is that I would be highly surprised and disappointed if any of my people were involved in such activity," Al Sadd said. "But I operate on the assumption that there is always the chance of something, even if it is unlikely. This is a case where I can safely say that it is extremely unlikely, but I cannot discount the possibility entirely."

The chance is higher than he lets on. I do not think he is involved though; he will likely investigate after this meeting.

In which case it might be time to reinforce this potential suspicion. "There is another possibility, representatives," Abby said again. "The reason XCOM has taken a direct interest in this matter is because there is a very high likelihood that there are not just aliens behind this terrorist organization, but an Ethereal."

All three of the men visibly reacted. It was subtle, mostly a few blinks or they stiffened, but it was there. Apparently that possibility had not occurred to them. "An Ethereal?" Herrera said incredulously. "Are you certain?"

Abby reached down to her bag and pulled out a thin file, which had been prepared for this very question. "You tell me. Not just an unknown Ethereal, there is a very specific one we believe is behind this." She slid the file across slowly to the Director-General. "It is not out of the question that this Ethereal is coopting individuals telepathically within the Argentinian government, and quite possibly without your knowledge."

"Do you have proof that this is the case?" Milani asked. "Your claim is substantial?"

"That they are doing this to Argentina?" Abby asked. "No. If this is within their capability to do? Absolutely, and the proof comes from one of their own. Aegis, who is familiar with the capabilities of this Ethereal. Using a disenfranchised terrorist organization as a front to expand alien influence in the region would be standard procedure for her."

They gave the men a short time to read over the short file, which included a description of the first attacks on Peacekeeper bases, a dossier on Nebulan, and finally had a comparison between the attacks and known capabilities of Nebulan. None of them appear to be involved. If collaborators exist, they are low-level or all of them have been affected by her. I do see any indication of tampering. The questioning would have revealed anything strange.

She exchanged a short nod with Serena who'd received the same thing. This was ultimately good news, since alien efforts in the region were not as developed as they had feared. It did raise the question of what the Phantom Division and Nebulan were actually doing, but now that they could largely rule out government influence, at least of any substantial measure, they could perhaps narrow down where they had gone.

"We will need to discuss this matter internally," Al Sadd finally said. "Psionic influence is something we need to account for to ensure that there are not any attempts to artificially create a conflict between us. We do not want conflict with you, representative, and with this new information we will work to ensure it remains that way."

Serena nodded. "That is good to hear. ADVENT would, of course, be willing to help determine if any of your people have come under psionic influence."

"How?" Al Sadd asked slowly. "We will not allow psionic interrogations of our agents."

"Nothing so drastic as that," Serena said, pulling out another beige file. "There are much simpler methods."

Abby knew she wouldn't have much input once Serena started on this topic, which was fine. They'd learned what they needed to. Now it was a question of what Nebulan would do next.

---

Fort McMurray, Alberta – Canada

1/31/2017 – 10:00 A.M.

The UFO the Sargon arrived on was larger than Neil had expected. Although from the few reports he'd read, even the small ones seemed to have a large amount of wasted space and standing room. It was as if each one was designed to carry a small army beyond the needed pilots. In fact, even the so-called "Scouts" were large enough to carry a dozen Mutons.

This UFO differed from others in that it had no openings or gaps whatsoever. The multicolored shield that so-often was displayed across the front was replaced with a complex opening mechanism that had a ramp which extended to the concrete. Falia was standing outside with a mixture of Vitakara and Muton soldiers behind her, waiting at attention. The mixture of Humans was just off to the side, shivering in the cold.

Neil disliked being out of his Snowtrooper armor as well as being disarmed, but it was necessary for the ruse. Cycelea was also around him, with the other Inquisitors sprinkled throughout, as well as his other soldiers hiding in the crowd. Neil silently wished the Sargon good luck in managing to circumvent every contingency they had.

Welcome to McMurray, Sargon. Enjoy your last days on Earth.

