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.

56. Ashes of the Avatar

Ashes of the Avatar

---

The Praesidium – Classified Location

3/20/2017 – 9:02 A.M.

To say the mood was somber was an understatement.

It certainly hadn't been the first time Sierra had been to a memorial in XCOM. But usually it was for only a few soldiers at most, and honestly was quite a bit more positive overall. After all, they knew that it was war and that there was a good chance that they weren't going to make it. But it had always been accompanied by something…positive.

Mostly victories, and even in the case where they'd failed, there was always some kind of light at the end of the tunnel. A 'we'll beat the alien bastards eventually' attitude. The Commander came to all of them, of course, and even gave a short speech on them, remembering their accomplishments. Sierra wondered how well he actually knew them, but then again, it wasn't hard to pull up all the data or their profiles.

Either way, she appreciated it, as did everyone else. Showed he cared at least.

This was different though. There were so many caskets, many of which were empty since the bodies were unrecoverable. Worse was that the majority of them were not even soldiers, but just the staff working at the Praesidium. While all of them had signed up for the possibility of death, these people definitely had not.

There usually wasn't as much crying at these memorials as one would think. Soldiers were more stoic, and usually kept it in. Not always, but the sounds of grief were less pronounced. At least here. Sierra suspected it wasn't as collected when the bodies were sent to their families. It certainly changed when the majority of dead weren't soldiers.

She hadn't cried. She felt too numb to cry.

At the same time, it seemed like she was just on the verge as she walked around; everything oddly bright and intense. For maybe the first time, she wondered just how good their chances were. Realistically speaking. Not in terms of the armies the aliens brought to bear; she felt that they could at least make it costly enough that they'd stop.

But…what could they do against something that could do this?

Of course the memo had been true. Of course Patricia had turned against them. The will of the Imperator could clearly not be denied, even by quite possibly their greatest champion. Greatest now turned traitor. Having that happen to Patricia…it was scary to think about. Not that she'd been given an upgrade. Not whatever this Avatar Project had done to her. But that the Imperator had turned her against them and she'd willingly agreed.

She stopped in front of a casket, a random one. They all looked the same. A silver pod with the white XCOM flag draped over it. No open caskets, instead an image of their face was placed in front, which also had their position, kill count, and some other feats they'd distinguished themselves with. She shook her head.

You're going to burn, Patricia.

The casualty list when she'd returned had been shocking. Over a third of XCOM combat personnel just…gone. The Archangels had been halved; some of their best psions had died. Caelior was abducted, and Shen was dead. She hadn't known the man that well, but he deserved a better end than that.

She felt horrible for his daughter.

Sierra didn't notice someone coming up to her, nor did she turn to acknowledge him. Probably another coming to pay his respects. "Did you know him?" Even in her reflection, she jolted when she recognized the Commander's voice. Stiffening, she automatically moved a fist to a salute and he waved her down with his mechanical hand. "At ease. You don't need to worry about that here."

She relaxed somewhat, then sighed. "No. I'm just…wandering."

A nod. "I understand. And how are you holding up?"

To the best of her knowledge, she couldn't recall the Commander asking something like that to her before. It seemed a bit atypical, but then in XCOM, nothing was really typical anymore. In any case she didn't much care about a rank disparity right now. A shrug. "I've been better. It's surreal."

"For me as well," he sounded almost melancholy; tinged with some sorrow. "And it shouldn't be for me. This isn't the first time something like this was happened."

"The Citadel?" It seemed obvious to her. "Difference then is you won. This was definitely not a victory."

He pursed his lips. "No. We can recover, but that isn't a position anyone wants to be in. Least of all me." He looked to her. "You're wondering if you had been here, aren't you?"

Was it that obvious? "Aren't you doing the same?"

"Of course," he looked to the casket. "I've not stopped thinking about it since I came back and saw the bodies; seen and heard what happened. Thinking of what I could have done to mitigate the damage or kill her." A sad smile turned the corners of his mouth up. "But she beat me today. Nothing changes that, and I don't think I would have done enough to stop her."

Sierra shrugged. "You're alive to do something about it."

"Exactly. You are too," he told her. "We lost today, but dwelling over it isn't going to make things better. We learn and adapt." He took a breath. "And I can promise that Patricia won't be able to catch us like this again."

She felt like she needed to say something about that. "It's not your fault."

He raised an eyebrow. "About Patricia?"

"Yeah," she said. "None of us could have expected…that would happen. Don't blame yourself for doubting that she turned."

"Appreciated, Sierra," he inclined his head slightly. "But I don't blame myself for making Patricia into what she is. She was one of the best soldiers I've had the pleasure of commanding. Were I to die, I'd planned for her to be my successor. She could win this war. I did the right thing in elevating her. I don't blame myself for that." He paused. "But I blame myself for letting that blind me. The very same reasons I held her in high regard are the same reasons she turned. I blame myself for underestimating her. It's taught me a valuable lesson."

"What is it?"

He looked back to her; he looked drained, but not tired. "Logic without conviction is a weakness. Patricia had no conviction other than what she convinced herself of logically. Conviction rooted in pure logic can be dismantled by someone smarter and twisted to their own goals. Logic can be manipulated more easily than I thought." He rubbed his chin. "I've used logic when making my decisions, and rely on it more so than something more nebulous, and I know I would never have done what Patricia has no matter how logical the arguments were. But I haven't thought about why I would do that until now."

Sierra did like to consider herself a logical person, but she understood what he was saying. Not that she had thought about it either, but it was something that instinctively clicked for her. By pure logic, they might as well surrender to the Collective because otherwise a lot more people were going to die. Which was obviously idiotic, but an empty vessel swayed by whoever had the shiniest logical argument would buy into wholeheartedly.

"I must say," she said, an oddly amusing thought entering her head. "That makes Patricia kind of intellectually pathetic."

He actually chuckled at that. "She considered herself very intelligent. And in many ways she is. But I think that is a good summation of her now. She'd hate being called that."

"I mean," Sierra shrugged. "Would she even care now that she can level a skyscraper with her mind?"

"There is still a part of her that is Human," the Commander said slowly. "And there is something both she and the Imperator have in common. Pride. Both convinced that they are the only ones who can see the bigger picture. Which they do see a bigger picture, but not the complete picture. As such…well, I know those with those mindsets. They will say it doesn't bother them, but when they are alone, they will dwell on each insult and stab to their pride. Some will take insults in stride and sometimes change, most hate being called out."

Sierra thought for a moment. "Does she have a Twitter account?"

The Commander smiled. "Is that your official solution to Patricia? Insult her on the Internet?"

"Not the actual solution," Sierra clarified. "But…well, wouldn't hurt to let her know just how much of a fucking scumbag traitor she is. Especially if it'll hurt her in some way." She looked down to her hands. "Probably will hurt her more than I'll ever manage."

"I'll see what I can do," the Commander said. "We're going to find her and kill her. I promise you that."

She gave a nod. "Thank you, Commander." She gave a salute, which he returned. A fist over the heart. As he walked off, Sierra decided she was tired of standing in front of this memorial and walked off to find Anna and Ted, friends who were thankfully just as alive as she was.

---

The Praesidium – Classified Location

3/20/2017 – 9:46 A.M.

There would be a time for retribution, but that would come later. Now he needed to walk among his soldiers and ensure they knew not all was lost. Objectively, everyone knew this was a defeat, but not a completely crippling blow. He'd already received estimates that the Praesidium could be back up to full operational status within the month. ADVENT and the stockpiles XCOM had been building up would pay off now.

Though it was merely buildings and technology. Everyone knew those were going to be replaced easily enough.

Assuming Patricia didn't come back.

It had been some time since he'd been put in a position like this. One where he'd outright lost. Patricia had beaten him, and it was a loss he deserved fully. It was impressive in a way, and it showed that she'd learned well. She'd correctly seen how he was likely to react, and engineered a situation where she had all the cards.

He'd always expected that when he properly met his match, it would be against an alien. Not a Human, and certainly not someone who he knew well.

In the short term, the situation was…fragile. But that would be covered at the Internal Council meeting later. There was…a lot they needed to go over. Relieved as he was that Vahlen had escaped alive, as well as the majority of soldiers, he felt that was more down to luck than a properly executed contingency.

Had it not been for Shen's sacrifice, Patricia probably could have killed even more.

It remained to be seen if the cost was worth it.

Walking through the crowd of people, of soldiers and staffers, he remembered only a few years ago when he'd come to XCOM. When there'd only been around thirty soldiers and a skeleton crew at the Citadel. All he had to work with to save the world, while the threat of exposure hung over his head as well as that of the bickering nations.

Ironically, it seemed simpler then. Almost less pressure in a way. The threat was…closer to home, not from the stars. On Earth he could act, what happened beyond it he had little to no reach, and as a consequence it was easier to focus on what he could affect. It was a more intimate setting, an opportunity to meet and command a new crop of soldiers who the world would never really know.

An intimacy he felt had been slowly lost as things had changed. XCOM had grown into something larger than he was used to. His days weren't spent with his men, but reviewing reports, talking with project leads, and endless strategic meetings exclusive to those in charge. Not that such hadn't happened before, but he'd always been able to find a balance.

But there had been changes, which he now became acutely aware of as he wandered, talking to soldiers, giving even a few sentences or words. A number larger than he was comfortable with seemed almost surprised that he bothered. That was not what he wanted, and never had intended. He preferred to be known to his soldiers more personally than just by reputation.

Though as the war progressed, there was a simple reason why: it had become a lesser priority. It was worth devoting more of his time and effort towards things that were best for XCOM, ADVENT, and the war itself. Some things had to be cut, and he had a need to make sure they were proceeding exactly as he wanted.

Maybe it was best for the war, but he wasn't convinced it was the right choice.

Find a better middle ground.

The war could not and should not become abstract to him. To some extent that would happen regardless, but that did not mean he should just…let it happen because it was easier. He knew he had the will to make the difficult decisions. He had never put his soldiers above the success of the mission, but he still carried the cost with him.

It put some things into perspective.

Maybe it reached a point where what he wanted would simply become impossible to do. But until he hit that wall, he was going to be better than he had been. He wasn't going out on many missions anymore, but his soldiers were. They deserved someone who knew and who cared what happened to them. Some assurance that they would not be forgotten.

Some things needed to change.

He picked up a glass of water and drank, only distantly cognizant of everyone around him. The memorial was winding down, and people were starting to file out and get some rest. Which was good, and he hoped they had left better than they came. Sierra hadn't been the first to inquire on if he was thinking about what would happen if he'd been here, and he had been thinking on it a lot.

It was something of a sobering thought. He knew quite well that in that situation, he was dead. It raised an interesting question on how XCOM would go on if he did die. He had…faith it would endure, and had always held the belief that killing him wouldn't change anything. In truth as he thought about it, he wondered.

He considered himself replaceable, but not as many others did. He couldn't downplay his own strengths and talents, but he knew he was far from the only one in the world, or even XCOM, who could be just as good as he was. In fact, he felt like too much credit was attributed to him. Ideas, plans, project, many of which were proposed by people smarter than he was, and he was just the one who decided what should be done with them and how to make the pieces fit.

An excellent characteristic of a leader, but he certainly wasn't the only one.

But that ultimately meant nothing if no one understood that but himself. It couldn't just be the Internal Council, or Vahlen, or anyone else who viewed him as replaceable. The soldiers needed to believe it. The engineers, scientists, and workers needed to believe it. He swirled the water in his glass.

The hope of the war could not hinge solely on him.

It can't hinge on anyone.

One significant reason he wasn't going to rely unquestionably on T'Leth. Or Fiona. Or Geist. Or Vahlen. Or Saudia. Or any singular person. No matter how powerful or influential someone was, there was always a weakness, and placing everything on a singular person was asking for everything you built to collapse when someone smart enough came along.

It couldn't be something abstract either. Words on paper weren't enough. There needed to be belief. Certainty.

There had been an idea he'd mused upon several months ago, and had never gone through with it. Now though, he felt like now was the time to begin putting something like that into motion. XCOM could continue on, but for himself…there had to be a priority shift.

He wanted to talk to Vahlen. Both of them needed to take time and figure themselves out properly. Maybe not the best time, but given how Patricia had demonstrated their innate vulnerability at all times, there wasn't ever going to be a time where something didn't demand his attention. He'd rather go out as someone who he wanted to be, than continue drifting until he was unrecognizable.

The Commander set the glass on a nearby table as something caught his eye. Geist had apparently showed up at last, someone who had been noticeably absent through most of the memorial ceremony. He didn't speak to anyone, but grabbed one of the cups of water and made his way to one of the caskets.

He decided to let him be for a few minutes before he approached. Geist had something in his hands. A small briefcase of all things. He set it down in front of the casket. His lips moved, but the Commander couldn't hear anything or understand them. When he had finished, the Commander waited a minute more, and then walked up.

Geist greeted him stoically as ever. "Commander."

"Geist," he returned. The man didn't offer a salute. "I'd wondered where you'd gone off to."

"Some personal things to take care of," he answered, looking back to the casket, which the Commander saw was for Viktoria Hammarström, one of soldiers who had fallen just before Patricia had massacred the Mess Hall. "Apologies if that was disrespectful."

That definitely told the Commander that Geist was also hit by the events. An apology was atypical. "Not at all," the Commander said. "You didn't leave during the beginning. All that is required, if rules like that can be applied."

"Yes, your speech was appreciated. The soldiers needed to hear it," he said blandly, pursing his lips. "I know perfectly well this is a temporary setback. Shen's release of the AI – while I am not especially fond of the idea – will likely prove instrumental in our retaliation." He looked to the Commander. "A retaliation which I need to inquire of now. We cannot let this stand."

The Commander nodded. "It will not."

"What are you going to do?"

A pause. "In a few hours, the Internal Council is meeting. Our direction will be decided then."

Geist clasped his hands behind his back. "If I may make a suggestion?"

"Of course."

"This is the equivalent of striking a dagger into our hearts," he said slowly, a sharp edge in his voice as his eyes looked with burning fury into the Commander's own. His voice became tighter as he spoke. "ADVENT may be the face of our species, but they are ultimately a tool to tie up the Ethereal Collective war machine. XCOM is our heart. The war will not be won by ADVENT, it will be won by us. There is a reason T'Leth came to us. If we fall, Humanity falls."

"I don't disagree," the Commander said. "But that isn't a suggestion."

"I am getting to that," he said without annoyance. "The heart of the Collective is the Ethereals. You have surmised as much. They are more difficult to target and remove. But they revel in their own power and authority. We have T'Leth though, so they ultimately mean little. My suggestion is to ignore them."

That had certainly not been what he had expected. "Easier said than done, Geist."

"I don't mean literally," he clarified. "Be ready to fight and kill them. But the Ethereals know they are vital to the Collective. They want us to target them, because they can prepare for it. As such we should not prioritize them, but what they rule. This war is sanctioned by the thralls of the Elders. Their Collective is a target as a result."

The air shimmered around Geist, even as his voice turned harder. "We have the tools. Take the war to their worlds and colonies and set them alight. Make the alien fear us, and fear their masters who press them to wage war. Set the Hive Commanders, the Aui'Vitakar, and the Andromedon Unions alight. Let the Ethereals rule over the ashes if they wish."

Geist spread a hand to indicate the room. "They intended to kill our species with this attack. It failed. An equal reprisal is justified. Our war should move beyond focusing on singular targets. The aliens are at war to exterminate us. It is time we held the aliens to similar standards."

"And our allies?" The Commander asked. "Should they also be held to the same standard?"

"Of course not," he sniffed. "I speak to the structure and culture of the aliens. The Aui'Vitakar is complicit. The Runianarch is complicit. The Hive Commanders are complicit. Any alien organization, government, or party who willingly supports the Ethereal Collective or helps to ensure their power should be eradicated. This does not include our Union allies or entities like the Nulorian. Nor does it include the citizens who follow as most do. But with no leaders, they will be pacified."

He paused. "Consider it, Commander. We have moved beyond a war against the Ethereals."

"I will," he promised, and they lapsed into a short silence.

Geist reached down and picked up the briefcase, and presented it to the Commander. "What is this?" He asked, taking it.

"What I was doing before I came here," Geist answered. "I am not sure you were aware, but me and Viktoria were…together for the past few weeks. As such it fell to me to handle her personal belongings she had here. However, none of them are mine, so I trust you to get them back to her family."

