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.

60. Black Earth, Purple Sky

Black Earth, Purple Sky

---

Office of the Chancellor, ADVENT HQ – Switzerland

5/4/2017 – 9:18 A.M.

"State your name."

The man who was presumably seated stared defiantly into the camera, a harsh white background behind him.

"State your name," the smooth voice repeated.

"Go to hell," the man spat.

A new voice spoke. "Answer the question, would you kindly?"

The man's eyes seemed to glaze over and the defiance faded. "Officer Zi, ADVENT Army, Tier II rank."

The video shifted to a dark-skinned woman who looked suitably afraid, but was doing her best to hide it. She blinked, clearly holding back tears and biting her lip. "State your name," the voice ordered.

"Lilianne Jackson, ADVENT Army Sniper," she answered, swallowing. "I can't tell you anything else."

Another shift in the video, and now a man who'd clearly been wounded was facing the camera, the blood on his face from several scratches not completely cleaned off. "State your name."

"Lieutenant Nusin, ADVENT Army," he said curtly. "That's all you'll get from me."

"The video continues for another half-hour," Acting Director Powell said grimly, fast-forwarding it before the small gathering of Chancellor Vyandar, Stein, Laura, Rodgers, and Watkins, all of whose expressions echoed the tone of his voice. "We have no indication that this is even all the soldiers, but we have confirmed that they were the ones stationed near SAS territory."

"Numbers, Director, numbers," Saudia sighed, rubbing her forehead. "How many do they have?"

"Several thousand at least," Powell clasped his hands behind his back. "We're still determining the exact number. Commander, you know how many those outposts had when combined?"

"Just over four thousand in total," Laura said, gaze still fixated on the scene. "I doubt that they have that many hostages. Perhaps a fraction of that number at best. There was only one where there was no fighting. Based on preliminary reports…perhaps around two thousand hostages."

"Still far too many," Stein said incredulously. "How did that happen?"

"Presumably a directive by Betos," Declan Rodgers said, stepping forward. "That would have made the soldiers more inclined to shoot to wound, not kill, and they had enough numbers to overwhelm the frontal base defenses. More practically, because Macula is helping them out."

"We have evidence of this?" Stein asked.

Declan looked to Powell. "Sir?"

"She's cleared," Powell nodded his approval, motioning for Rodgers to switch the video to footage broken into quadrants, showcasing the battles at various angles and in several of them were shots of soldiers standing frozen, while SAS soldiers bound them, and soon a clear Ethereal figure came into view.

"I see Kutkh is finally returning something useful," Saudia commented dryly. "A shame this wasn't working a few months ago."

"Kutkh is still having difficulty accessing critical areas," Powell amended. "But we're gathering critical intelligence on the general civilian population, troop movements, and subverting Ethereal control of the narrative. Not pretty, and there are limits as we didn't expect the SAS to act this quickly, but thanks to Kutkh we might be able to identify patterns leading to similar attacks."

"Can someone explain what I'm looking at?" Stein demanded in befuddlement.

"Cameras on birds," Rodgers explained succinctly. "Birds which are unwittingly spying on the SAS and other Collective positions. Very clandestine, very advanced, and the longer we can continue before the Collective figures out what we're doing, the better."

"Clever," Stein nodded, impressed. "Don't suppose you've thought to do this with other animals? Cats?"

"We'd have better luck training a mouse than a cat," Powell snorted. "Returning to the topic at hand, we know how this happened, and will likely know how to prevent – or at least have warning – before this happens again. And I assure you, it will happen again."

"I suppose it was only a matter of time until they struck back," Saudia sighed. "Expected, but it puts us in a predicament. It's only going to get worse."

"Chancellor, I believe this is sufficient justification for Scipio," Laura stood, looking seriously down at Saudia. "Maximum pressure is necessary, and the SAS can weather economic sanctions and isolation. They cannot weather a starving or ill population and the more resources they drain from the Collective, the more resources are not going to be directed at us."

In truth that had been in Saudia's mind for several days now. The current campaign against the SAS was limited and the Collective was adapting well enough. At this point the missiles they were launching were throwing money and resources away. A concerted air presence made Night Witch raids risky at best, and suicide at worst.

Military targets were tempting, but hardened and well-fortified.

Operation Scipio was the plan which had been drafted by ADVENT High Command to not only handle the SAS, but any other regional threat to ADVENT. While there was a significant military component to the operation, the primary objective was not destroying the opposing military, but making life as miserable as possible for those who lived in the SAS.

Burned crops, scorched oil fields, sabotaged infrastructure and power outages. Poisoned food and water. There was a very fine line to be drawn in a way that couldn't be used to rally more nations to them, and that didn't kill enemy civilians for the sake of it. It was reasonable to assume the Collective had entire planets worth of resources and top-notch medical care.

If the entire food and water stores of the SAS were corrupted, they would be forced to bring it in from somewhere else. If vast swaths of the population fell ill, they would have to be treated. The Collective couldn't have all of them dying. A very delicate balance, but if done right, it would lower the readiness and effectiveness of the SAS and its citizens – enough to eventually allow a decisive victory.

"With what we know, I support authorizing Scipio," Powell said, bringing up another series of pictures. "We just got these several hours ago. Pure luck that a Kutkh unit was flying over, but if the implications are right, the SAS is going to be growing."

The picture was simply of a bunker in the middle of nowhere, and in front of it were some guards – SAS – and black vehicles. "A secret SAS base?" Saudia asked.

"Potentially, but that's not our break," Powell said. "It seems to imply that the SAS is directly meeting with representatives of other nations. One screwed up, and left an identifying flag on their truck." He pointed. "Benin. Last we knew they were staying neutral, but that might be changing. I'd say there isn't a reason to refrain from Scipio. We need to lock up as soon as possible."

Saudia nodded. "I'll begin the process."

"The short-term question is how we're going to deal with the hostages," Rodgers grunted, sitting back down.

"Were there demands?" Stein asked.

"There was a short message accompanying the video," Powell confirmed. "And I quote 'We are currently holding a large number of ADVENT hostages. If you immediately withdraw all forces from our borders and cease your attacks, we will release them to you unharmed. If you do not within forty-eight hours, they will be turned over to the Ethereal Collective and moved off-world.'"

All of them knew what that meant.

If they were shipped off-world, they weren't coming back alive.

"Do we know where they're held?" Saudia asked.

"Not all of them," Powell shook his head. "They've been split up. A hundred here, four hundred there, the SAS is clearly anticipating some kind of rescue attempt. Macula is doubtless patrolling as well. Chancellor, as tempting as it is to put together a rescue op, I don't recommend it. That is what they want."

"So our options are to comply and lose valuable time until they do this again, or condemn our soldiers," Stein said grimly. "Unfortunate. The Director's right though."

"While I agree we can't give into their demands, we need to make some effort," Laura shot Stein a disapproving look. "Our soldiers deserve some kind of effort. Chancellor, I recommend we propose a counter-offer."

"Consisting of?"

"They release our soldiers, we release a number of Collective POWs," she said. "A harmless trade. We get our soldiers, and Betos doesn't get what she wants – but the Collective also gets something."

"It's worth a shot," Saudia nodded. "Do you have an objection, Acting Director?"

"I doubt it will work, but no, I do not," Powell confirmed. "Do we want to do this publicly?"

"Keep it vague, but yes," Saudia nodded. "Put the ball in her court. Be sure to emphasize that she's threatening to send them off-world. If we have volunteers from the families of those captured, use them as well. Betos is still Human. A foolish and naïve Human, but one with a skewed conscience. Show her what she'll be doing if she refuses this deal."

"Excellent," Powell smiled. "Watch the news in a couple of hours, Chancellor, it will be all set to go shortly."

---

Zararch Safehouse, Geneva – Switzerland

5/1/2017 – 12:00 A.M.

Over a month since setting down.

A month well-spent.

Nemo stood in front of a mirror, ensuring that each detail was correct on the face for the role it would soon be playing. Runi'sirasis'vitianis awaited, a Vitakarian soldier and face of the AEGIS Division. A naïve puppet of her Human masters, she was nonetheless an important symbol of the traitorous nature of some of the Vitakara.

Such an image would need to be torn down.

Slowly.

Methodically.

Subtly.

Unfortunately, it couldn't be done while she was still alive. It couldn't be something that was left to chance. Such a role was one Nemo had not played in a very, very long time. Wearing faces and personalities like this was exhausting, but eventually one would fall into the necessary role and mindset. Of course, this required a very specific mindset.

That of a traitor.

Thus, Nemo needed to think like a traitor in order to understand one.

It had not taken long to determine Sirasis's own rationale; a highly tired one which highlighted the pointless worship of the Ethereals. It was pathetically simple. The Collective had hidden the knowledge of Aegis's defection and therefore they were untrustworthy, and thus it made sense to defect in protest. Such a thought process was…odd.

Too instinctive.

Reactionary.

ADVENT had been smart. Left to her own devices she likely would have come out of this mindset of treason, but instead they had convinced her that such belief was not only correct, but heroic. They had helped turn her into something she had always wanted to be.

A hero.

Simple. Straightforward. Disappointing.

A thought exercise that had taken Nemo mere hours to determine, fit within her psychological profile, and put through some basic tests. It was a solid appraisal, but highly unsatisfying to consider that a traitor would have such poorly based and simple motives. In truth it told him more about the process and intelligence of ADVENT than the empty-minded traitor that was to be impersonated.

