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.

70. A Falling Star

A Falling Star

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Aleppo – Syria

6/30/2017 – 10:22 A.M.

The sun beat down upon Saudia's brow as she watched the cleanup of Aleppo. A full day had been spent hunting, killing, and capturing the various Collective groups that had scrambled, unsuccessfully, to retreat. The reinforcement Legions had quickly secured the area and locked it down, as teams of ADVENT Engineers were flown and teleported in to rapidly repair the defenses.

It was going to take some time to fully repair the damage the city had sustained. Many buildings had been reduced to rubble, and the ones that were still intact had walls blown out, chunks of the foundation blown apart by plasma and gauss munitions, or had suffered fire damage, which was to say nothing of the copious amounts of sand, limbs, and blood that adorned everything.

Civilians and soldiers were going from street to street and cleaning up the corpses first. The Human remains they were gentle with, delicately carrying them to a designated morgue, where they identified the deceased and prepared the many burials, some of which were taking place right now.

The alien corpses they were much less gentle with. After stripping the alloy armor off (some using shoes, of all things), they were tossed into MELD containers, where the biomass was converted into something useful. Their MELD stores were going to be greatly enriched from this, as well as their alloy stockpiles. Engineers were carefully stripping the Heralds, Sectopods, and Executors for parts, while others were moving through the remains of the cities and removing explosives.

She'd simply watched for a time, before getting in and helping move some corpses. She knew her guard wouldn't want that, but their job was to keep her safe, not stop her from helping out. After what had happened, Saudia figured that this was something she could manage, especially given her lack of faith in this outcome even being possible.

It helped that the work wasn't that difficult. Her mechanical limbs were useful here, allowing her to drag a Muton corpse without too much difficulty, which had drawn a few stares from both the soldiers and civilians alike. One of them had eventually rushed over and grabbed the legs of the Muton, and they'd carried him to the disposal site, where another team was stripping the Mutons for armor and parts.

The people seemed unsure as to how to really treat her. They certainly weren't ignorant of who she was, especially the soldiers, but they became a bit more comfortable as she helped.

"You've been busy," Laura said, walking up and appraising her handiwork.

"Had some time to kill until the meeting," Saudia said, cleaning the palms of her metal hands. She idly noted that her clothes were now sandy and dusty, though it wasn't too irritating. She figured she was going to have to properly wash the prosthetics to get out the grains, but that was only a minor concern. "It seemed improper to stand and observe, given what happened."

Laura made a face. "True."

To say the coming meeting was going to be awkward was probably the nicest way to put it. Rare was it that both she and Laura were proven wrong in such a spectacular fashion. In this case, the outcome was actually better, but Saudia knew that General Avel – not to mention the Lion – wouldn't forget how ADVENT had given them hours to hold.

And they'd turned it into a victory.

"Chancellor," she turned to see General Avel and the Lion approaching.

General Avel saluted once he was close, which she instinctively returned. The Lion stood to his side, still in his Horseman armor, minus the helmet. He was a man she'd never met in person before, though she had been briefed on him. Older than most would expect, he was nonetheless fit, even if he didn't stand as tall as she did – though very few usually did.

His body language was lenient and open. His face expressed nothing beyond earnest gentleness, of all things, something that deeply contrasted his appearance, though it seemed sincere. He was good, she had to admit. It wasn't often that she met someone who could ooze the impression of being gentle this well, to say nothing of appearing gentle while still wearing battle-scarred armor. It was a gift, an instinctive one among the charismatic, but there were always flaws, ones she could easily spot.

It was his face which drew the most attention. There were numerous scars which criss-crossed over each other, and eyes which showed the cold fire and fury of a devoted zealot. A slightly disheveled beard rounded out his chin, as grey as his hair. Merely from his physical profile, he was a visibly dangerous man, and his façade only confirmed it. A dangerous, skilled man.

Fortunately, he was on their side. She would need to be careful, not to underestimate him. This was the man who'd been the puppetmaster of the Middle East following the collapse of the Caliphate, and had personally orchestrated a rebellion after Deus Vult. A rebellion which, while doomed, still forced ADVENT to expend a significant quantity of resources on the region.

Always a pleasure to work with those who proved their intelligence. It was good that he had seen reason in the end.

"General, glad to see you survived the night," she inclined her head. "And you as well, of course."

The Lion gave the faintest of smiles. "Victory achieved, by the wrath of God."

"Something your men will be commended and remembered for," Saudia said. "You have my word."

"I expect you to meet it," the Lion said neutrally. "We are here to speak. Let us meet with President Hakeem."

"Very well." The meeting was more incidental than intentional. Both Saudia and the new President of the Middle Eastern States had flown into Aleppo, now that it was finally safe. Normally, she didn't think the President would be involved, but she was here, and there was little reason not to be. "I don't expect it will take long to exchange some words."

Avel coughed. "He has wanted to meet you in person."

"No doubt," Saudia said. "I'm surprised he was here so quickly."

"This is a city under his governance," Avel pointed out. "And one he's visited before."

"He visited several times during the election," the Lion said, an odd tone in his voice. "The people remember him. He knew some who died in the battle."

"I see," she pursed her lips. Hakeem al-Saud was a man who Saudia had not expected to become such a prominent figure. EXALT had known that the man who would become Caliph had survived the Successor's Purge, and had maneuvered the situation so he would end up in exile. She idly wondered what would have happened if EXALT had worked to elevate him, instead of the man who had been appointed Caliph.

Of course, the Caliph had never been the true problem. Hakeem or no, it was unlikely that anybody would have been able to stop the inevitable schism between Inheritors and Successors that had effectively doomed the Islamic superstate. Wholly unsurprising that EXALT had ensured its eventual collapse. A shame, it would have been a useful alternative to the eastern and western powers.

Theocratic states became too problematic to manage over time. Yet, perhaps it was for the best, because the son of the Inheritor King had not only survived, but had proven instrumental in pacifying the Middle East. If the people wanted to believe he was the Caliph-in-name, that wasn't an issue, so long as he was reliable and properly elected – which he had been.

As they trudged through the bloody, sandy streets, she noticed that many of the people quickly moved out of the way or bowed their heads respectfully. Not to her, but to the Lion. Occasionally he would stop and say a few words to some of them in Arabic, which they answered gratefully.

She'd only seen this level of respect and devotion to a singular figure a few times in her life. It was not difficult to see how the man had cultivated this kind of loyalty. He reminded her of the Commander in some ways - a comparison she suspected he would either find amusing or deeply offensive.

Both men who had transcended their names to embody a title, to become living myths, both wholly unique.

She wondered if they had ever met or fought, either in person or the realm of grand strategy. Ironic that both were alive - and now fighting for the same side.

The people and soldiers seemed to hold great respect for General Avel as well, even if it wasn't as heartfelt. In contrast to the two men, she might as well have been invisible, only receiving the most basic of acknowledgements, a curious inversion from the usual state of affairs.

It was hardly a surprise that the Lion's unspoken, yet clear, endorsement of Hakeem had achieved his goal. ADVENT, of course, realized that he was far from being anyone's puppet, but with how much influence the Lion had, it wasn't difficult to determine that, if there was a power behind the throne, it was him.

Something that Oversight and ADVENT Intelligence - and General Avel - would be keeping an eye on.

"Where are we going?" Laura asked. "I was under the impression that the city center was the makeshift central command."

"It is," the Lion said, fixing his eyes on her. "Why do you think you would find him there?"

It was a fair question, but, at the same time...where else would he be? The area they were moving towards was one of the blocks that was still being cleaned out. Civilians and soldiers were prying bodies and weapons out of the rubble. Both the Lion and General Avel came to a stop.

It took a few moments, but Saudia soon realized that one of the men working was none other than the President they had come to see. The term "work" didn't quite cover it - Hakeem was helping dig out the rubble, but he was also giving instructions, shouting encouragement, and engaging in the work directly.

The Lion called out to him in Arabic, which Hakeem returned, waving a hand and flashing a smile. The Lion turned to her, deadpan. "He'll just be a minute. There are a few more corpses to extract."

Laura frowned. "We don't have all day."

Avel sighed. Saudia faintly smiled. "We can wait a few minutes."

Interesting. Very much a deliberate decision to not drop his activity and meet the Chancellor of ADVENT. Quite an odd, if bold, decision. She was not unfamiliar with psychological snubs and political actions that were deliberately made to be insulting or indicate that certain people were beneath them.

It was rather petulant, and only worked on those who were already insecure. It depended on what message Hakeem was sending here. It seemed to be less of a direct insult and more a demonstration of priorities - helping his people before speaking with the Chancellor. Very well, she could see where this was going.

It was only about a quarter of an hour before he finished and approached the rest of the group properly. He wore tailored attire which emulated the black and green of the local Legion and was designed in the style of the region. The overall effect was a mixture of the streamlined ADVENT uniform and something more...exotic. It was now smudged, dirtied, bloodied and even torn in some places due to the work, though he didn't seem to notice.

"Chancellor, welcome," he greeted, taking off his dirty jacket and holding it in one hand.

She eyed him. "You've been busy, I see."

He smiled, an interested, calculating look in his eyes. "As have you, it seems. We all do our part here."

She was mildly impressed that he'd noted the smudges and grime on her own uniform and made the connection. He gestured for them to follow. "Come, Chancellor. Let us talk."

Saudia refrained from frowning, but followed. The man who was leading them to talk was far more assertive and confident than she'd expected. From what she'd heard from the Commander and others, the man who'd come fleeing from the House of Saud was timid, cowardly, and frail - someone who'd only had authority by birth.

This was no longer the same man.

There was a makeshift tent nearby, within which was a small table with some mugs set atop a tablecloth, surrounding a teapot in the middle. Quaint. They sat down, and Hakeem poured a cup for each of them. "Tea," he explained at the unspoken question from Laura. "I trust your arrival was without issue?" He laid his dirty jacket on his chair's back.

"Gateways solve many transportation issues," Saudia said, taking a sip of the tea. Mint. Quite good.

"I suppose they would," he agreed. "Despite the circumstances, we are fortunate that the day is clear and no sandstorm is on the horizon."

Idle conversations about weather were also beyond her expectations. Yes, this man was definitely angling towards a much more relevant point. She paid closer attention, as if she was speaking to someone who was as skilled in the verbal arts as she was, a mindset she normally kept for the Lion, not this man.

"The tea is quite good," she said, lifting the cup slightly.

"It truly is," he said, setting it down. "A local makes it. I first tasted it when I came here during the campaign cycle. It's the small things that make life worth living, wouldn't you agree?"

"They certainly make it better," she agreed, keeping her voice neutral. He sat down opposite her, General Avel and Laura taking the other seats. The Lion stood slightly off to the side, behind Hakeem, as if he didn't plan to take part in this conversation, which was...odd. With a focused glint in his eyes, and fingers laced together, Hakeem properly got down to business.

"Four hundred thousand, six hundred and four," he started. "That is the number of men and women, both soldiers and civilians, who died in the Night Stand, buying time for the Legions to regroup and reinforce the lines."

Saudia nodded. "Their sacrifice will be remembered."

"That is not good enough."

"I know," Saudia said. "We will not stop there. ADVENT will stand by to provide the resources needed to rebuild your homes better than they were, and honor those - living and fallen - who held the line."

She expected that was what he wanted. His lips thinned. "I am President of the Middle Eastern States. The moment the fighting ended, as a head of state of an ADVENT nation, I immediately drew upon our best architects, engineers, and workers to descend upon our cities and restore them. I am already doing what you say, Chancellor. You cannot promise something which I am already doing."

Saudia laced her own fingers together. "And out of curiosity, Mr. President, what would you ask me to do? I cannot bring the men and women who were killed back from the dead."

"That you understand what the situation truly is," Hakeem said slowly. "The number I cited earlier? A similar number perished during Operation Deus Vult. Not at the hands of aliens, but ADVENT. The people of this region have not forgotten about it, even if ADVENT prefers to not discuss this chapter in their expansion."

"I would not expect them to," Saudia answered evenly. "And now they have risen to fully join ADVENT. You are proof of this shift. We have acknowledged that the operation was not executed as well as it could have been."

"I do not think you know the harm Deus Vult caused, Chancellor."

"No, I am aware. I authorized the operation myself."

"Awareness does not equal physical comprehension, and if you do not physically comprehend it, then you will not regret it or see fault with it."

"Deus Vult was inevitable, Mr. President. My only regret was our approach."