First came four regular Mutons. Wearing their green helmets, they didn't seem any different than the standard ones that had been stationed at the base. Same armor, same weapons; plasma weapons, and a couple of grenades. Expected, and the remainder might be Elites, or if they were really unlucky, Vanguards.

And then out stepped something he had never seen before. It appeared to be a soldier constructed out of black metal; standing roughly the size of Human, or a short Vitakarian. The helmet was smooth and eyeless, and the chest had silver markings which culminated into a symbol that looked suspiciously like an Ethereal.

The whirring noises they made as they walked out, as well as the clanking when they moved, indicated that they were machines and not soldiers in armor. They also carried plasma weapons, and nothing else from what Neil could see.

"What is that?" Cycelea said quietly next to him. "It's definitely not alive."

"Don't know," he whispered quietly without looking to her. "A potential issue."

Six of the machines came out in total, the final two flanking the Sargon himself. The alien was not quite the size of an Elite, but easily towered over the standard Mutons, made all the more imposing by the green armor he also wore, including a helmet. Hooked to his back was a kind of plasma cannon that looked closer to what Neil had seen on the Mechtoids.

Nothing else came out after them, which was the good news. The bad was that three of the metal soldiers were standing guard on the ship while the remainder of the Mutons and soldiers formed up behind the Sargon as Falia also moved forward to greet them. "Sargon, welcome to Fort McMurray."

"Overseer Falia," the Sargon answered in an oddly bland voice. It occurred to Neil he'd never actually heard a Muton speak before. Their voices were low, yes, but there was definitely room for some personality and emotion if they wanted. It was just the Sargon had a decidedly neutral tone. Perhaps that was intentional. "You requested my input on handling an outside threat. I am here to assist."

"I am glad to hear it," Falia turned and began walking in lockstep with the Sargon. "First we can make an inspection-"

"Unnecessary, one of the Custodians will ensure the base is clear." At the direct motion from the Sargon, one of the Custodians as they were called, apparently, split off from UFO and throughout the base. "Take me to the site of the attacks."

This worked out well, fortunately, as now Neil wanted to be as close to the Sargon as possible wherever they went. It appeared he had underestimated the alien to a degree, although he had previously not known about the metal soldiers. Those had to have been a recent development, as someone should have known about them before now.

Falia reacted quickly. "In which case, we'll need to take Human hostages. These Humans are more wary of attacking if they are with us. We want to take every precaution to avoid an attack today." On her cue several of the Vitakarian soldiers moved through the crowd and took hostages at 'random', which translated to his soldiers, Cycelea, and himself. He put up a faux resistance, though eventually played the role of a defeated citizen.

Eight of them were finally chosen, and brought before the Sargon who looked them over for an uncomfortably long time. He looked into the eyes of each one of them for a minimum of a few seconds before moving to the next one. The last he focused on was Cycelea. He stayed on her for half a minute. "Complexion irregular for this region. State your name and citizenship status."

The hell? Neil hadn't thought to think that Cycelea's skin color would have any kind of impact. Were there secretly alien racists? "My name is Jacklyn," Cycelea said quietly, putting up a show of her own. "Jacklyn Myers. I've lived here for several years, I'm telling the truth."

"Human complexion does not necessarily indicate living area," Falia said, trying to shake the sudden suspicion. "She is not the only Human in this area to have similar complexion."

"Cross-check records," the Sargon commanded to the Custodian just behind him. "Jacklyn Myers."

"Accessing Fort McMurray citizenship database," the flat electronic voice of the Custodian said, with no visual indicator of what was going on. "One entry found. Ethnicity is listed as Caucasian. Discrepancy detected."

"It must be a mistake!" Cycelea said, Neil got the impression that she wasn't acting here. "It has to be."

The Sargon lifted a fist, motioning she needed to be quiet. "Likelihood of Human administrative incompetence high. Update database to accurate data. Continue forward Overseer."

Never had Neil been so happy for the perceived incompetence of the government. Holding in a sigh of relief, they began exiting the town to follow the typical patrol path. The Sargon asked few questions, and seemed to mostly be observing the countryside and town as they walked through it. It was close to an hour before they reached the beginnings of the forest, where the Sargon saw the efforts of their psychological war on the aliens.

