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.

69. Under the Black Sun

Under the Black Sun

---

ADVENT HQ – Switzerland

6/28/2017 – 2:41 P.M.

An oppressive silence matched the darkness that was now upon Geneva. The teams responsible for setting up had been forced to scramble to acquire lighting for the venue, set it up, and test to ensure there weren't technical mishaps. The media had scrambled together to wait for a nighttime speech.

There'd been talk about simply canceling the speech, or moving it to an indoor venue. Saudia had refused, since she was certain the Collective wanted that to happen. She could handle a delay, so long as a timetable was given to the people waiting. Let them come back in a few hours as if nothing had happened.

The time had allowed for a few other developments to take place. Most importantly, it had allowed her to be appraised of the situation. Numerous attacks had been launched; a Hiveship had appeared over Earth, and Turkey was being invaded – which was, in the words of Christiaens, 'Very, very bad.'

Bad indeed, if the reports she remembered both on the Middle East Legions, and Turkey were accurate. The Collective couldn't have picked a better target, nor a better time when so many assets were tied up defending territory all around the world, and carrying out Scipio. Everyone was being scrambled to defend, both along European, Caucasus, and Middle Eastern borders.

It was expected that vast swathes of the Middle East would fall. The preliminary numbers the Collective was bringing to bear were obscene. Millions of Mutons alone were descending upon Turkey – who had apparently corrupted several officials, and vast swathes of the Turkish military were standing down.

Ankara and Istanbul had fallen. Collective Transports had captured every major Turkish city in a highly coordinated invasion. It would be impressive, if it didn't highlight how bad the next few days would be. More bad news was coming. Patricia was making a concerted push further into Korea. Senorium had been spotted again in Vietnam. Scipio was coming up on its first real test. The West Coast of America was also coming under assault again; the Second Guardian had reemerged as the leader.

Similar eclipse-like situations had cropped up all over the world. Seoul. Utah. Riyadh. It hadn't taken ADVENT long to figure out the likely cause. Some kind of shroud had been erected; images showed it being held up by Sectoid scout craft, far away from Earth, but positioned perfectly to block sunlight towards a very specific area.

It was not something that was well-defended, expensive, or necessarily advanced, but there was no immediate response to it. They didn't have enough missiles or weapons powerful enough to break through the atmosphere to destroy it, and there was speculation that they were going to need something more dangerous than a single bullet to cause a rip. It was likely that the shrouds had some kind of nanite repair system, since, if that didn't exist, space dust and debris would already have ruined it.

She expected that ADVENT Engineering would have a solution for her soon.

For now, though, it was a cute trick. But darkness alone was not going to deter her.

The entire Geneva Legion had been mobilized, from the lowest squads to the PRIESTs assigned. ADVENT Intelligence was swarming the city. Lines of ADVENT soldiers stood throughout and around HQ, as well as before the podium where she would have given her speech. HQ had been locked down before, but Saudia knew now that nothing short of the Battlemaster himself could breach it.

What was to be a single, brief speech before her day moved on had turned into a display of Human unity. Every single major ADVENT official, from Tygan, to Stein, to Powell had come, as well as the Commander of XCOM. Gateways permitted transport at a speed that was truly lifesaving.

It was exceptionally odd to stand in darkness so oppressive that, without light, it was almost impossible to see, while the temperature felt largely as would be expected from a normal afternoon. It had noticeably cooled off slightly – but nothing like what it should be. Odder was that she could see exactly where the veil ended, far off into the distance, beyond the city.

The speech she had planned would have to be adapted.

With the high ADVENT Officials and the Commander assembled behind her, she prepared herself. She looked out into the sea of media faces, all of whom were grim, controlled, and respectfully silent. The cameras rolled and flashed, clicks and beeps of the machines as the world watched – and those beyond it.

Patricia would doubtlessly be watching.

Almost disappointing. Saudia wondered if the traitor really expected her to be put off by this.

Then again, this wasn't something targeted at her, it was targeted at the people.

"The symbology of what is being attempted is not something to be downplayed," she began after a few moments. "Today is the day ADVENT emerged, and declared our intent to unite Humanity against the alien threat. In that one year, we have secured much of the world under our control. We have killed an Ethereal. We have overcome a plague. We have won battle after battle against the aliens. We have made technological breakthroughs that were considered science fiction mere months ago. We field psions capable of matching the Ethereals. We have become what the Collective has feared the most – a threat."

There was more, of course. T'Leth came to mind, but that was not something to reveal right now, if ever.

She pointed upwards. "And this is how they respond. They take away our sun. Not over a country. Not over a continent. Over cities. It is fitting, I believe. It showcases exactly what they are. An illusion. A looming shadow that threatens to scare and oppress, but that is all it is. Toothless. Weak."

"Look at what we have achieved in merely a year – and the Collective thinks that blocking the sun will break us? That it will scare, intimidate, and threaten us?" Saudia shook her head. "No. Like countless other times in our history, we will adapt. The situation has been under control. We did not plan for a night-time speech, but we adapted. What exactly was accomplished? Was it to disrupt us? Frighten us? If that was the intent, I do not believe that the Collective – or the one who ordered this – knows our species as well as they think."

"This is the action of an enemy that knows that it is running out of options. We were never supposed to be able to withstand their vaunted machines and psionic masters. Yet, we have defied them again and again and again. Every single action they have taken, we have responded with equal fervor. For every soldier who falls, a dozen aliens fall with them. For every defeat, we extract a heavy cost. They are becoming afraid that we cannot be conquered. Not truly."

Perhaps a time to play a bit with the Imperator's Harbinger. "If the Imperator and his cohort were as powerful as they believed, they would have ended this war. The Imperator was said to be powerful enough to dominate planets, and yet where exactly is he? Hidden away, out of fear, or perhaps disinterest. He works through his puppet, because he knows if he came personally…he would risk his own life."

"The Imperator is no ruler worthy of any followers. He is content to spend the lives of his brethren, his alien subjects, for a goal of conquest, if such is even his goal. What he assuredly thought would be an easy victory has forced him into a conundrum. He knows that he cannot win, not truly, yet, his pride will prevent a withdrawal."

"We are far from the only ones to see this. Each day aliens desert and surrender. They have said they will not die for an apathetic leader, nor for a war they do not have a stake in. Many of them no longer know what they are even here for. Victory, but for what purpose? 'Why are we attacking the Humans at all?' Why indeed, and that question has yet to be answered."

She allowed a moment for pause. "Do not let this drama distract you from the truth. As we speak, Legions have descended upon the traitorous Sovereign African States, who are dominated by the Ethereal mastermind Macula. We have already achieved significant success, and our victories will send a message to any who throw their lot in with the aliens. You cannot be Human and side with those who seek our subservience. We are the arbiters of our own fate. Not aliens. Not coalitions. Certainly not Ethereals."

"The world has been faced with a choice over this past year. Many have chosen to stand with us, as a united species, and, together, we have built a world superior to the one before it. Our citizens are prosperous, healthy, and taken care of like never before. Crime has been stamped out completely and totally. Corruption at all levels of government has been purged. We have eradicated the last gasps of the old, corrupt, and vile system that sought to oppose true unification. There is only one legitimate Human authority on Earth, and it rests not in the hands of corporations, corrupt governments, or criminals, but of guardians, whose purpose is to serve and protect the people. That is what ADVENT is."

Her voice lowered. "There is no ambiguity as to which is the right side. There is only us, and the Collective. The neutral have chosen a side, though they lie to others and their citizens. Apathy is death in a war for our survival. The Sovereign African States will serve as a testament to the results of the decision to sell out your species for personal power."

"This is what the Collective fears. They fear Humanity united in the face of overwhelming opposition. They fear what we are capable of, because they have seen what we can do. I will say to each of you: do not fear. ADVENT will not falter, and neither should you. The shroud which flies overhead will be torn apart, and the aliens who are now attacking our cities will be slaughtered. Earth will be defended."

Perhaps a little prelude to come now. She smiled. "What do they also fear? What comes next. What happens when their invasion fails. When the numbers become too overwhelming. When the next Ethereal dies. They will fall back, and they will hope that we do not follow, but no matter how far they flee, we will follow."

"We will pursue the Collective into the stars and we will strike. We will invade their worlds. We will topple their governments. We shall grasp the heart of the Collective, and scatter it to the solar winds. The Ethereals will drown in the blood of their own soldiers. Retribution for their crimes is coming, and they fear it."

She removed her hands from the podium, and then clasped them behind her back. "No matter what happens, no matter how many soldiers' lives they spend, no matter what threats they make, no matter what must be sacrificed, ADVENT will not abandon you. We will not surrender. We will observe, adapt, and win. Divided we fall, united we stand."

One hand over her heart.

One echoed by all those in attendance.

Another speech done.

Now she had work to do.

---

Captains Quarters, Joseph Ray Shannon - Bay of Guinea

6/24/2017 - 8:00 PM

Grand Admiral Kamila Malone appraised him with an opening nod. "Congratulations are in order for your victory, Admiral."

It was a few days late, but better late than never. The Grand Admiral had no shortage of work, after all. "Thank you, Ma'am," Admiral Grady answered, returning the nod. "I've had some of our ships perform sonar scans of the sea bed to try and get a tally for the casualties, allied and enemy alike. We've finished rescuing the last of our sailors, and even managed to take some Andromedons prisoner."

An eyebrow raised in response. "How did you manage that?"

A smile played on his lips. "It turns out that when they are trapped in a disabled ship under the ocean and surrounded by submarines and surface ships, they are remarkably reasonable."

She gave a brief laugh at that. "I suppose that fits in with what we know of them. They are a rather cautious race, and seem to dislike unplanned risk. I suppose if the alternative is to die helpless and alone, they would prefer to surrender."

"Evidently so. In any case, we've managed to locate a few Andromedon submarines that are largely intact and semi-functional. They're tough, but enough torpedoes and you can knock them out with sheer concussive force. Tell the Chancellor she can expect quite the haul from this. The alloys alone could probably build you a small fleet."

"I'll pass that along. Though, considering numerous ADVENT parties and agencies will be all clamoring for them, I don't expect the navy will get much…" she said brusquely, trailing off.

"Oh, I know. I've taken the liberty of salvaging a few plates here and there to patch up my ships and grabbing whatever usable tech we can reach before heading off. All with the requisite paperwork filled out, of course. There will be a paper trail if Oversight comes calling."

"I would appreciate not having to explain to Watkins why a few tons of salvage vanished. Moving forward, what have you decided to do next?"

"Undetermined. I'm afraid the battle, while definitely a win, did unfortunately cost us."

"Ah yes, the carriers. Any changes?"

"I'm afraid not. I've asked our damage control teams to do what they can, but in order to get the flight decks operational we would need a harbor. We just don't have the equipment or the materials to fix this kind of damage. Ordinarily, I would send them back to an allied dock, but then I'd need to send an escort to protect them. If the Collective have any sense, they'll swarm all over anything that leaves the safety of the fleet and chip away at us from the air. I am instead considering nearer...alternatives."

"Such as?"

He took a moment to organize his thoughts. "My mission here is to raid the SAS coastline and support amphibious landings for the purposes of further degrading the enemy and clearing the way for approaching ground forces as best we can. My thought was, why not kill two birds with one stone? Attack and occupy an SAS coastal city with the necessary industrial and maritime infrastructure, then repurpose them to repair the fleet."

A brief pause. "Unfortunately, the most obvious targets are heavily defended, and while I am confident I could take any of the targets I am considering, the facilities I am after would likely be damaged in the attack. That would potentially delay the repairs and also leave us stuck either staying and guarding the disabled ships for an undetermined length of time, or leaving them and hoping the Collective won't try to take it back. I'm not willing to bet on them being that stupid though." He sighed. "I may just have to cut my losses and scuttle the ships".

Admiral Malone was pensive for a time, and seemed to be mulling something over.

"Ma'am?" He inquired politely after a few seconds, curious about what she was thinking.

"A moment, Grady, let me check something."

She seemed to be looking something up off-screen. Ordinarily, he might have been annoyed, but he knew better than to show it to a superior officer. Differences in rank dictated he wait patiently until he was either called on or dismissed. Thankfully, Grand Admiral Malone struck him as a no-nonsense type and he trusted her not to waste his time. ADVENT may have largely preserved pre-invasion military culture, but it valued skill as much as experience, and one skill they saw as especially crucial for the higher ranks was the ability to work with people from disparate cultures, backgrounds, and service branches - a sentiment he wholeheartedly agreed with.

"Ah, here it is, thank you for your patience," she returned her attention to him. "Since you are in need of both a target and a place to perform repairs I recalled a piece of intel XCOM passed along a short time ago."

"XCOM has an intelligence service?"

"Apparently so. Tell me Admiral, are you familiar with Equatorial Guinea?"

"I believe it's a small non-aligned nation neighboring the SAS on the African coast?"

"Formerly non-aligned. They recently accepted SAS troops and allowed them to begin occupying important areas."

"So they're an enemy then?"

"Well that's just it, they aren't particularly pleased with their guests. They may have allowed the SAS in, but it was reluctantly, and for fear of being invaded. Supposedly, there was internal disagreement over which path to take, with the President winning out and effectively surrendering. In the context of numbers, it does make some degree of sense. It's a small country with an unremarkable military, limited economy, and no lasting defense agreements."

She shook her head. "Anyway, according to XCOM, certain parties would much prefer the SAS gone, and some within their government, such as the Prime Minister and his allies, are very open to joining ADVENT as a means to secure themselves against the Collective. Even the average civilian seems unhappy with the SAS, or, rather, their alien allies. Tensions between local civilians and Collective forces are fairly high."

"Interesting. Is there anything more to this?"

"Yes. While the country is primarily on the mainland, a good portion of it is actually off the coast, including the capital city of Malabo, on the island of Bioko. A port city."

That got his interest, and he started looking up the specs of the harbor on his computer, though soon frowned. "It has a port, yes, but it's fairly small, and just barely deep enough for my carriers. I don't think there's a dock there that could even accommodate them."

"It may not be ideal, but the SAS and Collective presence there is light, and the locals would likely be supportive of an invasion. Satellite imagery and XCOM reports also show two active Collective Gateways inside the SAS base by the harbor."

Now that certainly made it a more appealing target. "Any barrier generators?"

"None, and only a few defense batteries. Nothing your fleet can't handle. If you can get there fast, you could take the Gateways and use them to set up a supply line with us. We'll get you what you need for your repairs and do what we can to fortify the harbor. It should serve as a decent staging area and resupply point for operations against the mainland. I imagine you're in need of ordinance?"

"Yes, mainly AA missiles, torpedoes, and new planes." He grunted. "We didn't use any ballistic missiles though, so it should be a simple matter to destroy the defenses. But what's to stop the Collective from destroying the Gateways?"