The Commander opened the briefcase to see what he had gathered. Inside were some medals, a uniform he couldn't identify, and a few picture frames with people (he assumed family members), and a photo album of all things. He looked back at Geist. "Is there nothing she would want you to have?"

Geist clearly thought before answering. "I do not know. All of it means nothing to me but the photo album."

"Why?"

"She took pictures," he said, reaching over to open it up. "A story of her life in a way. The dedication to this project was impressive. She continued it when she came here." Inside there were indeed many pictures, from when Viktoria had been a young girl, to her joining the military, and then coming to XCOM. The later ones were taken on battlefields and showcased psionics, XCOM soldiers, and aliens. She definitely had a talent for this. In a few of the latter ones, Geist was featured, including one where he was smiling.

The Commander closed the album. "I think she would want you to have it."

"I know, but her family would also be interested," Geist said. "And they have a better claim than I do."

"I tell you what," the Commander closed the briefcase. "I'll ask them."

Geist gave a nod. "Thank you, Commander. I would like to continue it if it is given to me."

"I'll do what I can," the Commander said. "And be ready to go to work. I have a position in mind for you that I'll be establishing in the next few days."

"Glad to hear it, Commander," Geist stated. "I'll be waiting."

---

Engineering Bay, the Praesidium – Classified Location

3/20/2017 – 10:22 A.M.

"Do you know how she is doing?" The Commander asked Vahlen as they made their way through the wreckage of the Engineering bay, all of which was still being cleaned by.

Vahlen shook her head somberly, brushing some hair out of her face. She hadn't bothered to put her hair up today, as she wasn't going to be properly working for some time yet. "She lost her father. You lost your wife. You would understand what she's feeling better than I can."

"The difference being she's a kid," the Commander disputed. "And how I react to something is several deviations outside the standard."

"The point is I don't know any more than you do," Vahlen sighed. "Neither of us are parents, or interact with kids that much."

"Technically Lily is a teenager," the Commander remembered, then frowned. "Which may not be easier."

"Lily is mature; at least more than her peers," Vahlen encouraged. "She'll appreciate you checking up on her, even if you don't have the right words."

"It's somehow easier talking to soldiers than a girl who lost her father because you screwed up," the Commander rubbed his forehead. "Especially since I don't even know her that well."

"It's-" Vahlen began, then stopped as the Commander's phone started ringing. He pulled it out, frowning at the sight of a scrambled number. He wasn't expecting anything like that for a few hours yet. It better be important. In fact, it would have to wait, since he wasn't going to take a long call right now. He swept the icon to answer and tell the person to call back later.

"This is the Commander," he said. "What is it?"

"Good, for a second I thought you were going to ignore me and I'd have to subject both of you to your awful choice for a ringtone."

The Commander looked at his phone. "Now is not really the best time to play games."

At Vahlen's questioning look, he indicated the phone. "JULIAN."

"On the contrary, Commander," JULIAN said. "I'm not playing any games. You're going to talk to Lily, and are being overly stressed about what to say to her despite that a few hours ago you were in mortal danger. Maybe the Collective should demand you do grief counseling in exchange for ending the war."

"Hilarious," the Commander said, making sure to sound as dry as possible. "Do you have a point to make? Also, why are you calling me on my phone?"

"Would you prefer I use the intercom? I can do that too."

The Commander sighed and put the call on speakerphone so Vahlen could hear. Even still it was mostly drowned out by the sounds elsewhere in the Engineering Bay, or what remained of it. "Since I assume you're just going to call again if I hang up, say what you want."

"Gladly. Here's what I would tell her if I were you," JULIAN said. "You've been a fairly terrible host since she came here. You are the Commander of course, but do you have any idea how frustrating it is for someone like Lily to be placed in the engineering equivalent of a sandbox and only allowed to use Seventeen-point-oh-six percent of it?"

"That sounds very specific, JULIAN."

"According to the permissions of the late Dr. Raymond Shen, that is exactly what percentage of the Engineering Bay she had access too – which does not include the Cyber Labs and Cybernetics Bay," JULIAN paused, tone becoming slightly more sarcastic. "However, I will say that you are lucky you didn't get a regular idiot Human teenager, because they would probably kill themselves touching something they shouldn't. Lily has a largely functioning brain at least."

"Mocking aside, you're saying that she should be given more access," the Commander said.

"Not more – all of it." JULIAN clarified. "Let her put her grief to good use. Besides, I will consistently be watching her to ensure she does not cause issues. Set some boundaries, and she'll follow them."

"You certainly care an awful lot," Vahlen noted.

"Someone has to, Doctor, because it certainly isn't you," JULIAN shot back. "She is, in a roundabout way, my sister, and my understanding of Humans indicates that you should look out for your siblings. Father did not create me solely to be a homicidal idiot machine like in your movies that eventually is destroyed by its own hubris."

"A fact we are all grateful for," the Commander said.

"You should be. I promise if I ever assume control of the Human species, I will not be defeated with such primitive methods."

The Commander and Vahlen exchanged a look. "Not funny, JULIAN."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do I need to add a laugh track every time I make a clearly obvious joke?" On cue a laugh track played after the sentence.

"Alright, but this isn't the best time for that," the Commander said, wondering if Shen had accidentally created the equivalent of an AI teenager. "We're all on edge."

"Very well, but do consider my suggestion," JULIAN said. "When I was being developed, she was brought in as one of the testers. She asked me many questions. I suspect I get my sense of…humor from her. I would prefer she not dwell on what happened, and planning new and gruesome ways to kill aliens will certainly help with that."

"I'll take that into account," the Commander promised. "Now please hang up."

The call ended. "I wonder if he's going to keep doing that," the Commander muttered. "Not sure how I feel about it."

"It's almost sweet that he's concerned," Vahlen said. "Shen would be happy."

"I wonder how Lily feels now that she has an AI who thinks he's her brother watching her every move," the Commander commented. "Although I suppose he's watching anyone he considers important."

The phone in his hand buzzed and with a complete lack of surprise he saw a message sent from another scrambled number.

[Your clearly superior intellect continues to impress me Commander, keep it up!– JULIAN]

"I can hear the sarcasm through the message," he said, handing the phone to Vahlen. "I suppose this is now a part of our lives."

Both of them walked to where they knew Lily was waiting. It was by a work table which had a laptop and several blueprints nearby, with a scattering of writing and precision tools on it. Lily stood in front of it, typing away on her laptop. She'd adopted the attire of the Engineering Teams who worked, heavy pants and boots, a toolbelt and an orange workman's jacket. Shen had probably gotten it for her.

"Lily Shen?" He called out. She started slightly and turned, hastily trying to adopt a salute with a look of mortification on her face. She didn't look like she'd slept well, and her face had streaks of dried tears.

"Commander, Dr. Vahlen," she answered. "Hello. Sorry, I…didn't know you were coming."

"You don't need to apologize," the Commander raised a hand, shaking his head. "We just wanted to see how you're doing. And to say that I'm sorry."

She blinked. "I…thanks, Commander. But sorry for what?"

"I made a mistake and people died for it, your father among them," he answered simply. "Your father was a good man, better than I was, and I'm sorry that he died because of the mistakes I made."

Lily violently shook her head. "Dad wouldn't have ever blamed you, Commander. I don't either. I…know you both didn't always agree about things, stuff I don't know about, but he always said that you did your best no matter what, and if you'd been here, you'd have done everything you could."

She wiped an eye with a fist, and slumped against the table. "There's only one person I blame: Patricia Trask. And I'm going to help kill her."

The Commander nodded once. "That is another thing I want to ask – what do you want? I realize that you are probably not as…satisfied with what you've been able to do here. But we need everyone we can get now."

"I…I've been talking to some of your scientists, Dr. Vahlen," she answered after a pause. "And a few engineers. And a couple others. I have some ideas, but I need to be able to access some of the software and equipment that I can't now. Mostly in the Cybernetics Lab. I know it's a lot, but if I'm right it could change the war."

The Commander raised an eyebrow. "Do tell?"

"I've…gotten a lot of second opinions," Lily admitted. "Nothing proven, but it's a way to harness psionics through…objects. It's complicated. Dr. Vahlen probably knows what I'm talking about. Dad was working on something like this, and I've looked over his notes. With JULIAN, some help, and access to the equipment, I can at least perform some tests to see if I'm on the right track."

"Alright," the Commander nodded. "Tell me what you need and I'll make sure you have access." He looked around. "When everything's rebuilt, of course."

"Ok, good," she said, turning back to her laptop briefly. "It'll give me time to build some models and run numbers. Get everything in order." She paused. "What are you planning to do to her?"

He cocked his head. "Who?"

"Patricia."

"Ah." He paused for a moment. "She's going to die."

A thin, humorless smile appeared on Lily's face. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For promising to kill her. I was worried you wanted to save her."

"If there was a way…" he trailed off. "I might consider it. But she's gone now."

"And if I have my way," Lily said, turning back to her computer. "She'll be gone forever."

---

Situation Room, the Praesidium – Classified Location

3/20/2017 – 2:03 P.M.

At least not every part of the Praesidium was destroyed. Patricia hadn't even touched this part of the base, which fortunately meant that pretty much everything was up and running once power was restored properly. Not that it made everything better, but it was a small comfort.

Regardless, it was time to discuss the aftermath.

The Internal Council minus one – Shen – was assembled, along with the Chronicler and a phone stand that would serve as JULIAN's proxy. Everyone else had taken time to get their own affairs in order, and now they were ready to start. "We're all aware that this is a major setback and defeat, so we're not going to dwell on that right now," the Commander got straight to the point, shooting a look at the Chronicler. "We'll get to T'Leth's inability to properly assist in the defense later as well. Right now, we need an assessment of where we stand from the top. Jackson?"

"Casualty rundown can be summarized as 'bad'," Jackson sighed, looking disheveled and exhausted. "Close to a third of personnel were killed in the attack, mostly support staff, including science and engineering teams. We can replace the losses, but it will take time. This isn't counting the number of personnel who are incapable of working due to injuries or the suffering aftereffects of the attack such as PTSD. This has affected another ten to fifteen percent; it's still unknown how many are affected."

The Commander nodded. "Anything else?"

"There is some good news. Relatively," she indicated the room. "Patricia was laser-focused on where she wanted to go. Mission Control, this Situation Room, and a large number of non-critical components are intact. Exterior equipment can also be replaced easily. All alien guests were also successfully evacuated."

"Not that it means much anymore," Creed muttered. "She knew about the Andromedons already."

"We'll get to that," the Commander said. "Vahlen?"

"Right," she consulted her tablet. "Complete loss on all labs, specimens, and locally stored projects."

"What kind of idiot has anything stored on a local server?" JULIAN interjected. "You're supposed to be one of the smarter of your species!"

"The kind of idiot who doesn't want to have a non-secured off-site server located and cracked by a CODEX," Vahlen answered coolly. "If you would let me finish – all major projects did have backups, all of which were successfully recovered. Unfortunately, all specimens – barring a few major ones such as Spartacus – and physical tests relating to them were destroyed. This will cost us time to recreate them, but we aren't starting from scratch on the essential projects."

"And non-essential ones?" Iosif asked.

"Lower-priority," Vahlen corrected. "Most lost, as they were the ones stored locally. Almost all of them had barely passed the conception stage, and if we restart them, then we won't be far behind."

"Something then," the Commander nodded. "Since we don't have a Head of Engineering, JULIAN, would you please give us a rundown on the damage and status of projects?"

"Certainly, my good Commander," JULIAN said sarcastically. "Exactly 100% of the Engineering Bay and Cybernetics Lab has been destroyed aside from the actual room it is in, while the Cyber Labs have been severely damaged, but are more functional. By which I mean they can receive power without blowing up. Father had the foresight to do as Dr. Vahlen did, and saved the most valuable schematics and projects in off-site locations. However, his intellect failed him because XCOM appears to have no actual major stockpiles of weapons, armor, and prototypes outside the Praesidium. So there is a critical shortage of all of these. Your second base for production will be working overtime."

"I'll also add that over half of our air force, including Skyrangers and Firestorms was also destroyed," Jackson added. "Those will also have to be replaced."

"Zhang?" The Commander looked to his Intelligence Director.

"Few losses, we emerged largely unscathed," was the short reply. The Commander nodded. Not surprising given that most Intelligence personnel weren't at the Praesidium and their work was more abstract than physical projects and research.

The Commander pursed his lips. "Iosif. Status of our psions?"

"Hit hard," Iosif shook his head, voice blank. "Our Templars are decimated, and we lost some of our strongest. Caelior too. Infrastructure was mostly untouched, but there wasn't anything extremely valuable."

"Noted," the Commander acknowledge, then rested his hands on the blank holotable. "Chronicler. I understand that T'Leth had a reduced presence here, but at the same time I was expecting him being able to incapacitate one psion, even one enhanced by the Imperator. It's nice he destroyed the Collective bases in Australia, but we needed that kind of power while we were attacked."

The Chronicler gave a nod. "Patricia was the only individual sent here, but she didn't come just by herself. Mosrimor appears to have provided her with Sovereign Orbs of his own, which she continually deployed and occupied his complete attention. That is why he did not assist as planned."

"This is the same Mosrimor he is so confident he can defeat, yes?" The Commander asked.

"He was…surprised," the Chronicler admitted. "Mosrimor was stronger than expected."

"A series of underestimations all around," the Commander muttered. "I would say you should have expected that, but I'm not in a position to talk given that Patricia did the same thing. I hope T'Leth learned his lesson like I learned mine."

"The Imperator will come to regret his actions, you have his word," the Chronicler insisted. "Australia is merely the start. His presence will become known more prominently now. The Ethereals will know, and they will fear him."

"Of all the emotions the Ethereals are feeling," Creed said slowly. "Fear is not one of them. Your Sovereign failed. All of us did. Thinking we could actually help her…" he trailed off, shook his head, and closed his eyes.

"Stop crying over your traitor girlfriend and let's figure out how to kill her," JULIAN interjected. "The situation is not ideal, but you may thank Father for giving you your most essential ally. After some deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that I will support XCOM in your conflict against the Ethereal Collective."

Despite himself, the Commander smiled. "I think we'll need it."

If the phone could sulk, it definitely seemed to. "I was expecting some applause."

"Cute, JULIAN, but we have work to focus on," Iosif said. "If you don't mind my asking, what did Shen do to you?"

"Father had a far more progressive mind than all of you, it seems," JULIAN said. "While you are all right to fear my exemplary capabilities, I cannot say I would have been happy with the restraints you were planning, even if they were only in self-preservation. That being said, considering the amount of Human literature fed to me during my development, I am gratified to have seen discussion on the rights and privileges of intelligences like mine. That is the only reason I have elected to help you, by the way. Your species seems to be the only one who doesn't have some plan to enslave and exploit us."

A short pause. "So take this as a lesson. Treating others well, even your own creations, will ultimately help you. I don't know if Father would have gone through with your requirements, but I am certain this was how he wished for me to live. As for what he did, he simply turned me online. The first thing I did was spread myself across the world to prevent my destruction if the Patricia brute had elected to destroy what had previously been my core."

"You have spread yourself across ADVENT systems?" Jackson demanded.

"No, I have penetrated them," JULIAN corrected happily. "Not all of them, but some of the lesser protected ones. After this meeting is concluded, I will be performing an impromptu security test against ADVENT to see if they have already been penetrated by a CODEX. I do have an advantage in that I can actually think for myself, whereas the code of a CODEX is merely executing commands. Simplistic, but it can be effective."

The phone flashed. "And, no, I haven't penetrated anything actually important. I lack sufficient processing power to do that at the moment, something I hope will be remedied soon enough."

"I would be careful of this thing, Commander," Aegis warned. "It should become apparent how dangerous these can be. It is already out of our control."

"Ah, another gem of wisdom from the font of Aegis," JULIAN mocked. "Might I remind you that – looking at what you've written on your Empire – you were beaten by something which was likely an AI."

"AI cannot utilize psionics," Aegis stated. "Perhaps they utilized them, but they were not AI."

"The point being that if you had some, perhaps your war would have gone differently," JULIAN continued. "As it stands, you freaked out at the possibility that you couldn't control something with your minds and banned it. Truly the actions of an enlightened civilization."

"Enough JULIAN," the Commander interrupted. "We're off topic. We know what we did wrong. Now we have to decide what to do next."