Frozen corpses of Borelian and Vitakarians were thrown out, the former mostly just bones which littered the entire patrol route. One of his soldiers had also had the idea to stick playing cards on the bodies in various places. In the mouth, in chinks in the armor, or in the skin itself once it had been opened with a knife. Neil personally didn't find it that intimidating, and a waste of good cards, but if it made the aliens a bit more afraid, he allowed it.

"This is the most common site of attacks," Falia said, motioning to the foreboding and silent woods, only punctuated by the whistling winds through the trees. "Doesn't matter how many we send, four, eight, nothing is guaranteed. They leave the bodies as a message."

The Custodians were moving to the bodies, one of them delicately plucking the Queen of Hearts from the mouth of a frozen Vitakarian. "Human playing card. Significance unknown. Similar cards noticed in nearby bodies."

"Container found," another Custodian picked up another gift they had left. Neil kept the smile off his face as the Custodian opened it. "Contents identified as Borelian. Attached note reads "Send more"."

"They've been leaving these," Falia sighed, stepping towards the Sargon, disgust in her voice. "It has…made some of us uneasy. We had previously not known that Humans eat their enemies."

The Sargon looked between the contents of the container, the corpses, and the aliens which had accompanied him, then the Human 'hostages'. Neil did not especially like how hard the Sargon was trying to think about this. This was definitely not a stupid alien. "Human likelihood of eating sentient creatures is low, likely purely psychological warfare. Successful psychological warfare."

He looked to Falia. "Bodies placed deliberately, includes various attachments and symbols designed to provoke a psychological connection to them and induce fear or uneasiness at their presence. This implies that one or more of these Humans has training in psychological warfare, has training in engaging guerilla conflicts. Likely ADVENT support. ADVENT support implies extensive resources not possible for guerilla locals. Weaponry used to kill forces also insufficient for local hunters or forces."

The Sargon was not supposed to have figured that out. Even if he was guessing, it was a scarily accurate guess, which meant that it was only a matter of time before he began reaching the logical possibility of psionic support.

Fuck. He might need to signal the attack now. When he'd heard Sargons were smart, he hadn't expected to be dealing with some kind of organic machine.

"We haven't found evidence of ADVENT activity," Falia made an attempt to deflect. Cycelea must have been giving direct instructions. "When they ambushed the first patrol, their weapons were probably taken. Not to mention Humans here are more skilled at survival than most of their kind."

The Sargon appraised the entire group; his mind impossible to guess under the helmet. "Move the four of them away," he commanded. Neil found himself being forced slightly closer towards the tree line, and turned around. Three of his other soldiers had also been moved, visibly worried and he couldn't blame them.

The Custodians had their weapons trained on them. "Do not move," the Sargon ordered. "Soldiers, move away from them."

The Vitakara who had held them returned beyond the invisible line in the snow the others were on, and he was suddenly yanked into the air with something wrapping around his arms, legs, and throat. He heard nothing behind him, but instinctively knew what was lifting him up, with only the barest amount of weight being put on his toes preventing him from immediately suffocating."

"ADVENT support implies psionic support," the Sargon said. "Possibility of base personnel compromise is high. I have been keeping reports on this base for weeks, Overseer, well before you sent an official request. I suspect a significant amount of personnel are threatened or compromised by ADVENT forces and they must be purged today. Humans have likely established psionic commands to make attack of allied forces or species impossible. We will determine who is compromised now."

There was no choice now. The attack needed to be signaled. Three of these Custodians and a Sargon, not to mention at least four Seekers. Assuming they were the ones he had previously read about, the Seekers could be disposed of fairly easily, but he had no idea about the Custodians or Sargon.

No one had so far managed to kill one, and if their combat skills were equal to their mental skills…this was not going to go as well as he had hoped. It was already moving onto the worst-case scenario. Send the signal Cycelea, he thought, as he saw the Falia aim her weapon at him. Within seconds the game would be up and all of them would die.