"You'll just have to do your best to secure them early. If need be, we could probably transport repair personnel and equipment by air to get them up and running again after the battle, or to set up new ones."

Easier said than done. The Gateways would have to be secured by ground forces, and they wouldn't arrive until after the defences had been knocked out by his ships. If the gateways did take damage and had to be repaired, then that meant sending a heavy transport plane to offload supplies and personnel. It would be a long flight, and. without protection, the plane would be easy pickings for the Collective. Granted, he had enough fighters to escort them the last leg of the journey, but not all of it. And even if everything went well, it would still be a somewhat cumbersome affair to repair his largest vessels with the limited facilities present.

"Is this an order, Ma'am?" he asked.

"Consider it a suggestion. If you have a better option I'm all ears."

He didn't, but if he was going to do this, he'd make damn sure he made use of every asset. Failure here would mean delays and having to accept the diminished capacity of his fleet, neither of which he found appealing.

"No, it looks like this is the best option for now, but I would like to request two things before I get started."

"I cannot make any promises, but there's no harm in asking. Go ahead."

"First, would it be possible for XCOM to provide some assistance?"

"You need help?" she asked amusedly.

"Need? No. Want? Yes. It will take time for my forces to land and secure the harbor. I can deploy some by air, but it would definitely help if XCOM could send a squad to capture the Gateways and hold them until the soldiers arrive. Any damage to the Gateways would be inconvenient, and, seeing as XCOM provided the intel, they may have an interest in taking the city as well. The least they can do is follow through."

"Noted, I'll pass it along. And the other request?"

"It's more a matter of clarification, really; do I still have the authority to use the remaining Poseidon Spears at my discretion?"

"I feel that defeats the purpose of capturing the ports, Admiral."

"I'm just asking in case I need them later on. The mainland ports of the SAS will be far more heavily defended than Malabo and there's no telling if the Andromedons will show up again. I'd just like to have the option available."

She let out a sigh. "After the beating you gave them, you'd think they would learn their lesson. Still, I see your point. Very well. I'll have to run it by High Command, but I'll give them my recommendation. You've shown yourself to be responsible and effective thus far, so they should give the go-ahead. I wouldn't expect any more of those though. ADVENT is keeping a tight grip on the nukes. They'll use them if need be, but the nuclear taboo is hard to get over. Is there anything else you wanted to raise?"

"No Ma'am, that is all."

"Very well then. Dismissed, Admiral," she stated, and gave a salute, which he returned, before ending the video call.

It seemed he had an operation to plan...

---

Unknown Location

Unknown Time

He woke up with a groan…and immediately noticed that something was wrong.

The thing he laid on was not his bed.

His eyes snapped open and he realized he was in a cell of some kind. Small. Confined. Definitely for one room. Experience prevented him from panicking, and it certainly didn't take him long to figure out the culprit. A quick check confirmed that he wasn't wearing any of his weapons, and even his medallion was gone.

Problematic, but something he could live without.

Nora.

That was the only reasonable explanation, and also the most confusing one. His senses were good enough to predict any attack, and bringing her back to his place meant that there couldn't have been an attack without him knowing. She was much weaker than him, and he was resistant to drugs…

It wasn't the first time he'd been in a cell, nor would it be the last. For missions like these…they were trained in how to escape. He briefly flexed his fingers, and felt a rush of air at his leg. Good, the Sign techniques would still work, which meant that he could almost certainly orchestrate an escape.

Escape from where was the question. It didn't look like an ADVENT cell, but…

"So, you're finally awake."

He recognized the voice. Partially. Outside of the transparent barrier stood the culprit. Yet she was much different from how she'd been the other night. It was like looking at an animated mannequin, an artificial creation of some kind. It was a face that looked real, but at rest, seemed like a pale imitation.

The voice was also unnerving. It wasn't male. It wasn't female. It wasn't anything. Even a machine would have a more emotive voice. The one she was using was simply dead. He cautiously approached the barrier. "I should have listened to my instincts."

"You should have."

It was just as unsettling hearing it again. He'd never heard anything like it, nor seen eyes as dead as hers. It was bizarre, and he'd never really seen anything like her before. Very interesting…and worth looking into, once he was out of here. "How did you do it?" he wondered aloud, more curious than annoyed. "You shouldn't have been able to."

She reached towards her belt and withdrew a pistol-looking weapon. "After we finished enjoying ourselves, you fell asleep. This weapon is powerful enough to put down a Berserker. There was a risk you could die, but you are not an ordinary Human."

How perceptive. No, I most certainly am not.

Nonetheless, he was exceptionally peeved that he'd been taken down by a stun gun of all things.

"I'll have to remember that," he said evenly. "Where am I?"

"Far away."

"Offworld?"

"Unimportant."

"To you."

"Correct."

"Can you at least give me the courtesy of who you work for?"

"Zararch."

An alien then. How interesting. "You aren't Human."

"Nor are you."

He smiled. "And what do you base that off of?"

"Your medical scan. You are not Human, though have similar genetic sequences."

"And what are you? Vitakarian?"

"Vitakara."

"You're quite talkative."

"You are a mystery."

No doubt he would be. The Hunter clasped his hands before him. "I suppose the next question is obvious – how, exactly, did you find and target me?"

"You were a person of interest to the Zararch. An unknown quantity. It was determined you were worth investigating before ADVENT did."

"And was it worth it?"

"We will soon see."

"I'm sure,"

She cocked her head, appraising him with her dead eyes. "You are confident. Unexpected."

"You have no idea who or what I am."

"We will find out."

The Hunter tapped his head. "Drugs? Psionics? No you won't."

"I question your ability to withstand an Ethereal."

"Is an Ethereal coming to question me?"

"If lesser methods fail."

"Ah, a Sectoid then. Even better."

"You are not a powerful psion."

"So you think, though I can still be dangerous."

He was curious. He didn't think it would work, but it was worth a try. Focusing on her dead eyes, unsettling as they were, he drew her full attention, while he performed the memorized sequence with his fingers. The mental connection was made as the world faded…and immediately slipped away when he felt the first touch of her unfiltered mind.

It was…a void. A nothing. There were things in it, but nothing at the same time. It was a clashing symphony of phrases, words, and structure, but there was no emotion. No, not that, there was an…anti-emotion, almost. Her mind was as dead and hollow as her voice. That kind of thing…it shouldn't exist.

He took a step back.

Now she smiled. "Psions have difficulty utilizing their telepathy against me."

He narrowed his eyes. "You are not an ordinary Vitakara."

"No. And you are not an ordinary psion."

"Are you my minder now?"

"No."

"And yet you are here. Interrogator?"

"Of a sort."

"I'm afraid you won't extract much from me."

"I am learning enough as it is. When one starts with nothing, even small interactions are useful."

She had a point, though she was not going to learn much from him, accidentally or otherwise. "I suppose the question is what happens next."

"You will stay here."

"Clearly."

"You are a psion, so meals will be automated."

"I'm surprised you're not restraining me further."

"If you try to escape, you will fail. You are a unique entity, and possess an unconventional utilization of psionics. This is worth monitoring."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're wanting me to try and escape?"

"Officially, no. The Zar'Chon wants you contained. However, I am curious about your capabilities. I expect you to attempt. I do not expect you to succeed."

"Well," he performed a mock bow. "I will do my best not to disappoint."

"We shall see."

"A word of caution," he said, returning to his small cot. "You had best allow me to escape. If I'm in here too long, then you, and everyone who is aware of my capture here will die. You may be able to capture me. You will not be able to stand against those I work for."

"A Sovereign One?"

He maintained the smile.

"Why share this with us at all?"

"Because I am not your friend or enemy. I am a neutral party in your conflict, and as of now the worst you have done is place me in a cell. Further…" he waved a hand. "Unpleasantness will change that. You do not want me as an enemy."

"You are one man."

"So is the Commander. So is Patricia. Singularity means little nowadays, doesn't it?"

"A considered point."

There was a brief silence. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her motions notably smooth; exact. He wondered what she actually was. Probably some kind of bioproject gone wrong…or right. If they were stupid enough to try and probe his mind with a Sectoid of all things…

They were going to find out exactly why one did not bring a living cognitohazard into an unprotected location.

And like a Viper, the venom would be what caused the kill, if not the bite itself.

One did not tamper with the Sage King's most trusted agents.

Not without consequence.

---

Situation Room, the Praesidium – Classified Location

6/28/20117 – 3:12 P.M.

"How many attacks?"

"In total?" Jackson consulted the holotable, her face set in a grim frown. "The West Coast is coming back under attack. Salt Lake City in particular is being targeted by a deep-thrust invasion. The Second Guardian is leading the assault from initial reports, though the city can withstand…well, withstand a lot."

"Which translates too…?"

"A lot," she emphasized. "The fake eclipse was bad enough, but the Collective accidentally woke all of the Mormons. Salt Lake will have no shortage of manpower."

"Is that so? Good." The Commander consulted the map. "At least the remainder of the North American attacks seem more restrained."

"It'll be costly, but ADVENT can weather this." Creed moved the map to focus elsewhere. "This is our larger problem."

"The Hiveship."

"It was only a matter of time," Aegis said, looking down at them. "ADVENT is not prepared to withstand a Hiveship. Not truly."

The Commander remembered the report ADVENT had detailed, which was remarkably similar to their own. "Not without significant cost. Saudia will be mobilizing the Thunderbirds, but that single Hiveship can single-handedly take on all of the existing ADVENT and XCOM air force."

"What about the Atomic Lances?" Jackson asked.

"She'll definitely use them, but there are two problems," Kong interjected. "First – the Atomic Lance has the power to damage it, but the amount of damage likely won't be enough. Second – ADVENT only has a half-dozen Lances on hand. They're making more, but these are not a weapon which can be used frivolously."

"More importantly, the damage of the Atomic Lances will be mitigated by psionic shields," Aegis pointed out. "I suspect that the Hive Commander in question will be willing to allow limited damage to prevent the drones from being killed from the shock of maintaining the shield. Nonetheless, this will mitigate the effects further."

"So what do we do?" Vahlen scowled.

"Strike team?" Jackson asked.

"Dangerous," Zhang shook his head. "One squad against a Hiveship is dangerous, and a Skyranger will get blasted out of the sky, even if a breach could be forced. Teleportation is also risky, because the Chronicler is indicating that the area is locked down. There are probably Mosrimor Orbs on board."

"Which might be built into the Hiveship infrastructure, making it invulnerable…" Kong noted worriedly, before trailing off at Aegis's dismissive wave.

"The Hive Commanders would not alter their architecture to accommodate a Sovereign One," Aegis explained. "Presuming they are aware of them at all, of which I doubt. It does not matter. The point being raised is a valid one."

"One we need to solve, and fast," the Commander said, appraising the hologram. "Reports of Senorium, Patricia…we're facing powerful individuals in multiple locations. The Chronicler is being sent to contain Senorium, Aegis, I'll need you to make sure Patricia doesn't cut a swath directly to Seoul."

"What about Caelior?" Zhang asked.

"I think he should go to Salt Lake," the Commander said. "That is the easiest theatre to hold, and the Second Guardian is one he can face more easily than the others. Senorium is dangerous, and Patricia can likely match him as the Imperator's Avatar."

"What of the Hiveship? And Turkey?"

"ADVENT will have to manage the majority of this," the Commander said grimly. "Let's see if the Thunderbirds and Lances work – though if they need our Firestorms, we can provide them. Creed, mobilize XCOM squads to support defense efforts, especially the European and Middle Eastern theatres. Especially the Middle East, they'll be hit the hardest."

"I don't imagine the lines will last long," Creed noted.

"Not with that attitude," the Commander shook his head. "Unfortunately…JULIAN, what is the likelihood of the Middle East lines holding?"

"Nearly as likely as Quisilia willingly defecting to ADVENT," JULIAN answered from the speakers. "In numbers understandable for you, just under ten percent."

"I'm surprised you put him so high," Creed muttered.

"The point being that we should prepare to lose much of the region," the Commander said, also unsurprised by the numbers.

"I will also add that this is a scenario where even the victory has friendly casualties over seventy percent."

"There is nothing that you can do to disrupt them?" Jackson asked.

An electronic rasp. "I am currently fending off close to three-thousand concurrent cyber attacks against the Praesidium, and PATRIOT is fending off twice that number. I am afraid that both of us are tasked to capacity. They, unfortunately, anticipated our likely intervention. They will fail to penetrate, but they will occupy our attention long enough to break the Middle Eastern lines."

"Understood, JULIAN," the Commander nodded. "Ultimately, it's a bad situation all around, without getting into Patricia's little psychological eclipse trick."

"You're sure it's her?" Vahlen asked.

"The only one who would come up with something similar is the Zar'Chon, and, between the two, Patricia is the most likely," the Commander answered. "It's largely ineffective outside of making a point."

"Where is the Pantheon deploying?" Jackson asked.

"They're being split up," Creed answered. "Three squads, last I checked. One team to the European-Turkish line, one to help repel Canadian attacks, and one helping with the Salt Lake defense. XCOM is taking the Collective heavy hitters this time, and there are too many major fronts to combine forces."

"Noted, thank you."

There was an element missing that the Commander found curious. "Has there been any word on the Battlemaster?"

There was a slight pause. "No, now that you mention it," Creed said. "I imagine he is likely overseeing part of it."

"But not directly participating," Vahlen finished. "Strange."

"It might not be anything," the Commander said, a hand rubbing his chin. "But he usually is involved in operations like this, at least to a small degree on the ground. His absence is good for us, but unusual. Either this is a deliberate decision, or he is being actively sidelined."

"Both of which are good," Zhang commented.

"Yes, but I'm curious about which one," the Commander said, before shaking his head. "We know what we need to do. Dismissed."

As they filed out, Jackson quickly waved him over, as well as Zhang. "You've got a call coming in," Jackson said. "Do you know an Admiral Grady?"

The Commander raised an eyebrow. "Not personally, though since his decimation of the Andromedon fleet, I know of him. Why?"

"He wants to talk to you," she said, also looking at Zhang. "Both of you. He said it concerns a potential operation. One based on actionable intelligence provided by us."

Zhang frowned. "Curious."

Did he now? "Let's see what he wants," the Commander said, motioning her forward, with Zhang beside him. "Lead the way."

---

SAS Command, Abuja – Nigeria

6/28/2017 – 2:12 P.M.

At last, the Collective was striking ADVENT properly, but it was unlikely to be overly useful in the situation Betos found herself in. Report after report had come in, and what ADVENT was doing was, even after they were gone, going to have significant repercussions on the entire SAS.

Collapsed mines. Oil fields set alight. Farms razed. She knew she shouldn't be, but it was somewhat shocking just how…brutal ADVENT was being. Caravans of refugees had fled and were being systematically driven deeper into SAS territory. Keeper believed this was intended to stretch their resources to a breaking point – as there was limited space, more of which was being taken up by the millions of alien soldiers being transported in.