So he had gone deeper.

The mind of a traitor was fascinating, and there had to be better reasons why one would turn against the Ethereal Collective; against their own people.

In the end, he had done so.

The results were…unsettling.

He was very aware the Collective had vulnerabilities, but there were far more than he had anticipated and unlike the fool whose face it now wore, its rationales were logical, understandable, and objectively valid. Multiple mindsets had been considered; Vitakarian, Sectoid, Andromedon – and Ethereal. Not each one fit perfectly, but there were circumstances where a traitorous mindset could develop.

It was concerning.

Not that vulnerabilities existed, but there was an inherent fragility to the Collective that Nemo found surprising. It was one that no one had seen fit to mention – at least to him. A rot which had been allowed to grow and fester from the beginning. Perhaps the fault of the Ethereals, perhaps the apathy of the Zararch. A mixture of both, most likely.

No, that was not his cause for concern. Not truly.

It was not concerned that vulnerabilities existed.

Nemo was concerned that the Collective seemed blind to these risks – but the Humans were not.

Applied correctly, the Humans could prove to be a catalyst to shatter the Collective.

It was unlikely the Humans themselves were thinking in such terms. No, this seemed too far-thinking for them. But they were being assisted by another Sovereign.

T'Leth.

And on the Collective, was Mosrimor.

At the end of both sides were the Sovereign puppetmasters.

But with a key difference.

With Mosrimor, his tools and pawns actively resisted control and influence. The relationship was inverted from what it had naturally been. Mosrimor could not properly plot and scheme while those who were supposed to be his lessers were flaunting their defiance, daring an intervention. The greatest foe to Mosrimor was not T'Leth, but the Imperator.

It led to distraction; weakness; vulnerability.

T'Leth had no such distraction.

If he gave orders to certain Humans, they were carried out.

Unsurprising T'Leth had appeared to determine the weakness of the Collective, and had no infighting to distract him.

So fascinating to observe from the sidelines.

However, it was now a front that would be observed personally. Nemo suspected that there would be a great number of things which would be witnessed through the mask worn. He had documented his concerns and set them to Ravarian, but Nemo already suspected that the true impediment to the Collective was not the Zararch, but their masters.

Ethereals.

Sovereigns without the experience.

Child gods over a pretend empire.

Endure or collapse, Nemo suspected great change would come to the Collective before the war's end.

Time to get into the mindset.

Sirasis was now who Nemo was.

A body which would be worn for a day, perhaps a month, potentially years.

But it would end and Nemo would emerge.

For now, Nemo would lurk and observe; puppet the sculpted body to achieve his objective.

Sirasis would be shown to the world. She smiled for the mirror, a trait Nemo had observed her doing, perhaps as a way to better relate to Humans whose faces were highly expressive. Nemo had her body move through a number of ticks and catches that had been observed; a flawless recreation to ensure that none would notice one body had been swapped for another.

Glowing blue eyes stared back out through the mirror, and Nemo realized with some disappointment that not even its best efforts could remove the certain deadness within it. Well, no matter, it was such a small and easily maskable detail that only one like it would notice, let alone consider suspicious.

Satisfied, Nemo stepped away from the mirror and began putting on an identical AEGIS uniform that had been recreated through Collective fabricators. No detail was so small as to be ignored. The time of observation was over.

Now it was the time for the operation.

---

Planetary Observation - Vitakar Observation Station

5/1/2017 – 10:22 A.M.

As Humans would say, Ravarian felt like he was in a soap opera sometimes. The only individual moderately taking his job seriously while everyone else…didn't.

On one hand, there was the Speaker looking out onto a projection of the planet, idly smoking a chocolate cigarette – something Ravarian had no idea how he'd gotten – while also bringing up legalizing the drug on the planet quite sincerely. On the other, there was Quisilia avidly browsing with two phones for each pair of arms, complaining about being trolled.

The irony was not lost on Ravarian.

"We are not legalizing a drug," Ravarian said flatly. "I don't especially care if you like it."

"Why?" Astri bared his teeth, amused. "It's not harmful."

"It's addictive." Ravarian explained incredulously.

"No, people just like it," the Speaker corrected. "There's a difference. Besides, it's a pleasant sensation. No different than how an Oyariah feels underground."

"You're not going to be able to sell that to the Aui'Vitakar," Ravarian sighed. "And you will not have my support either. The Human desire to inject their bodies full of chemicals is not one we should strive for."

"This is a plant, not a chemical," Astri corrected. "So therefore…"

Ravarian narrowed his eyes. "Where did you even get that ridiculous item."

"This?" Astri lifted the cigarette. "I asked Quisilia if he could procure one for me. I've seen Humans use them, and it appeared intriguing. However, I was only interested in using it with a drug I know."

Almost in resignation, Ravarian turned to the idly tweeting Ethereal. "Where exactly did you get that from?"

"I asked Revelean if he could synthesize an equivalent," Quisilia answered without looking up. "He was able to do so quickly. It did not consume significant resources or time, if that was what you were concerned about."

Astri reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack. "Want one?"

"No."

"Very well," the Speaker grew more serious and put out the cigarette. "Now, we're all here for my…introduction," he gave a short cough. "I'm confident it will be successful, though of course I will take on feedback."

Finally, they were talking about something substantive. "I believe it will have the desired effect," Ravarian agreed. "I'm not sure how the Sar'Manda or Oyariah will take it, given the nationalistic focus, but it is unlikely to alienate them. Accompanied by an appropriate show of force will ensure the point is driven home."

"Without a doubt," Astri smiled, turning back to the planet. "Seeing the traitors paraded through the streets will no doubt be glorious. Your forces are prepared I assume?"

"Prepared and ready," Ravarian said. "I had begun to wonder if this information was ever going to be used."

"I would have preferred to wait until a proper decapitation strike," Quisilia added from the background. "But circumstances change, and if the Nulorian are dealt a serious blow Nartha will have served his purpose quite well."

"Ah, the traitor," Astri looked back to Quisilia. "He hasn't returned."

"He likely came to the conclusion that returning was too risky and he would be compromised," Ravarian noted. "Initially we wondered if he'd figured it out, but the locations show no signs of altered activity. He simply disappeared – for now at least."

"As I said," Quisilia waved a hand absentmindedly. "He served his purpose. More so on Desolan than Vitakar. I certainly hope to see him shortly. It would be amusing to see his face knowing he doomed many of his new allies." His tone turned wistful. "Though in fact, it may be better to keep him alive. Miridian will kill him once he connects the dots."

"I'm hopeful we will kill Miridian this time," Ravarian pursed his lips. "He has persisted far too long."

"Unlikely," Quisilia dismissed flatly. "Miridian is unusually intelligent. I doubt he himself is in a position of danger. It would be a welcome surprise, but I would not expect it this time. He has a use as well – an enemy has their uses if appropriately controlled, and the Nulorian have passed that threshold."

"Time to reign them in," Astri nodded. "If there are some Humans involved, then all the better."

"Indeed," Ravarian affirmed.

Astri looked to Quisilia. "How is progress on…recruitment. For your avatar candidates?"

"Ah, I am having some issues," Quisilia sounded almost irritated. "I've found a quite nice woman who I hit it off very well with. I'm sure she'll take my offer well. Big fan of my content."

Ravarian cocked his head. "And…you have not discussed this with her?"

"Come now, Zar'Chon, I can't just let any interested woman into my harem," Quisilia sniffed. "I have high standards. What I have personally found irritating are the absurd number of so-called women on the Internet that are in fact men pretending to be them."

"Oh dear," Astri chuckled. "Wait – how do you know?"

"Ah, it's a simple matter of locating their phone or device," Quisilia said. "As part of the board of Twitter – which I do a majority of communication through – I can make certain requests. If they are reluctant, then I will just have the Zararch do it. Then I make a short visit to confirm who they are, and that is how I made such discoveries."

"That…" Ravarian paused. "Seems like an extraordinary waste of time."

"I am attempting to automate and diversify the process," Quisilia agreed. "Instead of visiting myself, I will simply ask the local Zararch agents to investigate for me. Already it has saved me a significant amount of time."

Ravarian was no longer surprised that Quisilia was using the Zararch as a tool for his quest to find suitable Harbinger candidates, because of course he was. "I hope you find a suitable candidate soon."

"As do I, it has proved to be quite a blow to my ego," Quisilia sighed dramatically. "When I learned how many followers I have are bots, it hurt. And with the number of scams I have experienced, one would think there are no women on the internet. However, I shall persevere and endure."

"Enough with the dramatics," Astri said dryly. "Both of us know you have identified exactly who you want and are just enjoying dragging the process out."

Ravarian looked over. "Has he really?"

"I'd think you'd have figured him out, Zar'Chon," Astri bared his teeth. "But clearly not. In which case, I'll continue to let Quisilia have his fun."

Ravarian rubbed his forehead, not wanting to think about this any longer. "Let's move onto something more important. If you're ready, Speaker, I will send it to the Aui'Vitakar to announce."

"Do it," Astri confirmed with a smile. "Time to secure the world."

---

Tampa, Florida – United States of America

5/5/2017 – 9:12 A.M.

Unfortunately, the Commander noted, the Battlemaster hadn't been idle during the lull. From reviewing the current situation, he had taken steps to mitigate or eliminate many of the risks ADVENT had been exploiting. The Battlemaster himself wasn't letting himself be led around by XCOM, instead sending additional Elites, Spectres, and Archons and focusing on what he deemed 'critical' areas.