The air seemed to be charged with electricity as Falia shifted her rifle up and shot the Seeker, while the other Vitakara in unison, shot at the other Seekers before turning their weapons on the unprepared Mutons. The remaining four Humans, Cycelea included, dashed to the woods as gauss and plasma fire rained from behind the tree as the Snowtroopers unleashed their arsenals.

Neil yanked the mechanical coils off of him just in time to see the Sargon and Custodians spring into action. The massive Muton grabbed Falia by her head in a surprisingly quick motion, and jabbed an armored thumb into the eye then used that as a grip before he crushed part of her head before tossing the body to the ground; yellow blood staining the snow and his hand.

The Custodians shot at the compromised aliens with merciless precision, killing them in a few shots to the head or neck. Their focus on the aliens allowed the majority of Humans to scamper to the woods for cover, although Neil saw two get mowed down by Custodian fire. The Sargon was reaching for his plasma cannon as the crack of gauss weapons slammed into his armor.

"Pin the Sargon down!" Neil called as one of the Snowtroopers tossed him a rifle. "Everyone else kill the others!"

The Custodians were marching into the woods, unafraid of the barrage of fire, and Neil soon saw why, as the Custodian took several direct hits from a Snowtrooper right before a few plasma shots from its own rifle finished him. The Custodian suddenly froze in place. "Shoot it now!" Cycelea called, a hand extended toward it. "I can't hold it for long."

Someone tossed a grenade at it, and Neil emptied an entire clip into the head and chest of the thing, bringing the sparking body to the ground. The Sargon was using his plasma cannon now, and the forest was lit up with the bright green bolts and splintering trees. A crack signaled the fall of several of the smaller ones, ironically creating more cover.

More Snowtroopers fell; two, then three by the remaining Custodian and the plasma barrage of the Sargon. A round slammed into the rifle held by the Custodian, and it exploded in its hand, making it stumble back, but not actually killing it. Neil also saw that it was slowly repairing the wounds it had, but luckily too slow to protect itself against the barrage of gauss fire.

Then only the Sargon was left. The armor had taken a large beating, but he was dedicated in his pursuit to leveling the forest. More Snowtroopers fell or were injured, while Cycelea once more extended a hand, sweat beading her face and locked in intense concentration. "Aim for the head!" Neil yelled, and every single firearm shot where he directed.

The downside of the massive size of the Sargon was that he was a big target that couldn't hide behind cover they could, and was in perpetual exposure. But now the tide had turned, and not even the armored helmet of the Sargon could protect against the hail of metal.

Neil didn't know who fired the last shot, but that had been enough to send the massive alien to the ground, shaking it as he hit the thin layer of snow and onto a pile of Vitakara bones and corpses. The snowy battlefield grew silent once again, as all of them stood cautiously.

"Well," Cycelea finally said, looking at the corpses of Humans and aliens. "That…could have gone better."

Neil just nodded. "Yes, it could have. But we killed it, at least." He eyed her closely. "You didn't tell me you were a telekine."

She sniffed. "Trust me, I'm not. You just saw the extent of my telekinetic capabilities, and I have a pounding headache because of it. Don't ask me to do it again, please."

"Take something to help with it," he instructed. "We're not done yet."

She grimaced. "We still have the other three of those Custodians in the town to deal with."

"Yes, we do," he reloaded his weapon. "Everyone that's still able needs to prepare to move out. We're on an accelerated timetable now. Our primary objective is complete; now we have to finish the job."

---

Backroads - Argentina

2/5/2017 – 5:14 P.M.

In a crowded car with other Lancers, Jaylin felt like the talks had gone very well. Abby had said that the government was cleared for now, and were taking steps to ensure that their own agencies weren't compromised in some way. Good in that they weren't a potential enemy, and bad in that it meant that they didn't really know where the Phantom Division was operating from, or what their plans were.