"To be steadfast and stalwart in action is admirable." Hakeem leaned over, pouring Laura another cup, which she took, her eyes fixed on the President. "And desirable. A leader that hesitates is no leader at all. However, what we choose not to do speaks more about us than what we choose to do. "

Saudia idly wondered where he was going with this as he continued. "Actions, both taken and omitted, speak to our priorities and intentions better than words ever can."

"As they did with how ADVENT treated the Middle East."

"I would hope that you are not so ignorant as to portray ADVENT as solely at fault." She said slowly.

"Solely? Perhaps not, but your understanding is simplistic," he was calm, serene. "Do you believe we were all so eager to spill our own blood by your weapons? That we so wanted to let our fathers and brothers die that we did not cease to fight even when peace was offered? No, Chancellor. The world is not so lacking in complexity. "

Saudia took a sip of her tea. "It does not change the fact that the Middle East started the conflict. You had to know war was inevitable when Israel was targeted - they would respond, and rightfully so."

"No. We did not start the conflict. I know those of my region, I sat at the table of my brother. It was not us. Too many truths tell me otherwise." Hakeem looked up, ignoring her piercing stare. Far too relaxed, far too at ease. He raised his tea, sipping it in contentment.

To some extent, Saudia was not surprised - obviously the leaders of those nations knew the false flag had been just that - false. Of course, the myriad of leaks, forged documents, and activated assets had removed the shadow of doubt from the world. She wasn't exactly surprised that Hakeem didn't believe the narrative - though she was surprised he was bold enough to actively reveal such before the Chancellor.

"And what do you say of the documents recovered by the Mossad?" She asked, her voice betraying nothing. "The reaction of the people celebrating the assassinations? The evidence that pointed to collaboration to take down a hated regional state? Conspiracy theories do you no credit, Mr. President."

"I have no answer to provide you to refute that. I can give no explanation for what evidence you have, I can only speak as one who had an ear to my father. I know he did not sanction such actions - and I cannot believe his peers would have either. In the end, I suppose it matters little," he put the tea down. "All the same, the consequences fell on us. Your interests fell on us. Truth, nuance, diplomacy." He shook his head. "All were irrelevant in the face of what you truly wanted. Conquest. It is simple, it is the way of empires. To pretend otherwise is dishonest at best, delusion at worst."

Laura set her mug on the table. "Revisionist historians are ones I despise. You mourn and blame an imperial state, and shift the blame to anyone but yourself. I led Deus Vult, Mr. President. Your people were given ample opportunity to surrender. Multiple times, we offered, and each one was rejected. Perhaps it is understandable. Perhaps because of your pride. It doesn't matter. To pretend that your people bear no responsibility is not only ignorant, it is insulting. You made a choice to wage war against us. And you lost. Do not dare blame us for your failure, do not blame us for your downfall, and do not blame us for your pride."

"Pride." He smiled. "Do I look like a proud man, Commander Christiaens? A man who is arrogant, who is ignorant?" Hakeem asked. "Your expectations betray your intent." He paused thoughtfully, deliberately. "Let us look at the entire situation. ADVENT had every possible advantage. Manpower. Technology. Public opinion. Imagine for a moment such a force bearing down upon you, and knowing that you are doomed, no matter what you do. Now, add to that the fact that you know you have done nothing wrong."

A faint smile played on his lips. "Now, what am I talking about here? ADVENT's conquest of the Middle East - or the invasion of Earth by the Ethereal Collective?"

Laura blinked. "Those are not comparable whatsoever."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow. "Both are imperial powers with goals of assimilation and unification. Both are far beyond their opponents - at least initially. Both fight and invade under pretenses which have little justification."

"You may not believe it was justified," Laura narrowed her eyes. "But we have proof. Unless you argue that all proof was orchestrated, which is questionable at best, and disinformation at worst."

"I have no desire to argue, I have no proof but my own knowledge," he said with a waved hand. "My point here is that just as you would - rightfully, I might add - not surrender to the Collective, why is it different when we refused to surrender? Would not millions of lives be saved by ending our conflict and submitting to the Collective?"

That was, Saudia thought, a fairly good point, thought there was a slight flaw. "A fairer comparison than one might initially believe, Mr. President," she said, leaning forward. "However - it is not quite the same. The Collective has been documented to be experimenting on innocent Humans. They turn them over to the Sectoids, the Bringer, whatever experiments the Ethereals desire. ADVENT is many things, but we do not abduct our own citizens for experiments. Nor is there any freedom or accountability within the Collective, in comparison to our own robust systems."

"Chancellor, you are speaking with a rational mind and cold logic," Hakeem chided. "You may lack the emotion many of our species have, but others do not. When one sees an enemy approaching with the intent to kill, are their thoughts centered on 'will our conquerors treat us well', or on how they can resist?"

There was a pause. "Ultimately, ADVENT could have realized this. You could have pulled back, you could have taken time to review the situation. You could have given us time for cooler heads to prevail. Would you have succeeded?" He shrugged. "I cannot say, but I do know that it would have saved much of the pain and hardship that your invasion caused."

"Perhaps if circumstances were different," Laura grunted. "It was made difficult when the conflict began."

"I am not saying you were not justified, I'm saying that you had other options and deliberately chose not to take them, to see them as impossible. You saw an opportunity to claim a swathe of Earth - and took it."

"If we hadn't, it would have been exploited by others," Laura said, resting a forearm on the table. "You see it with Turkey, and you would have fallen just as quickly, had they struck you, if not sooner - and the Collective would not have been merciful to your people. It was not a simple matter of ending the ongoing conflict, it was not simply about expanding, it was a region that, left unsecured, could doom us."

"Perhaps, but you did not know that," Hakeem said. "I don't ask for apologies or pity, but that this situation be recognised as more complicated than a binary choice between surrender and conflict. ADVENT had an opportunity to showcase the virtues it claimed, and it did not."

Laura thinly smiled. "We are not virtuous to enemies and threats, Mr. President. You believe that, had we done what you say, it would have led to a better outcome? I do not believe so. The leaders were prideful - they would not have sat down to discuss their integration. Some may have fled to the aliens. There was no going back - in their eyes, we were an enemy. You are right that I cannot claim to know the future, but I can make predictions rooted in fact."

Her fingers drummed on the table. "You speak of fear and self-preservation driving the response. As a head of state, you should know better. It is not the foot soldier or civilian making the decisions. It is the general, the commanding officer, the head of state. People who deal with the stress of governance, who people trust to have clear heads in stressful situations. I highly doubt the heads of state were quaking in fear, screaming in denial, or breaking down at the situation. No, they knew the cold, inevitable truth. They knew what they could do, they knew the facts - not the propaganda they fed their citizenry. Your excuse is merely that - an excuse."

Hakeem didn't seem perturbed by the confrontation. "You speak from the viewpoint of one who has not been in a position of absolute defeat. My brother was coldly sober at the prospect of your victory. Many others were as well. There was talk of surrender - quiet, but it was there - and then you struck. A decapitation strike to end us. The leaders saw this happening, knowing they were next - and they were next. Every fear they had, every reservation, you proved with your actions."

He gestured around. "You made promises, you said words, but there was no reason for us to believe you. They remembered when we were stripped of any hope of recovery with the Damascus Accords. When we were abandoned by both East and West. Historically, Commander, your people have sought nothing but to exploit us. Why would this time be different?" He released a sigh. "I don't say this to absolve the decisions, but to explain, to end the black-and-white perception that many of your leaders - yourselves included - seem to hold."

"Perhaps, but, in the end, it is a result of self-infliction," Saudia said. "You engaged in a war and lost. You are right that it merely accelerated what was inevitable - the Middle East would be assimilated into ADVENT. The selfish desires of nations mean nothing in the face of the alien threat. Humanity will be united, by any means necessary. The states of the Middle East were poor, disorganized, and never recovered from the War on Terror. You have seen how ADVENT has revitalized and repaired your nation. You have seen it with others. Pride is a poison to the world, it is clinging to the old world because it is comforting and familiar."

"Comfort and familiarity is not how I would describe it. Dread. Disdain. Fear, all of those. Perhaps." Hakeem stated. "The old world held nothing but discomfort for me, but to ignore the flaws of the new? To ignore our flaws? That is hubris."

"All have flaws initially. Flaws which are abated over time," Saudia said. "However, I suspect what you would define as a flaw is different from me."

"Perhaps, Chancellor. Yet, through the resources, advancement, and masterful statesmanship, ADVENT justifies any and all crimes on those deemed to be 'other', those not of ADVENT." He reclined in his seat, closing his eyes for a breath. "It absolves any crime or sin. For the ends justify the means, and grand ends make for grand justifications."

"You speak of justifications as if they are not logical or warranted," Saudia noted dryly. "Sin is a lie, and crime is false. If our crime is the desire of a united Human race, for us as a species to move past the petty differences that have divided us, then such is a label I accept."

For an instance that lasted a small eternity, he met her eyes with equal weight. "Even the most warranted logic and desires can lead one astray. ADVENT is amoral, you yourself profess such a belief, and in being amoral, you easily justify your own immorality."

"Only if one acknowledges the lie that is morality," Saudia said, with a shake of her head. "Morality is and always has been a tool to justify the limitations placed upon others. Societal constructs which are exploited by the ruthless and manipulative. Morality is not real, and is twisted to serve and justify the intentions of the powerful, and society placed such power on it that the masses will follow it without question, lest they risk the ostracization of being wrong."

She should know. EXALT had often exploited the so-called morality of the world. "Morality is a poison to society. It is an excuse to stop progress. It is malleable enough to endorse the horrific. It is potent enough to control the ignorant. It is a tool of the powerful. Do you know what is amusing, Mr. President?"

"Enlighten me." He spoke, voice lacking anticipation, as though her view on morality was expected, unsurprising.

"On some level, everyone knows this," she allowed a faint smile. "When the times get tough, or when an enemy is found, people will change their morality to reflect their desires - or will use it to manipulate others. There are two views of morality - those who manipulate it, and those who are manipulated by it. The former use it to maintain power, and the latter restructure their belief systems based upon people who are supposedly 'moral'. Ethicists, scientists, national officials, religious figures. What they say, the meek will follow."

A pause. "Knowing this, why should we maintain this lie? I do not care about moral superiority, for morality as we understand it does not exist. You say we are amoral as if it is something to be ashamed of. It is not. We have moved past this deception, and, in doing so, we have built a society which is not dominated by a tool of manipulation. Science. Data. Logic. Necessity. These are what we base the justification of our societal framework around - not the texts of centuries old, or the hand-wringing of the cowardly."

She fixed her eyes on Hakeem. "Your assumption is wrong - how can I be immoral when morality itself does not exist?"

"Because, Chancellor, you have merely replaced a framework with one of your own. You have, in effect, declared ADVENT as the God of mankind." Hakeem gestured at the sky above. "You have declared you own the divine right of ultimate rule, of ultimate truth, of ultimate power on Earth. That you are correct, for your numbers are divine truth, and those who oppose you are wrong, for their numbers are blasphemous compared to yours. How could you ever be wrong under such conditions?"

He did not accuse, he stated. A man at perfect harmony. "You alone decide the fate of mankind, for you alone have the wisdom and right to do so. That is the world you've created in crushing all opposition without a hint of introspection. ADVENT cannot be a God blind in one eye, you must not and cannot afford to be."

Saudia smiled.

It was not a smile of annoyance, but one of interest. It had been some time since someone had challenged her so openly - quite a surprise that it was this particular man - an ADVENT official no less. A man who, despite being cleared by Oversight, very much took issue with certain core aspects of ADVENT philosophy.

Despite this, he was wise enough to understand that it could not be changed, nor should it be. How unusual, how peculiar to want ADVENT to be better, for one such as him.

"Our right, as you so put it, is not one drawn from the myths of dead gods and visions from the sky, if you wish to make a religious comparison," she answered. "It is in the annals of history. In the thousands of wars, the rise and fall of empires, the formation and collapse of democracies. We have centuries of Human history to pore over to see the best and worst of what we are capable of. We know how our species acts, how we think, what we need to do. ADVENT is the culmination of twelve thousand years of Human political, social, and governmental development, the pinnacle of what we can achieve, built upon the foundations of the failed political ideologies, social movements, and governments of the past."