More housing was being rapidly built in the bigger cities, and food production was working overtime thanks to the superior Collective supply lines, but Betos was acutely aware that this was already significantly more time, energy, and resources than the Collective had planned for.

And they had nothing to show for it but a gradual loss of territory.

It was coming. They would hit a brick wall soon.

It was what was being planned now.

"Enough Heralds have been assembled for a mass-mobilization," Keeper was saying. "Nearly one hundred. We estimate that, if we can lure the majority of the ADVENT tank fleet into an area with favorable ground, we can neutralize them."

"Will that be enough?" Betos asked skeptically.

"If conditions are favorable, yes," Keeper nodded. "Even if the battle is not a decisive victory, it will heavily weaken their tank fleet, which is the brunt of their attack. After this, I expect they will reach one of the major cities, at which point they will not only face our defenses, but Macula himself."

The Ethereal was not here today, and Betos was unsure where he was. With all the attacks going on, she wondered if he was on an operation of his own. "I expect ADVENT will anticipate this. An XCOM squad will be deployed."

"XCOM will be deployed regardless, it is a matter of who is the designated Ethereal-killer," Keeper amended. "As of right now, a significant number of them will be tied up. Africa is a thrust that ADVENT does not seem to want to truly win, they merely want to cause devastation. That may not be worth a significant investment."

"I disagree," Betos shook her head. "Even if ADVENT has defeat within their 'acceptable' parameters, they don't throw away soldiers without a fight. They will try and always win, and if they don't, then they will pull back. They don't treat soldiers like Mutons."

"A fair point," Keeper considered that. "Nonetheless, I am unsure how much, if anything, will be devoted to stopping Macula."

"The ADVENT fleet is also still a factor," Betos reminded him. "Even damaged as it is."

"Yes, but they've not made any major moves," Keeper pointed out. "They've suffered damage, need to be resupplied, which will take time, especially since they don't want to give their position up, and there are no friendly ports that are close or capable of repairing their fleet."

Betos frowned. "I'm concerned they may try to take one of our own."

"Malabo is the most vulnerable, but I sincerely doubt it," Keeper nodded. "ADVENT is not going to devote resources to capturing a city that is secured and near Doula – an actually fortified city. In theory, it is possible, but far too much would have to go right for ADVENT to even consider it. I would, however, expect the fleet to engage in a coordinated attack when ADVENT hits a larger city."

"We will be better prepared this time."

"We most certainly will be," Keeper briefly moved around, eyes still fixated on the map. "There is a small chance that a portion of the Scipio resources will be forced to return to handle the defense of the Middle East."

Betos cocked her head, lips set in a frown. "Too slow. ADVENT at most will send them to the European lines. The Middle East is…" she shook her head. "Not well prepared for a coordinated assault. Deus Vult ensured that, and now it's coming back to haunt them."

"Ironic," Keeper said, giving a rare, if small, smile. "I do like that Human word. 'Ironic', very applicable to so many things."

"Just…" Betos sighed. "Don't do what ADVENT did, and you'll be fine."

"I don't think there's enough heads of state left alive," Keeper said. "At least not ADVENT-aligned ones. ADVENT certainly removed most of them."

"That they did. I suppose it was too much to expect there to be trouble afterwards."

"ADVENT is effective."

"For better or worse."

There was a brief moment of silence before Keeper indicated the holotable again. "If we're going to lure the ADVENT armor fleet into a confrontation, we should maybe determine where that will be."

"Yes," Betos nodded, returning her focus to the important matters. "We should."

---

XCOM Intelligence Command, the Presidium – Classified Location

6/28/2020 – 3:45 P.M.

The contact was through video, not hologram, as the Commander suspected that the ADVENT carriers weren't equipped with holotech. Or maybe this man was a traditionalist. Either way, it didn't matter as much, as neither would inhibit their conversation. Jackson set up the call, while Zhang and the Commander waited.

A few moments later, the screen flashed and showed a fairly older man in an admiral's uniform. He seemed to be in his office on the carrier, though he couldn't make out much from the background. "Commander, Director Zhang," Admiral Grady greeted. "Thank you for speaking."

"Of course, Admiral," the Commander inclined his head. "Congratulations are in order for your victory. Quite impressive."

"Thank you, Commander, but much of the credit goes to ADVENT for the planning, I merely played my part," Grady began, his head slightly inclined. "I didn't arrange this call to talk about the battle. I was recently made aware of some intel by ADVENT, originally provided to them by XCOM Intelligence, regarding Malabo. I understand the SAS and Collective presence there is fairly minimal, as the relations with the locals are tense?"

The Commander resisted a frown. He recognized the name, but not a lot came to him off the top of his head. He glanced to the side. "Zhang?"

"That is correct," Zhang gave a sharp nod, appraising the admiral a bit more strictly than he had before. Probably hadn't expected to be answering this particular question. "The government of Equatorial Guinea assured the SAS that they could keep the population placated with...minimal military interference. It exists, but not to the same extent as other cities on the Guinean mainland."

A pause. "You're also correct on the relations between the people and aliens. This was a decision the government made under some degree of duress. Their rationale was that they were likely to be invaded if they didn't preemptively make a deal. They did, and the people are unhappy with the development. No riots or revolt - yet - but the SAS isn't taking chances. Most cities are just now moving more soldiers in them due to the proximity to the SAS borders. Make no mistake - Malabo will be built up the same way, all the government has done is ensured it will go last."

Grady's brow furrowed slightly at this. "You probably already know this, but my fleet did not emerge unscathed from Ecnomus. The Collective were clever with their air forces, and picked their targets well. None of my carriers were destroyed, but three of them have had their flight decks rendered inoperable, and much of the below-decks storage was damaged as well. One came close to having its munitions detonated; had the plasma burned just a few meters deeper, it may have hit an ordnance storage room. This is a significant degradation of my fleets capabilities, and has cut my air assets nearly in half."

He briefly paused, before resuming. "To make repairs on this scale, however, requires access to a harbor and other infrastructure I do not have. Malabo, however, is a port city, a small one, but a port city nonetheless. I assume you would not have passed along that intelligence if you did not have some interest in the location, if only to weaken the SAS and hinder further expansion. Is this a fair assessment?"

"A fair one," the Commander nodded. "Considering that ADVENT's own intelligence efforts in the SAS seem to be limited, we need to know some details on what is happening on the ground, even if we do not, or cannot act on all of them. We also assume that ADVENT similarly has this interest, correct?"

"That is their concern, not mine," he answered with a dismissive wave, his voice stern. "What I care about is repairing my fleet so I can move on with subduing the SAS. The land portion of Scipio has made decent progress thus far, but I still need to mount an amphibious invasion, or at least destroy any significant coastal settlements. Ordinarily, I wouldn't consider Malabo worth bothering with, since, even if it is the capital of the country, the port is still small, by most standards, and barely deep enough to accommodate my carriers. It also lacks any meaningful ship building or industrial facilities that could assist with these repairs."

He rested an arm on the desk. "However...it does have Gateways, and those would, conceivably, allow me to bring the facilities there up to an adequate level, and provide an ideal staging area from which to launch attacks on the coast of the SAS assuming I can take them intact. If they are damaged, or worse, destroyed, it will, at minimum, delay the repairs, or force me to make an attempt at capturing an SAS city with more suitable facilities, all of which are heavily fortified. It would be much easier to ensure the Gateways were taken intact if there were an elite force on the ground that could secure them before local forces had a chance to scuttle them. Since I have you to thank for this intel, I figured you would be ideally suited to this role, assuming you are interested."

"We would be…" the Commander said slowly. "And while I appreciate you coming to us, this is the kind of operation that seems like it could be primarily handled by the Lancer Corps. Why, specifically, do you want us?"

"Because the consequences of failure are too high and I wish to leave nothing to chance. Also, while I have ways of getting special forces on the island fairly safely, it would further delay the operation and time is of the essence. I've tarried too long as it is. I considered having Lancer teams come ashore outside the city, either swimming or by motorboat at night, but they'd still need to reach the base undetected. XCOM, however, has access to teleporters, and, even if none are available, you've demonstrated an ability to consistently insert into enemy territory."

That they did. The Commander and Zhang exchanged a look. As of right now, only Kunio would be available. Fiona was still recovering, and all the Agents were occupied with Ethereals or Avatars. While Kunio hadn't gone on a mission without a supervising teleporter...he was going to have to do this eventually.

According to Fiona and a few others, he was capable. This seemed like a good time to prove himself. "We have a teleporter we could spare for this operation. We have the manpower. My concern now is the nearby city. The SAS is not going to take this lying down, and their coastal cities are extremely well-defended."

"The SAS will also doubtless keep their munitions supplied," Zhang added with a frown. "They will be able to continue a bombardment. Even if we capture the city, the SAS will do everything possible to ensure we lose it again. I have no doubt we can capture the city; I am less convinced we can keep it."

One side of Grady's lips quirked upward briefly in a sinister manner. "The Collective just suffered a crushing defeat at sea and have essentially given me free reign ever since. Furthermore, the defenses there are relatively minor. As for holding the city, ADVENT intends to rapidly fortify it as soon as it is captured, and it is close enough to all nearby targets that I can quickly support it by air, assuming my carriers are functional."

The words hung in the air briefly. "Even if they are not, the island should still be within cruise missile range, or not far outside of it, much of the time, so I should be able to put down any attempted attack, or at least cripple it. I also have psions on call that should be capable of helping to intercept any munitions sent at my fleet, to say nothing of my own point defenses. Could a missile slip through? Maybe. But they would need to send a great many of them, and doing so would also necessitate bringing down their barriers briefly, allowing me to strike back with ballistic missiles. In a worst-case scenario, I can order the fleet to make haste for the port. That should dissuade Betos from ordering too many missile strikes, lest she hit her own forces or civilians."

He steepled his hands on his desk. "I may have suffered some losses from Ecnomus, but I still have enough firepower to wipe a small country from the face of the Earth. If the SAS want to get into a shooting match, they will regret it. I've also secured permission to use the Poseidon Spear if necessary, and, while it cannot hit targets on land, there are other ways I can make use of it. As it is, the SAS is likely unable to eat anything coming out of the ocean near them as a result of Ecnomus. It will be a while before the Sodium from the underwater nuclear detonation decays and makes its way out of the food chain."

On paper, the strategy was sound. The Commander personally thought that Grady was being slightly...permissive in his calculus about the SAS retaliation. Based on the spec of the armaments in fortified SAS cities, they were extensive and dangerous. However, Grady had access to the same information he did, and he didn't strike the Commander as a man who wouldn't have taken that into account.

Presumably.

"Very well," the Commander finally said. "If you are confident ADVENT can handle the aftermath, and quickly secure the city, then we are certainly capable of supporting this operation. I presume Commander Christiaens has been briefed on this?"

"Grand Admiral Malone is the one who suggested Malabo in the first place," Grady assured them. "I've already run through most of the planning with command and it's been greenlit. If all goes well, it will be a fairly quick operation. I will give the local forces the opportunity to surrender. Should they turn it down, I will carry out a bombardment of SAS defenses and troop barracks, in coordination with your team, of course, to make sure they aren't hit. In addition, I will task a squadron of destroyers to provide your team with fire support. If they run into any problems, they will have a direct line of communication to the squadron, who will proceed to pound the designated target into the dust. I'd prefer to save my cruise missiles, so they will mostly be using their guns as artillery, but that should be more than enough. Rest assured, your team will be well supported."

"Excellent. I'm sure the soldiers will appreciate that. They usually don't have artillery support on the ground," the Commander briefly glanced off to the side, checking the time. "What is the timeframe for this operation? Within days, or a specific period?"

"The sooner the better," Zhang interjected. "The SAS will not keep this low military profile forever. As Scipio gets closer and closer, they will become more paranoid. Even if they have not responded, they know your fleet is out there, and may decide to wise up and mobilize. Our window is limited, as I'm sure you agree."

Grady inclined his head as he answered. "Completely. My fleet can be there within the day. Even if we succeed, it will take time to repair my ships, but those I leave at Malabo can help set up the local facilities and defend against Collective reprisal until they are ready to resume offensive operations. Many of my other ships suffered varying degrees of damage as well, so I won't be leaving the carriers by themselves. As for XCOM, you could also use the island as a forward operating position and station some of your own forces there, if you wish."

That had potential, and the Commander could see some usage for that - if not for the armed forces, for XCOM Intelligence. "I believe that would be a satisfactory agreement. And XCOM would be willing to provide engineers to assist in the buildup of Malabo after capture. Time will be of the essence once the city is secured; it's in all of our interests that we be prepared."

"Excellent. I look forward to working alongside XCOM. If you need anything else between now and then, let me know and we'll sort it out."

"Sounds good, we will be sure to do so," the Commander said. "We expect to hear from you soon, and we will be ready." He finished with his salute, which Zhang echoed beside him.

Grady replied with a traditional US military salute. "Very well. Have a good day, Commander."

The screen went blank, and both men were left alone. The Commander turned to Zhang. "An unexpected development, but not an unwelcome one."

"Certainly not," Zhang rubbed his chin. "This presents a number of opportunities."

"Indeed, and I think we can hijack the Gateways to send a surprise of our own," the Commander said slowly, an idea forming. "This may be a good time to test one of the devices Engineering has been working on."

A smile formed on Zhang's face. "Salted or unsalted?"

"Salted," the Commander said. "If we're going to send a message, let's ensure it's received loud and clear."

---

Aleppo Garrison – Syria

6/28/2020 – 1:26 P.M.

The air was charged and tense.

Angela had sensed it first. A sharp spike of confusion which had morphed into concern, then into fear...and then a hard, grim acceptance. "Something is happening," she stood, knowing that things were going to get interesting very fast. All of them also stood, knowing that when she did this, it was serious.

"Get armored up?" Oscar asked.

"I would," Angela said grimly, closing her eyes and trying to penetrate the overall feeling of the base.

It was only growing more intense.

A siren wailed a few seconds later. The battle siren.

"An attack? Here?" Cecilia asked, her voice layered in surprise. "From where?"

"Doesn't matter," Bradley said, already moving to the lockers. "Get armored up."

All of them put on their armor as quickly as they could, Angela's own thoughts racing as to what could be happening. They weren't exactly in a place that was at risk of an attack, so this must be some kind of surprise attack – though without warning like this? Something was more wrong than usual.

Not much had happened in the previous couple weeks, they still weren't in the rotation for Scipio, though that was presumably coming. They'd mostly been training with the Middle Eastern Legions, which were themselves being trained by several ADVENT officers. It was a bit amusing to see a new army get whipped into shape, but Angela had enjoyed her time here, and Joel had been having his squad assist when available.

She'd mostly been working with the women on-base, and all of them were eager and picked up on things very fast. None of them psions, but one didn't need to be a psion to be a good soldier. But one thing she knew very acutely right now was that these soldiers were just…not ready. Then again, these soldiers were not, strictly speaking, normal.