Abby had clearly not let her guard down, as the moment they walked into the car, she rolled around a massive case to a changing area and then emerged wearing a kind of armor she'd never seen before. It almost looked like it was made out of stone, and had an odd symbol on the front of it. It almost resembled XCOM armor in a way, especially the helmet, but she got the distinct feeling it wasn't something XCOM had made.

She was riding without the helmet now, and Jaylin decided it was probably safe enough to ask some questions. "The armor," she said, nodding towards it. "XCOM?"

Abby gave a faint smile. "Not exactly. An…appropriation of alien tech." She tapped the chest. "They won't be missing it."

"What's it made out of?" One of the Lancers asked. "Looks like stone."

"Don't know, and don't remember the designation the science teams gave," Abby answered, shaking her head. "Doubt its stone. If I recall, it's a combination of alien alloys and an exotic material not found on Earth. Extremely durable and strong."

"Huh," another Lancer said. "Shame its extraterrestrial. Those would make some excellent suits of armor."

"I'd test it out first," another said. "Looks strong, but who knows?"

"This suit can take direct plasma shots," Abby said with a smile. "Trust me, I've used it before."

"So how many aliens have you killed then?" A Lancer asked. "I've only got six so far."

"Every XCOM soldier has kills in the double digits," Abby said. "I'm no exception. More than thirty, I think. Just aliens too."

"Damn," one whistled. "Even your intel agents have higher killcounts than us."

"I'm sort of an exception," Abby clarified. "I was a soldier before I transferred to Intelligence."

"Why make that change?" Jaylin asked, having been curious about that for a while. "Not a common transition."

Abby went silent for a moment. "I took the advice of a friend. I think he'd have approved of my choice."

From her tone, Jaylin suspected that this friend was no longer alive. She figured it was best to not keep pressing forward after that. It was rare in war that soldiers didn't lose at least some of their friends, and Abby was clearly no exception. Jaylin didn't know how much that changed for intelligence agents, but from some things she read it was the same or worse.

A dangerous line of work, intelligence was.

That seemed to have sent the entire convoy truck into some reflective silence. Jaylin herself had had quite the change of career, from Riot Police, to Peacekeeper, to now ADVENT intel attaché. It was an interesting development, and one where she felt she was making some kind of impact, even if it was fairly small.

Definitely more dangerous, especially since an Ethereal was involved, but that was one of the interesting parts of it.

"Convoy one under fire," the driver stated into their ear. "Potential threats spotted on the road. Initiate defensive protocols."

All of them were moving at the words as the convoy slammed to a halt, and the Lancers grabbed their weapons, as did Abby. Jaylin readied her riot shield, remembering the plan. There was an extensive amount of Lancer-tier equipment stored in cases in the back which the Lancers would go to and then use against the enemy. The convoy trucks would be used for cover, and the psions would either protect against psionic attacks, or use their abilities offensively.

"Guess they were watching us," Abby muttered, putting on her helmet. "Let's make them regret it."

Leading the charge she pushed open the door and the Lancers and Jaylin charged out after her into a hail of what looked like white plasma fire and gauss shots from a distance. A quick look around the area confirmed that it was an excellent place for an ambush. The road went through a shallow gorge with forested hills which allowed plenty of sniping range and vision.

The road itself had no cover outside of the convoy trucks, but those would have to suffice. Several of the Lancers opened up the doors, and slid down additional metal sheets which extended to the ground in order to provide protection to their feet and legs, as they returned fire to the forests and hills while the other Lancers recovered their additional equipment.

"There is definitely a psion with them," Marco said over the comms. "Me and Protopriest Kil are beginning protection. Until we confirm, do not take what you see as reality."

The first convoy truck suddenly exploded in a rain of metal and fire, knocking down pretty much everyone nearby and throwing the Lancers to the ground. Someone had to have died there, and Jaylin couldn't see who. She then remembered that that convoy truck had been the one which held the SHIV, and while she couldn't completely see through the smoke, she was pretty sure that they were down their one and only SHIV.

Wonderful.