She pointed a metal finger up. "We have our submission and extinction hanging over our heads each and every day. We have seen the slaughter of our people by the aliens, the horrors they can bring to bear against us, their open intent for the conquest and subversion of our species, slaved to the will of a singular figure and ruling class of aliens. Those are real. They are present. They are continuing."

Another sip of her tea. "You speak to our existence, our structure, our mandate, as if it is unjustified. As if it is not considered, argued, and refined. You state this as if there is no difference between us and those who seek to oppose us. A fallacy exemplified by those who realize they have nothing to fall back on. They cannot say we are wrong, they have no answer, no argument. No argument other than the lie of morality and the frameworks of the old world."

A hand gestured around her. "We are not backed by the hearsay and myths of religions and failed ideologies. Our backing is much more potent," she smiled. "The truth. Morality is a construct, but truth is very, very real. The argument of truth resonates with people in their core, it makes them uncomfortable, perhaps even hostile, should they reject it - but they feel such because they know it is the truth. Why do you think so many have been willing to accept ADVENT without question?"

The corners of her lips turned upward. "Because we came and we destroyed the lie of the old world. We did more than tell them that a better world, a better government, was possible, we brought it into being. The rights that had been denied to so many, we changed in the span of days. No longer do people fear starvation, no longer do people fear bankruptcy from medical or educational debt, no longer do people need to fear for a job or losing a roof over their head. No more do we tolerate the ignorant, the bigoted, and the corrupt. We purge the rot from society, we parade the monsters, we make examples out of them. We brought justice to a world that was content to wring its hands and allow the powerful to pull the strings. We created a world not dominated by wealth, special interests, or old power structures, but one dominated by unity of purpose and unity of species."

She maintained her gaze and voice. "But this is only part of it. We created the world the people deserve, but, more than that, we do not lie to them. We do not hide behind political correctness and the weasel-words of politicians. We tell the truth, and we tell them why it is the way it is. We do not pretend to be something we are not. ADVENT rejects the morality you have an affinity for - and your argument to condemn us fails as a result. Your accusations mean nothing when they are founded on something which does not exist. Your implied condemnation rings hollow when you come from a monarchy built on the bones of theocracy."

"I have an affinity for much, Chancellor." Hakeem's lips quirked up, seemingly in joy. "Enough to realize that, if I did not speak anything of value, you would have gotten up and left. Enough to see that you are intrigued. To feel your interest. To notice your eyes focus on how comfortable I am."

Two hands rested on the table with ease. "You reject the concept of morality, yet, if morality does not exist, if it is a lie, then consider logically what that leads to. If right and wrong are false, then what need is there for anything to change? Such a society becomes built, not on logic, but on strength. If you were convinced such an argument was true, then why compromise with us? Why work to rebuild this region, why acknowledge your mistake? Why strive to be better?"

He waited a thoughtful few seconds. "Not even ADVENT can suppress our own innate Humanity, our innate morality. All of the accomplishments you list, are they necessary to do at all? People do not need to be provided for, they do not need to be listened to, but you made a decision to deliberately improve the lives of citizens. What is that, if not a policy grounded in morality?"

"A situation where both happen to align," Saudia inclined her head. "A satisfied population is a content one. A healthy population is one resistant to disease, discontent, and instability. A sheltered population protects and stabilizes. Provide for your citizens, and there will never be rebellion. There will not be discontent. There will be order and loyalty."

"Such a clinical view of the world," Hakeem noted. "Ironically, one purged of Humanity. Even still, I would challenge that one cannot be moral and be part of ADVENT, for ADVENT is about fixing the mistakes of the past, is it not? It is to be the pinnacle of Humanity, yes? And that is the appeal - a chance to do the good and right that has been denied in the past."

"One cannot deny that morality has been used to the ends of the powerful," he continued. "Yet, find me something which has not been similarly exploited. Money, influence, history, literature, religion. Its misuse does not discredit the concept entirely, else, by your own logic, truth should similarly be discredited, as it has been utilized in misleading ways throughout history to justify untruthful and immoral things."

"Yet the cores of truth, of logic, they remain," Saudia said, extracting great enjoyment from the debate. "They have tangible cores, ones which can be backed up with empirical evidence. The morality one has is not shaped by anything but their inherited values, their personal beliefs, and those around them. Morality is fluid, it changes. What was once considered moral is now considered to be immoral, and vice-versa. Logic holds under all circumstances, truth is similarly immutable."

"Exceptions can be found, of course," Hakeem conceded. "Yet, you would be hard-pressed to find a majority who profess to embrace immorality. Most people instinctively know that murder is wrong, to treat others with respect, to make the world better. A minority do not, but that is not enough to discredit those who are."

Saudia chuckled. "I can agree on the first point, but I am skeptical that a majority consider respect and improving the world to be virtues. They certainly say such things, but that seems to be the extent of it. It leads to the embrace of simplistic solutions and ideas as a means of shutting down questions and disagreement. People care more about giving lip service to morality than implementing it in practice. The quest for moral superiority is more powerful than the principles they claim to follow."

"Fact is the ultimate truth, to you, Chancellor," he said. "A truth you seem to wholeheartedly believe. And that is something which speaks to both of us. You do not call me a liar. Not for any polite reason, but because you do not see me as such."

"You are many things, Mr. President, but I would not dub you a liar. Not an intentional one. Not anymore."

He turned to the Lion, his smile sharper than it had any right to be. "Is this what you saw, what made you reconsider? You, the Lion of the Caliphate, the man who cannot die, is this what you saw?"

The Lion turned his head, a slight acknowledgement. His eyes spoke of age old realizations, for they were haunted pyres of enlightenment. They were the eyes of a man who'd seen truth and could never unsee it. His eyes found her, found the both of them, amusing.

There was something else in his amusement, though. Nostalgia. The sort of nostalgia of one who'd seen this before. She couldn't immediately understand it, she couldn't place the why and how of it.

The Lion gave an uncharastically somber nod, too somber for a man so amused.

Hakeem nodded back, slowly, digesting it. "None of us can afford to ignore the mote in our eyes." He turned back to her. "For now, we all must see as God does, with ultimate truth. To refine the die cast of all impurities, to the best it could ever be. For the betterment of mankind."

"Isn't it divine, then," he started, "to see each other and the motes in our eyes? Isn't it magnificent," He pointed at her. "to cast off our façades and see, see each other truly? For neither of us could see the other before. Not clearly, not like this, here and now. But now, now you see me, Chancellor."

His smile was genuine, that was self evident, as were his comfort and joy at this entire conversation. How odd, how strange, how utterly unexpected to see what had spawned from a conquest all those months ago. It had not produced anarchy and rebellion, but forged something wholly new and unexpected.

One who could challenge, and who was bold enough to not shy from critique and condemnation. Perhaps the first true revolutionary who had risen to power.

It would certainly be interesting to see what, if anything, would change.

"And you see me." She replied back, quite surprised that she felt respect. An ideological counter that she did not feel an inherent disdain for. Ultimately unthreatening, but a perspective which shouldn't inherently be dismissed out of hand. "Then I hope you understand why I do not apologize or regret Deus Vult, even if I agree the approach was flawed."

A sharp nod. "To apologize would be to insult the dead. To regret implies complete failure. I neither want nor expect either, not when you have your own justifications. We must simply be better. But the approach taken has had grievous consequences. You could not comprehend the resentment and anger some still harbor towards ADVENT. They are not fighting for ADVENT, not truly."

"I am aware. They believe in the Lion - and you."

"And it falls on me to justify their faith," he said. "Since the start of ADVENT, we have given our blood, land, and lives - willingly and otherwise. It is time this be recognized by ADVENT. Not in private, not in generalities - willingly and openly. My people held the line and prevented a military catastrophe. If this is not worth recognition, then what is?"

"Be specific. What do you want."

"In the end, Chancellor?" He smiled, and briefly leaned back. "The same thing you do, as strange as that may be. I want peace in this region which has been beset by violence for decades. I see ADVENT as the best chance for this, despite the flaws within. There is a chance for unity in this region torn apart by religious, ethnic, and sectarian violence, unity in a way there has never been before. I want to make that a reality, and I know how to do it."

"Elaborate,"

"First, I want you to include the Lion in your military plans for the region," he said, briefly indicating the man behind him. "Your Western generals do not know the region even half as well as he does. You have seen what he orchestrated from a seemingly impossible situation - he can do far more when given influence over the best of ADVENT."

"I would not discount his impact, Chancellor," General Avel interjected. "He has earned his place in our next steps."

"His accomplishments are notable," Laura said slowly. "However, the mindset of ADVENT is not geared towards the asymmetric guerilla warfare utilized here. It was useful in this situation - it is less viable against an entrenched enemy."

The Lion scoffed.

"The Collective has invaded Turkey," Hakeem stated. "You will not find another more knowledgeable - both about the people and the region itself. Ignoring an asset because he does not fit your mental mold is very un-ADVENT, if I may comment."

"That is not what I am saying," Laura countered. "I am saying that I do not intend to wholesale turn control over to him - we certainly can use his knowledge and experience."

"So long as he is listened to," Hakeem said. "From what I know, he has ideas for breaking the Sectoid lines there." He waited a second. "Second is that I want to mend the wounds that ADVENT caused. It is not enough that the people believe in me, they must also not see ADVENT as an enemy. I believe we can both agree that is optimal."

"I believe we can."

"Good," he fixed his eyes on her. "We can call this an 'operation', if you prefer, though I prefer to think of this as weeding the garden. The region itself remains polarized along lines of the old world. The Lion assisted in purging the region and your ranks of the worst of our people, but they are far from the only ones. Extremist rhetoric remains, even if you dislike the reality."

"I trust the Peacekeepers and ADVENT Intelligence can root it out."

"Please," Hakeem snorted. "I can imagine a thousand more pressing matters for ADVENT Intelligence to attend to than watching the actions of a few old men, and your Peacekeepers are good at reaction - not detection."

"Make your point."

"ADVENT has a tendency to play whack-a-mole with individuals they consider threats," Hakeem said. "The backlash to that is that when you take one out, others scatter into the dark corners and pits until they pop their heads out again. It stretches the problem out. It is also not tailored for a region such as this. Such extremists do not communicate through the Internet, but in the homes of friends and family, in the dead of night and evening. Like our people, we discuss such topics through community. It is not as easy to track using your...modern methods."

He paused briefly. "I consider such extremists a threat to the unity of our people and religion. A problem that must be solved. But not in your way - not this time. I want to draw these people out into the open, expose them, and remove them in a single clean sweep. We let such individuals and groups surface - but in a controlled fashion."

Saudia snorted. "Oversight will not approve."

"I'm not finished," Hakeem answered smoothly. "I am hardly suggesting this rhetoric be unchallenged. Thanks to the restoration of the House of Wisdom, alongside my own and the Lion's many contacts - ordinary citizens - there can be an organic challenge to the public cries of extremism which will not seem like planted ADVENT provocators. An ideology cannot just vanish, else it will reappear like the vermin it is. It must be publicly acknowledged, refuted, and ultimately rejected. For those that remain - they disappear. I want you to give your approval to Oversight for such an operation. It will mean something coming from you."

"You won't get it today," Saudia said. "I won't make that decision without consulting both Watkins and Director Powell."

"If you insist, but Powell has stated to me that he's in support of the idea," Hakeem smiled. "He even suggested a few refinements. I suspect he planned to bring it up to you in the near-future, but since we are together now, it is simpler to pitch it directly. I know how to bring the people onto your side, Chancellor. Let me."

He was making a respectable argument, but she wasn't so naive that she was just going to agree without confirming with Powell himself. If he concurred the idea was feasible - and legal - then she could support that. She suspected he might be overblowing ADVENT's own inefficiencies, as well as the danger such dissidents posed.

It positioned him quite well as the man who both orchestrated the end of Islamic extremist thought, and the uniter of a region which had, historically, been so divided. Quite a clever man, with a plan she could dissect and respect. It seemed ambition such as this was not truly dead in ADVENT.

He was saying the right things, and providing the right arguments - and she was amused that he wasn't necessarily a believer, he was just playing the right game to get what he wanted.

And if he played it right, he deserved the rewards, as ADVENT would also benefit.

"I will speak to Powell. If he concurs, then consider your plan to have received the approval of the Chancellor. You will have an answer by the end of the day."

"I will accept that."

"What more do you have?"

"The capstone to this overarching goal," he said slowly. "I want the two Holy Mosques rebuilt by ADVENT."