The Collective air presence was also much more pronounced, and there were additional Vanguards which had been sent to disrupt the psions providing air support. Not overpower from what he'd observed, but disrupt to the point where the inherent advantage was gone. And when that advantage was gone, the air battle shifted back in favor of the Collective.

In short, they were losing ground at a much faster pace.

ADVENT hadn't been idle either. Given the upcoming plan, they were using this ability to test out lethal cocktails and chemical weapons they'd been shooting towards alien lines. White phosphorous could be seen across vast swaths of the city, which obscured vision, killed unprotected soldiers, and was yet another trial for the aliens to overcome.

Purifiers were setting lost streets and blocks alight, denying the Collective easy access which the aliens still had no answer to. But ultimately, it had become a numbers game and the odds were not in their favor – but they still had enough to hold out.

A light flashed on the holotable he was observing the battle on. "Launch successful," one of the technicians stated to the room. "Entering low orbit now."

Laura gave a single nod. "Good. No Collective presence?"

"They might have seen it go up, but they haven't disrupted it," came the answer. "I don't think they're interested or know what we're doing."

"Let's keep it that way then. Two more left, yes?"

"Yes, Commander!"

Laura looked to him. "We're doing our part, but I hope your people can get the ordinance established."

"I've got squads planting it now as we speak," the Commander assured her. "As of yet the Collective doesn't seem to have noticed the reduced XCOM presence." He highlighted current nanite bombs planted. "We had a lot of ground to cover, but we're nearly done – just in time for the rest of the launches to take place."

"If the aliens haven't taken out Canaveral now, I doubt they'll target it in the next day," Laura grunted, starting to pace. "This had better work."

"It will work," the Commander assured her. "All indications point to it, at least."

"I'm more concerned with how effective it will be," Laura mused, sighing. "In theory it's devastating. In practice the Battlemaster has eventually mitigated or overcome each obstacle."

"Except the trifluoride," the Commander corrected.

"Except that," she amended. "But I genuinely wouldn't put it past him to blanket the state in an EMP to overcome it."

"Possibly," the Commander considered. "But unlikely to be that extreme. The amount of land is infeasible. GAIA will cover the whole state, more or less. Even if he does that, it will cost him time, resources, and he will fail to stop the entirety of it – and that is all that is needed."

"And if this doesn't work out…" Laura shook her head. "A lot of people died for nothing."

"If it doesn't work out, then it would have played out exactly the same way," the Commander said bluntly. "GAIA is the only measure that can prevent our defeat here. We don't have Aegis, Caelior, or our best psions now. This is a risk, but it will work. The science and specifications all line up."

"I'll feel more comfortable when I see it in action," Laura nodded. "But you're right. It's that…I don't know if it'll even be enough. Everything we come up with never lasts forever and we're gradually losing more and more. JULIAN, GAIA, nuking our atmosphere, then our cities, and we're not even remotely close to surviving, let alone winning."

The Commander looked at the tired woman, and could relate quite strongly. Though inexplicably, he felt more optimistic now. Perhaps based on a collection of guesswork, observation, and facts, but there were many disparate pieces that were coming together, and when they did come together, things would fall into place quickly.

A snowball.

The problem was that snowball needed to speed up and get bigger. That required time, and time was an ever-draining resource. There was also a note of unpredictability that could throw off their carefully curated plans, but he was confident they could account for it. Now it was time to maintain a delicate balance of baiting and defense until it came time to pull the trigger.

"It's not going to be easy or painless," he said slowly. "But I'm…confident it will work. Remember there was a time where the technological disparity was impossible to even, and we did it. The fact that we're even holding our own now is a miracle in and of itself. The Collective is forced to adapt to what we are doing, which is not the action of an entity destined to succeed."

"Fair point, Commander," she acknowledged. "Like I said…I think I'll be more confident when it happens."

"Only a few more days now," the Commander said, looking down on the holotable. "Just a few more days."

---

Vietnam – Near Collective Territory

5/2/2019 – 12:22 A.M.

The closer they got to the line of alien vegetation, Duri immediately felt less and less comfortable. It was difficult to explain, but what he was looking at distinctly did not seem like it was supposed to exist on Earth. It was a clear divide between what was 'normal' and what had been added by the aliens.

"I don't like the look of this at all," Cara muttered, hefting her rifle as she appraised the vegetation before them.

They had been walking through a jungle, trying to keep their noise to a minimum, but they had seen the alien line easily. The first clue was the density; there was a far greater collection of plants than there was before. There was also a symmetry to them indicating manual or planned planting. The plants in question were also…presumably young.

But they were distinctly alien.

For one, they glowed.

Not that bioluminescence was inherently alien, but Duri was fairly certain that there were no bioluminescent plants in Vietnam. In fact, he wasn't even sure such a thing existed above ground. The glow wasn't bright, but in the darkness it might as well have been. It was a warm glow of orange, blue, and purple.

The plants themselves had leaves and bodies that were inherently alien, and to Duri's alarm appeared to have integrated seamlessly into the jungle with the native Earth plant life. That was something that should not have been possible, or at least that was what he would have thought. Then again, the aliens had access to technology that might allow for forcing computability.

"Check for movement," Duri instructed Beatriz, taking a breath as they took positions in a 360 circle to prevent ambushes. The good news was that there was no shortage of cover, and they hadn't encountered any alien defenders. "Miguel, move your SHIV up."

"Yes sir," both soldiers confirmed, with Beatriz pulling herself up a nearby tree and scanning the immediate vicinity while Miguel piloted the SHIV towards the plant line.

"It's quiet," Nobuatsu noted, cocking his head. "That normal?"

"I'd think there'd be insect life," Duri wondered, frowning under his helmet. "I hear something…"

They all listened for a few seconds as the SHIV rolled closer. "Faint, but there's something," Miguel said with a shrug. "Chirps and clicks. I doubt the aliens killed off the entire ecosystem."

"Can never be too sure," Duri looked up to Beatriz. "Nothing?"

"No aliens if that's what you're wondering," she said, hopping down. "But I saw something that's alarming. A little further back there's large growths on the trees, and more scattered throughout." She handed him her rifle. "Look through, it won't take too long to spot. I have a bad feeling I know what they are."

"Hold the SHIV," Duri told Miguel as he took the sniper rifle and looked through the scope that was attuned to the dim light. It took several seconds to adjust properly, but in a few moments, he saw what Beatriz had been talking about. Yellowish blobs or growths on the trees, and likely on the ground, with the bulges having a faint transparent quality to them.

The area around them was messy, with slime and goo dripping off the growths and stuck to nearby vegetation. To his mild disgust he saw that there were animals and birds that had gotten stuck in it and were dead and rotting, or dying and trying to escape. Insects were also caught in the sticky growth, giving it a spattering of black.

Like Beatriz, he had an idea of what they were.

"Chryssalid hives," he muttered. "Likely what we're dealing with."

"You have got to be kidding," Cara said in an exasperated voice. "Are you sure?"

"No, because I've never seen one," Duri said, handing Beatriz her rifle back. "Call it an educated guess. Those growths are just large enough for a Chryssalid, and I doubt the aliens are infecting their own vegetation deterrent with some type of viral growth."

"Means there might be Chryssalids out already," Aleksandra stated. "They await."

"Maybe," Duri allowed. "It would explain why the Collective isn't dedicating patrols along the border."

"Are we modifying our objectives?" Cara asked. "The last thing we want to do is trigger a swarm."

"We go up carefully, get some samples, and get out," Duri repeated. "If we hear Chryssalids, we get out. Miguel, move the SHIV up further."

"Moving,"

The SHIV moved close to one of the bell-bodied alien plants, and without warning it spat a yellow mist into the air that floated around it, and one by one all of the same kind of plants erupted little yellow puffs of mist, creating a dense cloud of something that only began starting to dissipate a few minutes later.

There weren't many things it could be. "Poison?" Beatriz asked what they were all thinking.

"We're not going to sniff it," Duri pulled out some of the sampling equipment they'd been given. "But the scientists will want this. Let's get this done now." All of them quickly took some of the tools and samples and approached the line, though taking care not to go too deep into the mist and alien environment, if at all.

Aleksandra and Mana were taking samples of the odd poison plant, Aleksandra cursing as cutting into the plant released stream of sticky fluid onto her gloves, which she dutifully collected in a container. Mana captured some of the mysterious poison. Duri took some soil samples and leaves and branches of other alien plants.

Closer now, he could definitely see the growths were Chryssalid pods. The shape of the alien creature could only just be made out, one which seemed to occasionally twitch, to his eyes. It made him very uncomfortable.

An alien screech roared out in the night. One they easily recognized.

"Get back," Beatriz instructed. "Movement in the distance."

"Moving," Duri confirmed. "Detonate incendiaries."

"Are you sure-" Cara began.

"Do it!"

As they retreated, they tossed the grenades they'd thankfully brought along, and moments later the infested jungle was alight in flames. As it turned out, the Chryssalid pods were very flammable, and immediately caught on fire as the squad retreated. More screeches and Chryssalid roars sounded, much closer this time.

"We got it," Duri said as they rejoined Miguel and Beatriz. "Let's get back-"

Several sniper shots from Beatriz rang out as two Chryssalids had rushed out, still on fire, and promptly shot dead. "Good shots," Duri commended, as more were beginning to arrive, and they risked getting into a conflict they'd eventually be overrun by. "But we need to go."