It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but the men and women here were not the typical professional soldiery. All of them were focused, grim, and pushed themselves with a fervor that any drill sergeant would respect. They were surprisingly cooperative, and followed any suggestions and orders without question.

The Legions here had spirit, and what was odd to her was that a decent number of them had an odd apathy to death, as if it didn't concern them. A majority were religious, so perhaps that was one aspect. The training might have been another, or maybe it was the culture and lifestyle. They were certainly different though.

They liked green. The capes the Officers wore had worked it into their color scheme. She didn't know how or why, but assumed that someone had approved it. It also wasn't uncommon for some of them to repeat Arabic phrases or sentences occasionally under their breath. Oscar had asked about it once, and it was apparently passages from the Quran.

She supposed that made sense. But comforting words or not, it didn't change that, when all was said and done, they were not ready for war.

Not really.

They had the training. They had the drive. They had the ability.

But they had not been tested, and this was not the place where that should happen.

Joel burst into the room. "Situation, sir?" Angela immediately asked.

"The Collective has invaded Turkey," Joel answered grimly, his helmet tucked under his arm and rifle slung over his back. "ADVENT is estimating we have hours before they spread to Europe and the Middle East. We've confirmed that Gaziantep was targeted."

"Turkey?" Bradley demanded. "How?"

"The Turks sell out?" Oscar asked.

"Unclear," Joel scowled. "We're getting confusing messages. It sounds like a partial coup, from what I've been able to discern. There's some cities which are engaging in defenses, and others which are standing down. Not that it matters, the Collective will crush the Turks in hours with the number of soldiers they're bringing down."

"How many?" Young asked quietly.

"Millions." Joel's voice was neutral. "You'll see it when you go outside. There is a Hiveship over Earth."

Angela tightened the strap on her gauntlet tightly once she heard that, suppressing a shiver. She'd only read an overview, but the Hiveships were…the pinnacle of alien spacecraft. Mobile fortresses capable of holding millions of soldiers, resources, and personnel – always controlled by a Hive Commander.

She swallowed.

This was very, very bad.

"Are we sure they're coming here?" Bradley asked.

"Almost certainly, and we're not taking chances," Joel answered. "ADVENT didn't expect the attack to be this brazen. Turkey was always a weak point, but they had to know…" Joel trailed off, shaking his head. "Unimportant. The fact is we're in a bad situation, with a majority of our defenders untested. We're one of the pillars of defense here. Do all of you understand that?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Each of you have outsized responsibility now," Joel stated. "Bradley, you're going to be directing marksman fire within the North Flak Tower sniper nest."

"How much of the infrastructure is finished?" Bradley asked, checking his sniper rifle.

"Luckily the structure itself is done," Joel said. "The bad news is that there is almost no armament with the exception of the roof. We'll have a limited amount of AA defenses."

"How many of these towers are finished?" Cecilia asked. "There were only…what, six even in production?"

"Two dozen planned, a dozen with working skeletons, six that are structurally complete with limited armament," Joel rattled off. "Luckily they were smart about which ones to focus on, and they're distributed evenly around the city perimeter. It's not ideal, but there is some kind of defense in place."

"Trenches?" Angela asked. "Not all of them are complete."

"No, but the outermost layer is," Joel said. "The second layer is close to two-thirds done, and the third was just in planning stages."

"Shit," Young said. "That means we only have one real line."

"For now," Joel corrected. "ADVENT is mobilizing every civilian here that they can to rapidly expand before the battle starts, and during it. Not ideal, relying on civilians, but President Hakeem sent out an immediate order authorizing civilian engagement."

"Smart man," Cecilia muttered. "What about us?"

"Most of you stay together," Joel focused on her. "Angela, you're going to be important. We have a limited number of psions, and about six of them are Solii telepaths. These soldiers have never been in a real fight against the Collective. Make sure they do not break, whatever it takes."

Angela gave a sharp nod, even as she hid her own apprehension. "Yes sir."

For a moment, his demeanor softened. "I know you can. You've not let me down."

"Are we going to be getting any reinforcements?" Glen asked as he put his helmet on.

"Not at this moment," Joel shook his head. "We're going to be losing people, actually. Most of the rotator squads have been recalled, probably for the counterattack. We're one of the few who are left."

Angela looked at her superior officer very carefully. "They're expecting us to die."

Joel didn't indicate his answer, his face strictly blank, but she could feel the answer from his emotions. "We have our orders. Supposedly General Avel and the Lion have a plan, but this is...going to be very, very difficult. This isn't an isolated incident either, so we shouldn't expect any help."

"How, sir?" Cecilia asked carefully.

"This isn't the only attack," he answered. "It's happening all around the world. For now, we're on our own. We make our stand here. No matter what it takes." He flipped his helmet in his hand, putting it on with the slight hiss of the suit seals. All of them followed suit.

"Form up and follow," he ordered, as they jogged out of their quarters and into the barrack hallways, all of which were filled with other squads being mobilized. The green-black capes of the Officers flapped as they marched with squads in formation. Arabic was heard from the man soldiers as they walked, with multiple squads huddled nearby, one of them leading the others in prayer before they reformed and joined the march into the trenches.

Angela couldn't block out the wash of apprehension and fear from the base and the city beyond it. Fear of death, fear of the unknown, fear of failure. Not just fear though, it was tempered with an acceptance, a sharp spike before training kicked in and they got to work. Though it was clearly difficult for some.

Many of these soldiers had family who were living in the city, and if they failed…

Well, there was a reason for their fear.

Yet, underneath all of that was an underlying layer of resolve, determination, hope. Fear was powerful, but it was not dominant. Not yet. There was a line to hold, a mission to complete.

Angela took a breath.

We can do this.

They marched outside, and she witnessed the rush of hundreds of soldiers moving from place to place. Crates of ammunition and explosives were being moved, directed by superior officers she knew answered directly to the Lion himself. There were quite a few in the odd Celestial-Hybrid suits she'd seen training, something she didn't think was going to be used in any serious capacity.

All options were being considered, apparently. Hundreds more soldiers were marching beyond the trenches, and quite a lot of the explosives and ammunition was also going with them. Beyond them were engineers and more soldiers laying mines in the sand. She didn't know what it meant, but she could swear there was some kind of mobilization for an offensive strike team. Many of the Celestial-Hybrids were also out there.

"Looks like we're going to see the Lion's Horsemen in action," Bradley noted, his eyes following her own.

"The what?"

"The suits. Horsemen are the unofficial designation," Bradley explained. "Hope you remember training with them. Pretty fast, they're quite skilled. Dangerous with untested equipment, but, if it works, it'll help us."

"Do you know what they're doing out there?"

"No, but let's hope it's not something stupid."

She noticed there was a man who seemed to be in charge roaming around, his helmet off and tucked under his arm. He stopped every few feet, exchanged a few words with whatever squad was closest, who saluted, and he went on his way. A small cadre of subordinates and advisors surrounded him. Angela wasn't especially surprised to see Marshal Faisal Fasih making the rounds, he did that often, here.

He was an intense man, with an intensity around him that even a non-psion recognized. He was a smart man, at least from what Joel had relayed. A good thing he was in charge of Aleppo's defense.

Many of the soldiers were looking to the sky. Angela's eyes followed them, and saw it in the distance. High above the Earth, small enough that she could be mistaken for almost missing it. It stood as a testament to how massive it was that she could make it out from the ground.

"Look at the size of that thing," Bradley muttered incredulously, looking through his scope. "I'd heard that the Hiveships were big, but…"

He didn't finish, and Angela didn't think he needed to.

That was what they were up against.

Time to hold the line, or die trying.

---

ADVENT High Command – Switzerland

6/28/2017 – 3:00 P.M.

"What is the status of the Hiveship?"

Every member of ADVENT High Command was assembled, or at least those who were not actively commanding the initial defenses. Most of them stood assembled, while Commander Christiaens, Weekes, Kwon of the Pantheon, and several others stood around Saudia, all examining a hologlobe depicting the situation.

"Hovering just above the inner atmosphere," Laura said. "We estimate that this is as close as it can safely get to Earth. Out of the range of any Flak Towers, though it wouldn't matter much, since the Hiveship is, frankly, not going to be taken down by standard Flak Tower defenses."

Saudia gave a sharp nod. "Understood. Our response?"

"We have several options," Laura continued. "None of them ideal. The most promising one is the deployment of the Thunderbirds. We have two standing by. They alone will likely not be enough, but there is not going to be a better test than against a Hiveship."

"Should we mobilize the Air Force?"

"Potentially, though until the Hiveship is tangibly damaged, that risks throwing lives away," Laura's face was stone-like. "Furthermore, we're not just contending with a Hiveship, but the smaller fleet it can carry. Swarms of Sectoid Fighters, Bombers, and Scouts will be and have already been deployed. I support the usage of the Air Force to protect the Thunderbirds, but they should not engage the Hiveship proper. Wing Commander?"

Wing Commander of the ADVENT Air Force Elliot Nicholson stepped forward. "I concur with the Commander, Chancellor. Our forces are best utilized to protect the Thunderbirds, and our bombers are best served as missile deployment assets. We simply do not have anything that can match a Hiveship."

"Deploy as you see fit, no suicide missions, but, if there is an opening, we need to take it," Saudia ordered. "What of the Atomic Lances?"

"My second recommendation," Laura continued. "Out of all our weapons, the Atomic Lances are the most likely weapon to deliver tangible damage. It is also worth potentially utilizing conventional nuclear weapons due to the inherent defenses of the Hiveship."

"Which are?"

"Psionic shields, projected on the exterior hull – in addition to their already copious plating," Elliot answered. "Based on our own analysis, these can be projected anywhere over the hull, and have the potential to mitigate major attacks."

Saudia narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying that we can't damage it?"

"In theory, no. In practice?" He hesitated. "Not even an Ethereal could sustain a direct blast from an Atomic Lance, outside of the Imperator or Aegis. The psionic defenses are powered by thousands of drones, and the Hive Commander in charge. They can be overwhelmed. A blanket nuclear missile barrage against the Hiveship should be the opening salvo, which will hopefully overwhelm the psionic defenses – and we follow it up with the Atomic Lances, before sending in the Thunderbirds."

He gestured to the hologlobe. "Best case scenario? We damage it enough to create openings. Bombers and XCOM Firestorms can cause additional internal damage, and there is the potential to deploy teams into gaps. I want to be clear, Chancellor, we have no silver bullet. We are not going to be able to shoot this thing out of the sky. It has nanite repair systems, drone repair teams, and probably a Gateway or twelve on-board. It's too big, and our weapons are too small – and this is assuming everything works out."

A grim assessment. Hands clasped behind her back, Saudia looked at the holographic recreation. "Likelihood of orbital bombardment?"

"No initial signs," Elliot answered. "Hiveships are Sectoid command-and-control vessels first and foremost. If necessary, it could act in that capacity, but, for now, it seems content to serve as an invasion management center, primarily over Turkey and the subsequent invasions that will follow. We are monitoring, but right now that is not an imminent threat."

Some good news. "Move to Turkey," Saudia said, as the hologlobe focused on the region. "Assessment."

Laura motioned to Kwon. "We've confirmed several things about the composition of the invasion force," she said. "The initial waves appear to be Mutons, Vitakarians, and Vanguards – the forces they have deployed are enough that any cities the Collective have targeted are estimated to fall completely within twelve hours. Heralds, Executors, and Sectopods are also being flown in regularly."

"How so quickly?"

"Because of this." Kwon pressed a button, and a familiar image appeared. "These new Sectoid avatars have been spotted leading each major assault. It's almost certain that they are following the direction of the Hive Commander within the Hiveship. Mass psionic pacification is likely."

"All of our operatives and sources in the major Turkish cities have gone silent," Powell added. "There is validity to this theory. Turkey has all but fallen, and we'll have to sort out the pieces later. We will know more tomorrow about the state of the nation, and if this was a coup, or a wholesale invasion."

"It isn't important at the moment." Laura refocused on the map. "Turkey borders three major regions – the Middle East, the Caucasus, and Europe. The Collective is moving forces numbering in the millions into Turkey – severe overkill unless they are intending to open multiple fronts. Europe is positioned to withstand an assault in the major cities, but the borders will almost certainly fall."

"And the Middle East?"

"In a very bad position," Laura said grimly. "We should expect to lose vast swathes before we gain any sort of victory. Our initial response will be a mass-mobilization of the Russian and Israeli Legions that will come through the Caucasus and Israel, respectively, to form a pincer maneuver, though we are unprepared to rapidly respond. We will need several days and...as much confidence as I have in General Avel and our good friend the Lion, the Middle Eastern Legions are simply not prepared, nor is the region equipped with enough infrastructure to repel an invasion of this magnitude-"

"I can speak for myself, Commander," one of the front line Generals lifted a hand; an older man with ruddy, sunburned skin and greying hair.

Saudia appraised him. "General Avel, speak."

"Much as you and the Commander may be preparing to give up before a shot is fired, I must object," he said. "The current battle plan is insufficient, and effectively says that the region is on its own."

"Your own assessment stated that the Legions were not prepared," Laura countered.

"In an ideal world? No, they aren't, but that doesn't matter right now," Avel responded, eyes flashing. "Respectfully, Commander, just because they are not ideal on paper does not give you the right to view them as expendable. They are ADVENT soldiers, just as those in the American or European legions, and writing them off is both an insult to our soldiers and a waste of the manpower, time, and resources we have already put into them."

Laura looked like she was ready to respond, but Saudia forestalled her with a hand. "I'm not prepared to wholesale write them off, General, I don't think anyone is."

"You're talking in terms of the impending defeat, and Commander Christiaens was preparing to justify not supporting the defenders," Avel explained. "On paper, you can make an argument for it, but, unlike you, Commander, I have been on the ground for months, now. If ADVENT does not abandon them, I think we may be able to hold the line."

"Based on what, General?" Laura demanded, her eyes narrowing. "I dislike the situation, but why exactly should ADVENT commit more resources to a poorly prepared region, staffed by an untested Legion, when there are a half-dozen major offensives taking place all over the world. We cannot be everywhere, and cannot support everything."

"I'm not asking for soldiers," Avel clarified. "We will manage without military reinforcements, but we need tools, engineers, architects. Manpower is not an issue – we have a massive civilian workforce in the cities, which the Lion has stated he can mobilize. Equip us, and we'll do what we can."

"Do you have numbers?" Saudia asked, before Laura could speak.

"I have an estimated list," Avel said. "One to be updated, but this is what we need. If we can fortify, we'll have a far better chance of holding the line. Also, food, water, materials, and weapons."

Avel's eyes locked onto the hologlobe, "We'll also need permission to use and transport several thousand tons of outdated munitions, vehicles and experimental equipment. Confiscated or otherwise."