Her response was immediate. "I'm afraid not."

"You want the people to rally and remember? Remind them not just of who we were, but who we can be."

Saudia's brow furrowed. "ADVENT is a secular state. We do not build religious sites."

"You say it with disdain, with no small amount of annoyance." His smile quirked, as he poured a cup and raised it over his shoulder. "This isn't a matter of religion, not only, not simply. It is more than that."

The Lion took the cup, a wry smile on his disfigured lips.

"The Two Holy Mosques are more than religious sites, Chancellor," Hakeem elaborated. "They are - were - a part of our history. Our people and culture. They are older than the modern nation it resides in, older than most countries, truth be told,. They, of everything, have been the singular unifier of our faith and people. Muslims of all sects, arabs of all ethnicities, all could come to that holy ground in peace. We could speak, learn, understand."

He shook his head. "When they were destroyed and irradiated in the War on Terror...it broke us as a people. What was left to unify us now? What did we have that stood in this war-torn region? Do not underestimate the power of sites and symbols, Chancellor. They have power and meaning. You and ADVENT have a chance to show us that you do see us as equal, and not another piece of territory to occupy. We have given much for you, even when you killed us and invaded our homes. Prove the most cynical wrong. Show that you are sincere. Ensure that ADVENT gains the loyalty of the people for generations to come - for we will not forget it."

Saudia was quiet for a few minutes. Yes, he knew how to make an argument. "I don't inherently disagree with your assessment," she finally said. "It's not as simple as that. Irrespective of the benefits, ADVENT should not become involved in the restoration of religious sites and artifacts. Legally, ADVENT cannot, and I do not see an exception being made, no matter how pretty your speech is."

She considered a moment. "Your most viable path is through the Congress. An exception could be authorized, and you can make an argument for it."

"And why would they listen to us?" Hakeem demanded. "You say an argument can be made - it will not. It will simply be countered with such a demand taking away resources and time from the war effort. The Congress does not respect our people, and view us as a conquered state. Lesser than those who joined willingly. The resentment people have towards our religion and skin is not overt, but prejudice exists, and you should not insult me by pretending it doesn't."

Legitimacy. That was what he wanted. For his people, for his home. Legitimacy that he felt was diminished both due to the heavy-handed role ADVENT had played in their assimilation, and the historical antipathy the East and West had for the region. Always being meddled in, always being exploited or used.

From his perspective, she could see why he was pushing her so hard. The Night Stand had given him an opportunity to demand recognition, acknowledgement in a very public way. A message to the world that ADVENT considered them legitimate and equal, or, at least, in a slightly more positive light.

However, she didn't think it was a simple ploy, a machiavellian game for greater power. Hakeem had nowhere to go and nothing else to gain. He had the regional power, he retained influence, and his state would be no more or less powerful than before, but he could gain something she realized there was a hunger for: respect.

In the end, it seemed he wasn't trying to trick or deceive her about his wishes, he truly wanted what was best for his people and his nation.

That was the hardest part to believe, no matter how much sense it made.

Legally though, it was dubious. However…"Oversight will not approve the restoration of a solely religious site," she said slowly. "However, you are right that the sites are important cultural establishments. That is something which can be permitted. I do not know if Oversight will approve, but that is an argument they can accept."

If they approved, she knew - and agreed - it would be because it would solidify ADVENT support in the region, as Hakeem had wisely pointed out.

She watched his reaction carefully. He wasn't going to get the full-throated confirmation he wanted - but it seemed he understood she was giving her own approval. "I trust you will make that argument to them, Chancellor?"

A verbal confirmation. "That argument will be made."

"Then I am satisfied," he nodded. "You will not regret this choice, Chancellor."

"I do not expect to."

"I have nothing more to say then," he said, easing up and inclining his head. "I have taken enough of your time. You have a war to plan, after all. I will allow one more qualified to take my place." On cue, the Lion stepped up, exchanging a knowing look with Saudia, a slight tinge of amusement in it. The Lion took a chair, finally sitting down.

Oh, he'd definitely known that Hakeem was not who she'd expected to meet, and had enjoyed the back-and-forth. It seemed there were two men who were a little more clever than they would initially appear. She looked to Laura, who'd largely been silent through the conversation with Hakeem. "Let's briefly recap what we're planning, I do not expect this to take long. We are working to plot our next steps forward in light of the circumstances. Commander?"

"We expect a retaliation of some kind to be imminent," Laura said. "The Collective will probably target the Middle East indiscriminately. We are moving anti-air and anti-missile equipment into major Middle Eastern cities alongside additional manpower. Psions will also be distributed throughout, to assist in the event of mass telepathic attacks."

"And the Turks?" The Lion had a gleam in his eye.

"Preparing an offensive of our own," Laura confirmed. "One I expect you and General Avel to participate in. The Congress approved the Annexation of Turkey, and we are planning to invade and retake the major cities."

"What is the status of the Turkish government?" The Lion asked.

"We have some more answers now," Saudia said. "The Turkish government is dead or has fled. We were able to intercept several political and administrative officials. From what we've determined, President Sarper is dead or in alien custody. There were a few ranking military and political officials who covertly made a deal with the Collective."

The Lion seemed to enjoy the idea. "The Avant once more cuts an ill-thought out deal."

"Not all of them, this was a minority of the government," Saudia shook her head. "They've managed to placate a majority of the population with a healthy dose of intimidation and fear. Most of the military is standing down, though pockets rebelled and were killed."

"Not all of them?" Hakeem asked, then paused. "Uncharacteristic of them, they have no shortage of yes men. Are there details of what occurred?"

"Unknown at this point," Laura shook her head. "Our best assumption is that they permitted the traitors to have control of the region, similar to Betos and the SAS. Another Human-aligned state under the Collective is a reasonable goal. We have yet to confirm this, however."

"It would be. There is no need to assume." the Lion asserted. "The hardliners wish a return of the Ottoman Empire. The Collective will offer them that, in return for slavery to their newfound masters. Not that such men are capable of seeing their chains."

"What is important is that the Collective is building up defenses in Turkey, while also launching various offensives against Europe," Laura continued. "Intelligence indicates that progress is being made, though slowly. If we push forward, we can take the cities and points of interest before they become entrenched."

"As long as the Hiveship is up there, they'll just send down swarms of Mutons," Avel noted.

"We're working on the Hiveship," Laura said. "But the more we occupy their attention, the less is being paid attention to Europe."

"Or they'll double their efforts," Avel said grimly.

"Potentially, but that cannot make us hesitate," Laura said. "I'll need both of you at HQ so we can hash out the details of this operation. This is a multi-Legion offensive, one we need to get started within the week."

"Understood, Commander," General Avel glanced at the Lion. "We'll ensure things are in order here, and meet in HQ this evening."

"Excellent, then I believe it's settled," Laura said. "Chancellor, is there anything else?"

Saudia shook her head sharply once. "I don't believe so."

"Then I will take my leave," Hakeem said. "Chancellor, Commander." He walked over to the Lion, clapped him on the shoulder and said a few words in Arabic, which seemed to amuse the Lion, before he responded similarly. Hakeem walked out of the tent without another word, leaving the quartet to themselves. He'd presumably returned to help outside.

Fair enough.

He was someone who was the embodiment of an excellent leader. Charismatic, intelligent - and an independent thinker. Someone who was smart enough to work within the system while also pointedly challenging it, extracting concessions using pressure and logic. Saudia considered that, from a purely transactional perspective, this was a rare battle of wills she'd conceded.

She could now see why she'd been given warnings, why certain officials had expressed concern about his meteoric rise. She could see why he was whispered as an unofficial Caliph. She could appreciate those concerns far better now that she'd met the man.

However, he was merely...different. Not an enemy, not an issue - though it appeared she would have to put some effort into ensuring he was an ally, because she had a feeling that he would be a useful one, someday.

But there was still business to attend to.

The Lion turned his cold, burning eyes on her. "All in all, a good day." He refilled his cup of tea. "A historical day. Old sins unwrought, valor displayed, and ceremonies to be had. It will sweeten the bitter taste of loved ones lost. An ending to be remembered, fitting for martyrs."

"This is not the end of it. The Sectoids will not stand for how we've humiliated them." General Avel disagreed. "They will want repayment in full, and the Turkish issue will have no clever solutions. We've not passed the point of failure, only delayed it."

The Lion glanced at Laura and Saudia, his smile was as false as could be. "The Sectoids will have a grand welcome, one they'll enjoy. And the Turks have not been idle in the age of ADVENT. They've a few tricks up their sleeve."

"The Turks do not have the words for docile or for submissive in their vocabulary." The Lion swirled his cup. "The Avant and the Collective will find they've misstepped, we need only help push them off balance."

"You have an idea." Avel said, in a resigned tone.

"My friends, Commander and Chancellor," The Lion raised his cup. "I've nothing but ideas."

"Then speak to them," Laura nodded. "Considering what you were able to do here, I expect this to be unconventional, but somehow feasible."

Avel sighed. "You don't know the half of it."

"It starts with an old friend, a long-forgotten tunnel network, and a missile system," the Lion began with a smile on his face. "I expect that this will be a story you find interesting."

And so she did. Saudia and Laura listened as he described a man he had known from 'the old days', a man who was now a middle-ranking military officer - who had access to an old skeleton key that could access the modern Turkish missile systems. Outdated for certain, but even older munitions had a certain effectiveness.

A man who the Lion could get in contact with.

Naturally, using a messenger pigeon. One he kept around for this reason.

He spoke of a little-known control facility and a forgotten labyrinth which had been used for smuggling during and after the fall of the Caliphate. The two intersected, forming a network where armies could be moved through. A simple matter for a force to reach the facility and begin ADVENT's push into Turkey by causing chaos.

"Enough Lancers, Horsemen, and the ever wonderous XCOM," he said. "And the Sectoids will enjoy the specially-made delights of bespoke Turkish firecrackers, give or take a few thousand tons' worth. If all goes well, we'll make a new world record in enemy line breaking."

His brow creased. "Guinness still exists, I hope?"

"Yes," General Hank quipped. "We have not yet arrested them."

"Excellent. I like recognition. That, and," he pointed at a thumb at a pile of rubble off in the distance. "Gives them more reason to turn this entire region to confetti in retribution."

"And? I've not known you for simple plans," Avel accused.

"If I said we'd also raid armories filled with brand new, bespoke heavy battle rifles, crack open a few prisons, kickstart a rebellion and turn a fair chunk of the Turkish armies on the Sectoids, all while the Middle Eastern Legions produce one last feat of propaganda, a triumphant line break in the wake of falling missiles...Perfect bait to set up the end of this insult."

The Lion gestured with an open palm. "They've been humiliated, and losingthe Hiveship in record time adds to the indignity. They'll come to raze the Middle East to the ground. An idea coming from the arrogance of believing it will be easy. They'll come to smother the example of rebirth offered in its crib, make an example of us."

"Instead, we'll make an example of them." Laura's eyes glinted.

"Would that feel complex enough?" the Lion queried, roving his eyes over them.

General Hank Avel gave a long suffering sigh. "Yes, that would be."

In the end, the session had gone on far longer than she'd anticipated - several hours by this point, but certainly worth the time. The Lion was showcasing his unconventional, yet brilliant, military mind, and Hakeem was quite a curious man, one she would have to keep a watch on. He was a dangerous mixture of intelligent, driven, and independent. Smart enough to play within the rules and achieve his goals at the same time. Admirable in a way - so long as he didn't push too hard.

He was pushing the line, but it was acceptable for now.

Well, she was not done in Aleppo yet - there was still a ceremony to recognize the survivors of the Night Stand. A ceremony that it was best she prepared for and enjoyed, because it would, without a doubt, be the easiest part of her day.

---

Aleppo Hospital, Aleppo – Syria

6/30/2017 – 7:18 A.M.

The machines beeped a steady rhythm as Angela stood in the packed hospital, Bradley lying quietly on the hospital bed, breathing steadily, his head wrapped in bandages, IV tubes connected to his arms. So hectic had it been since the battle, that he still wore most of his armor.

The hospital was overloaded with the wounded. The smells of blood, pus, and vomit were ever-present, and civilian volunteers kept scrambling around, mopping up spills and stains when they could. It couldn't completely remove the smell, though, especially as the hospital – and those makeshift ones – had substandard ventilation.

God bless the nurses and doctors who'd worked for a day straight before they'd been reinforced by Legion medics through the Gateways. Young was still somewhere here, tending to the many wounded, and here she was, checking up on Bradley, now that the battle was done.