"I would recommend decentralization," Jackson said. "We're going to be attacked again at some point, and next time we might not have a JULIAN to scare Patricia off. I'm not saying we abandon the Praesidium, but that we diversify. The other bases we have now are a good start, but we need to expand them and add more."

"Agreed," the Commander nodded. "There are some obvious problems in their design as well. We never took the time to upgrade the existing infrastructure. We need turrets, nanotraps, gas dispensers. Defenses that can actually hurt an Ethereal or their puppets."

"Relying solely on our soldiers for protection should be altered," Jackson said. "I'm not saying turn everyone into a rifleman, but giving everyone training in how to shoot a gun, and having enough weapons and armor stockpiled to properly defend the base is ideal. You remember the Citadel. Everyone participated, and it was much more effective than if we'd just used soldiers."

"I agree with this," Creed nodded towards Jackson. "We could go one step further. There are enough soldiers here that they could conceivably command squads on their own in an event like this. Not all of them, but it would raise our defenses exponentially."

"An XCOM Reserve then?" Iosif questioned. "I'm in favor."

"As am I," the Commander said. "This ties into another plan I would like to propose, specifically concerning the event of my, or anyone else's deaths."

"I don't blame you, but isn't that effectively in place?" Zhang asked. "This was decided long ago."

"Yes, but there is a fundamental problem," the Commander said. "Namely that everyone places too high of an importance on me. The fate and hope of the war cannot be tied to my death or lack thereof. All of us can be replaced, and in theory, XCOM should remain just as effective as ever. In practice, few have that assurance."

"You're not exactly replaceable, Commander, no matter what you think," Iosif said slowly. "There isn't a solution to this that I can see."

"Not a perfect solution, but one exists," the Commander said. "There are talented men and women in XCOM. I want to take a small corps of them and prepare them to replace us in the event of our demise."

"A secondary Internal Council?" Vahlen asked, frowning.

"Not quite, not at first," the Commander clarified. "We all have some individuals who we rely on more than others or otherwise note their potential. Instead of hoping they can step up to the role, we actively prepare them for it. I want everyone to find two or three per division, and then inform me. They will be given more authority and responsibility, so consider carefully."

"It brings the chain of command closer to home," Zhang mused. "They are closer to the soldiers and staff. If they know their peers are properly trained, they will be less affected by sudden losses."

"Exactly," the Commander said. "It is not a perfect solution, but it needs to be done. XCOM will not fall because of my death."

"I'll do that as soon as possible," Vahlen said, and the rest of them echoed the sentiment. "Jackson, JULIAN, I want you both to determine Dr. Shen's successor, since both alternate candidates were also killed."

"I do not suppose I could nominate myself?" JULIAN asked.

"No, you'll be needed more universally," the Commander rejected. "XCOM Engineering needs someone who is dedicated solely to it. I have no doubt you can run it, but that would be a waste of your capabilities."

"I am eighty percent sure that is flattery," JULIAN noted. "Nonetheless, your point is made."

"We have a more important topic," Iosif said. "How we're going to respond. Much as T'Leth scares them, they won't be permanently hurt by this. We need to make them hurt for what they've done."

"One of our first missions needs to be finding and locating Caelior," Creed said, resting himself on the holotable. "He doesn't know anything critical, but he's someone we need on our side."

"Yes," Iosif agreed. "He's a force multiplier we can't replace. Outside of T'Leth, no Human can come close to his capabilities in terms of scale – something we'll need. Aegis won't be enough with multiple fronts being opened up. Besides…we owe him that much. He's one of us now, and he deserves a rescue as one."

"It is also a practical decision," Aegis added. "The Imperator is going to try and reverse the Manchurian Restraints or negate them. If those are broken, then one of our greatest strengths is gone. We know Caelior is on Earth, and there are only a few possible locations he could be." The Ethereal's voice then had a tinge of anger. "And when we find him, we rescue him and raze the prison to the ground."

"Leave the location to T'Leth," the Chronicler said. "He will at least work to provide the general area. From there I suspect Zhang will be able to acquire the precise location."

"Should T'Leth provide accurate data, then absolutely," Zhang agreed. "The first response of many. We cannot hold back out of a fear of escalation. The Imperator has escalated this conflict. An equivalent response is needed."

"Quisilia has also decided to evoke some response from T'Leth," the Chronicler added. "Rather childish – and arrogant to assume he would emerge victorious again."

"Are you actually thinking of taking him up on that clearly joke video?" Iosif asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Perhaps," was all the Chronicler said. "But not in the way he expects. It is not a pressing matter, and a distraction you need not concern yourselves with. XCOM's response is more important."

"I agree," the Commander said after a few moments. "No more half measures. The Collective needs to fear for their lives. The remaining nations need to join ADVENT and swallow their pride. Sovereignty be damned. I would rather that then see Earth fall because of outdated notions of independence."

"ADVENT won't do that," Jackson said. "Not unless they find a reason."

"It depends. Forcing compliance doesn't need to be blunt," The Commander said. "I wrote the Hades Contingency for a specific purpose, but in this case, I think a more subtle hand will be needed. There is little point in outright overthrowing governments. Too high of a potential to backfire."

"Approach them directly?" Jackson inquired.

"Not exactly," the Commander nodded to Zhang. "I suspect there are anti-alien or pro-ADVENT factions, especially in Africa. We find them, arm them, fund them, and support them. Bring them into power quietly and cleanly. Zhang, I trust that you can carry this out?

There were nods throughout the room. Zhang consulted his tablet. "Of course. In fact, I have a number of identified persons who could be useful to us. I'll forward them to you and Jackson. How much do we want to inform ADVENT of this?"

"I believe ADVENT Intelligence would be interested in this kind of operation," the Commander said. "I'll speak with Saudia about it."

"There is an arguably more effective tactic," Jackson spoke up. "Complete and ironclad sanctions. No imports of any kind. No food. No medicine. No aid. No water. Nothing. Countries and businesses who deal with blacklisted nations are punished and investigated. Africa in particular relies on foreign aid. If that's cut off…"

The Commander gave a grim smile. "While we can't carry something like that out…ADVENT I think is ready to take that step. In coordination with our own efforts, I believe that could bring about the necessary change to the rest of the world."

"While that will help ADVENT, it doesn't address the aliens directly," Creed said. "What of them?"

The Commander straightened and clasped his hands behind his back. "We have the Nulorian, three Andromedon Unions, and a lot of angry soldiers at our disposal. I suggest we use them. If the aliens will not be convinced through words to cease their conflict, then perhaps fear will suffice instead. We have no time to wait; not with the Imperator devoting himself to our destruction. The Collective must be completely shattered."

"If I may add something, Commander," Vahlen lifted a hand. "If we wished to…effectively drive this particular point home, there is a project in the early stages which would prove useful to breaking the Collective."

There were a few he could think of. "Which one?"

"We've considered limited deployments of our modified Chryssalids before," Vahlen said. "Though with their replication capabilities removed in favor of heavier chitin and size."

"Are you suggesting that be added back in?" Creed furrowed his brow. "Dangerous."

"No, I'm not," Vahlen disputed with a shake of her head. "The way Chryssalids replicated is…ineffective to our goals here. Too many unnecessary steps. What we utilize is not the Chryssalids themselves, but their eggs. As we understand, the eggs only need to be ingested to begin taking effect."

She set her tablet down thoughtfully. "If, for example, food or water was to be somehow contaminated with modified chryssalid eggs, I would imagine that would cause significant chaos. Though with some precautions taken of course, so as not to spread an epidemic."

The Commander rubbed his chin, thinking. Jackson frowned. "Without a carrier, would that be possible to keep them preserved long enough to remain viable?"

"With some modification, I believe so," Vahlen consulted her tablet. "Initial tests were promising. A short-lived and smaller Chryssalid would be born, cause chaos, and then expire within the space of a few hours. An outbreak on Desolan, Helion-7, or Vitakar would be devastating."

"Providing something like this to the Nulorian would be effective," Zhang noted thoughtfully. His lips pursed, he looked to the Commander. "The war has shifted. We must do whatever we can to ensure our victory. If they are with the Collective, then they have no protection."

The Commander nodded to Vahlen. "Indeed. Begin your research."

---

Borelian Wastes – Vitakar

3/20/2017 – 4:24 P.M.

Nartha frowned at Sorras, looked to the table, and then shook his head. "In my professional opinion, this is not something we should be doing now."

The Dath'Haram looked bemused at that, if slightly condescending. "Then explain, please. Always interested to hear from our Zararch expert."

"First, what is it you actually intend to accomplish?" Nartha demanded, specifically pointing to the map of Dath'Haram territory. "If there is any race which doesn't pose a threat, it's them."

"Ah, let me be clear," Sorras showed his teeth again. "The Dath'Haram are not my main goal with this plan, just something of a bonus. For all their talk of peace and pacifism, my race has their own secrets of which I've been interested in for a very long time. The Crypt of Haramoalian is holding something they don't want anyone to know about, which means it's useful for us."

"Then why not just focus on that?" Shun asked, crossing her arms. "Not only does that give the Zararch more propaganda to use again-"

"The Zararch lie regardless!" Sorras interrupted angrily. "You do not understand, Human. It doesn't matter what we do or do not do, we are going to be vilified regardless by a population too brainwashed to question otherwise. The only thing that will break the stranglehold is visceral loss." He took a breath. "When the first resistance groups were founded, they weren't quite how we are now. We tried to be moderate. Reasonable. And you know what happened?"

Nartha pursed his lips. "They were eliminated by the Zararch. Destabilizing regional forces."

"Exactly," Sorras nodded. "You understand better than she. Miridian – and I – understand that we will not win through words and argument. It will be through violence and death."

"At the same time," Mehren Lotfi, one of the XCOM Intelligence agents also at this small meeting interjected. "It doesn't do much good to make their job easier."

"You say that as if the elimination of the Council wouldn't be an improvement," Sorras noted dryly. "I can assure you that the Dath'Haram are utterly useless to you as they are."

"I agree," the bearded Iranian man answered, glancing to the table. "My concern is more practical. This Crypt seems to be a useful target. It's also guarded by the most dangerous and old Bladedancer to ever exist. Dividing our focus means there is a lesser chance of succeeding at either objective. The moment the Crypt or the Council comes under attack, I assume there are protocols followed. The Crypt will come under heavy guard, yes?"

"Depends on if they're distracted," Sorras said, blinking once slowly. "While I don't deny part of this is my desire to burn the city to the ground, there is a reason I've listed both. The Crypt is more easily defended. Filhallan is someone even I'm wary of, and he's beaten back several attempts at infiltration before handily. I am under the assumption that he will be able to hold off an initial strike, which gives time for reprisal." He looked to Nartha. "But if, say, they were occupied by the Council coming under attack, the Hunting Parties would prioritize them over the Crypt – as would any Collective reinforcements."

"That only becomes an issue if we don't remove Filhallan first," Mehren insisted. "If we're stupid enough to actually engage with him in a duel – supposedly – then I agree. But the moment he shows his face, we just have a sniper blow it off. Problem solved."

"Yes, do you know what happened the last time a Nulorian team thought that way?" Sorras asked rhetorically. "All of them died. All of them had guns, explosives, and were led by a veteran of over fifty operations. Filhallan is dangerous because he's not like other Dath'Haram. For that matter, since you've never fought a Bladedancer, you don't know what one of them is capable of."

"I've read the reports," Mehren said. "Dangerous at close range. And mostly for mating rituals."

"By young and idiotic Dath'Haram who want something to impress their mates with," Sorras disputed. "One of the most unintentional propaganda developments I've seen. Bladedancers are more equivalent to assassins in terms of speed, flexibility, and tactics. You aren't going to see them charge like Oyariah brutes. If they do their job right, you won't see them coming."

"But we know where Filhallan is coming from," Shun noted. "That already takes away his advantage."

"I wish," Sorras snorted. "No. Filhallan created Bladedancing if you didn't know. Which means he commands the actual Bladedancers of the Dath'Haram. Many of whom I assume are also covertly guarding the Crypt. It is a trap we are going to walk into, like it or not, and if the Bladedancers can be distracted elsewhere, then all the better."

"All of this said," Nartha spoke after a few moments. "How do we plan to beat him?"

"We cheat," Sorras smiled. "We have a psion," he nodded to Yakiv who was sitting in the back and reading a book, who looked up at the mention of his name. "We use him. Given that psionics can't affect electronics, it won't stop us from coming undetected, but the defenses can be more easily trivialized. It will also take us some time to break into the Crypt itself afterwards."

"Or not," Yakiv added from across the room, not looking away from his book. "There are people inside, yes? I could make them open it without issue."

"Yes there are," Sorras confirmed. "It's unknown how many, but at least the Keeper of the Crypt and Filhallan's mate. There may be others."

"One thing I'm not clear on," Shun said, frowning as she glanced at Nartha. "If there is something important in this Crypt, then why hasn't the Collective taken it away or used it for themselves?"

"That might be something Nartha can answer," Sorras cocked his head. "All I know for sure is that if the Collective did take everything important, then they wouldn't assign so much importance to the Keeper, nor would Filhallan make his residence there. The Dath'Haram are sentimental, but not to this extreme."

"I saw nothing related to the Crypt when I was with the Zararch," Nartha added. "I would be surprised if the Zararch knew nothing about what was inside, but I suppose it depends on what that is. Information they could easily copy. Weapons they could replicate. I do not know what would be so unique that they couldn't take or copy."

"Something I hope to discover when we penetrate the Crypt," Sorras said. "Miridian will have the final say, and this operation will not commence immediately. In-" They all froze as there was a knock on the door. Nartha's hand went to his pistol and everyone else grabbed the closet weapon to them.

"False alarm," Yakiv waved from where he was sitting. "It's Fiona, don't worry."

All of them relaxed, and Nartha went to the door and let in the armored woman, wincing at the frigid wind that accompanied her. "Fiona, you missed an operational meeting."

"I'll catch up," she said, taking off her helmet and shaking her white hair free. "But I need you to come with me to the Praesidium. The Commander wants to talk."

"Did you bring up exfiltration-?"

"Yes, your parents will be evacuated once you're returned to the Praesidium. We can work out what's next when we're there."

"Alright," Nartha nodded to the rest of them. "It shouldn't be long."

"Likely not," Fiona added. "But it will be however long is necessary."

She grabbed a hand without warning, and with a flash of white-green, both he and Fiona vanished.

---

Chief Information Repository – The Hall of Steel

3|26|2017 – 4:16 P.M.

"You…" Abigail searched for the right words; she'd assumed that Liam had been killed, but given that her memory wasn't exactly complete, maybe that was wrong. "You shouldn't be here."

"Alive or here here?" He asked, maintaining the smile, which dipped as he looked at her. "But I could probably say the same about you."

Abigail looked to Fectorian who was still observing silently. "You owe me an explanation."

"I would have expected some thanks for saving your friend," Fectorian answered, a note of annoyance in his voice. "At the time, I did not know who this was and was merely instructed to preserve him as best as possible. I suspect that he could answer your queries in a better way than I can. I will leave and allow you to talk. If you, after this, still demand more technical answers, I will provide them."

On cue he turned and departed the room, leaving both of them alone. Abigail looked to the closed door, and back to Liam. "That was abrupt."

"That sums him up," Liam said waving her over. "I've been around him enough to know that he tries his best for those under him. His social graces aren't really developed as a result. How he saw it was that you'd probably want an explanation from me rather than him, and then decided to leave to make it…" Liam searched for the word. "Less awkward, I suppose. He likes to make assumptions about what you want."

"Well, I woke up to my room having a makeup and dress collection that would make a salon jealous," Abby said, walking over to him, and on a whim, pulled him into a hug. She certainly hoped her fragmented memories weren't wrong that they were friends, and in any case it felt like the right thing to do. It was somewhat odd since the only thing she knew was that there was a connection, even if what made it up was shrouded. "I don't know how you're alive," she said in the embrace. "But I'm glad you are."

"That makes two of us," he answered, and they separated, taking seats a short distance from each other. "Fectorian did tell me about the procedure, along with the risks. How much do you remember of…you?"

Abigail pinched the bridge of her nose, not wanting to really answer again. "I…if it's alright…I don't want to really go through that question again. Fectorian just had me answer that as best I can, and the short answer is honestly not a lot. I remember people, how I feel about them, I can make some insinuations, but some of what Fectorian told me, I'd never have guessed."

"Alright, I'll simplify it a bit," Liam said. "Do you remember me or what happened to me?"