"This is not a small request," Laura said flatly.

"No, Commander, it isn't," Avel agreed. "But it is the only option left. If the Middle East falls, we're not going to get it back without significantly more lives lost, resources used, and time spent. Like it or not, this is the situation now. Give my men what they need, and we will hold the line for as long as it takes, or we are dead. I doubt you're withholding resources for Utah, don't hold them for the Middle East."

There was a brief pause. "ADVENT made a promise to the region after Deus Vult," Avel finished. "That we would protect them, and not abandon them, like leaders have done before. This is our test, Commander. When the region is threatened, the first action ADVENT takes cannot be to prepare to lose it without a fight."

"None of us want that to happen," Laura insisted. "Even if we give you everything, we are very likely throwing it away. I've seen the numbers, the current state of the defenses. There is keeping promises, and there is being realistic. The most optimistic numbers give your men four hours before total annihilation, General Avel."

"Hold, Commander," Saudia interrupted, appraising the General closely. "Speak frankly, General. I want the truth. Can you hold the line right now?"

"No," he said after a few moments. "If left as we are? We will lose, and many will die for nothing. If you actually intend to do nothing, then I will need to order a retreat."

"And cede it without a fight?" Laura asked.

"Commander, that is exactly what you are doing," Avel's voice rose, and he started tip-tapping on the table. "If you are giving up, I'm certainly not going to sacrifice my soldiers for nothing."

"Quiet," Saudia ordered them both, glancing between each of them. "Thank you, General. If we do provide everything you need, can you hold the line?"

Avel waited a few seconds before answering, then gave a sharp nod. "There is a good chance we can. We will almost certainly sustain heavy-"

"Spare me, General," she interrupted, cutting him off with a sharp gesture. "Confident or not, the numbers don't allow you to last hours, much less achieve victory. If you can buy us time to mobilize the Russian and Israeli Legions, then make that argument. But don't lie and promise victory. We can all handle bad news. If we give you what you need, how much time will that buy us?"

Avel stiffened, he stopped tapping the table. Briefly, almost too briefly to notice, his eyes roamed over the entire room's occupants. Face impassive, he answered curtly. "Seven hours. Maybe nine."

Saudia nodded. "Thank you."

"There is one other thing." He added.

"What?"

"If we want to buy as much time as possible, we'll have to use everything we can," he said. "Commander, you've read our reports, and the Lion agrees with me. We'll need to put experimental units on the field. Imperfect, certainly, but we're at a point of imperfect solutions. If we're to hold our ground, we need to utilize everything."

Laura glanced in her direction. "Chancellor?"

"Fine," Saudia nodded to Laura. "Make sure that General Avel and the Middle East get everything they need," she focused on the openly relieved man. "I am trusting that you can manage, General. You are on the ground, and know more than me or Commander Christiaens, which is the only reason I am entertaining this. Buy us as much time as you can."

"Yes, Chancellor," he nodded. "We will hold the line, or die."

Saudia inclined her head solemnly. "Your men will be remembered. I wish you luck, General Avel."

He saluted, and she returned it. Laura returned her attention to the holotable. "There are a number of other open fronts, Chancellor, which we should cover in brief."

"Continue, Commander," Saudia nodded, anticipating that she was going to be experiencing quite a few long and sleepless nights in the future.

---

Mars Observation Station – Mars Orbit

6/28/2017 – 4:10 P.M.

The attacks were starting.

Ones that, for once, he wasn't participating in – though he had determined much of the overall strategy. This was something he had devised as a means that would seem like a major offensive, but, in reality, would likely have a more limited impact than the Collective believed. There needed to be enough attacks to be global, but also enough for ADVENT and XCOM to weather.

Fortunately, as it happened, there were just enough major attacks that major XCOM figures, from Aegis to Caelior, would be able to respond. In his estimation, ADVENT could likely hold the majority, and the ones they lost were ultimately inconsequential. The Middle East was likely to be the main loss.

The likelihood that ADVENT could hold, considering the intelligence that had been gathered on the state of the region, let alone the military in question, was low. The briefly embedded soldiers from other legions would not be enough to change the tide. However, the Middle East was one of the least important parts of ADVENT, and they wouldn't be impacted particularly heavily by its fall.

The three hours estimated for the Middle Eastern defensive lines to break gave ADVENT no hope for a timely response. The Sectoids would overrun the region before any ADVENT forces could reinforce it, and the Hiveship posed a linchpin difficult to dislodge.

He was most curious to see how they handled the Hiveship.

If ADVENT had a hidden fleet, they would use it now. If they had tools they had previously hidden, they would be forced to act. He was not discounting the possibility of the Chronicler or other Agents of T'Leth teleporting onto it – which was why he'd recommended Mosrimor Orbs be utilized.

ADVENT and XCOM would be forced to contend with it without cheating. There was the distinct possibility that T'Leth would intervene, but the Battlemaster did not believe that was a likely possibility. Not yet. Right now the Hiveship would serve as a control center for the Turkish offensive.

The European lines would hold, the Middle Eastern ones would fall, and the Collective would be placed into a quagmire, stuck holding control of a swath of territory that had little use. Human history seemed to indicate this was something of an issue, with foreign armies attempting to invade and occupy, and always encountering problems.

Quite ironic.

More assassinations were being planned by the Zar'Chon. He'd begun giving his input, distasteful as it was, but if there was not some temperament, some of these assassinations could cripple ADVENT severely. Redirecting agents to more inconsequential targets or those which were so-well protected it could be constituted as a suicide mission were emphasized.

Though he had to be careful.

Ravarian or Quisilia could become suspicious. His moves needed to be decisive, but also obvious, to the point where they would not expect nefarious motives.

It was exhausting, keeping up such a mindset of trickery. Trickery and deception were not his strength, and he remembered why. It was dishonest, tiring, and it made him dislike himself, despite the necessity of it. Yet he found that he was…oddly good at it. Part of it was because he knew that most people would not expect such duplicity, but that alone wouldn't explain his…comfort with lying.

He was looking forward to the end of this conflict, it would signal a return to a simpler time.

Although, ultimately, there was no going back, not really.

"Do you think they'll wonder why you're not down there?" Yang asked, walking up beside him.

"I remain behind to provide management and strategic support," he said. "If my presence is required on the battlefield, I am standing by."

"Not the Collective. XCOM."

He hesitated before answering. "I suspect they will notice. Aegis will notice. They will probably speculate, though it is unlikely they'll focus on it overmuch. Not until the initial attacks have settled."

"Probably," she coughed. "There's something you might be interested in."

"What?"

"The Zararch captured someone," Yang said slowly. "An individual with seemingly no ties to ADVENT or XCOM. Nemo carried it out, apparently. In New York, who appeared shortly after the battle there."

The Battlemaster slowly looked down at her. "Has an interrogation been conducted?"

"Not yet. But the initial medical results indicate he is…not Human."

Could it be?

He remembered the promise the entity had made to him. Answers over what happened. He had promised to deliver. A promise that seemed impossible, yet now there was someone who had been captured, who was not Human, and who was in the same area as the unknown faction had been.

Yang seemed to have the same thought. "Do you think…?"

"Perhaps," he quickly turned on his heel. "Where is he being held?"

"Detention Cells, actually."

"Come. Let us see what he has to reveal to us."

---

Aleppo Garrison – Syria

6/28/2020 – 9:18 P.M.

There was a relative silence over Aleppo. The sun had set and darkness fell over the city, and those within waited for what happened next.

More news had begun trickling in as the hours had passed. The immense number of alien soldiers and units. Confirmation that the Turkish government had surrendered, that the land was now under the control of the Collective. Stories about how the Collective had taken entire cities in hours.

There was little time for any of them to absorb it, so busy were they with preparing for the battle to come. In the past eight hours, Angela had seen the city transform from a half-finished fortress into…well, a similarly unfinished fortress, but loaded with traps. There were enough mines laid out around the perimeter to easily take out the front wave. The gaps in the trenches were welded over with crude sheets of metal – not ADVENT standard, but better than nothing.

Where the majority of the preparations had taken place was within the city itself. Angela had heard the rumors of the Lion's…unique past, and, while she'd not really read too much into them, the copious amounts of IEDs, booby-trapped cars, and other improvised explosives in buildings spoke to certain experiences.

Streets, garages, stores, and alleys were lined with other ballistic weapons, machine guns, and anti-tank batteries, all set to mow down anyone who walked past them. This was an undertaking that would have been close to impossible without the majority of the civilians working to move explosives, materials, or just providing food and water to the soldiers working.

If they were going to die, at least it would be with good people. Angela had largely assisted in moving around materials, providing the intermittent psionic encouragement here and there, and was even able to conjure some brief wisps of visible energy to briefly entertain a group of children.

That had been gratifying. The children and mothers had been moved away several hours ago, but most of the men and a few women were staying. ADVENT didn't have enough arms for everyone, so they were equipped with older ballistic rifles. She'd had to give very brief instructions for those who'd never fired them before.

She wasn't really comfortable putting these weapons in the hands of those who'd never used one, but they didn't have a choice right now. At least they weren't going to be anywhere near the front lines. All of them were in stations around the city, positioned in such a way as to minimize any friendly fire and outflank any patrolling aliens.

No matter how this went, it was going to cost the Collective dearly.

The convoy that she'd first seen being mobilized on the perimeter had departed hours ago and only returned a short time ago. A successful mission, it sounded like, which had hit the oncoming army hard, and had even taken out a number of Vanguards and Sectopods. They'd been lucky to escape, and had lost a fair number.

"On the horizon!"

Angela sensed them before she saw them. The soldiers beside her stiffened and readied their rifles, prayers muttered under their breath. It was a touch on the edge of her mind. Many touches.

Sectoids.

Vanguards.

A lot of Vanguards. The Collective didn't send Sectoid drones onto the front lines anymore. The only Sectoids that were sent were the Vanguards and Mechtoids…and there were also stories of a new Sectoid. One more powerful than a Vanguard, but not on the level of a Hive Commander.

She feared that one of those was here now. There was a mind much stronger than the other ones in the distance.

Angela pulled out her binoculars and peered into the distance. Just ahead she could see the lines of Muton soldiers marching forward – but the Mutons were not in front. Interspersed before them were the Vanguards. Hundreds of them forming a clear line. Behind the Mutons she could see the towering Mechtoids and just behind them – Sectopods.

She swallowed.

The line stopped. Still far away, still outside of viable artillery and sniper range. Portions of the front line stood aside, and were joined by Heralds. They were waiting for something, it seemed like. Instinctively she readied her own defenses, and lightly projected them over her immediate area; a soft mind shield over each person.

Mass psionic attacks were often weaker, due to the distribution. Extremely effective against the unprotected, but also able to be easily defended against with a modicum of protection. The Mechtoids suddenly raised their weapons, along with the Mutons, and began firing. Not at the line, but at the No-man's land in front of them.

Flashes of green became mixed with orange explosions as the Collective army fired at the minefield. Explosion after explosion went off, shaking the ground, and even some missiles were fired, setting off other buried mines.

"Welp," Glen said softly beside her. "Looks like they learned a thing or two."

It made frustrating sense, but this was a time where she really did not want the aliens to start getting smart. The bombardment continued for a solid twenty minutes, until there was a full minute of firing and no more explosions. The land was a mess of dirt, shrapnel, and sand.

The line marched forward.

They'd probably not gotten all of the mines, but they were confident enough to move forward at a steady pace. Angela braced herself from the likely oncoming psionic attack. Even though there'd been a sense of dismay throughout the lines, all of them were remarkably steady. The mines alone were never going to stop them.

"Fire!"

The command was echoed several times in Arabic, and the night lit up in a symphony of artillery strikes that streaked into the air. The explosions hit and lit up the night, and the artillery strikes were followed with the firing of mortars that likewise slammed into the alien lines. It was getting close to the viable engagement range, and then the order was given. Green plasma and orange muzzle flashes added to the symphony of color in the desert night. The moment ADVENT opened fire, the Vanguards lifted their gauntlets and psionic shields materialized. Clever. Angela didn't know if they'd been used this way before.

Behind the ADVENT lines, the few pieces of artillery and mortars continued sounding with thunderous claps, and they were rewarded with more gratifying sights of explosions in the deep Collective lines. There was a psionic shift; the sign of an attack that was coming. Not from the Vanguards.

From beyond them.

It hit her like a cold wave; the frozen precision and apathy of a Sectoid mind. One that was powerful, a singular command was sent to the masses, the only one that would be required to achieve victory.

Break.

It slammed against her mental fortress; tantalizing images threatening her mind; pushing against any crack or insecurity she had. Every concern she had became amplified tenfold, all at once. It would be enough to shake anyone's composure – but only if she let it win.

Instead, she pushed back, the other PRIESTs buffering against the assault. Psionic warfare was a continual snowball effect – the first clash was always the most important. Mental control was everything, and the more failures a psion had, the less focused they would be, and the less effective they would become.

They were still standing, and if this was the most the Sectoid could do at full power, then she could stand throughout the battle.

The soldiers around her were not silent. They screamed battle cries as they fired into the alien lines, some of them breaking into chants with the officer leading, and the soldiers responding. Mutons were falling, as were some Sectoids, but every Muton that fell was replaced by another.

An explosion of orange and green sounded, and one of the Mechtoids fell to the ground, crushing a Vanguard and several Mutons under its weight. A series of booms sounded, and the Sectopods in the back fired their missiles.

"Brace!" Angela shouted.

A PRIEST erected a barrier over them as the missiles hit and shook the ground.

A second psionic attack followed.

The command repeated. Break.

Inexplicably, this one seemed stronger than the first. The Sectoid must be augmenting himself with other Vanguards or drones. She, along with every other psion, froze in place, forced to fully devote themselves to blocking the attack. Unlike the other one, this seemed entirely focused on her on them.

Her teeth gritted, she pushed back against it, struggling against the cold wave of authority. The sounds of the battle became muted. Someone beside her fell back as a green bolt pierced her head. An explosion nearby took the lives of a trio of others. Her vision swam as she vaguely saw the lines of aliens move closer.

Then the entire world shook.

It was far more powerful than any previous explosion or missile. It was close to an earthquake in its intensity. The attack immediately ceased, and she saw that swaths of the No-Man's Land the aliens were in had exploded. It didn't take her too long to put two and two together.

The mines had been a trap to lull the Collective into a false sense of security. The real trap must have been remotely detonated explosives buried well below the surface. Ones powerful enough to be buried so deep as to not be triggered by surface fire, but also kill anything in their radius.

The entire alien line froze; now no longer certain what to do, or where they should go. The plasma fire didn't cease, but they were scrambling to plug their holes, reform their lines, and decide whether to press forward or not. Artillery and mortar shells were still firing, killing with each strike.