"Run?" She asked.

"If you've got grenades, use them," he instructed. "Wide dispersal!"

All of them gathered the rest of their explosives and tossed them in various directions towards the alien line. If he was right, Duri hoped the Chryssalids would pursue the noises or at least be too disoriented to follow them. Or not incentivized to hunt them down. "Now we run!"

With the forest burning behind them and the cries of the Chryssalids in the distance, the squad moved away as fast as possible, clinging to their samples that would hopefully give insight as to what the Collective intended to turn their planet into.

As far as Duri saw, it was to turn it into a hostile environment.

And oddly enough, when he came to that conclusion, he wondered if that was among the worst crimes the aliens had inflicted upon them.

Retaliation was due.

---

Betos's Quarters, SAS Command – Nigeria

5/5/2017 – 6:12 P.M.

The coverage kept coming, and it didn't seem to have signs of stopping. Not for the first time Betos wondered if she'd made the wrong decision. In the quest to maybe take advantage of ADVENT caring about their soldiers, they turned it into a campaign specifically intended to demonize her in the most subtle of terms.

Aside from the beginning where Saudia had openly stated that they would be open to an exchange of Collective soldiers and those which had been captured by the SAS, ADVENT had been extremely passive-aggressive in their coverage the rest of the time. Never directly addressing her, but running a number of segments and interviews that made it very clear what they were trying to do.

First had been a long segment on what the Collective did to soldiers they captured, as far as sending the off-world. The analysts were very careful to seem general and state they couldn't confirm everything, but there was a lot of speculation backed with flashes of footage from the Sectoid Hive and the general hopeless nature of the topic.

Relatives of the soldiers were also brought on, and they spoke of their wife, or husband, or children, or friend and some even made general appeals to her personally to at least keep them on Earth and not send them to an alien planet.

Keeper had made it very clear that they were not giving in to ADVENT's demands, describing their actions as an attempt to emotionally appeal to her and how the SAS quite literally received nothing from their proposed agreement and this was simply for ADVENT to appear as if they were doing something. Macula had agreed, and that was effectively settled.

It still wasn't easy to watch. Betos was quite convinced that none of the people she'd subjected herself to watching were faking it. Rationally she shouldn't feel bad, and was mildly angry at how ADVENT was exploiting these people, but she couldn't help it. Not just what the families on Earth were going through, but she suspected that it wasn't too different from what aliens were going through entire star systems away who weren't being shown on TV.

Overall, she felt like a terrible person right now, and very tired.

A knock made her look up and she saw the large frame of Mox peek in. "Betos?"

"Come on in," she sighed, muting the laptop and pushing it away, the newsfeed still playing.

Mox eyed the laptop, then back to her, his eyes concerned. "You really don't need to be watching that. It's not doing you any favors."

Betos shrugged. "I know."

Mox sat on the nearby chair and shut the laptop entirely. "It's bothering you that much?"

"I know it shouldn't be," Betos admitted, rubbing her eyes. "Keeper said it was probably orchestrated directly to target me. Guess that confirms that ADVENT figured me out pretty well. It's one thing to have soldiers die in battle, and another to use them as a bargaining chip. It would have been easier to kill them."

"Your plan was a good idea," Mox reassured her. "Worth at least one try. We can't control ADVENT manipulating everything else to try and turn it to their advantage. Besides, both of us know that the soldiers will be fine. They're not getting shipped off for some experiments on a dark space station."

Betos pursed her lips. "Do we know that?"

Mox appraised her carefully. "Keeper said as much. The Battlemaster also directed that recently as well. It's very unlikely they'll be hurt, even off-world."

"Unlikely," she agreed. "But not certain."

"Nothing is," he said.

"I believe Keeper and the Battlemaster," she finally said. "But there are definitely elements in the Collective that aren't completely trustworthy. Much as Macula likes to dismiss incidents as rogue, there are…more than are normal. And it's not like we can keep track of them. Each one could disappear and I'd never know. Neither would you."

"I don't know if we should be raising that many questions," Mox said carefully. "I don't think the Collective would appreciate the conspiratorial tone."

They probably wouldn't, but Betos wasn't as concerned about that in her tired state. "Doesn't matter. I'm not going to give ADVENT what they want, but I want any POWs we capture under my watch. Either they stay on Earth and we build a prison to keep them in, or the Collective gives us a planet where they can be kept off-world. I'm not going to give them directly to the Collective."

"I don't think Keeper is going to like that," Mox frowned. "Helsa, you should get some rest and think about this rationally."

"Keeper would prefer to be running the SAS himself," Betos snorted. "ADVENT may think I'm an alien proxy, but I'm not. We're not, and if we're as independent as Keeper likes to promise, then we get to break with the Collective line when we think its right. Do you think this isn't one of those times?"

"I don't know…" he leaned in his chair. "I'm more worried you're making a decision like this at the wrong time. You've just subjected yourself to hours of ADVENT propaganda and you're definitely affected by that."

Betos glared at him. "Yes, I'm sorry I'm emotionally affected by seeing a mother sobbing because she thinks her son is going to be sent to die in some alien death camp and I don't actually, positively know if she's wrong about that. Sue me." She stood up abruptly and walked to the window, taking a deep breath.

"Helsa…" he said from behind her before she lifted a hand pre-emptively cutting him off.

"I've heard the pragmatic solution all day," she muttered. "It's the same justification ADVENT would make. Hypocrites. If they could they'd ship all their captives off world to ensure they're unrecoverable. Difference is they'd tell you up front what's going to happen to them. I have no idea what's going to happen if I send prisoners into Collective space. They might be fine, or find themselves in some alien program I have no control over. I'm not going to have that on my conscience."

She turned. "It won't make Keeper or Macula happy, but that's an acceptable price. I've been more than accommodating, and I think it's time they understand that we're not going to give in to every single demand they give."

Betos walked back over to the chair and sat back down, calmer now, though her heart was still beating faster than usual because perhaps for the first time she was in uncharted territory when it came to relations with the Collective. She realized there hadn't been much pushback, and she legitimately didn't know what would happen if she decided that, yes, she was going to refuse their orders.

There was a power disparity she couldn't ignore. Keeper might very well just laugh and do it anyway. He probably would think it was a joke.

But she led the SAS. Not the aliens. Not Macula. Certainly not Keeper.

They were allies, but if they effectively ruled by proxy, then what exactly had she left ADVENT for?

Right. She looked Mox in the eyes. "I know it's not the safest thing to do, but this is the right thing to do. If we don't make it clear, the aliens are going to have free reign and we're selling all these nations lies to get them to sign away their independence. If the aliens want to show their colors now, I'd rather find out than realize we've become ADVENT, only for the aliens. But I want you to help me here. And everyone else too."

He gave a short nod. "Nothing's changed, I just don't want to see something happen to you after all we've gone through. The aliens are dangerous, ADVENT is dangerous, but we didn't have a choice. But we'll follow you, as we always have."

She'd intrinsically known that, but it was relieving to hear it from him. "Good," she breathed. "Get the legislators and officers and tell them to report here. I am getting our policies coded into law within the next few days."

"And if Keeper has an issue?" Mox asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Then he can come talk to me," Betos said as she reached to open her laptop. "My door is always open."

---

Nulorian Outpost, Borelian Wastes – Near Vitiary

5/2/2017 – 10:17 A.M.

Operation was almost a go.

After waiting agonizing weeks to get everything in place, the Nulorian were ready to strike. Nartha gave a nod and smile to Shun as the XCOM soldiers geared up, along with himself. He no longer had Aegis, or even Titan armor like they did, but he had his own protection and weapons. Around them other Nulorian operatives prepared themselves, all silent as they quietly reflected before the operations.

The outpost they were in blended into the snowy backdrop of the Borelian Wastes, but it was far more fortified than most Nulorian outposts. Camouflaged Nulorian operatives patrolled around it, jury-rigged turrets maintained by Siaru were built into the cube-like structure that were more than capable of shooting down investigative Zararch or Collective soldiers.

Miridian himself was here, and standing watch over a small army of analysts and observers who Nartha suspected were also being augmented by Siaru. Though this time he didn't hear the incessant commands that had become ingrained into his memory even weeks later. So much about that experience left him feeling unsettled.

The blasted machine was probably watching him now.

They'd gone over the plan. Most of the day would be reaching the cities, and then at night they would strike. They were to go in, explain if possible, and depending on what was said, get them out, or subdue them and then get them out. From there they would exfiltrate, get back safely, and deal a stinging blow to the Zararch and Aui'Vitakar, complete with an address from Miridian if he was feeling up to it.

All in all, Nartha was very confident in the plan.

"Almost feels like old times," Shun said as she flipped her helmet in her hand. "Seems so long ago."

"It really does," Nartha agreed, checking his weapon. "Back when I had a different name and everyone thought I was Human."

"A shame you probably don't get to tell that story a lot," Shun mused with a light chuckle. "I doubt even most Zararch agents could compare."

"Not quite like that," Nartha confirmed. "I guess I was the right one at the right time."

"Yeah," she agreed. "If it hadn't been you…well," she tilted her head up. "Well, things would probably be a bit different."

He was about to answer when one of the analysts suddenly looked back, his voice oddly concerned. "Miridian, there's definitely something going on."

Miridian wasted no time. "Define 'something going on'."

"There's a global transmission from Vitiary," the analyst explained, motioning to a screen showing something Nartha couldn't see. "Completely global. Borelia. The Manda. Everywhere."