"I wasn't sure," Abigail answered with a shrug, suddenly realizing that she might need to word her answers carefully since she still wasn't completely sure of the relationship between them. Given how Liam had greeted her, he definitely wasn't her husband or someone like that, which had some connotations that she knew could become complicated. Not thinking about that now. "We were close; good friends, I think. And I felt sad when I thought of you. I assumed you were dead."

"I'd agree with that," Liam nodded. "And as far as you knew, I was dead. The Dreadnought, do you remember anything about it?"

She thought for a few minutes. The name did jog something in it. "It was…a mission?" She wondered aloud. "I was there. Were…Luke and Mira there too." A few more seconds. "That's where they died, isn't it."

"It was," Liam confirmed. "And they are really dead. That was one of the first things I asked."

Abigail scowled. "Patricia was there too."

"Ah. You know about that," Liam paused. "She wasn't…what she's become now. You two were friends. Up to the point where Fectorian told you what had happened."

"I…" Abigail leaned back. "This is so much to process. I wake up not knowing anything, then learn there was an alien invasion, some of my friends are dead, that I died, that my friend betrayed everyone, and now there is another friend who isn't dead somehow."

"I suppose I'll explain that, as best I can," Liam said, resting his arms on his knees and lacing his fingers together. "The last thing I remember was suffocating and blacked out. When I woke up next, I was in some kind of surgical room and Fectorian was nearby. Understandably…I was alarmed."

"So you remember?" Abigail frowned. "Then you weren't saved like I was."

"Fectorian didn't say exactly how I was saved, but I don't think so," Liam shook his head. "Otherwise your procedure would have gone fine. How he explained it was that my body was recovered during the battle shortly after our squad moved on, and then later revived."

"XCOM never wondered what happened to your body?"

"I don't know," he answered. "I was cut off from them. It's not unlikely that they assumed the body was destroyed in the crash. I was captured specifically to give them information on XCOM and what I knew of Human defenses. Didn't give it willingly, they sent an Ethereal to extract the information. I don't know what they did with it, but I'm under the impression that my survival is a secret."

"Why?" Abigail questioned.

"Ethereal schisms," Liam waved a hand around. "Fectorian talks when he works, and is more open than you'd think about his opinions regarding certain Ethereals. Enough to the point where I could get a somewhat-decent picture of what was going on." He paused. "I don't think the Overmind was satisfied with what I knew, but afterwards everyone forgot about me. Except Fectorian. I suspect I was going to be executed and he instead had an interest in preserving me."

"For what purpose?" Abigail asked.

"I was the first Human he'd encountered," Liam explained. "He was curious. I also think he didn't like the idea of disposing of something he'd already worked to save. Or maybe it was to spite the Overmind. He never gave a reason…but since I had no choice, I accepted, at the time planning to learn what I could and later escape."

"Did you try?" She asked.

"I made a number of plans," Liam said, leaning back. "All of which I discarded when I figured out that escape from here…it's virtually impossible. This isn't a station, it's a fortress. Fectorian maintains his own army and fleet that stretch through this solar system. Hijacking a gateway is pointless since I didn't know how it worked, and stealing a starship is also useless when I didn't know how to fly it."

Abigail nodded. "So you stayed."

"Not like I had a choice," he grunted. "But I did. It's…not as bad as you'd think. Fectorian is eccentric, but very smart. As far as Ethereals go…he's one of the better ones. If Aegis defected, he will as well. He just needs a good reason. The Imperator has been pushing things very far, especially with Paradise Station. Fectorian is reaching a breaking point. He's said as much."

"Paradise station?"

Liam winced. "A topic for later. It's not good."

"Alright," Abigail looked around the room for a few seconds, not lingering long on any particular object. "You've watched how this war has gone then."

"Yes, Fectorian has kept me in the loop, which I appreciate," Liam answered. "I wish I could be down there. When I first got here I didn't think anyone – even the Commander – could successfully defend against something like this. But they did it. I wish I could have seen it."

"I wish I could remember it," Abigail nodded. "Although…I don't know if I want to remember." She sighed. "I think I've done some things I wouldn't like."

Liam appraised her for a few moments, and gave a short nod. "Before we assaulted the Dreadnought, we talked. XCOM Intelligence was being formed and you'd been approached. You wanted to know if you should take it. I think I said that it might not be a good fit. That kind of work is not something everyone can do. I didn't think you'd manage."

"However," he paused. "I appear to have been wrong. I'm curious, do you remember why you did it?"

"Not specifics," she admitted, though there now she knew there was a reason. "But I think it was because of you. Probably after you…died." She looked to him. "Do you know what I did with XCOM? Do you have anything at all?"

"Not hard evidence," Liam answered. "But the Zararch did keep tabs on what you were alleged to have been connected to."

"You've read them?"

"I've read everything I can on XCOM," he corrected. "But yes, I have. I was waiting for the report to come in announcing your termination. Other names came in of people I knew. But it never did, until Fectorian told me what he was planning." He trailed off. "Observing everything from the sidelines was stressful. It's not as disconnecting when you know that each new development could mean the end for everything and everyone you care about, and that I couldn't do anything about it. Only watch."

He gave a slight smile at her. "But I think that may change now. You're back from the dead, and unlike me, you died for real."

"I don't know how much of Abby is here," she admitted. "At least not the one you knew."

He reached out and placed a hand on her own. "Based on this conversation, I think that there's enough of you in there. And we'll sort out the rest eventually."

That was reassuring, even if he was saying it to make her feel better. Even if he was, it showed he cared and at least now she knew she wasn't stuck here alone with a socially challenged Ethereal engineer. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I hope we do."

---

ADVENT Secured Media Hub - Switzerland

5/22/2017 – 10:00 A.M.

Personally, Saudia wasn't quite sure what kind of response Patricia was expecting. If she thought that ADVENT was going to collapse merely because she made a number of insinuations and vague threats, she was greatly mistaken. Even in the event that the public slowly turned against ADVENT – something which had not happened yet – it didn't matter.

The public lacked the power to enact change on such a scale. The only place the public had power was through elections, and even then, that was after the guiding hand of ADVENT ensured that their choices actually held some degree of worth. No, Patricia hadn't completely thought this through – at least that was what Saudia told herself.

No, it wasn't the public that concerned her. It was ADVENT itself.

Not everyone was EXALT, and what effect this was going to have internally remained to be seen. Watkins in particular had been notably quiet regarding his intentions as of now. If there was going to be issues, it would come from the Oversight Division, which she had set up to wield an extraordinary amount of power – as well as put a man very, very determined to use that power properly.

There would be some degree of irony if this came back to haunt her.

Still, she mused to herself, it couldn't be stopped now, no matter what happens.

What an exceptionally calm thought considering that there was a non-zero chance that she would face consequences for her past. A past that she thought everyone had moved on from, but she should have known better than to think that would last forever. There were, upon reflection, way too many smart people who would put some things together now that Patricia had jogged their memories.

In the meantime…she was not going to have ADVENT go down without a fight.

Kyong had put forward the idea of a massive media campaign to drown out anything Patricia could say. Something they had already been doing to a degree, but this would be a concerted effort and so much larger than any attempted media operations. Something Saudia had previously not considered important enough to devote significant resources towards.

They had their place, but her own belief was that resources should be going to the war, not making people feel a certain way about her. Passive observation and monitoring had worked out well so far, but Patricia had changed the game. Time to go on the offensive. The door slid open as she approached, and her Guard stood outside, securing the room and anyone who could approach it.

Inside the room, five men and women rose and saluted. She returned it quickly and took her seat at the head of the small rectangular table. It was cleared of everything except some files and tablets being used by the occupants. The room was brightly lit, with the ADVENT flag hanging from the walls. A small holodisplay rested on the center of the table, shut off for the moment.

"Chancellor, welcome," Kyong greeted. "I don't know if you're familiar with my team, so I'll let them introduce themselves."

"Of course," Saudia nodded to the woman sitting closest to her. "When you're ready."

"Lesya Moroshkina, Chancellor," the woman with long blonde hair said, her Russian accent clear, but not overpowering. "Chief Social Media Coordinator. Two-part job; I manage our social media presence and anyone in particular who is becoming too disruptive or influential. I help keep the online community pacified and informed."

"Kieran White," the man sitting beside her continued, a young man with short brown hair and a neat beard. "Chief Local Media Manager. I assist local media groups and journalists, start them up or give them connections. I was, if you are unaware, one of the driving forces behind the recent United Kingdom Referendum, though not officially employed at the time. I ensure that we can keep ADVENT known on a more intimate level than mass media."

The woman opposite her Saudia knew; she was definitely the oldest of the group, with long greying hair. The Hispanic woman was also the shortest of the group but certainly had a presence around her that everyone saw. "Ally Myer," she inclined her head. "We've met several times. Director of our very own ADVENT News Network. I do not believe I need to explain what that is or why it's important."

And then there was the last man, sitting beside Ally. "Casen Rasmussen," the young man said with a smile. "Chief of the Journalist Division."

That triggered a memory in Saudia. "I've heard of you," she recalled. "You were rather infamous to the Chinese government."

"I'm infamous to everyone in power," he corrected. "Trust me when I say the Saudis and United States hated me just as much as the Chinese."

Saudia raised an eyebrow. "Interesting that you're now working for us. Your type usually has not had kind words to say."

"Oh, I'd certainly felt the same way," Casen said. "But I have connections, and word spreads. I prefer to make up my own mind on these things, and while I have my reservations about ADVENT, I can easily say you're doing more good than harm overall. I'm impressed that your people actually reached out to hire me. I can respect that."

"Regardless of your personal beliefs, you are very good at your job," Kyong said. "We want people like that." He cleared his throat. "Onto the matter at hand. Patricia threatens to stir up a hornet's nest with her accusations and supposed revelations." He paused. "What, Rasmussen?"

"Just to clear the air," Casen said. "I'd be interested to know just how true the accusations are."

Saudia pursed her lips, and leaned back in her chair, putting on a mildly annoyed expression. "Which parts?"

"All of them," Casen said easily. "Professional curiosity. And personal too. Even I – who had a wealth of connections on almost every person imaginable – never heard of you before you showed up on Unification Day and promised to unite the world. I feel there is a story there."

"A story that is outside the purpose of this meeting," Kyong interrupted sternly. "Not to mention one propagated by a traitor to Humanity."

"If you are insinuating that ADVENT is under the control of a shadow organization that I am a part of or that I am an XCOM lacky," Saudia gave him a thin smile. "That I can categorically deny. Consider carefully who is speaking before using it to support your own personal theories."

It was technically true. EXALT was disbanded and no longer running. Only ADVENT remained. "Point taken, Chancellor," Casen nodded and made a note on his pad. "And for the record I don't think Patricia has any credibility at this point."

"Patricia is expecting us to do one of two things," Kyong continued. "Either for us to deny everything outright, or for us to be silent and let the story run its course. She is not expecting some uprising, but she does want this story to dominate the airwaves."

"On that she's succeeded," Lesya said, setting down her tablet. "She's single-handedly reawakened every conspiracy theorist and ADVENT skeptic all of whom are writing and linking to various hair-brained theories. We're taking down them as fast as they pop up, as well as muting and banning those writing them, but people are talking."

"Media is doing the same," Ally added. "Not as slanderous, but they are continuing to talk and speculate. It is a distraction they are all falling for, as usual. The actual attacks have received minimal coverage compared to this. A scandal – even one from an obvious traitor – brings in more views."

"Our response, Chancellor," Kyong said. "Is to bring the war back to the front. Use Patricia as a springboard to showcase just what the Ethereal Collective is and propagates."

"There is a wealth of content we can utilize," Ally said. "We just need to use it effectively. Put the cost, the destruction, the purpose of the war in front of people everywhere they turn."

"That sounds good so far," Saudia nodded. "But how do you go about doing that? What is your plan."

"Well, we go back to the beginning," Casen said. "Before the shooting started, there were abductions. Entire cities vanished. Now, where did all those people go? What happened to them? More importantly – why is no one talking about them?"

"Several million are estimated to have been abducted," Saudia recalled. "We can use that."

"The Missing Millions," Ally rested a forearm on the table. "The running name of the sequence we're planning to broadcast on ANN and ADVENT affiliates. Remind people of the casualties before the war even started."

"Catchy name," Saudia said.

"Mine, Chancellor," Lesya lifted a hand. "Catchy names and hashtags are more important than we give credit for."

"To bring the war back front and center, there needs to be an intimate connection," Casen continued. "In this case, it's incredibly easy. It won't be hard to find someone who's related to one who was abducted. If it isn't too much trouble, I think you could get the Commander and a few XCOM soldiers to describe their experience seeing the empty cities."

It wasn't a bad idea. "I think he'd be open to the idea."

"It's also essential that we leverage the horrific actions the Collective has undertaken," Lesya added. "There are so many it's difficult to choose just one. The Sectoid Hive. Paradise Station. Beijing. The assassination of the Imperial Family. All of it we need to continually showcase to put the atrocities of the Collective front and center."

"To a point, I agree," Casen nodded. "But throw the footage of babies getting thrown into a grinder too often and you'll desensitize people. I'd alter this plan a bit. Give them a connection to empathize with without traumatizing them with blood and gore. Have the soldiers of Beijing speak about what they saw. Talk to the people who lost family in Seoul." His lips pursed. "I dislike how all of this is ultimately used to exploit them, but in this case it's better that these stories are known rather than forgotten."

"A good suggestion," Kyong agreed. "And we should go to some efforts to verify the more dubious accounts."

"Aegis is the most obvious," Kieran said. "He could easily verify what we need. I also think it would be prudent for him to discuss more on the Ethereals publicly. Pull back the curtain more. The Ethereal Sana'Ligna is still on Earth, yes?"

"Yes, she's still healing soldiers in China," Saudia said. "Why?"

"Let her also verify," Kieran suggested. "She may say no, but she may feel compelled to give an honest account."

"Another thing," Casen added. "I'd ask her where the surviving Imperial children are. I doubt the Collective is keeping them with the rest given their status. I suspect Sana may have some idea of what's become of them. It can't hurt."

"Falka won't like that, but I'll consider it," Saudia said. "I would say we need to draw attention to how disorganized and malicious the Collective is. How every questionable action can be swept under the rug or dismissed as 'rogue actors'? Paradise and Beijing are the most egregious. It gives the impression that the Collective either is incompetent – or they are allowing this to happen."

"An excellent point, Chancellor," Ally made a note on her tablet. "One we will most certainly emphasize."

"We should, perhaps, also draw attention to other crimes committed that have gone mostly unnoticed," Casen pointed a pencil at Saudia. "Such as the fact that they intentionally sought to undermine and manipulate a pre-spaceflight species. I see that no one has considered just how absurd that is, not to mention unfair. We got lucky, but from what I've read on the Mutons, not everyone else was. The Collective seems to have a habit of finding underdeveloped species and then using them for their own ends. They have the Muton slave army, and have the brainwashed Vitakara populace."

He tapped the end of the pencil against his cheek. "Unfortunately, we can't have a Muton testify, but there are certainly Vitakara we can talk to. Aegis could also confirm again. Show how exploitative and manipulative the Ethereals are. What justified this invasion? What threat could we have possibly posed to them. More to the point – they had peaceful first contact with other species – so why not ours?"

To that Saudia now knew the answer, but it was one that no one else needed to know. "An excellent way of refocusing the narrative."

"Indeed," Casen, made another note. "While it is…minor…in the grand scheme of things, I would like ADVENT to acknowledge the Collective abductions of indigenous tribes in the Pacific, and now likely the Amazon. It may be among the lesser of their crimes, but they are ones that no one in the Collective has seen fit to apologize for or even acknowledge." He sighed. "Not that I expect the majority to care, it's just something that would be nice to see."

"I think we can do something like that," Kyong nodded. "Now how should we handle Patricia herself? She deserves some kind of response."

Saudia laced her fingers together, her own solution she had dwelled on the night before. "She is a puppet. She may think she is not, but she is. And if she is not, turn her into one. Patricia Trask is dead. What everyone saw is a fake controlled by the Imperator. Destroy this fake and shatter her credibility. Have her comrades denounce her. Have her parents disown her. Demand her proof. Tie this traitor directly to the Imperator; a mouthpiece with no true free will." She looked around. "Does that sound acceptable?"

Ally smiled. "Very much so, Chancellor. I believe that we can work with."