Through the smoke she saw the form of an alien, but this one didn't fit the formal description of the Phantom Division.

The armor was back and sleek, but unlike the descriptions provided, it had obvious heavy weapon systems incorporated into it. The wrist had several launchers, and there were twin micro-missile launchers on the shoulders. The figure was massive as well, and was manually reloading the launchers. In the distance she saw several black armored forms dashing down the hills – these were the expected soldiers of the Phantom Division. Figures in black armor, no markings or even notable armor segmentation.

What worried her was their known capability to go invisible.

Some of the downed Lancers rose to their feet, to the clear surprise of the alien in the heavy armor. They had definitely not been expecting Lancers then. In torn and damaged armor, the Lancers charged the alien trying to bring him down. The other Lancers had acquired their full weaponry, and were firing back at the aliens with more accurate precision.

"They will try and come from behind!" Abby yelled, firing her plasma weapon into the forest. "Watch for their invisibility!"

Watch for something they couldn't see? Jaylin figured she just meant for them to be aware that was within their capabilities. But multiple Lancers were watching their backs, ready for any kind of attack. "This is Lancer Valdez to all nearby outposts," one of the Lancers near Jaylin was saying. "We are under attack and require immediate assistance."

Several shots rang out, and a Lancer by the third convoy went down. The helmet was shattered, and the head definitely bruised, but the Lancer managed to get back up-

Only to be shot again, and this time he stayed down. It was honestly more than Jaylin had expected. Maybe Lancer-tier helmets could have protected him more, but they were stuck with weaker ADVENT soldier armor. "This is definitely her!" Kil shouted through the comms. Jaylin saw the woman, on one knee and the air shimmering around her. "She's strong!"

"There they are!" A Lancer shouted as a Phantom Division alien materialized out of thin air holding an impossibly thin blade. It was stabbed into the nearest Lancer who twisted and managed to only have it stuck in his upper left chest and not heart. They did use nanoblades it turned out…and those were strong enough to penetrate Iron Skin.

But the Lancer was not dead, and lashed out with a mace in his hand and slammed it into the head of the alien, sending it sprawling to the ground, and he leapt on top of it and kept bashing until it was dead and two more of the soldiers had appeared and began firing at him, killing him for good. The other Lancers used the advantage to charge the aliens, some carrying melee weapons while others fired their rifles.

Jaylin turned back to focus on the other front, with more plasma fire coming down on her. Ah, there. Abby was engaging several Phantom Division soldiers at once, moving extremely fast in her armor and absorbing multiple shots at once. She definitely hadn't exaggerated the durability of the armor. Jaylin lined up her weapon, and fired off a few shots at the leftmost alien who was kneeling behind some self-made cover.

She scowled, wanting to get a better shot, and briefly stood partially exposed to fire again.

Jaylin never heard the shot that killed her.

---

Volk had to hand it to ADVENT, they'd planned for this to happen. From the moment he'd seen the remainder of the convoys had responded to him shooting out the tire in formation, it was very clear that they had a plan and protocol for an attack ready to go, and more importantly, were disciplined to actually go through with it.

There were psions with them as well, which they'd known about. He wished that Asaru would beat them so they could get this mission done faster, because otherwise ADVENT was going to find them and cause a lot of problems. She had to be more powerful than two psions, right?

Then there was the interesting detail that the ADVENT soldiers who were escorting them were not standard soldiers, but ADVENT special forces. Almost definitely Lancers. There were no others he could think of who could take two direct shots to the head. Which meant that he needed to prioritize his shots a bit more.

Elena was similarly positioned to provide sniper fire, as were a few more of his men. As he observed the battle taking place, he looked to the composition of the soldiers. The Lancers were all wearing standard soldier armor. That was helpful. There were two soldiers in Peacekeeper attire, one of them Riot Control. There were a couple who were completely obscured not wearing any armor – likely the diplomats and another psion.

Then there was the XCOM agent who seemed to be invincible.

Volk was working on how best to deal with her. At least she was being held up by the Division soldiers. That would be enough.