This battle, anyway.

She knew this was only just the beginning. Turkey would be next – ADVENT was not going to waste an opportunity to press this advantage - but, for the sake of everyone…she hoped they would allow some breathing room before mobilizing the survivors. It was a miracle that all of her squad was still alive…even if one was in a coma.

Adrenaline had long since faded, and she was…tired. So very, unfathomably tired. She didn't even think she could protect herself from a Sectoid Drone, let alone a Vanguard or worse. She wasn't quite sure what was keeping her up, beyond stimulants and a need to check on her friend before falling into the blissful realm of unconsciousness.

Joel had also come. He didn't look much better than she did. An entire portion of his armor was blown off and charred. His cape was in tatters. Bandages were wrapped around his head and left eye, which he'd lost. His helmet had also been destroyed, though it had been what had saved him.

The remainder of his armor was caked in Human and alien blood, with healthy doses of sand and dirt mixed in. He'd need an appointment of his own. She didn't ask why he wasn't in pain, they were all too exhausted to really notice. She suspected that, when she woke up, she would be acutely aware of every scratch, broken appendage, and probably other injuries she didn't even know she had.

"He's been like this for how long?" Joel asked quietly.

"Since the injury," Angela said with a shrug. "Cranial injury, only required minor surgery…but it directly impacted the brain."

Joel did not outwardly react, only thinning his lips further.

The door opened, and one of the doctors entered, a woman in her early thirties. Her hands were clean, but her uniform was stained in blood - the hospital had run out of PPE hours ago. Frantic hand-washing remained, but some other standards had slipped. Her hijab was also torn, and she was one of the few doctors still wearing one, since most had discarded them throughout the night.

She took off her face mask. "Officer," she directed at Joel. "He's one of yours?"

"Yes ma'am," Joel nodded. "Angela is also in his squad. I want to know his condition."

There was a flash of emotion from the doctor, and Angela could tell it wasn't going to be good news, her tired face said as much. "We've stopped the bleeding, and physically we believe the wound will heal. I am afraid that the damage may already be done," she nodded to the machines. "I'm sorry, but he's…in a coma, and we don't believe he'll come out. He's effectively braindead."

"You can't do anything?" Angela demanded.

She gave an exhausted shrug. "No ma'am. We…tried. We even had a psion try and do a mental resuscitation. It didn't work. Physically, his body is still functioning, but his mind…" she shook her head again. "There's nothing we can do. He's not dead, but he won't be coming back."

No, this can't be the end for him. "He might wake up though."

"I wouldn't hope for that. He's not just in a coma. These are readings of someone who is brain-dead," the doctor rubbed her eyes. "I'm sorry. There's nothing that can be done for him."

Maybe it was the tiredness getting to her, or maybe it was everything catching up. It seemed just so unfair for him to have physically made it through the hell they'd experienced, only to be stuck in a coma. A cruel trick played by the universe. Their times together now came to the forefront vividly.

No more teasing or back-and-forth. No more dry commentary on boring assignments. No more ribbing on his crush on the Empress.

He didn't deserve this end.

And he was only one of thousands tonight, much less the millions in the wider war.

Perspective didn't help her here. Eyes watered and stung, an ironic accomplishment, given the heat had reached scorching levels. There was little water for tears, yet tears she had. Maybe she shouldn't be mad, she shouldn't consider it unfair that he'd died in all but body, not when there were others that had lost more than she had.

Maybe she shouldn't be, but she was.

A hand rested on her shoulder. Joel's, probably. Angela sniffed, and briefly wiped her eyes. "What will you do with him, then?" Joel asked, since she couldn't speak right now. "Did his family leave instructions for this situation?"

A shake of the head. "No, but Bradley did leave instructions on what was to happen to his body in this situation."

Angela blinked. "He did?" He'd never mentioned anything like that to her.

"He did mention it once to me," Joel said. "And I was notified that his body would be donated to ADVENT in the event of his death. I don't think that applied to comas and brain-death."

"It can," the doctor corrected. "When the decision to donate the body is determined, you can specify if it includes situations where euthanasia would be applied, or the body must be dead. He indicated the former. This decision is not clarified outside of his doctor and ADVENT systems. You wouldn't have known about it."

Angela blinked again, and a few times more to clear the tears. "Why did he do that?"

"I can't tell you," the doctor said. "But ADVENT will honor his wishes."

"I suspect his family will object," Joel noted.

"Potentially, but he made his wishes clear," she said. "They can't override it, no matter how they wish to."

"Could ADVENT reject it?" Angela asked.

"In theory? Yes. I do not expect they will though, not when every body is precious."

"What will they do to him?" Angela asked. "They won't experiment on him, will they?"

"I can't tell you, that's not what I do," the doctor sighed. "But no harmful experimentation. It won't be something that could harm him further. I don't know what that is though, but the body will be treated respectfully, and contribute to the betterment of ADVENT."

Angela didn't know if that made her feel more or less reassured. She didn't know, only that she didn't really want his body to just…disappear into the soulless factories of ADVENT. It might help, of course Bradley would do something like this, but he deserved to be laid to rest and honored. Not…be a lab rat for the rest of his life before he was euthanized, once ADVENT had gotten all of their use out of him.

But there didn't seem to be anything that she could do.

"Thank you," Joel told the doctor. "We'll get out of your way now. If there's changes to his condition – let us know."

"Yes sir."

Angela followed him out into the bustling hallway, eyes still leaking, and she sniffed. "I didn't think it would hurt this much."

Joel gave an understanding nod. "The first one always does."

"The first one?"

"Hopefully it will be the last." Joel had a faraway look in his eye. "We got very lucky last night."

"I suppose we did."

"Bradley wouldn't want you to focus on him, Angela," Joel said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Focus on the fact that you and everyone else made it. Now we make sure that no one else dies. Not just our squad – others too."

"I know," she sighed. "I feel selfish, but…"

"He was your friend. I understand."

"I know I'm not special," she said, briefly breaking into a chuckle. "Look around us. I guess it just…hurts when it actually happens."

"It does. Don't ignore it, but realize that you will heal, you just have to let it out." He patted her shoulder a couple times. "You've also been up for almost a full day. You need rest. Go get some – you deserve it."

"So do you."

He faintly smiled. "I need to take care of a few things, but I will be taking my nap shortly, don't you worry."

"Alright," she straightened and saluted, the simple motion making her feel a bit more normal. "I'll see you soon, sir."

"Dismissed, Angela. You did well today."

---

The Abyssal Plains – The Deep Ocean

6/26/2017 – 11:25 A.M.

The march to get back to the place where they had met the unknown entity had taken much longer than Loke would have liked – but unless they wanted to get caught and answer a number of difficult and unanswerable questions, this was what was best. The days since that meeting had been a mixture of normal and covert planning.

Now they had the story, the equipment, and the time to go out into the depths.

If only they had the courage.

None of them were feeling particularly brave. They'd recorded their videos, so if they were all killed, there would at least be something left. It was definitely not how any of them wanted to go out, but, given the choice between an unknown sea entity and ADVENT prison cells, the choice to appeal to the creature was…better.

They were all acutely aware of the ADVENT Prison System and absolutely did not want to get anywhere close to it. Personally, Loke thought that if people were willing to risk death against a telepathic sea Cthulhu instead of prison, then maybe said prison was a little harsh. Either that, or he was just too Danish.

Not that prisons were a bad thing, but there was such a thing as going too far.

Though maybe that was what ADVENT wanted. He was definitely deterred from doing anything to end up there.

"We close to the zone?" Orla asked, looking out into the oppressive darkness.

"I think so," Zhi said, piloting the Neptune transport ever deeper into the sea. "I think we'll know when we cross that threshold."

The utter weight of the ocean and the impenetrable darkness seemed lesser than it had the first time – a common occurrence. Loke – and all of them – were more comfortable with the deeper ocean than they had been the first time. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but he wasn't irrationally afraid of being eaten by a sea monster or falling into a bottomless pit.

"Let's hope he doesn't take too long," Loke said, more to himself. "Wouldn't it be something if he left."

"Please, no," he could imagine Zhi shuddering. "You have no idea how much work it took to get this pulled off without suspicion."

"Actually, we do," Orla said. "You were very, very vocal and stressed the past two weeks."

"Ok, ok. Point taken."

"I don't blame-" He began, and then felt his body and mind freeze as the thing touched his mind once again. It seemed faster this time, as he was brought into the odd netherworld of blue and green, along with the rest of them. He was still frozen, and he resisted the terror that came as the full weight of the mind of the Thing came to bear upon him.

It was so…gargantuan. Even he, a non-psion, could feel the sheer weight it carried.

"You trespass again."

The air rippled.

"You should not have done this."

"I know, I know," Loke said between clenched teeth. "But we need to talk. What you asked us to do is impossible."

There was a long, terrible pause, and then Loke found that he could breathe again. The voice spoke; long and ponderous. "Speak, Human. Explain your actions and why you ignore my instructions."

Alright, alright, it was talking, which was a good thing. "We're not important enough in Atlantis. If we tried to make sure no one goes out there…it will attract attention. None of us are computer experts, or spies. We would get caught, and ADVENT would learn about you – the opposite of what you want."

The Thing seemed to wait long seconds. "Knowledge spreads. An unacceptable outcome."

"More importantly," Loke said. "We couldn't lie even if we wanted to." He tapped his head. "Manchurian Restraints prevent it."

"The controls that are placed upon the subjects prove their versatility," the Voice seemed to be almost musing. "Enough to force the changing of plans, even for the Sovereign."

Loke waited, not completely sure what, if anything, he should say. "ADVENT knows of my existence. They know not to interfere in my designs, and should have known not to send you out to where they knew I would lay. Mistake, perhaps. Or intentional. It will not happen again. You will return, and speak with your superior."

"Commander McKenzie knows?" Loke asked.

"Only that which is necessary. He will know what you speak of." In front of him, a small orb, no bigger than a marble appeared, colored the same blue-green as the environment around them. "You will show this as proof – and a warning to not intrude upon my domain again, be it intentional or unnecessary."

He reached out and took it. It obviously wasn't real, at least here, but was probably something the Thing was going to provide to them. Questions swirled through his mind, but he held his tongue. This was not the place for a prolonged conversation, and it didn't seem like they were going to die.

His heart rate slowed slightly.

"Do not approach again," the Thing warned.

"Don't worry," Loke promised. "We will not bother you again. And…thank you."

The Thing did not respond, but in a rush the world dissipated, and they found themselves – again – near Atlantis. "Well," Orla said. "That went…better than I expected."

Loke realized that the orb was in his hand. It must have been teleported into his hand, since he didn't think that the place they had been was real, exactly. Regardless, the orb he held in his hand was very much real. Even in the dim light of the ocean, it glittered with the same blue-green texture.

Very beautiful.

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's go back. Mission accomplished, people."

"Yes," Zhi exhaled. "Let's never do this again, shall we?"

---

Salt Lake City, Utah – United States of America

7/3/2017 – 10:22 A.M.

Sierra idly wondered how many pounds of metal and cartridges of plasma had been exchanged in the ongoing battle for Salt Lake City. Thus far, the trenches were still holding, the Collective forces stymied by artillery, air strikes, Archangels, Celestial insertions, and Caelior.

As much as she wasn't wholly on board with giving too much responsibility to that particular Ethereal, Caelior had, arguably, been one of the reasons the initial trench lines hadn't been overrun yet. Whenever there was a risk of a concerted strike or the Second Guardian appearing, he was quickly moved and pushed them back (often quite spectacularly).

Missile strikes were similarly mitigated, thanks to him, the munitions easily deflected away from the city or back into Collective lines. Not all of them, though, and the Collective was getting smarter in their utilization, using missiles to distract him while they started new pushes. PRIESTs were battling with Vanguards and even the Second Guardian in the telepathic battlefield, holding their own.

It was holding, and would keep holding.

Within the city, Officers had been holding mass training exercises for the thousands of civilian volunteers, and began stationing them in the deeper trench lines, cycling the professional soldiers into the front lines, which had boosted ADVENT's ability to push back the charges.

Her Valkyrie had been grounded several times for repairs, as the volume of fire was something she hadn't experienced outside of the hardest challenges in the Dreamscape. Plasma scorching, dents, and scratches had been ignored in favor of mechanical fixes that could have been catastrophic. She'd exhausted her supply of ClF3 long ago, and was using standard plasma and ballistic warheads.