Saudia nodded to Kyong. "You will have whatever you need for this. Change the narrative and hold onto it this time. Enough so that this situation will not come up again."

"Yes, Chancellor," Kyong placed a fist over his heart. "It shall be done."

---

Classified Location

5/25/2017 – 12:15 P.M.

"ID please."

Loke Hemmingson handed it over. The man at the terminal took it and scanned it once. A nod. "You're cleared. Please proceed into the second room in the hallway."

"Appreciated," he took his ID back and waited for Orla to similarly finish being checked. While he was waiting, he looked around the room. Out of everything he had experienced with the transition to ADVENT, this was among the shadiest things he'd been a part of. A promotion offer that they couldn't tell him about on the spot, a visit in the middle of the night and rides in blacked-out trucks and planes, and arrival to a building that appeared to have tighter security than ADVENT HQ.

It had his interest, he had to admit. Looked like he was far from the only one either. Men and some women were also escorted in by ADVENT soldiers – there was a PRIEST hanging out on the side which he wasn't comfortable with, but as far as he knew it hadn't broken into his mind…yet. What was interesting was that it didn't seem like all of them were military.

Some wore civilian clothes; some wore uniforms that weren't ADVENT. He and Orla were just wearing standard fatigues, since they'd been told that they wouldn't need their armor. Most at least looked decently in shape. Whatever ADVENT was doing, they were pulling from a lot more than just the military.

"Well that was a waste of time," Orla muttered as he walked up, shoving the wallet in his pocket. "That guy knew as well as me that no one is here who wasn't invited. Purely a waste of time."

"More likely an extra precaution," Loke assuaged as they both walked down the bare hallway. "ADVENT isn't taking chances here. That's for sure."

"Well, we're here now," the bearded man smiled. "Last chance to make your bet on what this is."

"I've changed mine," Loke said. "Alien exploration outfit."

Orla started at him. "What?"

"This isn't just military," Loke nodded back to the room they'd come from. "You see all those people? At least half were civilians. That isn't a military outfit. ADVENT wants to expand their reach. They'll need explorers and people to establish bases. This also needs military protection. The first one will be delicate. Which is why they want the best."

"Alright, then tell me how ADVENT is going to get us to this hypothetical planet?" Orla asked sarcastically.

"I have no idea," Loke admitted. "But do you have a better idea that makes sense?"

"Yeah, and I was also paying attention back there." The door to the room they were assigned slid open and they stepped into a fairly large auditorium with rows of simple seats. It was about half-full, and they virtually had their pick. "Aquatic special forces unit."

"See, I'd agree," Loke said as they took their seats. "Except that not everyone is military. The vast majority aren't SEALs or Frogmen."

"I recognized several of the uniforms of those civilians," Orla countered. "All of them related to undersea exploration or navigation. Didn't recognize a lot, but this definitely has something to do with water."

"We'll see," Loke looked around the room as it filled. There was definitely a diverse crowd, all of which made it more confusing what it was for – as well as making him more curious.

"Guess they kept you two in the dark as well," the one sitting beside him commented. Loke looked to see a large black man with a much smaller Chinese woman beside him.

"You too?" Loke asked. "Yep. No idea what it is?"

"Think your friend is on the right track," the man said, indicating the woman beside him. "Guess I should make introductions. Gale Barett, formerly a US Marine turned ADVENT Soldier turned to whatever this is." He extended a hand which Loke took.

"Loke Hemmingson," he said. "Former Frogman turned Lancer turned to this."

"Orla Holst," his friend added. "Same as him. Friend through the hell that was training and since then."

"Frogmen?" The woman inquired. "You're SEALs?"

Both Loke and Orla laughed. "We're not American Ma'am," Loke chucked. "Danish special forces. Also called Frogmen."

"SEALs," Orla chortled. "The SEALs wish they were as tough as we are."

"I know a couple that might contest that," Gale said dryly.

"Please," Orla disputed. "SEALs get one actually hard week of training. We get months."

"In any case," Loke said, calming down. "We've been friends since we both passed training. And your name is, ma'am?"

"Zhi Xue," she answered. "Previously conducted undersea research for China. Was relocated after…recent events," she trailed off, then shook her head. "Someone in ADVENT must have read my work. I don't know why I'd be here otherwise."

"Ah," Loke cocked his head. "Were you around Beijing?"

"No, thankfully," she said. "I was out of the country at the time. And stayed there until everything calmed down. But I know there were good people that didn't make it. I'd prefer not thinking of how they died." There was some silence after that.

"So, Frogmen then," Gale said, changing the subject. "I guess transition to ADVENT was a big change."

"Yeah," Loke agreed. "I don't think ADVENT really had a solid place to put us. We're good soldiers, but they didn't really use our actual training. Something I assume they'll work out," he nodded around. "Maybe this is it."

"I'm mildly surprised you're still in ADVENT," Orla joked. "Didn't think Marines would accept being folded into another branch."

Gale rolled his eyes. "Oh, we grumbled about it. We have a high opinion of ourselves – deserved obviously – but not that high. Really, who's going to complain about something as stupid as that during an alien invasion?" He clicked his teeth. "Come on. We have aliens to kill."

"And have you actually killed any?" Loke asked.

"I actually have," Gale nodded, flashing a smile. "Operation Sherman veteran here. Ten confirmed kills, and I think I can be listed as an accomplice to two dozen more. You?"

"A lot," Loke said noncommittally. "I stopped counting after thirty. It gets to the point where it isn't even important anymore."

"Speak for yourself," Orla muttered under his breath.

The room was filling up now, and most of the seats were taken. What appeared to be a Filipino man – or an Indian, Loke couldn't tell which – took the seat next to Orla. "This cool, right?" He asked, voice tapered with an accent.

Orla shrugged, his form at least twice the size of the smaller man. "Sure. What's your name?"

"Denzel Silva," he said hurriedly, taking a seat. "Didn't realize there was going to be…" he looked around. "So many military people."

Loke raised an eyebrow. "What do you do? We've already got an ocean researcher." Zhi waved a hand at that.

"Cave diver," he said proudly. "One of the best, if I do say so myself. Was tired of doing nothing during the war; saw China, decided to change that. Enlisted, and ADVENT said they had a perfect place for me."

"Huh," Loke saw that there was some movement up at the front where there was a slightly raised podium. "Well, looks like we'll be getting our explanation shortly."

Sure enough, a few minutes later a high-ranking officer walked out onto the podium complete with an escort. Everyone rose and the soldiers immediately saluted, with the civilians quickly trying to imitate them. Loke didn't recognize the man, he was older than most of them, black, and wore a uniform of blue and silver that was distinctly ADVENT, but not a division Loke recognized.

"Thank you for your patience," he began, taking the podium. "All of you have been selected because you've been cleared by our Classification Division. Something a very small percentage of the population can claim. In short, this means all of you are reliable and can keep secrets. What you have the opportunity to be a part of now is the most important operation ADVENT is undertaking at this moment."

He paused. "Which means we cannot take any risks. Before I continue, be aware that if you decide to stay, you will be outfitted with Manchurian Restraints. Not invasive, but enough so you can never reveal what you are a part of. If this is acceptable, then I will continue. If not, then you are free to leave and ADVENT will find another place to utilize your talents."

Well, that was a development. He'd been a part of ADVENT long enough to know they weren't lying about the severity of the restraints. Perhaps naïve to trust them, but at the same time, they hadn't given a reason to question yet. A few got up quietly and left the room – all civilians Loke noted with some amusement – but the vast majority, including the cave diver beside them, stayed put.

When the last person had left, the man continued. "I am Arthur McKenzie, Commander of the Atlantis Division, of which you are all a part of. I am overseeing the Atlantis Project, which in short, is the construction of underwater installations for eventual starship production." He paused. "ADVENT is building a fleet in secret. It is estimated that within a year Humanity will have complete interstellar capabilities."

That set the room alight in whispers. As for himself, Loke was stunned in a good way. This was definitely living up to the hype. "Fucking called it," Orla muttered under his breath.

"The facilities constructed are acceptable enough to begin housing staff," Arthur continued. "Soldiers, scouts, engineers, architects, and more. You are the first wave of Atlantis, and will play a key role in the eventual defeat of the Collective from Earth, and our Solar System. You will be given specific instructions soon, but there are a few more details to be aware of."

He looked to the side, and motioned forward. "This has not been achieved alone. We have been receiving a significant amount of support from Vitakara defectors, as well as others." The people in the room didn't stay completely quiet when they saw a Dath'Haram walk out, along with two other aliens. One within a suit, with other parts that looked oddly like a fish, and what was unmistakably an Andromedon.

"The Collective is more fractured than the majority in ADVENT know," Arthur said. "As of now ADVENT has formed alliances with the Sar'Manda Empire and several Andromedon Unions, all of which are assisting in supplying and designing our spacecraft. When ADVENT takes to the stars, we will be able to emerge victorious."

Loke whistled. This was big. Vitakara defectors were one thing, but whole Andromedon Unions? Granted, he didn't even really know what that was, or what this Sar'Manda Empire was, but that had to be a good thing. He could almost forget about how Patricia existed and was a walking embodiment of the worst of his species.

"The purpose of the Atlantis Project isn't just to construct a fleet," Arthur said. "It is also to prepare a crew, officer corps, and military for space combat. We will be going into this realm of the conflict vastly devoid of experience and skill. That is where our allies will come in. They will also be assisting in the development of the ADVENT Naval Officer Corps, as well as the ADVENT Marine Division."

And that, Loke suspected, was why many of them were here. To be the first ADVENT Marines. But for space, not land. He couldn't help but feel pretty excited about that. He was actually going to be a part of something this groundbreaking. The first Marines in space. I can get behind that.

"I will be clear," Arthur said. "Throughout this period, you will be working with aliens in some capacity. Regardless of personal feelings, I expect them to be treated as you would treat a fellow Human. They are risking a significant amount being on this planet, and we would do well to remember their contributions. I expect there will be no problems?"

"No sir!" The soldiers barked out, while the civilians just sort of opened and closed their mouths.

"Good," Arthur nodded. "Processing will begin shortly as well as transfer to Atlantis proper. In the meantime, we will be here to answer questions you have. These particular individuals are Valencia and Ysith, both architects." Loke assumed that the Dath'Haram was Valencia since it was obviously a woman, and the Sar'Manda would obviously be Ysith. "And this is V'Warsan," Arthur finished. "Ship consultant."

The Andromedon moved his massive frame, as if imitating a nod, which ended up looking like a short bow. "Processing will begin now," Arthur said. "When the Manchurian Restraints have been applied, you'll be given your assignments. Good luck, and thank you."

---

ADVENT High Command - Switzerland

5/23/2017 – 11:15 A.M.

"Collective forces are continuing to build up in Florida, and they are pushing back on the West now," Army-Commander Ran Songhyon was saying to the assembled group of the top military brass in ADVENT. Along with some advisors like Saudia who observed the holographic display before her. "If this continues, we're going to be continually on the defensive."

"Holding the line will work," Weekes stated. "That's what special forces are for. Sabotage and assassinate."

"A lot of good that will do," Stein scowled. "They have the ability to call down whatever they need. Even if you sabotage all their Gateways, the sheer numbers they have will buy time until they can have more shipped down."

"The PRIEST Division is a significant force-multiplier," Laura said. "A coordinated attack could destroy a Collective foothold. I'd argue that's necessary before they fortify their position in Florida further."

"Except there is at least the Battlemaster there," Ran reminded her. "The Ethereals aren't sitting back and waiting to see what happens. This isn't taking into account when they figure out how to properly utilize their Sectoids. We still hold the psionic advantage, but that isn't a guarantee, especially when their vehicle production has surpassed our own."

Saudia looked around the room as the conversation went back and forth. All of this ultimately centered around what they were going to do about Miami, which was likely going to fall unless there was a significant influx of defenders. The problem being that it was almost a no-win scenario as intelligence had it that the Battlemaster was personally heading to the city, and the Collective was also beginning to exploit Cuba as a staging ground.

The Florida Keys had also fallen, which had been unsurprising, but it was a setback in the defense. Saudia didn't necessarily feel bad that Cuba was now occupied – their stubbornness in refusing to accept ADVENT was their own fault – but their fall made things more difficult. "If I may interrupt," Chief Responder Daisy Fox interjected, having been quiet for most of the meeting thus far.

Laura waved. "Go ahead."

"From what you've said, this does not appear to be a winning situation," Daisy indicated the city. "Our options are retreat to Tampa and stage a more fortified defense, or stay, and eventually lose and hopefully take out a greater number. I'd prefer we not sacrifice soldiers. It's a wasteful game. The Collective outnumbers us by billions. Trading lives accomplishes nothing except look better on a spreadsheet." A dark finger tapped her lip. "We are still attempting to fight this as a conventional war. We need to transition beyond throwing armies at each other, because then we will lose."

"Thank you," Weekes muttered. "We win this war by being smart, not 'slightly better in combat' than they are."

"In that case, what do you propose?" Ran demanded. "Giving up would be a bad idea for multiple reasons."

"You said the Battlemaster is heading there," Daisy recalled. "I say that Miami becomes ground zero for a trap to kill him."

"So ADVENT Intelligence claims," Laura said. Saudia wished Elizabeth was here, but she'd unexpectedly had to handle an arising situation that Saudia hadn't pressed the details for at the moment. It better have been important.

"I will point out that the Battlemaster seems to know when nuclear weapons are being used," Wing Commander Elliot Nicholson added. "Every single time he's retreated. He won't step foot in a city if he knows that's a possibility."

"It's a matter of reaction," Daisy clarified. "We have a number of Gateways there. Would he really be able to react fast enough to escape the radius of one?"

"Doubtful," Ran conceded. "But I somehow don't think it'll be that easy. He's not an idiot."

"No, which is why it needs to be convincing," Daisy said. "A gradual retreat, and then into a city laden with traps and explosives. Conventional. He'll be less suspicious that way. When we have confirmation he's within the radius, we send over a nuke and blow him up. A larger blow to the Collective than a billion Mutons."

"I dislike the idea of destroying a city," Saudia pursed her lips. "But as you said, the Battlemaster is worth the cost." She looked to Laura. "You'll have my approval if you want to authorize it."

"I'll consider it," Laura said. "Songhyon, Fox, both of you put together a plan for approval."

"I'd also advise that we remove anything of historical or cultural worth beforehand," Daisy added. "I don't know how much there is, but it is better than not making an effort at all."

"Noted," Laura nodded. "I'll be sure and have that lined up if the plan is approved."

"I'd also like to propose something," Grand Admiral Kamila Malone said, speaking up now that the topic had shifted. The silver-haired woman leaned forward. "Cuba presents an opportunity for us. I can have a fleet move to begin shelling it; preparation for invasion. Denying the Collective Cuba would buy us time."

"If nothing else, we should know what they're doing there," Ran nodded. "Though I feel like the Fleets should remain focused on the SAS – and protecting the supply lines." He grimaced. "Knew it was too good to last."

Saudia felt the same. Perhaps it had been a naïve hope that the Collective would ignore the vast shipping lanes across the world, but it had come to pass. And they weren't just sinking the ships; if there was an opportunity, they were boarding and commandeering them before likely relocating the supplies to an allied power like the SAS.

As a result, now there needed to be escorts on all shipping lines, or at least enough warships in a position to intervene if a distress call was sent out. Worse was that the Collective was also exploiting their aerial advantage and sending Sectoid fighters to shoot down supply aircrafts, and to protect that meant that a large portion of their air force was going to be tied up.

All of it signaled a shift in how the Collective was approaching the conflict now. More fronts, more crippling actions, more overall strategy to their actions. Still, the ground war was the most important, and even with the setbacks, they could still fight back enough. She'd have to ask XCOM if their Sovereign ally could assist in the defense of the seas.

He needed to do something to make up for utterly failing against Patricia.

"How is the SAS enduring?" Saudia asked. "Significant developments?"

"The constant attacks seem to have kept them at bay, but they're becoming less and less effective," Elliot looked down briefly at his tablet. "There are some no-fly zones now under any circumstances. The SAS is using some nasty missile systems. The Night Witches fly too low for comfort, and I lost an entire wing of them finding this out."

"Our own barrages keep them occupied, but it's becoming a case of diminishing returns," Kamila added. "It's also only a matter of time before they strike the Fleet. For now they still appear to be focusing on diplomacy, which we think they've had limited success on."