"Target non-Lancer personnel," he stated. "Thin their numbers. Take the Lancers off Joreal if you can."

The first clue that these should have been Lancers in disguise was when several of them rose from the explosion from Joreal and began charging the alien. The massive Vitakarian was holding his own easily enough, and seeming to enjoy facing the two Lancers, but Volk wondered where the advantage really laid. Both were extensively modified, both were motivated, and both intended to kill the other.

Two on one. Not odds Volk would ever support.

While his snipers dealt with them, he quickly ran through how to quickly thin the numbers. The easiest way was the elimination of all non-Lancer soldiers – who likely would not be augmented. Good enough. He focused his sights on the female Peacekeeper. Definitely Riot Control, as her shield was up and she used it to help protect against plasma fire.

He felt he could easily take off her head where she was now, but she was clearly wanting to get a better shot on one of the Division soldiers attacking Agent Gertrude. And…there. She peeked out just a little bit more than usual, and that was all he needed to fire. The shattered armor splattered red, and her corpse fell to the ground.

One down.

He moved to the other Peacekeeper. He was also trying to shoot at the Division soldiers attacking Gertrude, but he was not even pretending to be careful. Almost as if the snipers didn't exist for him. Volk only felt minor disappointment at such an obvious lack of situational awareness. Before the body hit the ground he was already scanning for where the others were hiding.

Another down.

The next shot would require a reload. "Unidentified unarmored female down," Elena reported tonelessly. "Executing." A second shot rang out, essentially confirming the kill. Likely one of the diplomats. Not exactly a dangerous combatant, but not one they needed alive. The enemy psions were unfortunately proving to be a lot more difficult to find.

They were smart. Even the armored Priest was keeping herself protected. Against an Ethereal, they needed everything they could. Volk was taking Asaru out of the equation, and assuming she was stuck until the psions were dead. Or at least one was. The Lancers were dropping, but they were holding surprisingly well against the Division.

Time for the nuclear option. Volk was extremely hesitant about using this little development of the Phantom Division, but it was warranted here. "Get rid of the cover. Commence nanite destruction."

He loaded a highly specialized cartage with a single nanite round. It was essentially hollow, and contained nothing but short-term nanites which would eat through everything for a one-minute period. He just needed to place them in a useful area, and that would be sufficient. So he aimed on the ground behind the wreckage of the third convoy, likely where one of the psions was hiding behind, and fired.

Confirmations rang out as his snipers performed similar actions. While he reloaded with more standard rounds, he peeked through to see the damage. Several had shot the Lancers, who were screaming as the nanites ate into their skin and they couldn't protect themselves. More screams wafted up, and forced more out into the open to get away from the moving black spots of death.

Several more down.

One of their psions is no longer defending them. Asaru's voice appeared in his head. The other cannot protect them. They are lost. Capture the XCOM agent.

Volk allowed a satisfied smile as he turned his attention to the final objective. Turned out that all of his concerns had been for nothing.

But it wouldn't be a victory until Agent Gertrude was captured.

---

They were going to lose.

It was an odd sensation coming to that conclusion, especially as she blasted the head of the alien in front of her apart after a sustained barrage. But the tide had turned, if it had ever been in their favor to begin with. Risking a glance back showed a bunch of half-destroyed convoy trucks and the aliens finishing off the last of the Lancers.

The other massive alien had killed one of the Lancers on his own, and the other was being shot from snipers in the tree. The psions must be dead, which meant that her time was running out. Her own armor was still reliably taking the white plasma shots, but she knew that alone against the Phantom Division she would die.

What the hell had she been thinking?

Going up against an Ethereal with what she'd had was not nearly enough to defeat an Ethereal like her. Plans and strategies didn't help when Nebulan and the Phantom Division could just attack them, rendering any plan they had useless.

She had underestimated the Ethereal, still. Been played or done as much as she could, it didn't matter now. She was not equipped to fight an Ethereal like this now, much less kill one. She needed to get out of here if she wanted to live, and the longer she fought, the less chance there was of that.