Nartha immediately knew something was up. "That's only happened a few times. And only on scheduled events."

"Agreed," Miridian said slowly. "I think we'll want to see this. Put it on the screen."

Nartha and Shun exchanged a look. "Figures we'd have something happen today," Shun grumbled as the few screens around the room lit up. "We never catch a good break."

"Let's see," Nartha cautioned, as he turned his attention to the event. "I wonder what it could be."

The screen showed a camera fixated on a podium with the backdrop of the Aui'Vitakar building behind it. Standing in the center of the podium was the last person Nartha expected to see. "What is he doing here?"

The other Nulorian were reacting the same way, and Miridian froze, narrowed his eyes, and said something quietly to Sorras who immediately rushed away for some reason. "Who is that?" Shun asked, moving closer to him.

"Eth'astri'than," Nartha answered. "The Speaker for the Elders. Very little is known about him, but if the Ethereals had a direct voice between them and my species, it was him. Though he hasn't had a role in years. Perhaps longer. I thought he'd left long ago."

Two towering Borelian Lurainian were flanking him, and behind him was the entirety of the amassed Aui'Vitakar, also flanked by shining legions of the Runianarch. The stage, for that was what it reminded Nartha of, was bright, shining, and very inviting. The camera panned out to show the absolutely massive crowd which had turned out – and who were clapping and cheering as the Dath'Haram looked over the adoring crowd.

He made a calming motion with his hands, baring his teeth in a smile before removing the spectacles of all things from his face. "Fellow citizens, people of Vitakar, it is my distinct honor and pleasure to stand before you today. To stand before the Aui'Vitakar and our brave soldiers who come from all parts of this planet, and who brave dangers that we can only imagine."

Nartha knew it was only a matter of time before he would go into a spiel of the Elders and how privileged he was to serve them and be their voice.

To his surprise, the Speaker didn't take that path.

"We have faced trials these past weeks," the Speaker said, his voice softening and sympathy coloring his tone; a deceptive melancholy for innocence lost. "News of deaths and sacrifices; word of betrayal from those who we elevated above all else. Stories. Rumors. But as a people we have remained sheltered from the truth, divided and threatened from terrorists and uncertainty."

He unexpectedly smiled. "That must end. But it is time we recognize this truth for what it is. You heard the words of the Elder Aegis and what he claimed. The atrocities and crimes perpetuated by the Collective we stand a part of. Of the brutal war the Humans wage against us. And yet, despite knowing the truth, we are collectively blamed for the actions of others."

"What is he doing?" Nartha wondered aloud. This was not the Speaker he remembered.

The camera was picking up the crowd murmurs and hive-minded agreement. Astri lifted a hand as he continued speaking. "You are being blamed for something you had no part in, or were even aware of. The Humans have…issues…with overgeneralization. They are quick to paint those even remotely associated as evil and guilty as the perpetrators themselves. The Humans do not care about trivialities; they do not see us as of the Aui'Vitakar, a sovereign body of the Collective – they only see that we are part of the Collective, and thus are guilty."

"Liar," one of the XCOM soldiers muttered.

"I say we reject this as a species, completely," the Speaker stated with renewed energy. "We have, for too long, been passive against the troublemakers of the Collective. The Unions squabble and fight amongst themselves and the Sectoids have for years been solely focused on horrific experimentation and development. We have kept our hands clean, but our species is being stained all the same as these malicious actors run amok!"

"He cannot be actually saying this," Nartha said in disbelief. "Why would the Zar'Chon let this happen."

"He's leading to something," Miridian muttered, eyes completely fixated on the screen. "Come on Ethereal puppet, get to the point."

"Yet we lack the necessary unity to push against these species," the Speaker said to a crowd that was growing louder. "Even today we remain divided as a species! Borelian, Oyariah, Vitakarian, Dath'Haram, Cobrarian, and Sar'Manda. We retain our so-called independence, despite it castrating our species on a galactic stage, and we should not be confined to an afterthought, should we?"

The crowd response was a resounding negative.

"It is time the Vitakara evolve beyond racial histories and prejudices," the Speaker continued, now fully taking advantage of the crowd's energy. "We are capable of achieving greatness beyond the Collective. Beyond this world! For years we have been sustained, enhanced, and uplifted by the generosity of the Elders, but we can do more!"

"This guy," Shun said quietly. "Was he always a populist?"

Nartha frowned. "A what?"

She scowled and rephrased her question. "Someone who's popular with people."

"Ah," Nartha looked at the crowd which was absolutely entranced by the Speaker, cheering and clapping at a deafening level, even through the video. "He was always respected and revered due to his position, but…" he shook his head. "Absolutely nothing like this. This would be utterly heretical coming from anyone else. Not even the Zar'Chon could get away with it."

"If that were the case," Miridian noted slowly. "Then how is he?"

"We are a prosperous, enlightened, and powerful people!" The Speaker lifted a fist into the air. "Even now it is our soldiers who are on the front lines against the Humans who wish to subject us to their rule. We are safe from the dangers of the stars for now…and yet, our greatest threat does not come from the Humans, it comes from within."

"Here it comes," Miridian said. "Finally."

"There are a few of our species who wish to see our way of life destroyed," Astri said, his voice lowering. "There are those who refuse to acknowledge the truth that we reject the ways of the past and the barbarity it led to! They are determined to see all that our species has achieved crumble! To see our ambitions shattered and rule over a dystopian apocalypse soaked in the blood of their kind!"

"And there it is," Miridian nodded. "A campaign to act against us. It was only a matter of time."

"I don't like how much the crowd is cheering him on," Nartha said slowly. "And this is being broadcast to the planet. Everyone is seeing this,"

"It is time that we act," Astri shouted. "And end this scourge once and for all!"

"PERIMETER SENSORS INDICATE IMMEDIATE THREATS." Siaru's voice boomed out making several of the twitchy Nulorian jump. "MULTIPLE CONTACTS ARE ON APPROACH TO THIS LOCATION."

"What?" Miridian demanded. "How could they have found us?"

The Speaker continued his speech, his voice having an almost mocking tone to it now, though most of the crowd took it for sincerity. "Even as I speak to you today, our brave peacekeeping forces and the ever-vigilant Zararch are taking direct and immediate action to end this menace!"

"MULTIPLE SAFE HOUSES ARE UNDER THREAT."Siaru continued. "MULTIPLE COMPROMISED LOCATIONS. INITIATE PURGING CONTINGENCIES AND PREPARE TO DEFEND INCOMING HOSTILE ATTACKS. DEFENSES ARE COMING ONLINE."

"How many are coming?" Miridian demanded.

"Six…eight…ten…" someone called out. "There's a lot. There's an army coming our way!"

"How could they know?" One of the Nulorian demanded. "And on this scale?"

"That is a question we ask after we kill them," Miridian stormed over to the armory and grabbed a rifle. "Operation is scrubbed. We defend until Sorras can send the distress signal and we are evacuated."

"You knew this was coming?" Shun asked.

"I knew something was coming when the Speaker went off-script," Miridian answered with a quick glare at the Human. "We have contingencies, but there are only a few ways they could have learned about this place. We talk about this later. Time for your people to prove their worth."

Nartha looked back to the screen, where the Speaker was finishing up, and his final words in the bizarre speech were – to Nartha – ones of foreboding and threat to his blinded kind.

"Rest assured, citizens, that we will be with you throughout this crisis, and when our enemies are defeated, we will usher in untold years of peace and prosperity. Together, we will forge a new age of the Vitakara, one which will stand beyond our planet, but make a legacy in the stars itself."

---

ADVENT Air Force Base, Ramstein – Germany

5/4/2017 – 11:02 A.M.

Fear.

First it came as a shock, then overwhelming like a wave.

Patricia stepped through a portal and directly in front of a young hapless ADVENT guard who barely managed to squeak before she snapped his neck with a thought and threw his partner into a nearby building with enough force to shatter her skeleton. Nearly everyone else nearby froze, not sure what they were seeing.

The fear was tinged with confusion; thoughts swirling in internal maelstroms.

Is this happening?

Is that her?

I need to wake up now!

She's bigger than I thought she'd be.

What is she doing here?

There was one thought that she found repeated in some fashion.

I'm going to die.

That they were.

But these were soldiers, and well-trained soldiers. Even in spite of their crippling fear, they raised their weapons automatically and began firing. The civilians ran away or picked up things to throw at her. Patricia lifted a hand, palm flat as the gauss rounds froze before her as she lazily looked around.

A target rich environment.

At one time, she would have waited and slowly subverted their minds from afar, turning them against each other over a long period of time. She lacked the necessary skill to defend herself at that time. There was a time of subtlety, of course, but many other times it wasn't required. But she was no longer that woman.

These soldiers could not touch her.

Not anymore.

The maelstrom of thoughts and palpable fear that coated the intangible Psionosphere around her grew, and was now spreading throughout the base. They were not prepared, and admittedly, why should they be? An attack here wouldn't be able to accomplish anything permanent? Not to mention it wasn't even on the radar of the Collective.

Not hers either, admittedly, but a random one she'd chosen.

The first of many to fall by her hand.

She waved a hand. "Panic."

A simple command with unpredictable results. More than sufficient for her. Simply by stepping out into their proximity she had anchored herself in their minds, burrowing to a level where they could not defend themselves properly. There were some psions here, but they were incapable of stopping her. They lacked her skill, and more importantly, her power.

Panic.