It was going both ways though. Shots from Heralds, Mutons, and Mechtoids took out soldiers along the trench lines. Holes were blown open in the defenses, which Engineers scrambled to patch as they were picked off by plasma fire. One of the Flak Towers was on its last legs after being targeted by Sectopod missiles, while the others were sustaining various levels of damage.

The Collective army was roughly halfway to the city lines, and despite the losses already inflicted on them, it didn't seem to have made a noticeable dent, whereas, for ADVENT…every soldier lost would hurt.

It didn't matter. That Sectoid was still alive, and the battle was a long way from over. She took a breath, and readied herself for whatever came next.

We hold the line.

We have to.

---

Mars Observation Station – Mars Orbit

6/28/2017 – 5:34 P.M.

In the detention cells, the Battlemaster stood before the singular cell. The nearby ones were empty, and he had given the CODEX overrides to cease functioning or saving any data from their conversation. It was likely that there would be things that he would not want others to hear.

He also had the CODEX tuned to alert him if anyone approached. He suspected they would not. The invasion was commencing, and he had given specific instructions that he was not to be interrupted. Yang beside him, he appraised the man in the cell.

At first glance, he appeared to be Human. He was tall, buff, though not extremely so, and possessed a certain litheness to him, despite his obvious strength. None of the medics and physicians who'd examined him and the samples they'd acquired knew what he actually was.

He had undergone significant cosmetic modification, detectable only because it used a similar process to what Zararch agents underwent to blend into Human populations – though reverse-engineering models noted that there was a remarkable level of similarity to baseline Humans…which raised a significant number of questions.

Yang had spoken with Hallian, and he'd confirmed a number of interesting facts about the man. While, on a genetic level, there were similarities to baseline Humans, internally, there was significant modification that did not reflect natural tampering, instead being closer to mutation than artificial change.

According to the data, his immune system was freakishly powerful – on-par with a fully modified Ethereal. There were indications that he would be nearly impossible to poison, as his body would process it naturally. His blood was also poisonous – at least if it was ingested. This was another element that the medics couldn't identify as a modification or natural – though the evidence suggested it was a side effect of whatever process this man had undergone.

This man was an artificial, unnatural creation which somehow functioned. Yet, outside of the cosmetic modifications, the rest of his genome lacked the professional edge the Battlemaster would have expected. Wholly curious – and troubling. It was not so much that the elements were unique as it was their construction and assembly.

He was also a psion. A weak one, but likely very skilled. No Sectoids had been used to probe his mind – that would come later, no doubt. He was kneeling on the floor, in a meditative trance, his breathing controlled and body relaxed. After the Battlemaster had stood silent for a few seconds, he looked up, and raised an eyebrow.

"I did not expect to see you here." He looked to Yang. "Either of you."

"I did not expect that one of your kind would be captured."

He smiled. "Whatever could you mean, Battlemaster?"

"I know what you are. It does you little good to deny it. I fought one of your kind in New York."

"It doesn't matter what you want," the man clasped his hands behind his back. "You will learn nothing from me. As I told your spy, you had best let me go before my absence is noticed. I am a neutral party in your conflict. It would be unwise to make me an enemy."

"You are overly confident for a man locked in a cell," Yang snorted. "Each of us could kill you where you stand."

"You could. But you won't." he shook his head. "I'm too valuable, and even if you did? All you would accomplish is signing your death warrants."

"Your people would return to avenge you?"

"Less avenge, more 'ensure no trace remains'," the man mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "They prefer as little known about them as possible. The outcome of New York was unforeseen, normally a risk such as that would not be taken."

"Then why?" Yang wondered.

"Classified, I'm afraid," the man said apologetically. "As is my existence. I sincerely, deeply, implore you to release me, before it is too late."

The Battlemaster was silent for a moment. In truth, he had no real desire to hold the man, and suspected that the confidence he displayed was not an act. Based on New York, there was reason to treat him carefully – even if he doubted the retaliation would be as grandiose as he expected. One could not simply erase an Ethereal with ease.

"I make no promises," the Battlemaster said. "But I will offer you a deal. I will tell you how we found you, and in return you answer a question."

"I already know how you found me, Battlemaster," the man chuckled. "Your spy explained it to me."

"It does not know the reason."

"Oh? I do not promise I will answer your question, but go on."

"I requested more information on your kind from a certain individual. Then I learned you were captured."

"And? I would expect you to take an interest in that event. It would be more surprising if you did not."

"It is not like that. It is tied to my question," he withdrew a paper copy of the symbol that was scarred onto his wrist. "Are you familiar with this symbol?"

The Battlemaster had expected anything from confusion to indifference, or perhaps a faint hint of recognition. While the chances were low that the man actually knew anything about it, there were few viable options. A man tied to the unknown faction would be more likely to know than anyone in the Collective.

What he had not expected was for the entire demeanor of the man to change.

Gone was a mildly amused and confident man, practicing mocking courtesy and standing upright and tall. Replaced was a man who had gone completely still; frozen in place. His eyes flickered not in confusion, but fear. His mouth clamped shut, and his eyes darted around, as if he was afraid someone was listening.

"Battlemaster," his voice had changed. It was deathly serious. Focused. Direct. "Where did you learn of that?"

"That is unimportant," well, this was an interesting turn of events. "You clearly recognize it."

"Answer my question – " he repeated fiercely, before holding back and taking a long sigh. "Listen, the fact that you know of that symbol is bad. Where you learned it is far more important. A book? A sigil? A report?"

"None."

He sucked in his breath. "The arm. Or the face. It's always one of the two."

He knew then. "What do you know of this man?"

"That you have absolutely no idea what you are dealing with," the man said emphatically. "This is far worse than I feared. You made a deal with him. That is how you captured me by 'accident'."

"I did not expect my request to be fulfilled."

"They never do." A short nod. "What did you give him in return?"

"Nothing. He offered this time as a 'show of good faith'."

"Ok, that's good," the man breathed a sigh of relief. "I do not care what you do with me, Battlemaster, but you must never accept any deal made by the Entity."

"That is what it is called?"

"It goes by many names. An Entity is what it is. An insidious, manipulative devil. A wish-granter who makes the impossible come to life – before taking it all from you." He shook his head. "It has existed for…far longer than I have been alive. Do not be deceived by his words. The Entity has its own goals, and, no matter what you do, no matter how careful you are, you will play right into them."

"And how exactly is it possible that such feats are accomplished?"

"I don't know," he shook his head. "That is understood by others who are far more important than me. What I do know is that all who meet the Entity end up dead, or wishing they were. The Entity poses a threat not just to you, Battlemaster, but this galaxy. And others."

The Battlemaster was not foolish enough to take the man's word at face value – but given his own impression of this Entity, and the fact that there was nothing to indicate that the man was not sincere in his words, it was clear that the solution was not going to be simple. "Your people are an enemy of the Entity."

"If you want to use a generic term. It is no less an enemy to us than a plague is an enemy to Humans. We have contained this disease for millennia, and it escaped recently. It is patient, cunning, and far smarter than you are. Do not fall into the trap of thinking you can deal with it safely. You cannot."

"It is not my enemy," the Battlemaster said.

A thin, humorless smile graced the man's lips. "Not yet. You are in the rare position to walk away from it, Battlemaster. I suggest you do so."

"Your suggestion is noted."

He sighed. "Very well. I will make a deal with you."

"Go on."

"We have an interest in capturing the Entity again. You on your own cannot do so, nor would we expect you to," the man straightened. "Here is my proposal. Let me go, and I will return to the Throne World and appeal on your behalf. If you help us deal with the Entity, we would be in your debt."

Now that… was certainly a tempting offer. "And how do I know I can trust you?"

"There will be a meeting, on your terms and on your own time," he said. "Bring as many or few individuals you trust to it. We take this matter seriously, Battlemaster."

"And what happens if it returns to us beforehand?" Yang asked.

"It most certainly will," the man said. "It will likely know of our discussion. This is its weakness. It is arrogant. It believes this is a game, and that is how it can be taken down. It is unable to resist a challenge, and openly associating with one plotting with the Throne World? Do not fear he will be spooked. But you cannot indulge him. Not until there is a plan."

The Battlemaster briefly touched Yang through the bond; she seemed to think he was being truthful, and the chance to potentially find allies for the future was…something to at least entertain. There was a brief nod, and the Battlemaster looked down at the man who had proven unexpectedly helpful.

"There will be an opportunity shortly. It is up to you to free yourself."

A single nod. "That is all I need."

"Good," the Battlemaster began turning away. "Let us hope that you can follow through on your proposal."

---

Utah Airspace, Utah – United States of America

6/28/2017 – 4:22 P.M.

"We're coming into sight…now."

Streaking across the sky, the Valkyrie blasted across the airspace of Salt Lake City, two smaller Archangels and several trios of Firestorms closely behind her.

"XCOM has now arrived," Ted quipped. "Let's see what they have for us."

As it turned out, they had quite a lot.

Sierra appraised the opposing force from high above, what seemed to be a swarm that was encroaching upon the city. Salt Lake was one of the best-defended cities in America, and, from reports, there had been an influx of civilian volunteers after the shrouds had been deployed over the city.

The nighttime lighting meant nothing for her optical enhancements – and those of the other Archangels. Natural lighting would have been abysmal, though Sierra had to admit that, from above, away from the sounds of combat, it was almost pretty. The orange muzzle flashes and streaks of missiles contrasted with the bright green plasma bolts.

There were thousands of Collective soldiers, tens of thousands. Mostly Mutons, but it was enough that ADVENT was almost certainly outnumbered – though they had an advantage in their inherent defenses – and they had Caelior.

Sierra didn't know where he was on the ground, but she had a feeling that she'd know when he acted. Right now, there was a mission to complete: defending the city from the aliens. The Firestorms broke off to engage the Sectoid craft overhead, leaving the Valkyrie and Archangels on their own.

"Target priorities are Executors, Sectopods, and the Second Guardian," Sierra told them, as her scanners looked for any of the listed targets. "One located; southeast flank of the city."

"Copy, you going to take it?"

"Yes. Thin out the crowds for ADVENT if you can."

Ted gave a mock salute in the air. "Understood. Make them burn."

That she most certainly would.

Her Valkyrie clicked into the mobile form and shot towards the target she'd specified. The Collective was taking notice, and stray plasma bolts were flying in her direction. At one time she would have tried dodging, but now they were about as effective as spitballs. An opening bombing run seemed in order.

The course was plotted in her HUD, and she angled into a sharp turn as she primed the stockpile of bombs in her reserves. White Phosphorus was ideal for clumps of enemies well-away from allied forces. They had a large radius, were lethal, demoralizing, and lingering. Later bombing runs would be more…kinetic.

Roaring overhead, she released the bombs from the chambers along her legs and chest, and, a few seconds later, was rewarded with plumes of white poison blossoming in the enemy ranks,the aliens helplessly trying to scatter as the burning chemical spread – a formula which had been recently enhanced by XCOM to be lighter and spread even further.

Now, for the Executor.

The most optimal weapon was a ClF3 missile, which was risky to carry – but it was a risk she had elected to take this time. It was past time she got comfortable with more dangerous weaponry like this, and the Dreamscape had been very helpful for training in how best to use them.

Rule of thumb, use your most unstable tools first. The longer the battle went on, the greater the likelihood that something would go wrong. As dangerous as the Executors were, they were also very predictable. They had a very simple protocol – if a missile was detected, they would shoot it down.

A trio of three missiles were fired from her suit towards the targeted Executor. Specially-built warheads, capable of withstanding point-laser defenses. It wouldn't last forever, but it would allow the warhead to get close enough to deliver the payload. Red beams lanced out from the weapons of the Executor as Sierra soared overhead.

The lasers broke through, unleashing the hellfire upon the Executor in a beautiful blanket of fire. Worked like a charm every time. She did a final confirmation to see that the Executor was burning, as those near the machine tried to find some way to quench the flames – and only made it worse.

Plasma scorches dotted her suit as she turned and swooped over the battlefield. In the distance she saw an entire group of aliens be lifted into the air, and tossed aside like ragdolls as Heralds and Sectopods were telekinetically crushed. Caelior had made his presence known, and there were resounding cheers at his display.

It seemed the battle was off to a good start.

They still had a long way to go.

---

ADVENT High Command – Switzerland

6/28/2017 – 7:04 P.M.

ADVENT High Command, or whoever was still there after the major strategy meeting had finished, were waiting anxiously for what was to come next. "Thunderbirds are in the air and almost within engagement distance, Chancellor," Elliot nodded to her. "Pulling up feeds and operational positioning."

The holotable updated with the latest positions of the important units. The Hiveship was outlined in purple, while the Thunderbirds were in red, along with the respective air forces. Below, on the simulated Earth, were the missile launch stations, and just behind the Thunderbird hologram were the bombers marked with nuclear missiles and Atomic Lances.

On the screens themselves, they showed the real-time footage of the Thunderbird movement. It really was one of the more impressive designs that ADVENT had produced. A wide-winged supercarrier with minimal Human personnel, and the first utilization of weaponized drone swarms, as far as Saudia knew.

It would definitely be enough to handle most Collective fighters and atmospheric aircraft. This was in addition to its armament of missiles, lasers, and gauss emplacements. The video did not accurately convey the sheer size of the Thunderbirds, though, compared to the Hiveship, they were tiny.

"This is THUNDERBIRD-1," the voice of the Thunderbird captain came on. "We are approaching engagement range to the Hiveship. We're detecting swarms of small craft being launched, Sectoid Fighters and Bombers. Prepare for engagement. All Wings report in."

"Red Wing, standing by."

"Blue Wing, standing by."

"Gold Wing, standing by."

"Black Wing, ready to fire the Lances."

"Green Wing, ready to go."

The Commanders of each respective Wing rattled off their confirmation, nearly two dozen in number, consisting of fighter and bomber Wings. In the video, she saw a cluster of dots in the distance, flying out from the Hiveship like an insect swarm. The holotable reflected the development, filling in dozens of smaller purple dots.

"Sectoid ships approaching," the Red Wing Commander commented. "Get ready, boys, this is where the fun begins."

"Roger that, sir," another pilot answered with a chuckle.

"Put feeds from Red-1, Green-1, and Black-1 on-screen," Elliot ordered. "All air forces, execute at will. Protect the bombers, take out the fighters, and put a dent in that Hiveship."

"Understood," the Thunderbird captain affirmed. "Sectoid fighters have entered engagement distance. Begin countermeasures."

All of the screens began lighting up with orange flashes and green plasma, accompanied by the occasional red laser in the dimming sunlight. The largest air battle the war had seen had now, officially, begun. It had been a long time since Saudia had witnessed an air conflict of this scale and intensity. Most engagements were land-based, or the land was the focus.

Now, only the Air Force could respond to the threat in the sky.