Abby hated it, but there was no other choice. The other Phantom Division soldiers were either running towards her with nanoblades in their hands or firing with their weapons. She was still nowhere near spent, so she charged the last place they might expect – directly into the sniper nests. She charged one of the surprised Phantom Division, and lifted the soldier into the air before tossing him behind her with a force that surprised even her.

She needed to push the suit to its limits one day.

Bounding up into the forest, she suddenly ran smack into a tree. Or more accurately, mowed down a small sapling. Her head split in a pounding pain as she realized that the forest seemed to be shifting and phasing in and out of existence as her Manchurian Restraints worked to combat the hostile psionic influence.

A figure stood in the middle of the shifting forest. The form of a Vitakarian woman. "Your people put up a fight, agent," Nebulan's voice was layered and rich, and she had no idea if it was even remotely close to her real one or not. "But you cannot fight an Ethereal. Not like this." The alien smiled as Abby took a tentative step forward, the pain in her head splitting as she grimaced under her helmet.

"What did you think would happen, agent?" Nebulan asked, more genuine than mocking. She sounded almost disappointed as she stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back. "Does Aegis think so little of me that he would send a lone XCOM agent and a few psions to combat me?"

Abby took a shot at her with the pistol, which went through the head of the illusion, who still continued speaking as yellow ichor leaked out of the remains of the head. "Foolish. Unfortunate. You would have been useful to us, agent. Much of your species would be, but they are being turned to follow a losing side."

"Losing," Abby choked, falling to one knee, hard to think straight as even the ground seemed to shift from grass, to gravel, to empty space; the pain in her head reaching a breaking point. "You may kill me, alien, but you will not stop us. You will wish I was the only thing you will face, because there will be a reckoning for my death."

The illusion of Nebulan shifted and changed until Abby was looking at a reflection of herself, although one in the uniform of the Collective. "Kill you, agent?" She said softly, leaning down and looking into her eyes. "No, not yet. We need to learn everything about you. You've raised many, many intriguing questions." The eyes briefly glanced to the symbol on Abby's armor. "You will die, agent," she continued slowly. "But not today. Not yet."

A crack from a weapon fired, and Abby felt the leg supporting her shatter and she collapsed onto the ground, white-hot pain shooting up her leg. The pressure on her mind disappeared, and she found herself on the ground in an Argentinean evening, breathing heavily into the orange-blue sky with clouds passing overhead.

Would it be the last thing she saw?

A figure wearing a brown hooded trench coat, with a mask underneath entered her field of vision, a pistol in his hand. She wondered if he would say something, but he just put a boot on her arm to keep it in place. She used the other to lash out and he promptly shot the gap in her elbow, causing her to scream out in pain.

"I wouldn't do that again, Agent," he said, the mask synthesizing whatever his real voice sounded like. "We only need you alive, not mobile. Save yourself some pain."

"Traitor," she hissed as he pulled out a rectangular device.

He looked over to her. "To you, perhaps." Placing the device on the gap in her arm, she felt something be inserted into her and slowly found herself falling unconscious and the world blacking out around her. The last thing she saw a white cloud, and the fading orange light.

Then she drifted off into a painful sleep.

---

A/N: A few things to cover here, won't be too long.

- The scene with Kane and the Commander was co-written with Thuzan117

- The next chapter is going to be one of the more important in the series

- Edumesh's Chronicler of Salvation just updated and all of you should read it.

- Both the Spanish and Russian translations of Hades Contingency have recently updated, if you're interested in that.

- I've been informed that there is a forum feature on this site, and I've set up one for anyone who wants to interact and discuss the series with me and others. It's linked in my profile and I'll also leave the link here for anyone who is interested in checking it out: www dot fanfiction dot net / forum/The-Xabiarverse/216511/1/0/ (Replace dots with periods and add the spaces back in).

Thank you all for sticking with this absurdly long story. It would not be where it is without everyone reading. Thank you.

- Xabiar