Panicked soldiers were dangerous. A panicked soldier was turned from a killer to an unpredictable killer. Their vision focused; their bodies went on autopilot. They lost motor control. Everything and everyone around them became a threat. Friend or foe meant nothing as their reason faded and sheer animal instinct took over.

Patricia let the floating projectiles fall as the soldiers around her started shooting at everything and everyone around them. Civilians screamed and ran around incoherently, the panic pushing some into full retreat mode while others simply shut down and curled up on the ground, sobbing before they were gunned down by equally panicked ADVENT soldiers.

A few still focused on her, but she barely paid them mind as she began her march into the base. A waved hand or clenched fist sent them plowing into buildings or objects with lethal force, or their body was crushed into unrecognizable pulp. The people of course were only a portion of the targets, as the infrastructure would also need to be taken care of.

The more ADVENT was forced to invest, the more they didn't have for other plans.

Psionic maelstroms manifested as Patricia walked her path of destruction, ripping entire buildings apart and flinging concrete, wood, and metal in all directions, killing whoever happened to be bystanders – or whoever was inside to begin with. Office buildings, warehouses, and housing was destroyed with a thought.

Still as she walked, some continued to attack her in futile attempts.

It was almost amusing, if it wasn't rather irritating. The pop and sound of gauss rifles were like gnats and pestering insects fluttering around her, incapable of touching her, but deluded enough to think they could make a difference, or too stupid to realize what they were doing. Unlike gnats, she did not ignore them.

Bodies were crushed; lightning caused explosive results; several were bisected from a barrier she created between one of them. Each step she took she killed. A trail of bodies that were directly by her hand followed her path as she annihilated the infrastructure of the base and left tanks, planes, and other machines in crumpled and flaming wrecks.

It almost turned into a haze of death and destruction for her, a curious realization of invincibility and power that she hadn't experienced in some time.

It felt good. She was overdue for a break.

Soldier, civilian, man, woman, child, at least one of each attempted to be the one hero – or more likely were overwhelmed with panic – to try and take her down. These were not rational people, but such was the cost of the war ADVENT wished to wage. Patricia was vaguely aware of the alarm which had sounded and knew that sooner or later someone would be dispatched to deter her.

For now, at least, it was too late.

She cocked her head and listened. Gunfire sounded in the distance, as did screams and gibberish. ADVENT would be cleaning this up after she left, and there was likely little point in bothering to wipe out each and every one of those who were more focused on their own panic than taking it out on her.

The damage had been done, and ADVENT would be stuck with a bunch of useless soldiers.

This is only the beginning.

Come and stop me.

As the fires burned around her, and bodies littered the ground, Patricia stepped into a portal before her and left the scene of her rampage, only mere minutes before the first of the ADVENT response came.

She idly wondered how they would react.

Likely with some panic of their own.

And then fear would set in.

Because now, nowhere was safe.

---

Home of Runi'sirasis'vitianis, Geneva – Switzerland

5/1/2017 – 9:00 P.M.

There had been several approaches Nemo had considered for removing his target. One would have been luring her somewhere in the open, though that had quickly been dismissed as she traveled with a number of bodyguards – bodyguards who still guarded her house, but didn't follow her inside. As such, they were irrelevant, but while one Vitakarian could be replaced, there were none for the guards.

An investigation would arouse suspicion.

Suspicion that was not needed now.

So the simplest solution was the most obvious. Nemo would simply wait in her place of residence. The cameras were an issue, but they were more than capable of being subverted. The cones of vision had been memorized, and fortunately the specifications and capabilities were publicly available.

Freedom of information was an excellent tool; it remained an open question why the humans didn't see containing it as a priority.

Perhaps they did, and had determined it was impossible.

Objectively, it likely was.

Though mostly because they had allowed this freedom to grow out of control.

Quite curious, as no other species had that problem. Information systems like the Internet were not new, but they were far different in architecture to what the humans used. It was odd how they had started out on the normal path, and yet instead of expanding the capabilities and keeping public access limited, they opened it up.

Well, it certainly made operations easier.

The cameras now were playing on loops with the ADVENT overseers none the wiser, if they monitored this with any degree of seriousness. After all, the Collective had far bigger issues to concern themselves; certainly far more important than one lone Vitakarian woman, even a mildly influential one.

Sirasis's home was modest and plain for the most part. Small, and more reminiscent of an office in places than a home. A kitchen, a board room, a bedroom, all furnished with Human designs and furniture, though there were some art pieces and color schemes that were distinctly Vitakarian. Nemo idly wondered if a number of the defectors had the skill, or if she had recovered them.

A door opened.

She would be coming up soon.

Nemo just stood in a small closet with the door ever so slightly ajar. Enough to see out of. There was a risk that she would spot him, but if she was that close it would not be enough to save her. The cameras would not pick up anything, nor would the listening devices he'd found. Collective tools made detecting such trivial.

She had stepped foot into the place of her death, and each step brought her ever closer.

The thing that was Nemo simply listened; senses far beyond any normal organic being. It heard each step she took, the shuffling of a bag and perhaps some documents which were placed onto the table; it heard a clink of keys that were hung up. It heard her steady breathing and calm heartrate. There was no smell, no indication that she was anything but at ease.

Good.

No reason she needed to suffer.

Merely a casualty of war.

She drew closer to his hiding place, and passed by without a second thought. Nemo heard the guards take their positions outside, and when she was only a few steps from the closet Nemo pushed the door soundlessly out and crossed the distance in seconds. Before she even realized what was happening, Nemo's hands were around her head.

A twist, a pull, and a crack.

She'd never seen it coming.

Quick. Painless. Effective.

He laid the body down, her expression blank; not even surprised by what happened. Her mind hadn't been able to process it. The being wearing her face stood over the victim, wondering if that was a preferential way to die.

Was it better to simply cease to exist without warning? Or to know the cause of your death?

Interestingly, Nemo had a preference.

If it was to die, it wanted to know who had killed it.

Otherwise, it almost felt…pointless. An unceremonious end to a gripping story. A rushed conclusion without purpose. An eternal question. A lack of…

He felt several words on the tip of his tongue. Most didn't seem right, but interestingly, the word fair felt right. A lack of fairness. Of closure.

Nemo almost felt guilt now.

Not for the act.

But that she hadn't died knowing who had done it.

Or why.

A grey-skinned hand reached into the pocket and pulled out a small device that was placed on the chest of Sirasis. Nemo took a step back and activated the device. Black nanites spewed out of the device, and spread throughout her body, slowly consuming her. Nemo watched the morbid process with unblinking eyes until the very last cell had been disposed of.

The nanites went dead, a small pile of dust on the floor.

Without looking, Nemo reached into the closet and pulled out a broom and gave a sharp sweep, scattering the defunct machines to the air. There was the miniscule risk that ADVENT would discover them, of course, but Nemo had little faith such an insignificant event would be its downfall. That was simply not how this story would go, nor did it have an intention of letting it happen any way other than planned.

This is who I am now.

Nemo would fade to control its puppet, and Sirasis would step forward, and she would be a voice of a people who had abandoned their homes and lives for the promise of new ones.

This is what I am.

She would affect change. She would show the world the futility of facing the Collective, but in a more…controlled manner.

When the face of the traitors succumbed to the poison of fear, the rest would follow.

But the downfall must be convincing.

It was a role that promised to be a fascinating one.

Sirasis, or the thing that puppeted her, walked over to the bed and slid into it, intent on getting a pleasant night's sleep.

She had a big day tomorrow.

---

Nulorian Outpost, Borelian Wastes – Near Vitiary

5/2/2017 – 10:54 A.M.

The sun blazed down on the snowy tundra as Vitakara marched upon it, with light winds sending up tufts of snow. The roar of Vitakara troop transports echoed for miles around, and the sight of the silver legions of Runianarch soldiers painted an imposing sight, especially as they were contrasted by the black armor of Custodians interspersed with Sectoid Vanguards.

Plasma fire was already being exchanged from the automated defenses Siaru was commanding, as well as Nulorian soldiers dug into their entrenched positions, determined to kill as many of their hated enemy as possible.

So far, they were holding out.

"Hit the Vanguards!" Nartha called out, and Mehren and Edgar, two XCOM Intelligence agents who had received sniper training coordinated their fire from the roof, forcing several of the Vanguards to hold in place as gauss rounds slammed into their shields. Nartha and Shun fired together, picking off several more hapless Runianarch soldiers who were frantically trying to establish cover.

Vitakarian fighters streamed overhead, and that wasn't good. "Fighters!"

Very rarely were the spacecraft of the Vitakara used – probably because they were not good fighters in what Humans called dogfights, but better at precision targeting. Holding out in a trench wasn't going to matter if a missile eradicated them. "Siaru," Miridian commanded. "Concentrate fire on anti-air defenses."

"TARGETING PARAMETERS RECONFIGURED. HOSTILE NETWORK IDENTIFIED. ENGAGING INFOWAR ATTACK."

"What does that mean?" Shun asked as she ducked behind the metal barrier, they'd taken up cover behind.

"It means he's going to make their lives difficult," Nartha assumed as he laid down some covering fire against several Borelian soldiers. "I hope."

The Custodians suddenly froze or slowed their movements. Runianarch soldiers who had helmets also suddenly stopped shooting, shaking their heads or holding their helmets; some tapping on them as if trying to get rid of something. The Custodians didn't turn on the Runianarch, like what Nartha had hoped, but they were definitely not being used properly.