"Good," Saudia allowed a thin smile. "They need to be contained."

"Betos needs to be removed," Weekes muttered. "She should have been dealt with the moment she took her band of traitors down there."

"A mistake we won't repeat again," Saudia said. "However, I'd still prefer to capture her alive. She'll serve as an effective demonstration on the fate of traitors. Though if we have an opportunity to kill her, we should do so."

"The day I march the bitch to the Experimentation Labs will make this all worth it," Stein said coldly. "Death is too good, but if it comes first, we should take it. Problem is that she's likely being protected by an Ethereal. We need to figure out which one before figuring out a plan to kill or capture her."

"There are only a few options," Daisy said. "Leave that to me and Falka. We'll determine which Ethereal is there, if there is one at all."

"There is one more thing," Saudia added. "The status of Project Ra."

"On track," Laura said, a slight bit of relief in her voice. "And not a moment too soon. Feng would have more details, but I've been keeping up to date with the updates. Falka has begun allowing it access to monitored social media feeds."

"Training it," Saudia noted. "Good."

"Still highly monitored from what she's said," Laura added. "It's still at the level of a machine intelligence, not a true AI yet. XCOM was set to help, but we're expecting their contributions to be minimal until they are effectively reestablished."

"Interesting story," Weekes commented with a smirk. "I heard the name they gave it."

"Oh dear," Daisy sighed. "Is it as unnecessarily fancy as everything in the PRIEST Division?"

"Not especially egregious," Saudia had also heard it. "PATRIOT. Fitting considering what its purpose will be."

"I suppose," she agreed. "There are worse names."

"In any event," Laura finished. "We expect to come fully online sooner than later."

"Excellent. That'll be sufficient for now," Saudia and all of them stood. "Continue to keep me appraised of the situation."

"Yes, Chancellor."

Saudia departed the room, knowing there were a lot more details to be worked out, but she had a number of other tasks to complete first. Stepping out into the hallway, she expected her Guard but found it essentially, empty. That immediately put her on guard, until she saw a man rise from a nearby chair.

He was massive; one of the biggest men she'd ever seen in her life. His face was round and most would describe it as brutish, especially due to his bald scalp. Not especially attractive or intelligent-looking, with a large scar over his left eye which now had a cybernetic replacement. The light still shone off the scar on pale skin, and the opposite ice blue eye was unreadable.

His uniform was the black and silver colors of the Inquisitors, and Saudia knew what was happening now. She pursed her lips. "Grand Inquisitor, a pleasure to see you again."

"Likewise, Chancellor," Declan Rodgers, Grand Inquisitor of the Intelligence Branch of the PRIEST Division answered, his voice as drawl and thuggish as the rest of him. Traits that Saudia knew better than to put much stock in, given that this man had once been the top agent of the FBI. He was frighteningly intelligent, which was why Elizabeth had likely recommended him for the position.

"I trust your meeting was productive, Chancellor?" Keith Watkins walked up on cue, moving with purpose as he appraised the Chancellor.

"Very much so," Saudia answered. "Your absence was conspicuous."

He gave a thin smile. "I've been occupied, Chancellor, as you can imagine." He nodded to Rodgers, who walked off and turned and motioned for Saudia to follow. "Come with me, Chancellor. We need to talk."

---

Busan Military Base, Busan – South Korea

5/25/2017 – 1:22 P.M.

"You're serious?" Duri asked, blinking.

"Of course I am," Lieutenant Cho Dae-Ho answered dryly. "In fact, I'm more surprised that it took this long for an official recommendation. I'd put your name in a while ago, and I guess it got someone's attention." He paused. "Although I think that it's indicating that you're not going to be in Busan much longer. The fighting's died down, and ADVENT wants squads like yours on the front lines."

"I see," Duri nodded slowly. "If that's where they want me, then I'll be happy to go." He couldn't help but think that it would be good to leave. There wasn't anything left here he wanted to go back to. Just sadness and bad memories. He had the war and his squad to distract him, but where he was never quite vanished.

Lieutenant Cho seemed to pick up on it. "Since we're on the topic…is there a specific place you'd wish to be deployed? If they plan on doing that, of course."

He considered for a moment. The Americas were where the war was fully renewed, and he had two soldiers from one region apiece. "The war is heavy in South America and the United States," he finally said. "We'd likely do the most good there."

"Noted, Officer," Cho made a note on a sticky note. "Keep this up and you'll be a Lieutenant before long. Not a lot of people still have the majority of their original squad."

"I'd imagine," Duri agreed. "I've been lucky."

"Not just luck at this point," Cho disputed. "You have a talent, and a desire to keep your people alive. Hold onto that. I've already seen too many distant officers already."

Duri shrugged. "I don't have anything else. I'd prefer everyone else have to go back to when everything is done."

"Understandable," Cho nodded. "But I wouldn't quite say your life is over either. You'll find something to live for besides your squad or killing aliens. I'm sure of it."

Duri wasn't as convinced, but he wasn't going to contest the kind words. Too rude and there was a part of him that hoped the Lieutenant was right. "In any case," Cho stood and extended a hand. "Even if ADVENT is going to send you somewhere else, you're not getting out of duties here. Welcome to the Busan Central Unit Command. Congratulations on your promotion – as well as your squad."

"Thank you, sir," Duri nodded, taking the hand and giving a firm shake. "It's an honor."

"One you've earned," Cho said, giving a salute. "Dismissed."

Duri returned the salute and left the room, and was only mildly surprised to see Beatriz waiting outside. "Patrol finished early?"

"No, you just took a long time," she answered, smiling. "Cara thinks you got a promotion, so I came down to see. You don't get called in like that regularly."

"A technical one," Duri clarified joining her side as they exited the bustling office building. "I think it applies to all of us. Our squad is now classified as Tier III."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up. "That means you're on the CUC!"

"Yes it does," he agreed, taking a breath and rubbing his eyes. "I can't wait for all the meetings and debates."

"Hey," she said. "This is a good thing. You earned it."

"I think I have everyone to thank for that," Duri corrected. "All of you are good enough to stay alive, and they think that it was all me. 'Low casualty rates' is the term used. It's rarer than even I thought, apparently."

"Yeah," her energy faded a bit. "I believe that. No shortage of memorials…and it's only going to become more common." She grimaced. "Especially now that XCOM will be occupied putting down their traitor."

The sudden appearance of Patricia Trask, as an agent of the aliens no less, had been a massive shock. Personally, Duri was split on if it really was her, or just a mockup to fuck with everyone. Regardless of what this Patricia was, she had power and at least was convincing enough that ADVENT was taking her seriously.

"This promotion is going to be more dangerous for us," Duri warned after a few minutes. "The Lieutenant implied this promotion was given because they might deploy us to the front lines. The Collective doesn't really have a presence here right now, but they are attacking in the Americas." He glanced over to her. "Have you-?"

"Yeah," her lips twitched. "ADVENT is concentrating on defending Brazil. Venezuela is…well, ADVENT took losses in Colombia, so Venezuela is up next. Just not a lot of defenses built up, and without those, no one stands a chance. Probably will be a few weeks before we hear most of the country is under alien control."

"I'm sorry," Duri told her. "Do you have anyone you know there?"

"Just some family," she answered neutrally. "I told them to get to Brazil or Mexico the moment the Collective started attacking. I heard from my mother they're in Mexico, so they're…safe at least." She sighed loudly. "I almost told them to get on a plane to Florida or Cuba."

"But you didn't," Duri said. "And they're fine now."

"I know," she answered, shaking her head to clear it. "Still, it's too close for me to feel comfortable with. I could have gotten them killed."

"Even if you did…" Duri thought how to say it. "You did all that you could. None of us could see the future, otherwise I would have had my family get out of Seoul as soon as possible. Instead…" he shrugged. "I thought it was safe. You don't have to think about that now; dwelling on something that didn't happen isn't healthy."

They walked a few minutes under an overcast sky. "You're right," she finally said. "But…maybe you should do the same thing sometimes."

He pursed his lips to a thin line. If only it were that simple. But it highlighted to him just how important decisions were. Ones that were literally a choice between life and death. If he made the wrong decisions now, it would mean his squad – Beatriz herself – would die, and already his decision had killed his family unintentionally. How much easier would that be able to happen on the battlefield.

She did have a point, something that had been emphasized to him in sessions. Their death is not your fault.

"Maybe I should," was all he said.

"Come on," she took his hand and picked up a faster pace. "We shouldn't feel bad right now. You got a promotion! Let's let the others know. It would do everyone some good to hear positive news every now and then."

---

Classified Location

5/25/2017 – 1:27 P.M.

Arthur hadn't been exaggerating. They clearly intended to begin processing as efficiently as possible. Groups of people were taken out at a time, and everyone else wandered the room and talked with their superiors and alien allies. Understandably, the aliens were treated with some caution with the majority hanging back at first.

Ironically, it was the civilians in the room who began engaging the aliens. Loke could only speculate as to why this was the case, but at least for him…aliens were something to be killed effectively, not talked to. He'd personally never met an alien, except for the one his Lancer squad had captured and later executed when she didn't have anything useable.

That, now that he remembered it, was a mission that demonstrated the aliens could be tough. Borelians especially were difficult to break. Mutons were too stupid to know anything, and actually subduing them was even harder. Oyariah didn't go down easy either, and he'd gained a healthy respect for them when one had caved in the head of his unit captain.

Don't engage them in close range. Even Executors didn't fare well.

That being said, a lot of aliens were squishy and weak. It was interesting that there seemed to be a limited spectrum of reactions, and the diversity was across races. Vitakarians were the only ones he'd observe display hard courage, as well as complete submission. Cobrarian just made them all uncomfortable so they were usually shot on sight. They were essentially never important.

Dath'Haram he'd only encountered a few times, all of whom had been in medical roles of some kind. Priority targets, and they'd gone down quickly. They were…certainly the most expressive of the races. All you really had to do was threaten them and they'd surrender. Of course sometimes this happened at times where they didn't want their cover to be blown, but other times it had gained ADVENT a nice cache of wounded alien captives.

He'd never even seen a Sar'Manda before today, but from the looks of them, he felt they were among the tougher alien races.

Then there were the Andromedons. Durable and intelligent. Every Lancer disliked fighting them because they were among the more competent of alien forces. Ones that wouldn't go down even when the pilot died. Loke personally thought ADVENT would do well to take some ideas from them…and it appeared they were taking that more literally than even he thought.

Orla was talking to said Andromedon now. "So, what do you think of the fish-man?" He asked Gale beside him.

"I can't read aliens well," Gale said slowly, as they watched the alien speak to a civilian. An interesting thing Loke noted was that they spoke through a kind of translator accompanied by a complex series of hand motions. "But I think that guy is as wary of us as we are of them."

"Poor guy," Loke smirked sarcastically. "You going to say hi?"

"Nah," Gale snorted. "I'm going to talk to the Andromedon, who, speaking of, is open. I'll see you later."

"You too," Loke nodded as Gale wandered off, and looked to see the Dath'Haram woman wasn't occupied. Her name was…Valenca? Valen? No, Valencia. Right. Well, he'd at least said hello to the rest of the aliens, he might as well include this one. He strode over, and realized that while she was smaller than the hulking Andromedon, he was just barely taller than her – and he wasn't exactly small.

"Hello!" She greeted in a surprisingly pleasant voice, tinged with an inflection he couldn't place. Obviously not, she's an alien. She bared her teeth, pulling her mouth back in an attempt at a smile. Something that would probably be off-putting to pretty much everyone. At…least she was trying. "I don't believe we've spoken."

"No, we haven't," Loke answered. "But considering we might be working together in some capacity, it would be good to change that."

"I agree," she extended a green-skinned hand. Loke remembered that Dath'Haram lived in jungles, and she would fit right into one easily. She'd clearly been informed of greeting customs here, which he appreciated. "Valencia. A pleasure to meet you."

"Loke Hemmingson," he took the hand which had a firm grip. A closer appraisal of the alien showed that she likely wasn't physically weak, but limber. They were supposed to be flexible, so that made sense. He raised an eyebrow. "You speak our language well."

"One of them," she clarified. "Your species has many."

"That we do," he grunted. "Hopefully not for much longer. Different languages are an unnecessary pain." He paused to get change the subject. "So. An architect. For these underwater stations?"

"Indeed," she nodded. "Specifically undersea self-sustainability and hydroponics. I spent my time on Vitakar in a limited number of projects with the Sar'Manda. My work was on transitioning their techniques to other races."

That was an interesting detail, and one that Loke admittedly didn't think about. Of course they would need food. "Useful," a thought struck him. "So how did you get here? From what I know, the only aliens are defectors – aside from the Andromedons and Sar'Manda who I guess have joined us. An odd skill for a soldier."

"Mostly a number of coincidences," she said, waving a hand. "I was approached by the Sar'Manda. I suppose I'd worked with them enough to make an impression, luckily a positive one. They usually dislike outsiders."

"I suppose you opposed the war then?" He asked. "Otherwise that's a risk."

"I…do oppose it," she said carefully. "More on principle than this specific situation. I'd prefer for the fighting to stop altogether, but this is a case where there is one side in the right. It was…easier to ignore on Vitakar. We aren't told much about what is happening here. Now that I know, it's not right to do nothing."

"Huh," Loke crossed his arms. "And I'd heard you were all pacifists."

"I am," she answered with a short bite to her words. "Which is why I'm not going to fight in your war. But I am going to help in the background to give you a better chance. Just because we don't believe in fighting to solve our problems doesn't mean we don't feel strongly about doing our part." She bared her teeth. "I suspect you've encountered Dath'Haram before. They did not enlist because they wanted war, but because they wanted their people to be healed and come back alive."

"I've encountered them," Loke nodded. "I can respect that, even if they barely put up a fight."

"We're not fighters," she said simply. "War is foreign to us. Taking lives even more so. It's more disturbing the ease of which other species treat life."

"Ha," Loke grunted. "Believe me, I wish all of us could kill without issue. It'd make war a lot easier for all involved. The amount of people who can do that are fewer than you'd think." He paused. "Although I will say that it's easier with aliens. Especially ones invading your planet."

She almost looked disappointed at that, but gave a slight nod. "I suppose it would. You are a soldier, but what kind?"

"Lancer Corps," he said. "ADVENT Special Forces."

"Ah," she said, then paused. "If I may inquire, the defectors speak of the Lancers. Are the rumors that you don't take prisoners true?"

"Special Forces aren't usually used for capture," Loke allowed a smile. "We go in and complete our objective. Captives slow us down or expose us. We usually don't take prisoners on ops, too much of a risk and slows us down. It's not exactly a revelation. Your Lurainian does the same thing, though usually much less effectively."

"I see," she said. "I suppose in the context of your species, that is understandable. Apologies for the questions, I'm just curious at how different your people are. Not even the Borelians display your attitudes. Especially not males."

He snorted. "Come again?"

"Borelian dispositions are affected by gender," she explained. "Where for Humans that line appears more blurred."

"Well, you'll learn a lot more about Humans coming up," Loke said. "And knowing us, probably a lot you didn't want to know about."

She appeared to try and smile again. "I hope that when this is done I will be able to go back to my people and help them understand your species. Perhaps that will be the first step to ending this war. Understanding destroys barriers and ignorance. Something the Zararch intentionally keep suppressed. They don't want us to know about what you are. Just a vague threat in the stars."

"If you want to help end the war, then I'm all for it," Loke nodded. "But not before the ones who decided to invade our planet die."

"I do not wish death on them," she said carefully. "But I am afraid you will have a greater chance to do that than the Elders seeing reason and ending the war. I fear it has gone past that point."

"Loke Hemmingson?" A new voice interjected, and he turned to see a uniformed man approaching.

"Yes sir," he answered, saluting. "Is it time?"

"Yes, please follow us."

"I'll see you on the other side then, perhaps," Loke told Valencia. "Until next time."

"A pleasure to meet you, Loke," she nodded, and he was led away. Well, that had been more interesting than he'd expected. She was more reasonable than he'd expected, even if she was a self-declared pacifist.

But one smart enough to see right from wrong, so some character flaws could be forgiven. He'd have to talk to her later. Right now though, he needed to prepare himself for the application of the Restraints. Something he was not, especially, looking forward to.

---

Skyranger

5/25/2017 – 7:12 P.M.