"Priority alert!" the voice of the ADVENT air coordinator interjected. "Sector Four is at risk of collapse. Breach has been created by Collective explosives, Chryssalid swarm is amassing. Request immediate assistance."

Not good. "This is Valkyrie Pilot Morrow," she said, immediately turning in-air and locating the sector in question. "I'll head there now and stop it."

"Negative, Valkyrie," the woman responded, her voice strained. "This is a danger-close situation, risk of friendly fire is too high."

In theory, she was right, especially if a Chryssalid swarm was being amassed. Striking it effectively would probably mean hitting the trench line itself, and that would definitely hurt ADVENT soldiers. In practice, this happened to be something she'd prepared for. "Acknowledged, will handle it on the ground."

"On the ground?!"

"I've got it under control," she said as she angled the Valkyrie towards the respective area, releasing a few missiles towards the Collective line, along with a brief fusillade of gauss fire. She could see the breach, still smoking and covered in lingering plasma residue. Probably a low-yield Blaster Bomb, from the extent of the devastation.

Scores of ADVENT soldiers and Engineers were rushing to repair it, but it wasn't a small hole – and the swarm of Chryssalids was oncoming. She quickly ran through some Valkyrie commands, identified a safe suppression range, and angled herself to land shortly behind the line, jets roaring as ADVENT cleared a space for her.

Commands set.

Eject.

With a series of rapid hisses and clicks, the chest of the Valkyrie opened and launched her towards the breach. She landed with a thud, and reached behind her. The Alloy Cannon that she stowed in the MEC was launched after her, and she caught it with a smooth motion before turning to face the oncoming Chryssalid horde.

The Valkyrie began firing behind her, aiming for the further lines, which would suppress or even stop reinforcements. The ADVENT soldiers around her seemed to be a mixture of shocked and relieved – though many of them clearly had not seen one of XCOM's new MEC pilots. Her humanizing features were gone, as all the nanites saved for potential repairs.

For all they knew, she was a humanoid machine with metal skin and eyes that glowed red as they scanned the vicinity for targets. Priming her Alloy Cannon, she charged forward. Normally, charging a swarm of Chryssalids would be a bad idea – their claws and teeth would rip any infantry to shreds - they were the perfect tools to deploy against soft targets.

Unfortunately for them, she was the opposite of a soft target.

The supercharged alloy shards fired from the barrel of the cannon shredded the first of the screeching Chryssalids into yellow-purple chunks, and the following shots eliminated several more Chryssalids which converged on her as the primary target. The claws sliced at her and found metal. Teeth broke as the jaws clamped around an arm and leg.

The screeches intensified when she grabbed one by the throat, lifted it, and squeezed tight enough to shatter its neck. A blast from the Alloy Cannon blew apart another Chryssalid, and three of them approached her from all sides, slicing ineffectively against her. Her weapon was knocked out of her hand, and she lashed out, tearing the jaw off of one of them, and kicking another one away.

She grabbed and tore the limb off of the final one while wringing its neck. There were several explosions further from the line as the Valkyrie continued its barrage. ADVENT forces were combining fire on the other pockets of Chryssalids as she fended off the center swarm. She cut the legs out from underneath one and crushed its head with a stomp. She crushed the head of another in her grasp.

With nothing but her body, she ripped, crushed, and mauled the Chryssalids, methodically tearing them apart while they did little more than scratch her. They weren't strong enough to overpower her or sharp enough to pierce her metal body, nor was she organic enough to be implanted with their eggs.

Their carapace crumpled and broke under her hands, well-suited against small arms and basic bladed weapons, but useless against brute and directed force. Pieces of Chryssalid meat and splashes of blood colored her metal frame as she dismantled the swarm piece by piece.

And when it was done, she stood near the front of the line, a trail of broken Chryssalid bodies behind her. The remaining stragglers were being shot by ADVENT, or fled back to safety, some part of their self-preservation instinct still intact. Sierra turned her head around. "Plug the breach!"

There was a chorus of loud affirmatives, as ADVENT Engineers, Militiamen, and soldiers carried trench modules, metal sheets, and shovels as they worked to repair the damage that had been caused by the blast. Someone tossed her a plasma rifle, which she used to fire at any Collective forces she saw encroaching on the repair effort.

The minutes were long and tense, but, ultimately, successful,as the final hole was fixed and the orange marks of the welding began to cool. The trenches had been cleaned out of corpses and rubble, and the soldiers were taking position within them again. Her job done, she turned and marched back to the Valkyrie and hopped into it, briefly stiffening as she connected to the larger suit.

One more crisis averted. Back to the skies.

With a roar, her engines flared, and she rejoined the battle raging above.

---

Briefing Room, the Praesidium – Classified Location

7/1/2017 – 4:22 P.M.

"You're going to do fine," Fiona told him as they walked down the hallway to where the mission briefing was to take place. She was almost back to normal now. She rarely needed the crutches, and the worst she was now complaining about was the soreness. "I'd say it's past time you got to do this on your own."

"I know," Kunio sighed. "But the first time is always the hardest."

"You've got this," she said encouragingly. "Good news is that it doesn't sound like a particularly dangerous mission."

"Dangerous was never the concern," Kunio reminded her. "Moving from place to place usually isn't inherently dangerous."

When he'd been informed of the upcoming mission, he'd been both surprised and not at the same time. He had known it would only be a matter of time before he'd be given his first solo operation (at least in terms of teleportation), but he didn't know when it would come. It made sense, though – XCOM didn't want to be reliant on the Agents of T'Leth forever, not when they had one of their own.

And now it was time to test him.

Good news was that it probably wouldn't be a difficult one, or at least not too outrageous in terms of distance. He'd practived enough in the Dreamscape to be fairly confident that he could do it, but there was always a difference between the Dreamscape and reality, one he felt he could overcome.

"I suppose this is it," he said, reaching the briefing room. "I'll see you on the other side."

"Good luck," she told him with a smile and a short wave before he went inside. Within the briefing room, most of the assigned squad had assembled; a good number of them, he'd only worked with on a few training exercises, if he recognized them at all. Sahra Kesselman was probably going to be the Squad Overseer – she'd been explicitly tapped for that role, and had led a few Dreamscape exercises – a good, level-headed leader.

Hank Montgomery would be their Gunner, obviously enough. The towering man had a penchant for destroying everything in his path, useful, if directed properly. The two Engineers, Bryanna and So Yong-Ja he didn't recognize. The Medic was…Matthew, he thought? Matthew something, they'd only met a few times. Henderson was the Assault, and her Alloy Cannon was locked and ready to go.

Then there was Dawn, ready for her very first combat operation. She seemed a little antsy, and it was somewhat amusing to see her decked out in her Aurora Armor, a Psionic Rifle slung over her shoulder. A teenager put into a massive suit like that definitely didn't look normal, but her nervous energy was an interesting contrast to the normally professional soldiers.

She'd do well. He was sure of it.

"Kunio!" She perked up when he walked in, waving and pushing herself off the wall she'd been leaning against to come over.

"You ready to go?" He asked, giving her a smile.

"I think so," she said. "Though, I'm a bit nervous."

"Everyone is their first time," he reassured her.

"You'll do fine," Sahra said, walking over, helmet tucked under her arm and giving the teenage Biopath a smile. "Just do what I said. Follow orders, kill some aliens, and you'll fall into a rhythm. Of course, we have to get there first."

"Leave that to me," he said, with a confidence he hoped he could back up.

The door slid open, and the Commander walked in. The whole squad quickly assembled around him. He was curt and to the point, once they were ready. "All of you have been apprised of the overview of Operation Syracuse. This is expected to be a low-intensity operation, and an augment to the ongoing Operation Scipio that ADVENT is conducting."

The briefing table lit up to highlight the target in question. "Malabo is the capital of the Equatorial Guinea, and, fortunately, on an island outside of the continent and SAS territory. ADVENT is seeking a staging point to move onto the mainland proper for the latter stages of Scipio, and the island Malabo is on serves that purpose, is minimally protected, and vulnerable."

"Objectives, sir?" Sahra asked, or reiterated, rather, since most were aware of the stated objectives.

"Malabo has two major Gateways the Collective installed," the Commander said, as the points were highlighted. "XCOM Intelligence has located where they are – they aren't hidden or overly well-protected, but they need to be secured to prevent a rapid reinforcement of the island. Once both Gateways are secured, ADVENT will begin moving in forces to mop up the remaining SAS and Collective forces."

"We want this to be a stealth operation?" Kunio asked.

"Ideally, until you secure the Gateways," the Commander said with a nod. "Preferably, directly destroying their power sources would accomplish the same thing. If you must destroy the Gateways, that is acceptable, but they should, ideally, be taken intact, since ADVENT can utilize them to rapidly reinforce the island."

"Question, sir," Bryanna lifted a hand. "Are we going to be receiving any assistance in the operation? Or are we on our own?"

"Admiral Grady will be standing by to provide cruise missile assistance," the Commander said. "He will also be in contact with you during the operation, and will be opening lines to the SAS command. It's unlikely to accomplish much, but he is going to attempt to see if the SAS forces stand down. Otherwise, he will be your primary means of assisting in the takedown of the few Sectopods on the island."

"Understood, sir," she nodded sharply. "So no Lancer support."

"Not this time."

Sahra was looking over the hologram. "Both Gateways seem close together. We could secure both of them quickly, and call in the reinforcements."

"Or cruise missiles," So suggested with a faint smile on her face.

"Or those," Sahra agreed. "Kunio, you're our teleporter – where do you think we'll start?"

"I'll bring us outside of the city perimeter," Kunio said, indicating the exterior. "Teleporting directly into the city is risky – a very high chance that we could be seen by someone, be they civilians or soldiers. We'll be preparing on the carrier, I assume?"

"That's correct," the Commander said.

That was simple enough. If he could make a line of sight to the island, he could definitely do this. Sahra nodded. "Good, we can work with that. Stealth is going to be the biggest issue – we have some advantages, namely night, the minimal number of Collective and SAS personnel, and the curfew."

She focused on Dawn. "I know you're a Biopath, but you're also a telepath. We're going to need your telepathy here. Making sure that anyone we might encounter is detected or neutralized. Can you do that?"

Dawn swallowed, but affirmed. "I can."

"No special units we should be aware of?" She asked the Commander. "Outside of the Sectopods, obviously."

"XCOM Intelligence has not reported anything," the Commander ticked off his fingers. "Mutons, Runianarch, Sectopods. There was a potential sighting of a Seeker, but this is not confirmed. Again, this is a minimal presence for now – we expect that to change shortly, as Admiral Grady's fleet moves closer."

"Understood."

"There is one more thing," the Commander said slowly. "The Gateways are likely to be connected to Collective points of interest - bases, and so on. We have an opportunity here to do significant infrastructural damage. Your squad is authorized to carry a low-yield portable nuclear explosive into this mission, prime it, and send it to the Collective."

Kunio froze up at the mention of that. Everyone reacted too, though it was subtle. Sahra narrowed her eyes. "A nuke, sir?"

"Yes. Safe to carry until it's primed and sent over," the Commander nodded solemnly. "They will likely accept a connection since they are unaware it's been compromised. Keep it open for a few seconds, then close it. Engineers, you've familiarized yourself with the arming procedures, I've been told."

"Yes sir," So coughed. "I didn't expect to use it here, but I'm capable of arming it."

"That's all we need," the Commander said. "If you don't get an opportunity to use it, or the risk is too high, just handle the Gateway. Understood?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Gateway transport to Grady's carrier will take place at eleven tonight," the Commander said. "You'll have an hour to prepare for the mission there, and then the operation will begin. I'll leave you to figure out details, and suggest that everyone get some rest before the operation." He paused, looking both to Kunio and Dawn. "I know this operation is going to be a bit different for some of you, but I've seen what you are capable of during your training and elsewhere. I'm certain you'll succeed here. Good luck."

He saluted, and they all responded in kind. The Commander left after that, and they were left alone. Sahra rested her hands on the table. "Alright, we've got a few hours left before the mission. Let's hash out the details, get some dinner, get some short rest, and then we'll head out – any objections?"

None came from the squad. With the corners of her lips upturned, she nodded ever-so-slightly. "Good. Let's get started."

---

City Square, Aleppo – Syria

6/31/2017 – 10:11 A.M.