Out of a morbid curiosity, he turned to a Collective frequency he'd memorized and almost threw off his helmet from the intensity of the mantra being played by their machine ally.

"LEAVE OR BE DESTROYED. LEAVE OR BE DESTROYED. LEAVE OR BE DESTROYED. LEAVEORBEDESTROYED. LEAVEORBEDESTROYEDLEAVEORBEDESTROYEDLEAVEORBEDESTROYED."

It was played over and over in the voice of a mechanical monster, at the highest volume possible until the words blurred into one coherent roar that stayed in your head far longer than it should. Even as Nartha turned the noise off, the voice still echoed in his head. It made him feel exposed; vulnerable, he could only imagine what the soldiers who couldn't get rid of it as easily felt.

"Kill them now," Miridian ordered, and this time the barrage of fire was far more successful, dropping entire lines of Runianarch soldiers, as Siaru used the emplacements to deter the Vitakara fighters in the skies. None were shot down, but they were keeping their distance.

Then suddenly the Custodians reverted to normal.

"SELF-OBFUSCATION PROTOCOLS INITIATED. RETREAT ADVISED."

"What?" Was Siaru abandoning them now? He and Shun exchanged a look, faces obscured by their helmets, their surprise and dismay could be felt.

It all made sense a few seconds later.

"Well, isn't this interesting!" Quisilia stepped out of a portal, flipping a black dagger in the air.

The Ethereal observed the bunker, almost bemused. "I've been anticipating this day for some time. You could not run forever, Miridian." He zeroed in on Nartha. "Or you either, traitorous Zararch."

He flashed and suddenly he was in the Nulorian lines, blades flying fast as multiple Nulorian were slaughtered in front of him, some by the wicked blades Quisilia wielded, and others by telepathic commands. He teleported to the lone Human psion and killed Yakiv where he stood, barely able to fire off a shot.

"I admit, Nartha," Quisilia said, motioning with a hand and Nartha's weapon flying out of his hands. "You seemed to figure it out in the end. But too little, too late."

Nartha reached for a pistol and Quisilia laughed, telekinetically grabbing Shun and throwing her towards him, sending them both to the slippery snowy ground. "What are you talking about?" He growled. "I guess I should say you figured me out. You allowed a traitor in the highest levels of your ranks and failed to detect him."

"Ah, if only that were true," Quisilia chided, wagging a finger. "Did you really think we were so incompetent as to let you run around the Collective without a purpose? Did you really think we sent you to find traitors on Vitakar, on Desolan, and elsewhere by accident?"

The breath suddenly left him as he stumbled to his feet, a horrible thought taking shape in his mind. "No…you didn't…you couldn't…"

"I find it incredible," Quisilia said, thoroughly enjoying the exchange. "How you thought yourself so special that you thought you could not only outsmart the Zar'Chon, but me. And while I may not be a master of spycraft, I am certainly no fool." He flung his hand forward and one of the blades embedded itself in his chest, creating a stinging pain. "And I am much smarter than you."

He heard Shun scream his name, and he stumbled down to one knee, though he could hear Quisilia's words clearly; words he probably wanted him to hear, mocking him. "How exactly do you think we found all of these Zararch installations? Would you like to hear how the operation on Desolan is proceeding? Quite clever, what you tried to do. And it might have even worked, if you hadn't forgotten one simple truth." Quisilia knelt to one knee, the eyes of the helmet looking into Nartha's own as his hands clutched the blade. "You cannot beat us. The Collective will remain under the watch of the Ethereals, now and forever."

Shun was beside him now, whipping out a medkit as Nartha stared numbly ahead, feeling all semblance of control leave as his world crashed around him.

All of this was his fault.

All the precautions he'd taken, all the times he thought he was being smart, all the risks he'd taken, it had all been pointless, because he'd made the fatal mistake of assuming that he hadn't been compromised from the moment he'd first met the Zar'Chon after arriving from Earth. It must have been there, or soon after.

He'd underestimated their patience, their willingness to suffer defeats.

But he could see very clearly now.

Whatever temporary pain he'd caused, whatever troubles he'd caused, whatever damage he'd inflicted, it paled in comparison to what he offered. A useful pawn who'd gone to the trouble of gathering the internal dissidents of the Collective into one place, or at least given them the information. How much did they know?

Was it all lost?

Looking up at the gloating Ethereal, Nartha decided that no matter what happened…he wasn't, as the late Van Doorn would say, going down without a fight. He held onto Shun, reaching for a rifle. "Are you going to keep talking," he spat out. "Or are you going to finish this?"

"Really?" Quisilia actually sounded incredulous. "I've literally just said your entire little rebellion was completely pointless, and all you can do is taunt me? Do you actually have a death wish?" He looked to Shun holding him up. "What, you want her to die too?"

"He makes a good point," Shun added, voice weak, but firm as she lifted her own pistol. "It's not like you're going to let us live anyway. And I still remember when you were thrown into that wall."

"Wow, I could never have seen that insult coming," Quisilia said dryly, as the weapons were pulled from their hands. "Truly, you two are masters of the word. I'm tempted to keep both of you alive simply because your attempts to be defiant are amusing. You are less than nothing now; your purpose has been served. Live, die, it matters little now. Even if you don't die today, I suspect you won't last long when the Nulorian know that you destroyed them."

His voice turned surprised. "Well now, a new challenger approaches."

Nartha suddenly found himself being lifted up, along with Shun and unceremoniously dropped to the side. He looked to see none other than the Chronicler walk opposite Quisilia, clad in his familiar armor. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Quisilia," the Chronicler said, beginning to glow with blue power. "But I believe you challenged me to a rematch."

"And here I thought you wouldn't accept," Quisilia flipped the weapon in his hand. "And of course, you show up right before I kill more of your people. How convenient. Nonetheless, my job is done. The Nulorian will never recover, and ending today with your death will be satisfying indeed."

"We shall see, Quisilia," the voice of the Chronicler grew layered and deeper. "This time, you will not be saved by chance."

With the last vestiges of his consciousness, Nartha saw the Chronicler blast Quisilia with psionic energy which the Ethereal avoided through an immediate teleport, and then drifted off into unconsciousness, hoping that Shun would be able to get out safely.

---

Tampa, Florida – United States of America

5/7/2017 – 12:12 P.M.

Ground was being lost, and it was going to snowball into the Collective overrunning them soon enough. The Battlemaster had made the proper adjustments as he intended to win the war in a conventional way. Everything ADVENT and XCOM had done to keep him in check was subverted, and counters to the strategies, defenses, and soldiers were brought to bear.

The Commander would have been both impressed and dismayed at the result, if conventional victory was something that they had been working towards.

But standing on a skyscraper, as cold rain poured down upon the miserable battlefield, he breathed a sigh of relief. He had stated that Tampa would not fall…and he would walk away keeping that promise. It had been close.

Very close.

But it was ready.

There were clearly many unknowns; there had been no proper testing on GAIA outside of simulations and models, and so this was the first field test of the technology. They were relying an uncomfortable amount on luck and trusting that the developers and JULIAN had been able to make the nanites do what they wanted.

The developers were exhausted, but confident. Nearly a thousand men and women had worked around the clock testing iteration after iteration, from ADVENT and XCOM alike, knowing that one poorly written line of code or ill-defined parameter could turn GAIA from a weapon of salvation into one that would consume not just the aliens, but the state itself.

Well, somewhat. If needed, the entire project had a kill-switch, but if they had to use it, Florida was effectively doomed, as was a good portion of the southeast United States.

They were not quite taking that large of a risk.

JULIAN had the advantage of being able to devote himself fully to the project, not needing things like sleep or food, though the downside was that his limited processing power meant he could not assist in a significant capacity beyond the occasional conversation – and sometimes JULIAN simply didn't want to talk, so absorbed was he in ensuring GAIA would work.

What had been highly interesting was hearing from developers – primarily through Vahlen and Jackson – how JULIAN had gone from a very sarcastic and deriding manager of the project into almost appreciating his 'human assistants' as he so generously put it by the end. Initially JULIAN had believed he could do most of the work himself, without significant Human assistance.

If he'd had a month of uninterrupted time, it was likely true, but they had definitely not had that time. All working together, they'd finally done it.

"GAIA is ready, Commander," JULIAN stated proudly into his earpiece, one of the first times he had imitated the emotion, the Commander noted. "Please launch at your command."

"He certainly has a flair for the dramatic," Laura muttered, standing beside him, hair wet and sticking to her neck. The Commander half-believed she was only standing out in the rain so she wouldn't fall asleep from sheer exhaustion trying to limit the casualties while also buying as much time as possible for GAIA to be finished.

"That he does," the Commander agreed. "Especially since he could technically start it himself whenever he wanted."

"Most certainly, Commander, but I wouldn't deprive you of the chance to press a button and congratulate yourself for the outcome despite not actually doing anything," JULIAN quipped. "Aside from killing aliens, of course. But anyone could do that."

"Touching, JULIAN," the Commander retorted dryly. "But it also relies on you and your team doing your job correctly."

"I have full confidence in what my subje-my Human assistants along with myself have accomplished," JULIAN said. "Now stop wasting time and push the button."

The Commander picked up a small black fob he'd set on the railing. Manufactured by JULIAN, it absolutely did not need to exist, but as Laura had said, he had a flair for the dramatic, and privately the Commander could see the appeal to pressing a simple button to end the fighting. It wasn't quite a win button, per se, though it effectively functioned like one. For some reason, there was a large bold F stamped onto the center of the button.