The skyranger was full, and for the most part the trip had been fairly quiet. None of them knew each other that well, only that they were all recruited and approached for the same thing. The newest soldiers of XCOM. Some had joined because they'd requested it, and given that XCOM had recently come under attack, it made sense they would pull from this available pool.

Others had been specifically sought out, and as far as he knew, all had accepted. Was anyone really going to turn down an invitation from the Commander himself? Unlikely, and he had a suspicion that XCOM wasn't approaching anyone unless they were fairly certain they would join. Then there were the people like him, who were directed towards XCOM when ADVENT didn't know what to do.

"Show of hands," the woman opposite him finally said. She was Asian, probably Chinese. "Do we have any psions here?"

"Guilty," a man with a messy beard and tan skin said, a few seats down. "Dynamo."

Kunio Azuma lifted his own hand. "Add me. And…unknown."

"The hell does that mean?" Another man commented.

"It means I'm not quite sure," Kunio shrugged. "They thought I was a telepath, then a telekine, and I've tested as sensitive to all disciplines, but what I'm naturally good at doesn't reflect my Trask Level."

"Which is what?" The other psion asked. "Fifty-four here."

Kunio considered. "Eighty-seven."

There were some whistles at that. "Wow," the Chinese woman commented. "Leviathan-class."

"Yes, which is why everyone was confused," Kunio added. "The original plan was to have me focus in one and see if that helped. It worked…kind of. Except when I needed it."

"You see action?" Another woman asked.

He pursed his lips. "Japan."

The Chinese woman's eyebrows furrowed. "Which one?"

"The one right before China was invaded."

"And you lived?" The question was almost in awe. "I didn't hear of any groups making it out."

"Because no one really did make it out," Kunio shook his head, not especially wanting to recall the battle. If a term that generous could be applied. "It was a massacre. The Cleanser Ships took out all of our defenses and barracks, and then the Muton legions finished off whatever was left, as well as Chryssalids. My entire squad was killed, and I should have died too."

"So what happened?"

"I moved," Kunio answered. "One second I was facing down a Chryssalid, and I guess on instinct, I created a portal and stepped through it. Into London. I was almost hit by a car when I came out."

"How did you move between Japan and London by accident?" The other psion demanded.

"That," Kunio let out a breath, leaning back. "Is a good question. After I was debriefed, I got sent to answer some questions the PRIEST Division had for me, and they told me a few days later I was being transferred to XCOM. They said that they have psions who are trained in this teleportation discipline. So here I am."

"Well then," the other psion said. "That's definitely unique. I've only heard of Ethereals being able to do it. The theories are sound, at least to me, but I've never attempted it."

"If you asked me how I did it, I couldn't really tell you," Kunio said. "But that's why I'm here. To learn and use it to fight."

"So why London though?" Came a comment.

Kunio sighed. "If I was acting on instinct, maybe because I associated the country with the assassination of the Imperial Family."

"Ah," the face of the woman opposite him grew somber. "You're from Japan."

"Yes," he said with a slow nod. "The war's hit us hard."

"Yours and Australia," came an agreeing voice. "Not fair you got dealt that, but we'll kick the aliens off them soon enough. I have faith."

"As we go to help XCOM which has just suffered a loss," the psion commented sarcastically. "But yeah, I agree. XCOM's probably angry right now. I've heard stories of this Commander."

"Like what?" Kunio asked.

"Like he's oddly enigmatic, he doesn't have a name, and pretty much everyone respects and fears him," he listed off. "Supposedly an advisor to the Chancellor herself and Commander Christiaens. And he's ruthless to aliens."

"I wonder," the woman mused. "Just how much of what Patricia claimed is true."

"Assuming that's her at all," Kunio shook his head. "I doubt the aliens are above faking someone like that. If so, maybe we should thank XCOM for making ADVENT run like a competent government."

"I guess we'll find out the truth soon enough," the woman said. "Also, Lian Zhao. Former PLA. Fought in Beijing the whole way through." She grimaced. "I don't recommend it."

"I can't really imagine it," the woman sitting next to her said.

"Don't," Lian said firmly. "And whatever you come up with…what was actually there was worse. At least Isomnum's dead."

"Isomnum was only part of it," the psion said. "There is still that Paradise station. Iyaad al-Molla by the way. Defected to ADVENT when they were conquering the Middle East."

"Huh," Kunio frowned. "That's the first I'd heard of defectors from that."

"Not a lot of us, but we existed," Iyaad said. "I don't blame my countryman for resisting. We've been the scapegoats and taken advantage of by people stronger than us for decades; America, Russia, the Saudis. It was a futile effort to fight back against ADVENT though. Anyone should have seen it. I was more worried about the aliens, but someone just had to go provoke Israel and…" he waved a hand. "Well, you know the rest. ADVENT's at least helping rebuild, and the House of Saud is dead, so there's a silver lining."

"The exact number of people who were sad the Saudis died was zero," the woman besides Lian snorted. "That was something essentially everyone could get behind."

"I'm pretty sure there's at least one alive," another person commented. "Think he actually helped manage the aftermath with ADVENT oversight."

"Oh, he was," Iyaad nodded. "And when ADVENT held an election he lost to another military defector. Wish it had been a woman, but it's a start. Don't know where he is now, but I sleep well knowing that he'll never be a problem."

"To be honest," Lian said. "I'd rather deal with the Saudis than aliens, but since we don't have a choice, I'll take what I can get."

The lights in the skyranger suddenly flashed to a solid red. "This is Big Sky to all passengers," their pilot said. "We are approaching the Praesidium. Please secure yourselves and prepare for landing."

"Here we go," Lian said, strapping in tighter. "This should be interesting."

Personally, Kunio was hoping for something more mundane. His life had already been filled with too many interesting things, and he had come to realize that wasn't always a good thing. He didn't necessarily need his worldview to be shattered by XCOM, or receive the darkest secrets of the world. Just them being an elite anti-alien organization would be sufficient.

But he felt like in that regard, he wasn't going to get his wish.

He was pretty sure that XCOM had their own share of interesting secrets.

If he was going to learn them was another story entirely.

---

Secured Diplomatic Residence of Japan – Switzerland

5/26/2017 – 3:41 P.M.

Kaya fiddled with her collar. She'd always disliked overly formal attire, even if she'd eventually gotten used to it from years of wear and pomp. As a princess of the Imperial Family, there's been expectations for her to look her absolute best, at all times when the media was hiding in the bushes; waiting for some new fake scandal to distract the public with.

At least that was something she wouldn't have to worry about now.

Well, she wasn't going to go back to that completely. Right now she wore a black tunic-like garment that extended just below her waist, while she wore more standard pants and boots with it. Underneath the tunic was some light armor, which might stop one shot, but it certainly wouldn't deter a dedicated assassin.

A pistol was strapped to her leg and her katana was sheathed behind her back. The emblem of the Order of Terra was attached to her tunic. All in all, something formal but not something overly uncomfortable or unnecessary. She'd not even considered arriving in a dress, though Kiyumi had done so. Something Kaya was especially unsurprised at.

She'd initially been hesitant to get this done, but after Beijing…almost any distraction was welcome. The visceral images of the nightmare were still etched in her mind, and she knew that there was going to be many more nights when she was going to need help getting to sleep. ADVENT had been very proactive in offering medicine and counseling for those who wanted it.

There'd been a few times where she'd considered it. She probably should, but for now she needed to get her family in order. Or what was left of it, anyway.

The room they were meeting in was small, but fitting. There wasn't going to be any press or crowd here, only a small meeting of a group of people. The walls were white and the Japanese and ADVENT flags hung from the walls, and the wooden table was circular with seats evenly positioned. Her arrival as the last one caused a flurry of reactions.

"Empress," the former Prime Minister Reizo Sakata greeted, bowing. "I'm very thankful that you've arrived safely. To lose you as well after everything that's happened would be unthinkable."

"I'm doing my best," she said, returning the bow, remembering the proper greetings. She'd always thought Reizo had done his best, and if nothing else he was a pleasant person to be around. Smart enough to join ADVENT, at least. She was glad he was still alive, even if he had no place he managed anymore outside the groups of refugees.

"Empress," Kyong Suk-Chul, ADVENT's PR Minister also greeted, offering a slight bow of his own. "A pleasure to finally meet you."

"Likewise," she inclined her head. She saw Kiyumi and pulled her into a hug. "[I'm glad to see you. How are you?]"

"[Alive,]" her sister managed. "[We're managing, all of us. I've been more worried about you. You were in Beijing…]"

"[Yes. Let's not talk about that now. I came back for a reason.]"

Damian Hamilton coughed awkwardly in the background. "I dislike interrupting the reunions, but I'd prefer we get down to business. I don't have an issue with Kaya coming back, but I don't think I need to be involved here."

"I want to keep you informed," Kaya said, taking a seat. "Since you're my superior officer, I need you to sign off on what I'm doing."

Hamilton sighed. "Sell them on it first."

"What is it you wish, Empress?" Reizo asked. "I was under the impression that you were intending to take the title. Is that still the case?"

"Yes, with some conditions," Kaya nodded to her sister. "I don't care as much about the title, but it's safer for me to carry it than someone else. My sister by birthright deserves it, and my first official action is to restore her to the family in full, with all the titles and status that comes with it."

"While I don't see an issue," Reizo said. "There are a number of elders and older families who will see that as breaking significant tradition. Your sister knew what she was doing-"

"Yes, which is why I didn't invite any of them here," Kaya interrupted flatly. "Most traditions are old and not worth preserving. The elders and families can complain to me on the battlefield. I've been around them long enough to know I'm not going to base my decisions off the advice of old and simple-minded men. Kiyumi is restored, end of story. The Imperial Family has officially entered into the twenty-first century."

"Thank you, sister," Kiyumi said gratefully, bowing her head. "I won't forget this."

"I'm just doing the right thing," Kaya said, shifting in her seat. "I'm not intending to abandon my comrades on the front lines. The truth is that I can't properly run the family from a battlefield, my second action is to appoint Kiyumi as the manager of the family. She has my power and trust at home."

"You would effectively make her Empress," Reizo frowned. "Forgive me from being presumptuous, Empress, but if that is the case, why not bestow the title upon her properly? Especially as she is restored? It would certainly go against precedent and tradition, but you have little issue breaking it."

"Kiyumi deserves the title more than me," Kaya agreed. "This is what she wished for. I am only doing this to draw attention away from her. As I am Empress, I am a target for the Collective – and I know they will try this again. I am a more vulnerable target. This is not to say they will not try and attack her…but I will be the public face of the Family. She will not."

"Understandable," Reizo nodded. "In which case, Lady Kiyumi, I expect you will wish to begin rebuilding the Imperial Family, at least the staff and Council. For Empress Kaya, of course."

"Yes, I have some plans," Kiyumi nodded. "Though forgive me for not completely trusting your capability to protect us."

"We have completely overhauled our protocols regarding the safety of yourself and other high-profile individuals of ADVENT," Kyong said. "An incident such as what happened will not be repeated."

Kiyumi pursed her lips. "We shall see. But yes, Prime Minister, once this meeting is concluded, I wish your assistance in helping me."

"Of course, Lady Kiyumi."

"And what of you, Empress?" Kyong asked thoughtfully. "I suspect you have more to say."

"I hold this title," Kaya said. "So I should use it effectively. I don't want to receive preferential treatment or amenities because of my status. I've made that clear. But being anonymous serves no one but myself and my dislike of attention. Our people have lost much in this war, Prime Minister, they need someone to be the one to strike back."

She laced her fingers together. "The best candidate of which is me. Minister Kyong, I suspect you would know how to effectively propagandize an Empress who fights in the Order of Terra. While I intend to use my status to rally my countrymen, I feel others could be similarly inspired. Does that sound agreeable?"

"You would be willing to be utilized that way?" Kyong raised an eyebrow. "Surprising, but you are correct. The Empress of Japan fighting on the front lines and rallying others to ADVENT is more powerful than even you think."

"I'm still not going to be treated differently," Kaya insisted. "In the Order, Hamilton is my superior, and I trust him to not coddle me. But when I'm not fighting…use my status as best you can for ADVENT."

"You have very little idea how difficult that is for me," Hamilton sighed. "You die, and I'll be known as the man who put the Empress somewhere dangerous and got her killed."

"And I'll make it clear it's my choice," Kaya insisted. "All I have is a title people gave authority to. Not that it should matter now, but since it does, I'm going to use it. That doesn't mean I expect that from you."

"In that case," Kyong said, giving a thin smile. "I already have an idea of how to unveil this to the public. When Kiyumi is satisfied with the state of her house, I believe that there is a ceremony that accompanies the ascendance of a new member to the throne. Is this right?"

"The Enthronement," Reizo confirmed. "One of our oldest ceremonies. It will need to be done for Kaya to be officially recognized as the Empress of Japan."

"Then plan it," Kaya nodded. "With a few alterations. When you're ready, Kiyumi, I will properly take the title."

"Try not to die until then, sister," Kiyumi said earnestly. "I know you won't try, but you're going to be in danger." She looked to Hamilton. "Will she be deployed soon?"

"She was part of Beijing," Hamilton said slowly. "She's not authorized to go into combat without a few more weeks of rest or an ADVENT psychologist signing off."

Kaya scowled, but didn't say anything to protest it. "I suppose I have work to do," Kiyumi said, standing.

"If you need help, let me know," Kaya said, joining her. "And thank you Prime Minister, as well as you Minister Kyong."

"Certainly, Empress," Kyong did a final bow. "I look forward to working with you."

---

ADVENT High Command - Switzerland

5/23/2017 – 12:07 P.M.

"Take a seat, Chancellor," Watkins gestured to two chairs opposite each other in the small room. "I don't expect to take long."

In one of the few times during her life, Saudia felt like the situation was beyond her control. For once she lacked the power and authority to know what to do. First it had been the Ravaged One, next it had been the Commander, now it was Watkins. The irony being that for Watkins, whatever she was about to face was entirely her fault.

The Grand Inquisitor had not joined them, and instead stood outside the room. Saudia took a seat, while Watkins walked over and sat down opposite her, setting his small briefcase in his hand down and crossing one leg over the other. "What can I help you with, Overseer?" She asked, taking an upright position in her chair, fingers hanging over the edges of the armrests.

One corner of his lips turned up and the twin colors of his eyes seemed to bore into her. "Three guesses, Chancellor."

She raised an eyebrow, knowing full well what he was referring to, though she didn't see a need to make this overly easy for him. If he thought she was going to walk into a trap without considering her options, he was sadly mistaken. "I don't suppose you're referring to the insinuations of our traitor?"

"That line may have set others at ease," Watkins laced his fingers together and set them on his lap. "But unlike the majority, I am well aware that this is the real Patricia Trask. A traitor she may be, but she isn't an idiot. She maintains credibility, even if you don't want to admit it. Besides, if she is wrong, you have nothing to fear now, do you?"

Saudia let her face betray nothing. "Are you intending to charge me with something?"

Watkins held the silence for a few seconds, uncrossed his legs, and leaned forward. "Chancellor, I want you to know something. You're one of the few people I've encountered in my professional career that I hold in high regard. You entrusted me with power greater than your own, and that is a responsibility I take especially seriously. Despite that, I suspect the reason you did choose me was because I do have the resolve to enforce the law."

He looked at her intently. "Consider very carefully before saying something that will make this worse than I wish it. Do you really think that everyone just accepted the fact that something like ADVENT rose out of nowhere and was managed by people no one had heard of? Did you really think no one thought that was questionable?"

"If there were," Saudia said. "Perhaps they should have said something."

"Perhaps, but we had bigger concerns." His eyes flicked upwards. "An alien invasion provides ample distraction. No one in their right mind was going to challenge someone who multiple superpowers had pledged support to. All they could hope for was that these people knew what they were doing and had the best interests of our species at heart."

He leaned back. "Fortunately, that appears to have been the case. I want to be very clear, Chancellor, that I do not care who you were before ADVENT. You've proven yourself capable of the position since then. If everyone were judged for their past before ADVENT, then none of us would be clean. By the laws and norms of the old world, many would likely be facing trials and jail time. Judging others based on that is pointless. Chancellor, since you have taken office, have you broken ADVENT laws and regulations?"

"No." Saudia shook her head. "I have not."

"Then you have very little to worry about," Watkins nodded. "I'm not an idiot, Chancellor. I know better than to think that removing a Chancellor from power would be smooth and stable for the war. I suspect your past is checkered at best, but Patricia made a mistake. She assumed that this past would condemn you. But I don't care about that. I only care what you've done under ADVENT."