The comms were a mixture of call-outs, requests for assistance, cheers as a Sectoid fighter was shot out of the sky, or brief screams of pain as an aircraft exploded. It was difficult to fully keep track, though Elliot was not only managing to, but giving specific orders, directional suggestions, and synchronizing fleet actions.

A half-hour passed and the battle continued, unabated, with many more Sectoid fighters shot out of the sky than Human ones – most of which were thanks to the Thunderbird. The drones, in particular, were performing well beyond expectations, especially the Cutter Drones, which attached themselves to Sectoid craft and ripped them apart.

Thanks to the schematics they had of all Sectoid craft, it was a trivial matter for the drone to find the weak point and distribute nanites, or even just manually cut it open, before disengaging, as the dead Sectoid ship fell from the sky. The Fighter Drones were performing well as augments to the Wings, either as distractions or for combined arms. On their own, they were easily taken out – thus, acting in a swarm was the only viable solution.

"Bombers are in position, Chancellor," Elliot reported.

She gave a sharp nod. "Do it."

"All Bomber Wings in position, release payload," Elliot commanded.

There was a chorus of affirmations, as the three dozen bombers, all of which had maneuvered to surround the Hiveship, released the missiles. It had taken time to fully envelop the Hiveship. So the theory went, if the Hiveship was forced to protect itself from all angles, it might be weakened faster.

It also helped that many of the missiles were distractions, standard Avalanches, not nuclear – with the nuclear warheads buried in the mix. There was a high likelihood that the Hiveship would take out a large swath of the missiles – but they only needed a few to hit.

Orange streaks with white trails were seen on the feeds, streaking towards the Hiveship from almost all angles, reflected on the holotable as red streaks moving slowly towards the Hiveship. Saudia waited for the Hiveship's defenses to kick in…and, soon, they did.

Lasers and plasma shots lit up the night sky as several of the missiles deployed countermeasures which were picked off by the lasers and plasma. Saudia watched grimly as red streaks vanished from the holotable. Nevertheless, it wasn't enough - it would have to put up the shields shortly.

And it did.

The Hiveship was suddenly surrounded by translucent purple barriers which almost perfectly covered the hull, and the defensive fire ceased seconds before the first missiles impacted. Saudia looked away from the screen as the explosions flashed, and when she looked back, she was heartened to see that there was some damage to the Hiveship.

Chunks of the exterior hull had been destroyed, and some of the inner components were exposed. A fair number of weapons seemed damaged or outright destroyed. "Second wave, fire!" Elliot commanded.

The bombers launched the Atomic Lances. Two, coming from opposite directions. Luckily, these would not even have to impact to deploy. The Hiveship reactivated its barriers just in time as the Atomic Lances fired, and Saudia saw the beam of nuclear energy slam into the ship for a solid few seconds before it ended.

The result was…

Well, there was a noticeable hole in the Hiveship now. Two, in fact. It was impossible to see how deep it went, though she doubted the Hive Commander would be threatened. In the context of the entire ship, it was far from critical damage, but it was definitely substantial. Substantial enough that fixing the damage was beyond even the most aggressive nanite repair systems.

The capabilities of the Hiveship would only be partially diminished, but now they knew that there was a reliable way to damage it. They just needed time, Atomic Lances, and a pinch of luck.

"Hiveship is rotating and beginning to move forward," Elliot said. "We're not going to be able to do more to it right now. All craft, pull back and remain outside of engagement range."

There was a chorus of affirmatives from the still-surviving Wings, as the ADVENT air force broke off and joined the Thunderbirds in a retreat, while taking out what few Sectoid craft followed them. As Saudia looked at the casualty numbers, she knew that, while this engagement could be considered a success, it was not sustainable in the long term.

The next major engagement would have to be one that they won.

In the meantime, if they were unleashing all of the toys that had been created by Engineering, maybe it was time for another. "Elliot?" She asked.

"Yes, Chancellor?"

"Are we ready to deploy PLUTO?"

He blinked. "Testing has been completed, Chancellor. I'd have to confirm with Engineering, but it is…likely? Unfortunately, we only have two working models. Others will take time to build."

"Two will have to be enough. We have attacks all over the world. We need a continuous mechanism to strike back."

"I'll get right on that, Chancellor," he saluted.

"Good," she nodded. "Your pilots performed excellently today. Well done."

"We did what we could, Chancellor," he bowed his head. "The next time we engage the Hiveship, it will go down."

---

Aleppo Garrison – Syria

6/29/2020 – 1:23 A.M.

They had lost track of time.

Such was meaningless, as the defenders of Aleppo stood against the ever-encroaching alien tide. The smell of heated barrels and plasma was rampant in the trenches, mixed with blood and vomit. The still-warm bodies of many of the defenders lay shattered, broken, and bleeding on the ground, their bodies in various states of destruction.

Militiamen ran back and forth, sometimes dragging the bodies away, but the number of corpses was becoming less important than holding the line as more and more ADVENT soldiers fell. People carrying crates of ammunition, water, and materials to patch the failing walls were a constant flow, and they were not immune from the danger.

The ground seemed to be in a near-constant state of movement; if it wasn't shaking, it was vibrating from the missiles that flew overhead and buried themselves in the trenches and the city. The Sectopods had been content to stay back and keep firing artillery. ADVENT simply did not have powerful enough weapons to adequately strike back.

ADVENT Rocketeers had fired a few shots at the distant Sectopods, but those had only done minimal damage, if they'd hit at all. The Sectopods were still too far away, and the mortars were best for slaughtering infantry. It was surreal for Angela to look beyond the trenches and see the piles of Muton corpses that lay along the No Man's Land.

Were they even making a dent?

Maybe not in Mutons, but she did notice that there were fewer Vanguards. The lines were not as tight, and the Sectoid leader's mind had never reached the intensity it had prior to the first trap the Lion had laid. Despite that, it was relentless, pushing against her mind for what felt like an eternity.

She'd had to recall every lesson, dug into herself for depths of resolve she hadn't realized had existed. All built on the fleeting, grim hope that they could survive this. They were still holding out. They were still here, even after god knew how many hours. Her comms were a mixture of commentary, commands, and shouts she only tangibly was able to pay attention to.

She felt close to passing out at times, and then received a burst of energy after pushing back the latest attack, or hearing cheers as a rocket took out a half-dozen Mutons. She was tired, skin slick with sweat and her armor incapable of cooling her down, though the chilling temperature helped somewhat. Scorch marks dotted her formerly white armor, plasma residue mixed with dirt, slag, and blood from simply being in the trenches. It sported cracks and chunks were missing.

None of the other soldiers in her squad were any better. Tired, dirty, drained – but alive.

They were all alive.

For now, at least.

And, now, something major had happened.

"What did you say?" she demanded.

"The Executors," Bradley said, disbelief in his voice even through his exhaustion. "Half of them were just taken down."

"Yes, I heard. How?"

"Well, I saw a big explosion, so take a wild guess," he answered. "Did he seriously lay a trap that far out? And didn't detonate it until the Executors reached it. Oh yeah, I see plasma. There's a hit-and run going on right now. Fuck yes, we're actually doing it."

"Joel, did you get that?" Angela demanded.

"I got it," Joel grunted. "Excellent news. Far from over, but that'll prevent them from wiping us out when they got in range."

The news quickly spread through the trenches, and Angela felt a burst of hope and pride from the soldiers. Less obvious was the alien reaction, though it was doubtful many of the front-line Mutons noticed or cared, though she could tell that the Sectoid leader, wherever it was, was distracted.

The fighting continued.

ADVENT soldiers fell. They were replaced. The smells only became worse. There were actual puddles of blood throughout much of the trenches where she stepped. Shells and missiles flew overhead in greater intensity. Previously stopped by psions, enough had died that there was no longer universal coverage over the trenches.

The Collective was pushing closer, and it seemed like they were going to break through soon enough. Angela felt that it was only a matter of time before the order came to move deeper into the city. She knew that, if they stayed, they would be overrun. Bolt after bolt was fired, and Mutons fell, to be instantly replaced by more.

The Collective had adapted to filling the ranks of the fallen quickly, and, for every one that fell, it was moved to the side and the gap was filled. Mechtoids and Heralds were the primary augments, and had attracted the largest amount of concentrated fire. There were a few wrecks that dotted the battlefield now, but not nearly enough.

One of the Sectoid missiles hit the nearby Flak Tower, and this time punched a hole directly through it. Angela resisted panicking when she saw. "Bradley!"

"I'm fine," she heard him grunt. "Tower is definitely compromised though. We're moving to evacuate it. The next barrage will probably take it down if we stay."

"Get out of there, then," Joel concurred. "We're moving to regroup. The Lion is preparing to call retreat deeper into the city; the aliens have almost breached along one of the lines."

"Copy that," Angela nodded, then winced as she felt the probe of another oncoming psionic attack.

Get out of my head!

Every gram of frustration and anger she had, for the attack, for ADVENT basically assigning this as a suicide mission, for this relentless creature still in her head, came to the forefront and gave a burst of focus which she pushed against the alien mind.

Stay out!

She fell to one knee as another wave of exhaustion hit her, but forced herself up. She was not going to fall here. She knew that, if she fell, then there would be almost no one to stop the Sectoid from making it game-over for them all. She'd only felt it vaguely, but there weren't many ADVENT psions left alive.

Not enough. Not nearly enough.

She rushed to the base of the Flak Tower, shouting some encouraging things to the soldiers, who may or may not have understood her since they shouted back in Arabic, but they seemed to respect the sentiment. She helped prop up a wounded ADVENT soldier who had shrapnel buried in her arm and a heavily damaged helmet.

"You're going to be fine," she told the woman, helping take off her helmet, and waving over a medic, who started treating her. She was very young, couldn't have been older than seventeen or eighteen, yet, here she was on the front lines. Remarkably composed, and with clear resolve in her mind, tempered with pain and exhaustion.

"Angela!" Bradley jogged over to her.

"Good, you're alright," she said quickly. "How many did you lose in the barrage?"

"Not as many as we could have," he grunted. "But we've been losing people gradually. Stray plasma shots, explosions, the works. How are you holding up? You sound exhausted."

"I am exhausted, but…" she gestured beyond the trenches. "We're going to get through this."

"Aye," even tired, she could hear the small grin in his voice. "Let's get back to it."

They kept fighting.

Who knew how much time had passed? Were they on hour five? Six? She didn't know, and no one was really keeping track. Maybe they should have lost well before now. All she knew was that they were still here, and would still keep fighting. Bradley had gone through so many rounds she wondered if they would run out eventually.

She fired her own weapon a few times, but was mostly focused on making sure the psionic attacks didn't affect the soldiers at large. The sounds of plasma, Sectoid chitters, and Muton grunts became audible as the alien mass moved ever-closer. She remembered one order someone from the American Revolutionary War had given.

Don't fire until you see the whites of their eyes.

She didn't know what the Muton equivalent was, but she was pretty sure that applied now – and that close of a distance was a very bad thing. There was a shift in the lines.

The radio crackled, and she could almost see the smile, the animal smile of the Lion. It was audible. As audible as the anger and furor.

"All ADVENT forces, the enemy is at our gates. Give them a welcome they will never forget. Show them that this battle has only begun, show them a place they dare not tread." The Lion started without warning. "Show them our home, show them our lands they dare defile."

"Show them our finest hour, show them our blood and ire." The Lion growled. "Show them their graveyard, and let them die to a thousand cuts."

The radio went silent.

"Grenadiers," Bradley muttered. "We need to get back."

"What?"

"Muton Grenadiers," he repeated. "They're moving them up. Trenches will be death zones if-"

"Incoming!" Someone shouted, echoed with various intensity by other soldiers in English and Arabic.

Angela looked up and saw a barrage of orange streaks, and the ground turned into an earthquake as the grenades hit the trenches; a surge of heat briefly hit her, and she felt the impact of some of the shockwaves and shrapnel – though, thankfully, her armor absorbed it. Once the world stabilized, she grimaced noticing that she'd landed in a small puddle of blood, and wiped off her gauntlets as she stood.

Her heart rate spiked as she saw Bradley lying on the ground, part of his helmet and upper armor blasted away, and blood covering it – blood that she feared was not someone else's. "Bradley!" She rushed to him, turned him around, and confirmed that the blood was leaking from his head.

"Joel, Bradley's down!" She quickly updated as she tore off a piece of wound-sealing adhesive and placed it to the head wound. That needed to be the first thing that was sealed, else he would bleed out. "Alive, but hurt bad. Head."

"Get him out of there, we'll rendezvous at the contingency point," he said tightly.

"Copy, sir," Angela briefly checked that the bandage was secure. You'll be fine, we'll be fine, she could hear her own thoughts. This will end, it will.

A trooper sprinted to her, slowing down only to shout at her. He seamlessly bent down as he kept shouting in Arabic. The two of them picked up Bradley, slinging his arms over their shoulders as they ran, moving as fast as their legs allowed.

She saw those too injured to live brace their rifles on rubble and prepare their grenades. Steel in their eyes, and fear in their minds. Just to buy a few more minutes. More time for others to run.

So they ran, even as the sound of Mutons and plasma fire grew nearer.

Bradley was going to live, she was going to make sure of it. Her own exhaustion meant nothing with the adrenaline pumping through her, and the thin, fragile string of hope, the knowledge that every second was a defiance of the odds.

She heard the grenades go off, she heard the rifles go silent.

More explosions sounded around her as she joined the retreat, and the Collective lines finally broke through.

The end was coming, one way or another. But it wouldn't come until they were dead.

---

Detention Cells, Unknown Location

Unknown Time

If this Sphere didn't have the most unique problems.

The Hunter could not have predicted the way this little excursion had gone, but he sincerely wished he could go back to a simple escape and, perhaps, retribution against the Collective for daring to capture him.

The Entity being involved changed everything.

It made perfect sense how the Collective had 'managed' to find him. There were no coincidences like that, and it was perfectly understandable that the Battlemaster's vague wish to the Entity would be carried out this way. No wonder everything had led to a perfect storm of coincidences, leading to his capture.

He was playing back the day in his head, wondering who or what had been subtly nudging him to make the decisions he had. He could not discount the possibility that anyone he encountered had been the Entity in disguise – or another who had been nudged by it. He was going to need a Seer to go through his mind and pick out if he had been affected.

He was woefully unprepared to handle a monster like this.

On the bright side, it was likely the entire School would be mobilized again for another hunt – likely also with the best of the Riders. The Entity was arrogant – arrogant enough that he would probably learn of his revelation to the Battlemaster and consider it a challenge. The Entity could be captured and outwitted,it had happened before, and it could happen again.

The difference was that he knew exactly what he was dealing with. The Battlemaster did not, and he was the perfect kind of target for the Entity – someone smart enough not to trust at face value, but who could steadily be persuaded over time so long as promises were kept. The Hunter did not know what the Entity's endgame was, but it was imperative that it be stopped.