The Commander wondered what it meant.

Probably something from the Internet. JULIAN reminded him of Quisilia sometimes, though fortunately this time he was on their side.

Here we go. The Commander pressed the button, then stepped forward, and watched.

---

Tampa, Florida – United States of America

5/7/2017 – 12:18 P.M.

Victory was close enough that Ivan could practically taste it. The ADVENT armies had defended themselves adequately, but they could not hope to win against the might of the Collective – nor could they stand against him. With the Battlemaster's own Harbinger out of the picture, he had stepped up in a far more impactful way.

Fighting with swords and in person was all well and good, but it was…limited.

And dangerous.

Truthfully, that Yang had almost died had ultimately been a net positive both for the war effort, and himself. The Battlemaster was no longer distracted by her, and focused on the offensive which had gone far better now. Likely because Ivan was finally able to utilize his extensive talents more openly. Largely because the Battlemaster needed another force multiplier, and he could fulfill it far better than Yang.

And unlike her, he would not needlessly throw himself into danger. There were a few thousand soldiers between him and ADVENT, and that was how it should be. He was more useful behind the lines, providing constant mental attacks against ADVENT. Not all of them succeeded of course, and the more ADVENT was pushed back, the more difficult it became to penetrate their minds.

There was something blocking him. Sometimes it was clearly psions who he was able to brute-force through, but other times it was…something else. Possibly T'Leth, but Ivan wasn't completely sure, but it felt distinctly alien and…old. There was an unsettling quality around it, one which he admittedly didn't want to push against more.

It was like putting a hand into slime. It wasn't necessarily harmful, but it was unpleasant.

Still, all of that was soon to be behind them. Victory was close at hand.

He extended his mind to the ADVENT defenders once again, though this time noticed something peculiar…a rush of conflicting emotions. Desperation, concern, fear, all of those he had felt before and throughout the conflict, but now added onto it was a sharp surprise and it was amplified by the Runianarch soldiers and simple-minded Mutons.

Ivan frowned to himself.

Odd.

An XCOM squad? It wouldn't surprise him, as there had been many instances. Yet this wasn't just affecting the area he was observing; a quick check of the minds around him picked up growing pockets of surprise morphing into fear, then panic, and it was growing faster and faster. What could possibly be going on?

Against his better judgement, Ivan disconnected himself from his mental assaults, and opened his eyes, trying to get a sense of what was going on. Within his shelter, he heard nothing, and quickly walked outside and froze in surprise by what he saw. Runianarch soldiers were running away, while Mutons were firing down a street at a black mass that was inching towards them.

No, not a mass; not some kind of sludge. It looked like dust of all things, yet was accompanied by a mechanical clicking sound. The corpses and rubble it moved over were consumed as if a swarm of hungry ants had gone over it. Plasma fire was taking out chunks of the mass, yet like water it flowed back together into a seamless whole.

Nanites.

Ivan blinked.

How? How had they gotten in? ADVENT didn't deploy nanoweaponry like this!

ADVENT had a working doctrine on nanoweapons. Zararch operatives had confirmed as much. Nanoweapons were a last-resort weapon, and even then, there was heated debate over what the scope should be. Safeguards like limited operating time or limited parameters were always employed. This simply shouldn't be happening. The nanites should dissipate at any moment.

But…they weren't.

If anything, the black swarm was growing stronger.

"Behind!" One of the Vitakara yelled, and Ivan spun around and saw that more nanites were approaching. He suddenly had a terrible, sinking feeling that they'd been tricked. ADVENT had somehow laid a trap for them, which they'd taken. They'd seeded the city with nanite bombs and activated them when they were on the cusp of victory.

He'd been right. The ceasefire had been a ruse for ADVENT to pull this off.

"This is the Battlemaster to all Collective forces," the Battlemaster suddenly sent over the channel. "Immediately retreat to the nearest Gateway or landing station for evacuation. Cleanser Ships are moving in for EMP cleansing. Only use wide-area energy and explosive weapons to delay nanite pockets. Arms fire is insufficient."

And this is your fault, Ivan thought bitterly as he decided it was best to run away. Not glamorous, but a telepath could unfortunately do nothing against nanites, and he had no explosives at his disposal…not that he would have used them. He knew better than to think that would be enough to defeat something like this.

The battle lines had broken down this far from where the fighting was supposed to be, and it was effectively controlled chaos, with no steady direction or plan. Everyone was just trying to survive. To go the opposite direction of the nanites that seemed to be coming from everywhere, and that was when Ivan realized that there was a problem.

He didn't know where the landing zones were. Or even some of the Gateways.

He hadn't considered those important to learn, because why would he need to know that? There were no shortage of individuals who were able to escort him, though now he was deeply regretting that gap in his knowledge. He had severed the connection with the Overmind when he'd ceased his attack, as otherwise it was too distracting, though now he considered activating it again…

But if he did, he might become paralyzed and definitely die to the nanites.

He took a steady breath. He could find his way to the landing zone. He was certainly not going to die here. Certainly not to…nanites of all things. But where to go? All the soldiers were running in different directions, and to make matters worse, the nanites could be down any street or any alleyway. Ivan vaguely remembered a place where a landing pad might be, and charged off in that direction, not caring if the specifics were sketchy.

"Where is the landing zone!" he demanded to a stuttering Vitakarian who pushed him away in a panic and ran forward.

"Where!" Ivan roared, eyes glowing purple and deciding to not waste time and went directly into the hapless alien's mind, only to remember that it was an alien mind, and those he was less familiar with. "Useless!" he spat, leaving the stunned alien in place while moving forward, a quick glance behind saw that the nanites were moving forward like a creeping plague.

The storm was picking up wind, and it was blowing some of the nanites around like dangerous, toxic dust that could kill with a single grain. The illogical parts of Ivan's brain were firing off, desperately wondering why the nanites weren't shorting out if it was raining so hard. There were many more audible screams as aliens were caught in the nanite swarm and torn apart.

Speed was paramount, but Ivan was now afraid it wouldn't be enough, as wherever he turned, eventually he saw wisps or streams of the black nanites who threatened to consume him. His path became haphazard, and turning from a vague memory into going wherever it seemed safe. The walls felt like they were closing in, and he was soon lost, with no path in sight, and the screams sounding all around him.

Then it happened.

He turned into an alley, and it was a dead end.

He quickly turned around, and walked back out to see nanite streams coming in from both directions. There was no way out. It was…almost absurd how it had come down to this. This was not supposed to be what happened. There needed to be some way out of this; some path to his survival. Inside one of the buildings?

No, he wouldn't be able to get in fast enough, and it would essentially trap him. Get on the roof? Maybe! He spotted a dumpster propped against the alleyway, and above – very far above – was a window ledge. He might be able to jump up to it and pull himself in. Well, he didn't have a choice. He had some genetic enhancements, but it certainly wasn't to the level of Patricia or Yang, something he was truly regretting now.

Heart pounding, he jumped onto the dumpster and with the buzzing and clicking of the nanites behind him, knelt down and jumped as high as he could. His fingers gripped the slick ledge; one he almost missed, but he managed. He let out a sigh of relief as he just hung there, out of the reach of the nanites below him.

Alright, he had done the first step, now-

His grip slipped. One hand fell down, and soon Ivan found himself falling and landed directly onto the dumpster, knocking the breath out of him, which was immediately replaced by terror. He pushed himself up to the dumpster, and for a brief moment thought he was safe, as the nanites swarmed underneath, seeming to sense he was there.

A pinprick jolted his leg. Instinctively he reached down and swatted it. A dozen more appeared on his legs, and he knew it was too late. Complete panic took over as he tried slapping his legs, maybe thinking to kill them with kinetic force. He hastily tried pulling off his boots and pants to get to the nanites directly, but as his legs became fire, his incessant slapping somehow transferred the nanites to his hands, and started eating away at them as well.

Blood was starting to trickle down his leg from the holes torn open by the nanites, and a burst of wind blew hundreds more onto him, directly onto his face and chest. He had kept from screaming thus far, but this was impossible to stay quiet on, and he no longer cared who would hear him. Ironically, opening his mouth simply allowed several nanites into it, which began eating his tongue and throat, and his eyes soon turned to mush as they were eaten away.

Vision faded.

His legs gave way.

Perhaps a finger had fallen off?

Perhaps his tongue?

There was too much pain. Too much stimulus.

He fell off the dumpster, surprised he'd been able to stand for so long. He fell into the waiting machines, machines he could swear lusted for his blood and flesh. They hungrily covered every inch of his body and ripped it apart piece by piece, molecule by molecule. Ivan Smirnov did not last long before his body was consumed.

When the swarm dispersed, there was nothing.

He was far from the only one.

When ADVENT walked through the streets, they saw no bodies. They saw no carnage.

Had many not held the brutal and traumatic memories of the weeks-long conflict they had participated in, one might wonder if there had even been a battle at all.

---

To be continued in Chapter 58

"Conspiracies and Coronations"

---

A/N: So a couple of things to add on here. First is that I recently began writing a supplementary piece for LogicalPremise for his OSABC series, specifically on the Citadel, check that out if you're interested. Second thing is that I'm putting it out there that if anyone is interested in maybe writing something within the context of this series (i.e. a short story, guest XCOM File, etc.) let me know. I've already found some people I'm working with and you might see some new stories written by them in the future.

Thanks as always for reading!

- Xabiar