It was a day that was going to be bittersweet, no matter which way Angela cut it. A day and night of rest had, indeed, helped her, and she probably could have slept for a few days uninterrupted, but the war went on, as did her duties. There was one more thing to do before things went back to 'normal'.

The Chancellor had come, and was personally going to commemorate them for their victory. Angela was mildly surprised that was a thing, as she hadn't heard of it being done before. It probably had been, and she'd just not paid attention. It wasn't uncommon for heads of state to tour various military bases and battlefields after the fact.

At least it was a good day for it. It wasn't windy, not as hot as it could be, and there was some slight cloud cover. All of them had repaired their armor, cleaned it for the ceremony, and all of them were looking their best. The Chancellor was here, and it wouldn't do to not look the part. Though, personally, Angela didn't feel as intimidated by it as she probably should have.

A ceremony with a superior just didn't have the same impact when a Collective army had just tried to annihilate you.

With all of the remaining soldiers assembled, Angela was struck by just how few of them had made it. A few thousand? Was that it? Admittedly, quite a few of them were still in the hospital and couldn't physically make it, but, still…so many had died holding the Collective back.

It was sobering and humbling to bear witness to. She noted that many of the squads that were assembled…most of them only had two or three in total. Theirs was the only one that was mostly intact. She wondered how ADVENT was planning to reorganize everyone, as some of the casualty numbers that were rumored were staggering.

Expected for a defense like that, but it would take months to fully replace, if they could be replaced at all. Each and every one of them had done their duty, and they could hopefully rest easy, though, there would be a lot of funerals after this, too, mostly for the civilians. They'd made it clear that ADVENT soldiers who'd fought were welcome, and she was planning to go to at least some of them.

They deserved as much respect for fighting as the soldiers.

There was a platform set up, overlooking the gathering. Nothing major, but more than sufficient for the gathering. There was some local and ANN media as well, as well as some other independent journalists – Angela thought she recognized one of them, she'd heard that one of them had stayed behind.

Brave woman, if a bit reckless.

None were in front of the podium, though she saw the Chancellor and General Avel standing on the platform, the latter of whom was also in full combat attire. Angela found it a bit amusing that the Chancellor was taller than any of the men, a high difference that you usually didn't see between genders. She was definitely more imposing because of it.

However, it appeared that the Chancellor was not going to speak first. From the side, a figure wreathed in shadows stepped out, a man she had only briefly seen, and not interacted with at any great length. His uniform echoed the Officers of the Middle Eastern Legion, white and rimmed in green.

The Lion.

He stopped before the podium, slowly and ponderously. His stance demanded attention, his scarred, nearly featureless face brought to perfect clarity. But it was his eyes that drew the attention, even from where she was standing.

They were cold pyres, zealous, possessed. Intense in a way that was difficult to describe.

"This," The Lion began. "Is not a day of mourning. No. It will never be a day of mourning. It shall not be. There is nothing to mourn!" He said, his voice on what appeared on the edge of a roar, a voice alive with presence.

"All of us," he spoke, raw and collected. "From the moment we were born, until the second we are on our deathbeds. Our destiny, our fate, our road- it had only one conclusion. One. Certain. End."

He paused.

His eyes of cold flame briefly seemed to look into her when it passed her.

"Death," he stated. "Poor. Rich. Happy. Mighty. Weak,dim, or clever. Our fate was carved in stone, and it is death. We shall all die. Our livesaremade to end. All we have accomplished, all our loved ones and fathers and mothers….All will see the end. As inevitable as the dawn and the dusk."

"This!" He repeated, more intense and louder. "Is not a day of mourning! For why mourn fate? Why mourn destiny?" He repeated. "This. This. It's a day of ire. It's a day of wrath."

A man beside her clenched his fists, a necklace wrapped around his gauntlet. The metal of his newly-repaired armor creaking.

"Look at them, our enemies who could not break us!" He laughed, his laughter the biting edge of anger. He gestured to the city. "Look at us! Alive where others would have faltered. Us!" He pummeled his fist into his chest.

"Us defiant few, who stood before the storm surge, who stood before the hurricane," He leaned in, teeth glinting, smile bared in animal viciousness. "And made it flinch."

"No." He repeated again, nodding slowly. "This is not a day of mourning. This is a day of ire."

"Ire." He started, voice rising. "Our ire. Our ire for the dead. For those martyred in our name. Let their memories be fuel, let the void they left be fire, let it be a blaze that cannot die. Our lives given, for those who gave theirs. Our ire, fueled by their memories."

A pause. "Let love be ire."

Angela could sense the sharp emotions of the man beside her, the degree with which the words resonated, tears mixing with his tense, near-shaking posture.

Another moment. "Let pain be strength."

The resonance was echoed by the others nearby; those who had lost limbs, eyes, and body parts. A man who lost his hand grasped onto the words, a new mixture of courage and sorrow apparent.

"Let your hearts be set aflame!" The Lion commanded, passion oozing out of his tone. "Hold your heads high, with pride and resolve, you defiant few! And cry, cry in ire!"

The assembly roared, a deafening mix of emotions. Pain let out in cacophony, replacing the somber, hushed tones.

Angela felt it, and she was reminded of the night they had stood in defiance. Now, it was similarly overpowering, the passion and coalesced emotion threatened to envelop her as well, to sweep her up, to let go and roar.

The Lion waited until silence descended. "This ceremony, these medals, even the Chancellor herself. They are symbols...They are not mere metal, or meaningless words of platitude. They are promises. Tokens of the fallen. Oaths of fealty and loyalty. Let them remind you of this day, of your finest moments, of why you stand where all others may falter."

The Lion stopped for an endless second. His exhale was titanic, his pause an oppressive moment. The oppression faded with his soft smile, an introspective look growing on his face.

It may have been an illusion, a trick of her eyes. If she couldn't feel resolve flare in the Lion, she would have dismissed the glint, the flash, of his eyes as an illusion. They were livelier, hotter, more focused.

He mouthed something to himself, then drew himself to the podium. There was a heat to his motion, a hungry need that was not there before.

The Lion raised his voice. "Look at the world around us, at our memories and memorials. Our cities behind us. Our flags and colors, our creeds and our dissimilarity," the Lion said. "They are unsure of us. Unsure, for we are strangers in a stranger land. We are an irregularity, a strange shape. We have always been."

"Our creeds and words," he continued in a voice of melancholy. "Our cries and defiant shouts. Let our acts tonight remind everyone who is unsure, who doubts us, who thinks twice of our integrity, of what and who we are."

One long moment passed. "They have no more due cause. We have answered the call. We have shown them our bared, unmasked faces."

The Lion leaned forward. "And they have seen us. Us, the vanguard at midnight, struggling against our cracking bones. Us, our blood drawing the line that shall not be passed. Us, and our shout, our cry."

"Truth is made clear from error." The Lion's smile grew wider. "Meanings made clear from actions, and our hearts, and that which they roar with valiance, with defiance, with a singular acknowledgement, given no room for misunderstanding, our cry echoes and reaches."

"Our voices of regret. Of gratitude. Of anger. Of acceptance." The Lion bared his teeth. "Of faith and dreams of a promised day, a day all of us remember. A day of pride, of an ideal we die and bleed and roar for."

He briefly trailed off, before resuming. "Of hope. Of a hope worth dying for." He spoke softly. The words seemed to resound like thunder.

"Your ire, your anger, our faithful stand in the night. A scream for hope that will never die." His hands gripped the podium. "So, when you roar, when you cry, when you doubt, when the night falls and fear grips you, let your cry be defiance of despair, a howl of hope in the face of the ticking midnight clock."

He pointed a finger, and for all the world, it seemed pointed at her. "Let it remind you of who you are, the defiant few who give their hearts, who dedicate their souls." Quietly, somberly, he added. "Let not the memory be of what you cry. But of why you cry in ire."

With that, the Lion stepped away, fading into the shadows of the platform.

The assembled legions yelled out a reply in Arabic. 'Cry in ire' and 'God is Greater.' She knew, having heard it plenty of times by now. They were not restrained in their shouts, and they had earned the right to this moment. A few minutes later, it calmed down, as the Chancellor prepared to give her own speech. Angela did expect the speech would be good, but also expected that it would not generate the response the Lion had elicited.

"Curious," Joel said, in the moment between speeches. "The same war cry of the Caliphate, redefined in full view of the whole world. Repeating words that are better left to die." He looked pointedly at some of the Lancers, then at a few of the Legions who'd come as reinforcements.

Tense. Unsettled. Rising anger. The Isreali soldiers were notably uncomfortable. The older soldiers staring at the chanting Middle Eastern legions in bewilderment.

"He's playing a dangerous game, baiting them into phrases best forgotten." Joel muttered.

Angela hesitated. "Maybe, but I don't think it's malicious. Taking back their creed, it's clearly not all bad."

Joel adjusted his bracer. "Not inherently, but a new world shouldn't be tied back by the old. We want less extremism in the world now, not phrases that harken back to it."

Angela felt that might be a cynical view, though not necessary a wrong one. She wondered if ADVENT was going to do anything about it. In this instance, she felt that they probably wouldn't make a big deal about it, but that it would be the last time anyone felt comfortable uttering it again.

Regardless, it was time for the Chancellor's speech as the crowd quieted and she took her place at the podium.

Angela was curious if this would be as memorable. It was expected to be short, but she was interested, nonetheless. With the rickety microphone and exposed wires on the platform, the Chancellor stepped forward, and began her address.

"There is little that I can say to fully convey the scope and impossibility of what you achieved," she began. "In the situation room, when I was informed of the Collective bearing down on the Middle East, the consensus was grim. It was expected that a majority of the region would be lost, and that the line would break in hours. The numbers, the expectations, portrayed a grim reality."

The Chancellor's eyes scanned the gathered soldiers. "Yet, despite this, General Avel insisted that it could be done. When others did not believe, he did. Ultimately, we do not leave our people behind, and all we could do was wait and hope that his faith was validated. And it was. What you have done is more than just beat the odds, you have stymied an alien attack which would have swept across the entire region."

Saudia inclined her head briefly. "Your brave stand saved the Middle East from falling to the Collective, and while, on behalf of ADVENT, I can thank you, those whose homes you've saved thank you more. It was not done without cost, though, and I will not pretend to feel the pain many of you may feel now – but know that each and every one of the fallen will be honored, and that their names will be remembered as the heroes and saviors they were."

Nice of her to say it. "I do not intend this to simply be applied to the soldiers, but every man and woman who also took part," Saudia continued. "Irrespective of their 'official' service, they were no less instrumental in the defense, and it does us no credit to ignore them. Today, though, you will be honored and recognized for your actions. Each and every one of you went above and beyond the call of duty, and braved enemies that most could not."

One metal hand formed an ADVENT salute. "Thank you for your service, your sacrifice, and your bravery."

As one, all of the soldiers saluted in return. Short, sweet, but, from what Angela could tell, the Chancellor meant it. It did feel good to be acknowledged, even if she felt the speech was more directed at the Middle Eastern Legion itself, as she was still just part of the American one.

Nonetheless, she appreciated it, and these soldiers deserved it.

What followed was a very long, and, honestly, tedious part, where the Chancellor, Avel, and the Lion went in front of each squad, put the ADVENT Medal of Valor on their chestpieces, and moved on. It was a quick process that didn't seem completely like an afterthought, or overly rushed.

There were a few soldiers who followed them, carrying the boxes with the medals inside them. Angela could tell it was going to still take an hour or two to get through all of them, but, all things considered, it could be worse. Not every day you got a medal pinned on you by the Chancellor of ADVENT.

The trio finally reached their squad. It was still a quick procedure, but Saudia herself performed the ritual on Angela. She really was extremely tall up close, Angela actually had to look up at her. With a practiced motion, the Chancellor pinned the medal on her, and shook her hand. "ADVENT thanks you for your service."

"Thank you, Chancellor," she said, feeling obligated to give a salute, which the Chancellor returned with a somber nod. It was a good feeling. She didn't mess with her medal right then; she'd have plenty of time to look it over later, but it was a pleasant weight. Not a consolation for Bradley, but…it was something.

The pomp and circumstance was going to come to an end soon.

The Collective was still out there.

And Turkey was waiting to be invaded.

Retribution was due, and she was ready to deliver it.

---

Joseph Ray Shannon - Somewhere off the Coast of Bioko Island

7/1/2017 - 5:22 P.M.