In a way, this was a very important development. There had been speculation that the Entity would follow the Blood to this Sphere, but encountering it would be like a needle in a haystack. Now, though? Confirmation, and quickly, for that matter. The Throne World would be pleased, if alarmed, that the Entity was wasting no time meddling.

At least it wasn't with someone worse.

First, though, there was a predicament to solve – escaping this station. While he had little issue with the Throne World making an entrance to save him, he preferred to be subtle – especially considering the circumstances. He suspected a few days had passed since his capture, and he was fairly sure the interrogation was coming soon.

Right now, in fact.

Excellent.

The guards, both Vitakarians, were accompanied by one of the towering, black-armored Vanguards. Ah, so they weren't going to risk a weaker drone. A Vanguard was more powerful, but it wouldn't help them here. Probably just to make sure he didn't act up. Bound at the wrists, knees, and ankles, he was moved silently – they even put a blindfold over his eyes and gag in his mouth.

As if those would dull his senses.

The room he was in now was cold. A wind was blowing in the corner, in all likelihood. From the sounds, there were perhaps a dozen in total in the room – including two more Vanguards. How interesting. Probably some medical personnel, and the rest guards. He could still hear and move his fingers.

That would be enough.

If they were smart, they would have used one of the Mosrimor Orbs here – he doubted that even the memetics of the Seers would have been strong enough to work on a Sovereign One. But the Collective, in their arrogance, believed that Vanguards would be more than enough. To give them fair credit, for any ordinary psion of his power, they would have been.

Unfortunately for them, he was no ordinary psion.

The gag was removed. "Please state your name."

He smiled. "No, I don't think I will."

A grunt. "We will acquire the information we want, alien, one way or another. I trust you do not like others in your head, do you?"

"Not especially, my friend."

"Then I would request you cooperate, or one of the Vanguards will extract what they need." A short break followed, a false inflection of empathy within. "They are not especially gentle in their extraction. We are only interested in your mind, not in keeping it intact."

"Your Sectoids are sloppy if you are urging my cooperation because they may destroy my mind," he said. "Do not worry, I'll take my chances. I'm sure you can understand."

"I see," the Hunter heard a soft sigh. "Begin the extraction. You know what to look for."

There was a chitter, and the Hunter felt a cold hand on his forehead as the Vanguard began the psionic extraction. It doubtless expected to meet resistance, but the Hunter was quite content to let it see. Look deep, my Sectoid friend. See the message the Seers left for those who tamper with their tools.

It did not take long.

He knew the moment the Vanguard had found one of the many traps in the crevices of his mind. There was a rapid withdrawal, and a pained chitter. Immediately, he felt two more penetrations of his mind – the other Vanguards. Oh, you gullible idiots.

Same result, and now the staff in the room was starting to panic as the Sectoids turned on them, likely threatening quite terrible things. He could hear the main interrogator giving frantic orders, only to be cut down sharply, perhaps by a telekinetic attack, or by one of those psionic swords he'd seen them use.

Time for him to get a little more involved.

Flicking his fingers in the familiar formation, the purple fire ignited around his wrists, and burned away the restraints. Since they'd only restrained his wrists, he reached up and pulled the blindfold off, before quickly removing the restraints on his waist, knees, and ankles. With a satisfied smile, he stepped down and beheld the carnage of the Vanguards.

A number of corpses, most of them in positions that implied surprise or shock. Excellent, and not a shot fired. The Vanguards now stood as silent drones. An alarm was going to sound soon. "Make sure the alarm is neutralized," he ordered, as the memetics allowed anyone of the Throne World to command those who fell under their spell.

A chitter, and the Vanguards departed.

Now he needed to find a way off this station. Or emplacement. Wherever he was. Finding a Gateway was the most important. There wasn't really a point in hiding from security cameras since he had no layout, and would undoubtedly miss one. Speed was of the utmost importance. Luckily, he had a feeling that his equipment was nearby. Assuming they'd taken everything from his room – that would hold the key to his escape.

The alarm started going off. Unfortunately, it seemed the Sectoids had been too slow.

No matter.

In the hallway, he heard the sound of bootsteps. A trio of Runianarch opposed him, weapons up. "On the ground."

"At ease," he lifted a hand, conjuring an aegii barrier formed into a triangle. Symbols were quite useful if one needed to supplement their telepathy. Much easier to focus on than a straight telepathic attack. It worked perfectly, and the trio immediately relaxed. "Now, tell me where prisoner belongings are stored."

"Down the hall, left side."

"Why don't you take me there?"

Pushing for requests with symbolic control was risky, but these soldiers posed no threat, even in his unarmed state. The soldiers gestured. "We shall, follow us."

"Do hurry."

They rushed down the hall, and the Hunter was acutely aware that there were more teams of guards mobilizing and converging on his position. He needed to hurry this up. Luckily, it wasn't far away, and the door was unlocked. Perfect. Without a word to his briefly hijacked allies, he entered it, before quickly locking the door behind him.

He'd wondered why there wouldn't have been an automatic lock on a room like this, and soon got his answer – everything was locked up, and the keys were almost certainly stored elsewhere. Not that it was a major obstacle for him. He quickly looked around the room – at least the cameras weren't subtle.

A blast of psionic fire at each of them, and he had relative privacy. And at the lock for good measure. No override anymore.

Finding where his own equipment was stored was not difficult – it was by far the largest collection, and the aliens had spared no space in making sure everything interesting had been retrieved from his room. He could deeply appreciate their desire to know everything, and their organization in storing it.

He burned the lock off, reached in, and found the device. A brief trigger, and it would only be a moment before someone responded. He used those few seconds to grab his medallion, weapons, and gear – as much as he could fit in his arms and over his shoulder. He could hear the aliens outside, yelling and trying to get in.

They'd have to manually bring down tools to enter, and those would take time. Not a lot of time – but enough.

The burst of cold signaled his help had arrived. He turned to see the armored Navigator appear, the portal behind him maintained. The Hunter could feel the disapproval and disappointment in the faceless mask, but he didn't care. "I need to return to the Throne World," he said. "I've found the Entity."

---

Aleppo – Syria

6/29/2020 – 5:13 A.M.

Urban warfare was chaotic, frustrating, and the closest thing to hell Angela could think of.

At least, if you were the attacker.

She'd never appreciated just how utterly a city could be rigged to withstand an attack. It was a good thing that most cities were not weaponized in this manner, because, even if there was an entire army working to capture the city, it would take weeks, if not months to fully stamp out resistance.

Especially if everyone in it was willing to die, rather than be captured.

Conventional wisdom said that an invading army only needed to control a few points of infrastructure to secure a city, usually the seat of government, the food, the communications, power, and water. Guerilla holdouts would doubtless exist, but those would be rare and easily put down.

Clearly, the Collective had never met anyone who fought like the Lion.

Angela could only imagine the stress she would feel if she were on the other side, and knowing that any alleyway could contain an ambush squad or a machine gun ready to pulverize the first thing that entered the line of sight. Or cautiously moving past lines of abandoned cars along streets where any one of them could be hiding an IED. Or clearing a building, and knowing that the wall could suddenly blow out, or the roof collapse.

This wasn't even getting into the legions of marksmen who were positioned throughout the city, camouflage, nearly impossible to deal with without taking casualties, and capable of striking from any angle. There was a constant sound of explosions – both IEDs and Collective missiles, grenades, and explosives.

Hours, they'd fought, moving rapidly from building to building. The Sectoid leader was gone. She didn't know if it had been killed or it had left, but she wouldn't have been surprised either way. That had been a massive relief, knowing she didn't have to protect herself and the others from that.

Bradley was unconscious, and being treated right now in the makeshift field hospitals that were heavily guarded at the heart of the city. She didn't know if he would make it, but she had to believe he would. He was strong enough to pull through something like this, and, once it was over, they'd all have a drink and a good laugh.

We must almost be done.

We have to be.

The hours had involved her acting as a spotter of a kind; relaying to the soldiers and militia by her when Collective forces were coming, allowing them to plan a perfect ambush, or trigger nearby explosives. Overhead Horsemen occasionally streaked by, dropping explosives, sniping Mutons, or otherwise harassing the aliens.

Even still, they were losing ground. Slowly but surely. The tactics of the Collective had changed in the past hour. No longer were they doing door-by-door raids of houses, stores, and infrastructure. They were just leveling everything they suspected ADVENT defenders were hiding inside. There were only so many casualties they could take before they decided it wasn't worth it.

Building after building crashed, either brought down by Muton Grenadiers or Sectopods, which had moved into the city properly. Angela believed that they intended to raze the city completely at this point, and the circle of safety was shrinking with every hour. Plasma and gauss fire continued to be exchanged, and the bodies of aliens and Humans lined the streets, red and yellow blood congealing on the asphalt and sand.

There were more militia soldiers than proper ADVENT ones now, including other unarmored civilians who were picking up pistols, rifles, and improvised weapons from kitchen knives to frying pans. The latter sadly wasn't effective, though she had seen it stun a Muton long enough for her to blast it through the head.

She could only imagine what the final casualty list would be when all of this was done. Thousands on both sides. She wasn't in any better condition. She was amazed that she was still standing after hours of this constant fighting. Much of her chest armor was burned away, and there were bandages on her chest and stomach from plasma burns.

She was pretty sure a couple of fingers were broken, and she felt a breeze on the back of her head, indicating her helmet was compromised. Ammo was becoming scarce since the supply lines had been cut off. Her psionics had saved her multiple times, either freezing their minds long enough for her or someone else to kill them, or allowing her to be quiet when she knew a patrol was coming.

Her comms were only partially working, usually only emitting static when she tried to contact other frequencies. She had no idea if her squad was even alive at this point. The only objective now was to survive, and take out as many aliens as possible before it ended. If this was to be a last stand, she would make it a memorable one.

She was in what had been a grocery store, with only a few of the Legion soldiers, and a couple dozen militia and civilians. Muton corpses lined the aisles and entrance, along with those of the defenders. Men and women who'd given their lives despite the overwhelming odds. Courage anyone should aspire to.

The makeshift barricades were their only remaining respite, as the IEDs and rigged explosives had been exhausted long ago. Now there were only rifles, a couple grenades, and a dwindling supply of ammunition. Shots needed to be precise, ammo couldn't be wasted. Some of the men were wielding hammers and knives, the few weapons the store had in stock, and women had carts of canned foods to throw. Not especially effective for armored enemies, but it worked as a distraction.

She felt something. "Coming!" she hissed to Farid, one of the only ADVENT soldiers left alive, and the only one of the small group who understood English. Though all of them tensed the moment she spoke, picking up the intensity in her voice and understanding what it meant. Some things transcended language, and they knew enough to figure out what she was saying.

The Mutons showed themselves, and plasma flew their direction as the grunts and howls of the aliens sounded. One fell, a half-dozen charged forward. One man tossed one of the few grenades, and that brought down a trio, while Angela and the other soldiers shot the others. More were coming through, and she extended a hand, summoning what remained of her strength.

"Stop."

They stopped, long enough for them to be brought down, either by bullets, or by some of the men pulling them down, ripping off the helmets and plunging their weapons into their heads with violent abandon. She heard a few screams as plasma shots hit and killed some of the civilian defenders. Others were lining up outside, and she saw the flash of a familiar weapon.

Grenadiers.

She lifted her rifle, took aim, and fired. It didn't kill the Muton, but it did hit the weapon, and rendered it inoperable. Good enough. But there were others. More shots, and more screams of pain. More Mutons fell. A plasma explosion shook the ground, and she saw part of their barricade – along with those who'd been stationed – was gone.

This may be it.

She reloaded her magazine.

Let's make it memorable.

But something was changing. The plasma was still firing towards them, but it was…diminished. Angela wondered, briefly, if they'd killed enough of them, but no, it didn't feel like the Mutons were running low on soldiers…it seemed like they were moving away from them.

One by one, they suddenly broke off, and left, with Farid ordering everyone staying in place.

What was going on?

There was a tense silence, then she heard the cries. The howling, deafening cries. They were screaming, screaming in disbelief, in jubilance and anger and mourning and triumph. They came from the far off rooftops, from the alleyways and the rubble turned machine gun nests.

She felt it, she knew it. As easy to recognise as it was hard to believe. It couldn't be.

Farid rose up, pointed to the sky and broke out in mad laughter. She followed his hand, and she saw the ADVENT fighters.

"We're alive." Farid stated between bouts of hysteria, "We're alive!" He turned to roar at those besides him. "We're alive!" he roared, and the men carried the cry.

"The Collective?" she asked, not daring to hope. Not daring to think it was over.

"Escaping. Fleeing like cowards." Farid said with a smile half demented. "Stand up and see!" He all but commanded her, "Look at them run! Look at them run from us!"

She did. Against the urges to stay down, to keep her profile low and her rifle up. She stood up, and saw it. All the way down the street, far, far away from them. She doubted her own laughter sounded anymore sane than his.

But she laughed all the same.

Mutons running for their lives.

Mechtoids sprinting, being blown up by the odd remaining trap.

Vanguards slipping on puddles of blood, and scrambling to get back up.

A sharp jubilation came from all of them, an intoxicating pride and hope.

"We've won! We've won!" he exclaimed, embracing her to her surprise. "We've won! "

It was over. They'd done it. They'd held out all night, withstood overwhelming numbers with an army that had never been truly tested before. They should be dead. They shouldn't have won.

But they had.

It was over.

She was alive.

She quickly dashed outside and pulled herself on top of one of the roofs to get an idea of what was happening. The sun was only now just starting to rise, and she looked around and saw movements of aliens pulling back to the line that remained…now a noticeably smaller collection of aliens.

Over the rooftops, she saw marksmen stand up, basking in the moment. She saw a Horsemen, his arm in a splint, and half of his helmet cracked and smeared. He was covered in soot and dried blood, holding a tattered banner which he slammed into the rooftop. The Legion banner, flapping in the wind.

She saw a dozen others do the same, rising up and slamming the banners into Sectopods, Mechtoids and Vanguard corpses. There were troopers stumbling onto the streets, swaying before they sat down with smiles and tear soaked faces.

But most simply stood atop the rooftops. Casting their stares eastward, as they waved the banners, pumped their fists upwards, and prayed. So many lyrical prayers, choked and grateful.

East, they were looking eastward. So she too looked there.

Her heart skipped a beat, her smile swelled. It was vague, but there were clear indications of ADVENT Legions which were marching forward. Augmented with tanks and MDUs, they were about to sweep down onto the Collective's flank – and the retreat they were sounding almost certainly was too late.

The roar of a jet overhead caused her gaze to turn upward, as a squadron of fighters streaked in the sky, firing several missiles which punched into the Collective lines outside the city. Angela raised a fist to the sky, whooping at the sight, and allowing the jubilation she'd felt from the others take her over.

The long night was over.

They'd done it.

They'd won.

---

To be continued in Chapter 67

A Falling Star