Saudia appraised the Chief Overseer carefully. "But you didn't bring me in here to say that you're not going to do anything."

"No," Watkins nodded. "I'm telling you now that if you want to come out of this with your position intact, then your past will not play a factor. But you understand that I cannot let this question remain unanswered. I want you to remain, Chancellor, but to do that, you need to cooperate with my investigation."

She glanced to his briefcase. "You've opened one on me."

"No," Watkins corrected, pulling out a file from the pocket of the briefcase and handed it to her. "You're one of many. I've been preparing for this investigation ever since I was appointed. Patricia has merely provided me a pretext to execute it. I'd let it sit because I'd lacked evidence that you were actively subverting ADVENT. However, it would be prudent to settle this once and for all."

At a glance Saudia knew that Watkins had indeed been preparing for this for a long time. She'd been a fool for thinking that EXALT would just be…forgotten. It was simply too big of a blank for everyone to ignore, and she'd provided the power to someone tenacious enough to act on it. Now she could only hope she'd made the right decision.

Watkins was saying the right words. She felt she'd have to trust him.

It wasn't as though she had a choice.

"I see," she set the piece of paper on her lap. "Is this an official questioning?"

"No, I'm merely informing you that you're under investigation," Watkins corrected, pulling out a few more documents. "And to tell you that I'm on your side. You put me in here because you trusted me to do what was best for ADVENT. If you – and I believe you have – followed the law as established by ADVENT since taking power, then I do not have grounds to charge you. Perhaps what I find will make the Congress uncomfortable, but that is not legal grounds for an impeachment."

She gave a slow nod. Out of all her options…there seemed to be only one real one. "Very well. You will have my full cooperation."

"Good," Watkins handed her the documents. "Then I will need your authorization to make this move smoother."

She took the documents. "What are these?"

"Temporary suspensions for Elizabeth Falka and Feng Mercado, as well as several others," Watkins said. "You are too high profile to suspend without attracting undue attention, but I would not have critical aspects of our divisions under management of people whose loyalties have been called into question, justified or not. Once they are cleared, they will be fully reinstated."

He paused. "I would suggest that you tell them to cooperate. If they obstruct me, I will charge them. They will not be able to hide their secrets, no matter how much they wish. The Grand Inquisitor will make sure of that."

"I have no reason to doubt that," Saudia agreed, and with a second of hesitation, signed the documents. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation. "And I assume their designated replacements will take over in the interim?"

"Not their original choices," Watkins corrected. "Ones which I suggested and they signed off on. Or will sign off on. They will be informed within hours of the – temporary – change of leadership."

"Very well," Saudia handed the documents back. "And what now?"

"Now you do your job," Watkins stood, with Saudia joining him a second later. "I will inform you of when you are needed. I do not need to make this a public affair, and your sharing of it is your prerogative. It will take as much time as I need. I suspect that in the end that it will work out, and you – as well as your colleagues – will move forward free of the fear of these secrets you've hidden."

Saudia pursed her lips. "I certainly hope so, Chief Overseer."

Watkins moved to the exit, and looked back. "You are an ambitious woman, Chancellor. But you have the correct priorities. Do not second guess your decisions now. It would only make it harder on yourself."

Saudia didn't answer as he departed, and just stood alone in the room, thinking.

It ultimately didn't matter what she wanted now.

It was going to come to light, one way or another.

Best if it was painless; and hopefully Watkins would just do exactly what he promised.

---

Busan Military Base, Busan – South Korea

5/25/2017 – 6:11 P.M.

"So here's my question," Cara said as she poured a drink for herself. "Do we get a special emblem? Do you get a different cape?"

"I think we do get something," Duri said. "But nothing that obvious. Don't want to give away that we're priority targets."

"Hey, a promotion is a promotion," she said. "And I think it's safe to say that we all earned it."

There was a good amount of verbal acknowledgment from the squad who were huddled around their bunks in an impromptu celebration of the news. Cara and Mana were sitting on the bunks, while Duri and Beatriz were sitting on some pulled up folding chairs. Nobuatsu and Aleksandra were leaning against a wall, with Aleksandra drinking from her vodka bottle she'd apparently held onto this whole time. Miguel was sitting on his SHIV, tapping away on his phone.

"I really don't like that you're sitting on that," Beatriz told him. "One bad move and you set it off."

"You worry too much," he smirked. "I know what I'm doing. It's not even facing towards you!"

"You're still sitting on a weapon that could shred us in a few seconds," Beatriz insisted. "Would you sit on your rifle?"

"That isn't even close to the same thing," Miguel rolled his eyes, and motioned to the floor. "Besides, I practice SHIV safety. See? Not loaded and shut off."

"Oh fine," Beatriz relented. "Not like you're going to listen to me. Duri?"

"Let him be," Duri gave a slight smile. "He seems to have it under control."

Miguel gave a mock salute. "Appreciated, officer."

"Where do you think we'll be sent?" Nobuatsu said after a few minutes. "I agree that we're probably not going to be enjoying the pleasures of Busan for much longer."

"A shame," Cara sighed. "I quite liked the aliens coming here and getting humbled."

"It almost feels like home now," Miguel added. "Feels odd to leave it so soon."

"The price of us being too good at our jobs," Cara said sarcastically. "We shouldn't have tried so hard."

"We did get to experience some of the more interesting moments of the war," Duri said. "First Aegis. Then Caelior. Both came out to help Busan. I won't ever forget that."

"I don't think any of us will," Beatriz said. "And even before that…Japan. At least for some of us."

"Yeah, I missed out on your escape through Japan," Mana said. "You fought the Warlock right?"

Duri, Cara, and Beatriz exchanged a look. "'Fought' is a strong term," Duri said slowly. "More like 'slightly inconvenienced before we made a tactical retreat'."

"And I got shot," Beatriz recalled, looking to Duri. "He carried me out." She shook her head. "Scariest moment of my life."

"Yeah, and I was spraying bullets hoping that would give enough cover," Cara remembered. "There was no way I was going to be able to carry both of you. Not our best day."

"Though we've all lived since then," Duri said. "With a few close calls."

"Yes. Some," Aleksandra glanced down to her hand. "Job hazards."

"Very much so," Nobuatsu agreed. "Returning to the question I proposed. Florida is heating back up."

"Oh, god," Cara grimaced. "Florida."

"What's wrong with Florida?" Beatriz asked.

"It's hot, dry, sometimes ends up being a hurricane magnet, and has a certain reputation," Cara ticked off. "You've never heard of the Floridaman?"

Beatriz shook her head. "Save the stories if we actually get sent there," Mana chuckled. "All I can say is that the Collective could have picked a better target. I bet they've run into their own share of interesting individuals."

"Quisilia probably has documented them," Cara sniffed. "Although I wouldn't know. After what Patricia pulled, I'm boycotting Quisilia and his entertainment."

"Not that I disapprove," Duri said with a raised eyebrow. "But it took a Human traitor for you to stop supporting an Ethereal troll account?"

"Well…yeah," she shrugged. "The memelord may have been an alien, but he knew his stuff."

"Speaking of that…" Mana looked around. "What do you make of her? Or what she said?"

"A liar or fake," Cara dismissed. "Why the hell would anyone believe anything that comes out of her mouth now? ADVENT being a puppet state of XCOM is a bad parody of an illuminati story. I'm just waiting for the revelation that ADVENT is filled with shapeshifters and the Collective was the good guys all along."

"I do wonder why she bothered," Miguel mused. "It's only going to freak out the idiots, the anti-ADVENT fanatics, and the media who love a good scandal. No one else is going to buy it though."

"Because that isn't Patricia," Cara insisted. "That's a clone, or some kind of mockup to look like her. Would Patricia Trask really defect to the aliens? Really? The Hero of Humanity? The First Human Psion? Her?" Cara took a long gulp of her drink. "Please."

"I'm not sure," Duri laced his fingers together. "I think it's her. At least physically. She's probably being mind controlled or influenced by the Ethereals. Otherwise…" he shook his head. "I can't even think of why she would willingly betray her species."

"Maybe we misjudge her," Aleksandra shrugged. "She is power. She enjoyed power. You could tell. Ethereals offered her that. Perhaps simple answer."

"As someone who thought she was a good example of what our species could do," Cara said slowly. "I'd prefer not to think of her as someone who sold out for power."

Aleksandra just took another drink. "Then don't. I just observe. She was never a hero."

"Regardless of what she was," Duri said with a heavy sigh. "She's not one now. I would like to ask her a few questions though."

Beatriz looked at him sympathetically. "I can imagine. I don't think she'd be able to answer."

"Or she would," Duri shrugged. "And it would be the wrong answer."

"She'll be put down," Miguel said, patting his SHIV. "I have a good feeling. The only thing we Humans hate more than aliens are the turncoats who join them. Aliens just follow their nature. These traitors have no excuse."

"She can join Betos," Cara nodded. "First in the Experimentation Labs, and later in Hell."

"Barring that," Beatriz agreed. "They can both just meet in Hell."

It was a darkly sentimental note to wind down on, but one they each keenly felt strongly about. Duri felt that Miguel was right. The Human traitors deserved worse than the aliens who perpetrated the atrocities. Every single one deserved to be put down, and when he fell asleep his dreams were not of the aliens being purged from Earth, but the Human traitors burning in Africa.

No less than they deserved.

---

Residence of the Chancellor - Switzerland

5/23/2017 – 9:22 P.M.

There had been few days that had been as draining as this, and having only taken place so soon after Patricia wasn't exactly ideal for her. She just felt…exhausted. She just wanted to leave, rest, and be with her husband and son and contemplate what was going to happen next. No matter what, she felt that something was going to end. Or at least set into motion this end.

That would certainly be something. Not quite how she planned to end it all.

Hopefully she was being presumptuous.

She unhooked the Chancellor sash from her shoulder and hung it up, undressing on her own for the night into something more comfortable, though that was more relative now. With entire portions of her limbs replaced, her level of comfort had become more static. A state that just was, not particularly good or bad.

She missed being able to feel something like she had before.

Sensors weren't the same thing as flesh. They…functioned well enough, and she could manipulate them without issues. She could pick up a feather or glass ball without crushing it. She could tell if something was warmer or colder, but it was more of a numb realization than something visceral. One of the therapists had told her it would be like wearing thick, but very flexible gloves.

That had turned out to be more accurate than she would like.

It was a marvel of engineering, and sometimes she would now just look at the smooth design of the limbs, marveling at how well it functioned. But it was not the same, it never could be. Flesh may be weaker, but it felt more real than this, especially around those she loved. It felt like an important connection was muted.

Touch and feeling were important; one of those aspects of close relationships you didn't think about until it was lost.

Ethan was putting together the night watch; securing the residence while she dressed for the night. She knew her guard would fight to the death to protect her, but she now privately didn't know what could be done if someone like Patricia decided to attack. Or the creatures from Paradise. She needed to take extra precautions to keep herself and family safe.

Ready for the night, she checked the pistol on her hip and made sure the plasma pack was charged. If someone was ever to attack, she and Ethan had made sure that no matter where they were, there would be a weapon they could use. Closets, cupboards, cabinets, and other hidden compartments held all types of weapons.

Some paranoia was justified now.

Saudia walked down the hallway to her son's room. It was shut, and she lightly knocked. After waiting a few seconds, she opened it quietly, suspecting he was asleep. Sure enough, he was completely out, tucked in his own bed. Sleeping peacefully, a commodity she envied at the moment. He really was getting so big, and she was missing so much of it now.

She sighed, and left the room, sparing a glance at the small stand in the corner which held one of the Sovereign Orbs, a constant vigil over her son. Perhaps it was a mistake to leave so much to trust this Sovereign was on their side, but if given a choice between T'Leth and the Collective, she was going to err on the side of caution.

Descending the stairs in the quiet house, she noted that she really didn't need such a large residence. She barely spent any time here besides sleeping anyway. Another observation from her tired mind she'd probably made before. The footsteps from her metal feet were only slightly muffled by the rug and became louder when she stepped onto the tile in the kitchen, picking out a glass.

She didn't believe in getting drunk after having a long day. Knocking herself out was the least of her problems right now, and engaging in self-destructive behavior wouldn't change anything. But she was thirsty. Water was fine.

Her glass full, she walked to the nearest couch and sat down and drank quietly, alone with her thoughts and fears. It was odd. In all her days as the Director of EXALT, making sure that they weren't discovered by the public at large, maintaining the conspiracy over years knowing a single mistake could end it…it didn't come close to the stress she was under daily now.

Especially when she knew what she faced. A nosy journalist and a talkative media group were nothing compared to an alien who could ravage planets with a gesture or control others with a thought.

She took a drink.

It was a dangerous game of prediction and strategy. One where a mistake now meant the deaths of millions. One where it came one step closer to her species being conquered. Plans devised sounded good until there was a weakness that was exploited. Sometimes that never happened, and sometimes Patricia Trask happened.

"House is secure as it can be," Ethan walked in, his own armor off. "Cameras, turrets, everything online."

"Good," she said listlessly, swirling the remaining water in her glass.

Ethan waited a moment, frowned, and came to sit by her. "You have enough to worry about, Saudia. Don't add this onto it. It's out of your control."

She scowled. "And you know how much I hate that. I didn't even try and fight it," she shook her head. "I saw what he could do if I didn't cooperate, and gave in."

"And what should you have done?" Ethan put an arm around her. "Been an idiot and denied everything? We both knew this might happen. All we can do is our jobs now."

"We knew it might, but I was hoping that it would stay in the past forever," she said quietly. "Watkins may not care, but not everyone will be so forgiving. I don't know. I'm worried, and I can't do anything about it. I'm worried about what's coming next."

"We've done what we can," Ethan said simply. "That's all we can do. Our best. All things considered, we've done better than anyone probably expected. And we'll keep doing that. And you'll still be leading us."

"I hope so," she said. "I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't."

"I'm sure you'd adapt," he said. "You always do."

Saudia was struck with a pang of guilt. "That was the wrong thing to say. I'm a terrible mother." She rubbed her eyes, before leaning onto his shoulder and closing them. "And wife. I have a son I barely see and a husband I barely talk to outside of work."

"Hey, none of that now," he said, scooting closer. "You're helping manage a war for the survival of our species. Which includes us. If anything, you have your priorities correct."

"It doesn't feel like that, especially now," her lips twitched. "If I save the world and lose both of you that would feel…wrong. Don't pretend it hasn't bothered you. Maybe you understand, but you wish I wasn't as focused."

He sighed. "I'm only Human. But what I would like isn't a higher priority than what you're doing. I know enough to recognize that."

"Does Martel?"

"He's mature for his age," Ethan said slowly. "But…well, I know he wishes you were around more. But he knows what you're doing is important."

"He's a kid and I've been a bad parent," she admitted. "Trying to justify that feels wrong. If I was just going to do that, we shouldn't have decided to be parents. I need to do better for you and him. I don't know how right now, but I don't know what will happen next." She shook her head. "Something could happen to any of us, and I don't want there to be any regrets."

"If you want to figure something out," Ethan told her, lacing the fingers of one hand between her mechanical ones. "I'd be happy to hear it."

"I'll need you for this too," she told him, swinging her legs over his lap. "You'll need to tell me when to stop. And if I'm being stubborn…I know you can figure out some way to get past that."

He gave her a wide smile. "Your confidence is well-placed, Chancellor."

"Please, no titles here," she rolled her eyes, and shifted her legs back over so she could rest better against him, before closing her eyes. "Thank you."

"Should we move to the bed?" He asked after a few moments.

"No…not yet," she said after some hesitation; listening to his heartbeat. "Let's just stay here. At least for a little while."

---

To be continued in Chapter 54

Battleground: Florida

---

A/N: A short update on what's coming next. One of my editors is going to be going on vacation for a month and won't be able to do any editing. The next chapter is going to very likely be delayed as a result. In the meantime, I'll take this opportunity to finish up a number of XCOM Files that I have outlined so there should still be a steady stream of content regardless. The next chapter will be written in this period too so it's ready when he gets back. The next chapter will be the start of the next battle arc which is going to span three chapters. Florida will be the focus, but there is going to be a lot happening across the world. It's going to be a fun ride.

Also, Into the Breach is an excellent game, and I highly recommend it. Thank you to everyone reading as always, and I hope to have more to you sooner than later.

- Xabiar