"Is the fleet in position, Officer Francetti?" Grady asked, settling into his chair on the bridge.

Today was the day. Arrangements had been made with XCOM to ensure the Gateways were captured, and, if they weren't, well, at least it wouldn't reflect poorly on him. Though, he would still need to deal with the consequences of their failure, as repairing his fleet would become much harder. Perhaps he was being unfair to them, but this was a difficult mission, and the slightest error could potentially tip off the Collective and see the Gateways destroyed before they could be seized.

"Yes, Admiral, they are in escort formation to shield the more damaged ships and the carriers, with the ships best suited to provide fire support closest to the shore," she affirmed, standing crisply at attention.

A brief nod. "And the landing forces?"

"Hanging back, but ready to move ahead when ordered. The troops are eager for a chance to stretch their legs and go ashore."

He gave a slight chuckle at that."Well, once the battle is over, we will likely need a day or two to set things up. Assuming we win, they can potentially expect some liberty. Feel free to pass that along."

"Yes, sir!"

She relayed the message to the crewmen on comms, as he took a moment to go over the battle plan again. Those new holographic projectors and personal datapads ADVENT had passed out to the military were certainly convenient, and remarkably intuitive. He hardly had to get up from his chair now to review the situation.

The latest satellite imaging showed that Malabo was only lightly occupied (relatively speaking), though there was some increased activity from last time. He supposed the SAS had noticed he was no longer going parallel to the coast, and had taken precautions in case he went for the island. Even so, they hadn't had enough time to shore up the defenses or the garrison. He was concerned they might try to swarm him with aircraft again, but the skies had been remarkably clear since Ecnomus, and, no matter how many times he checked with the Radarmen and what remained of the satellite network, it still remained the same.

They must all be busy in other theaters, guess they reached the logistical bottleneck, he thought to himself. If the Collective had more sense, or had realized what ADVENT was planning in the weeks leading up to Scipio, they could have spent more time stockpiling fighters and bombers to alleviate this issue, but arrogance was, as always, their weakness. As it was, he could afford to give his pilots a break, except for the helicopter and S/VTOL pilots, they had to be ready to help land troops or evac them if things went wrong.

"Your orders, sir?" his executive officer asked, stirring him from his thoughts.

"Can you connect me to the enemy commander in Malabo?"

There was a shocked second of pause. "Wh- I mean, yes, sir," she abruptly answered.

She'd nearly questioned him there - understandable, he supposed. as he hadn't explained himself yet. He decided to put her at ease and forgive her near indiscretion.

"I'm giving the enemy the chance to surrender," he explained. "The garrison is technically under SAS command and the officer in charge has got to know he's outgunned."

"You think they will take you up on it?"

"It's possible. If it's a Human, then they probably aren't as committed as the Collective. The SAS doesn't seem to have had much time to indoctrinate the citizenry like other Collective client states have done."

"I guess you're right," she responded. "Not sure I'd want to die for a puppet state."

"That's certainly been the case on Earth in the past. The Cold War made that abundantly clear."

Although, even after the Cold War, many of the younger states the West or the UN had tried to build still had difficulty building a reliable military. Corruption had been rampant, as well as traitors and informants.

He was jostled out of his brief musings. "Sir, we're getting a response."

"On screen," he said with a perfectly straight face. He thought he heard Francetti stifle a laugh and a nearby ensign abruptly feigned a cough. No one seemed to know if he'd intended to make a Star Trek reference, something which only further amused him.

Of course, there wasn't a large, obvious view screen on the bridge that could do video calls, so it got patched through to the comms station, which was, in turn, relayed to his datapad, which had a built-in microphone and camera for such occasions.

On the screen was a dark-skinned man, who appeared to be in his 40's. He wore what Grady presumed to be SAS armor, with the rank denoted on the breast and shoulders, as was traditional in Human militaries. The SAS might have been traitors, but the shared norms remained. He could tell this was a fairly senior officer, though the exact rank structure differed country to country, even before the invasion.

"This is Division Marshal Anye Mukala of the Malabo garrison. What are your intentions and why have you contacted me?" the man demanded. His English was accented but comprehensible, for which he was thankful. To his credit, the man didn't seem to be visibly scared or panicked, just...tired? No, not tired, resigned. The look of a man who knew the odds were against him and accepted it.

"To try and avert a catastrophe. I am Admiral James Grady, commander of the ADVENT African War Fleet."

"I know who you are, Admiral. I am not so ignorant as to be unaware of recent events. Of how ADVENT has come to pillage. Pillage as its members did in the past."

"You speak as though we do this unprovoked, but your leaders brought this on themselves," Grady reminded him. "ADVENT gave them plenty of chances to avoid conflict, but they did nothing."

The man's response was a tired incredulity. "Did you really think we would hand over such important members of our military and government? Or reject the only ones who could protect us from you?"

"Except they didn't protect you. Not Betos, not her conspirators, and certainly not the Collective. If anything, they drew ADVENT's attention and ensured there would be conflict," Grady allowed a sigh. "Betos is just throwing as many bodies up between her and us as she can to avoid being held accountable. She's a deserter, a traitor, and a coward - and the Collective is even worse. This continent was once subject to some of the most horrific human trafficking in our history, and yet you willingly align yourselves with invaders who make the Atlantic Slave trade look trivial in comparison."

Anye visibly winced at that. "The Collective simply relocated at risk populations away from the conflict."

Grady raised an eyebrow, finding the answer as hollow as the man's empty voice suggested. "Really? And what about the countless people who vanished before open warfare started? Where are those from Australia, and how many were processed when the Collective held China?"

The man scowled. "Get to the point, Admiral. I am not here to be lectured by you."

"Very well. I take it you heard of my victory at Ecnomus?"

"I have already indicated my familiarity with you, Admiral, so, yes, I am aware. Our allies suffered a setback, but they have assured us they are still able to provide military support."

"At sea? Because I haven't been attacked since my victory," he said with a grim, though neutral tone. "Looks to me like they've left you out to dry."

"They are fighting and dying on the mainland to hold back the Chancellor's butchers and keep them from raping all of Africa," Anye growled. "I've read the reports, Admiral."

"Regardless, you must realize the situation you are in."

His eyes narrowed. "Do I, Admiral?"

Well, he could enlighten him if he wished to play coy. "You are about to be attacked by one of the largest fleets ever assembled in the last century," Grady answered, matter-of-fact. "A fleet with enough firepower to blast your entire island into the sea, never to be seen again. There is no sign of support from the air or from the sea, and you have only limited defenses and a small garrison to defend against the attack. Even if I held back and simply ordered an amphibious landing, you couldn't hold out long - and I don't even need to come ashore to destroy you. Have I misjudged anything?"

He was silent at that, clearly thinking and clearly not pleased. He wasn't a fool, but he also wasn't craven. Seeing that he had the man's attention, Grady pressed on.

"The outcome of this battle, if you could even call it that, is a foregone conclusion," he impressed on the wavering military officer. "You will lose. Nothing can change that. Not you, not Betos, and certainly not the Collective." He paused, letting that linger for a second before he threw the lifeline. "But that doesn't mean you and your men have to die here."

It took a few moments before he finally responded, and when he did so, he spoke slowly, deliberately. "What, exactly, are you suggesting?"

"That you have another option. Surrender, and you, your subordinates, and your men will be treated well."

"You think I would give up? Do you take me for a coward?"

A bit of delicacy was needed. "I think that you can tell when you've been beat, and when you are facing defeat. Do you honestly think the Collective gives a damn about you or the SAS? You're nothing but pawns to them, little better than the Mutons they throw at us like sheep to the slaughter. The Collective did not come here to make allies; they came to subjugate us, just like the colonial powers did to you. They may be humoring you and your leaders now, but once the war is over they will take full control over your government, same as they did to the Vitakarians."

He waved a hand. "Oh sure, you'll have your own government that makes its 'own' decisions, but we both know who would hold real power. Who will be deciding on matters of actual importance. You don't owe them a damn thing, certainly not your life. They have all the cannon fodder they could ever need, this will hardly make a difference to them. You're completely disposable."

"And I suppose ADVENT is different? Tell me, can member countries go against the will of ADVENT?"

This was not going where he needed it to. He had to try a different approach. "Fine, then forget about ADVENT for now. This is between you and me, one soldier to another. We may be enemies but we're both still Human, both still leaders with a duty to our men. Right now, the Collective and Betos can't help you. Only I can save your men, and, if you let me, then I give you my word - on my honor as a soldier and as a man, that your men will be treated humanely."

Again, the man was silent for a time before speaking once more. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I will be forced to carry out my orders, just as our forces on the mainland are doing." He let the implication of that statement linger in the air. Truthfully, he didn't have orders to lay waste to the island - if anything, he was to avoid causing any more damage than was necessary, as the population was potentially fed up with the SAS and may welcome him, which was to say nothing of his own objective to secure the local facilities intact, but he'd let Anye make what he would of that threat. It couldn't hurt to put a bit more pressure on him.

The Marshal took his time to consider the offer before answering "I... will need time to make a decision."

Grady shook his head "I'm afraid that's not possible. The longer we wait, the greater the chance that your allies might decide to make the decision for you. I need an answer now."

Anye was clearly not pleased by this, but he also didn't offer a retort. Instead, he simply gritted his teeth, thinking the matter over hard as the seconds ticked by. Grady was about to give him another nudge when the man suddenly sighed and let his shoulders slump and his head sag. He looked beaten, like every option he could think of was bad, and all he could do was take the least awful of them.

"Fine...I...I will surrender." He said in a low voice.

Grady couldn't see much of where Anye was so he didn't know if he was overheard or how his subordinates reacted. He was slightly surprised this had worked, as he had fully expected the Collective to step in the instant the subject of surrender came up, but, either there were no Collective personnel in the command center, or there were no psions around to interfere. It could still be a trick, but he doubted it. This, of course, raised some other concerns - like where to go from here.

"Very well. I will accept your surrender, but we have some things to take care of first."

"What do you mean? Is my surrender not enough for you?"

"Don't misunderstand, I would like nothing more than to receive your surrender," Grady said. "But I can't get forces on the ground for a while and there's still the question of whether the local Collective forces will go along with this. Do you really think they will just stand down when you order them too?"

"Officially, they are to cooperate with my forces." He grunted.

"But do you have authority over them?"

"They didn't clarify that, even when I asked…" Anye stated, at this point he looked tired and irritated, and Grady couldn't blame him.

"Then you're going to have to force the issue. Will your men listen to you?"

"I believe so, most of them. We will know soon enough. What do you have in mind?"

"We need to prevent the Collectives forces from interfering until my soldiers come ashore," Grady moved onto the more practical matters. "We also have to make sure your subordinates won't pose a threat. I think I may have an idea, though - make sure your men keep their weapons on them, those you trust, at least. They may need them."

"You expect us to fight your battle for you?"

"I'm not going to abandon you or your men, my fleet will provide assistance, and, if all goes well, the fighting will be minimal and over soon." Grady lifted a hand. "I need you to gather a few squads of your most trusted men and arm them. After that, send a signal for the Collective troops to assemble somewhere, try to separate them out by species if at all possible. Have them report to specific areas then order them to stand down and hand over their weapons. If they refuse, my fleet will open fire, just tell your men to keep back, and they should be fine. Those who don't comply will be unable to put up much of a fight after the artillery hits."

"That could work. But I'm afraid I have no control over local automated forces."

"You mean the Sectopods? I'm aware, we'll have to work around them."

"Not just them, but the defenses as well."

He was right. While the defenses weren't particularly strong, they could still easily take out multiple landing craft, or even attack his fleet if they had missiles. If they had a functioning laser system, they might even be able to intercept some of his artillery. ADVENT intelligence reported they were hypothetically capable of it. After all, Israel was able to intercept mortars and light artillery with Iron Dome, and that was pre-invasion. Whether they could intercept every shell - particularly the larger ones fired by warships - was another matter entirely, of course. Best to play it safe.

"You can't turn them off?" He asked, just to be sure.

"No, it is all CODEX operated...I may be able to cut the power, though, by disconnecting them from the generators."

"Good thinking. Let's flesh out the rest of this."

He spent the next few minutes finalizing the plan with Marshal Anye. Selecting assembly points, sorting out squads, specifying where his troops would come ashore, etc. He asked Anye if he could cut power to the Gateways as well, but, unfortunately, they had their own power sources, and he did not know how to operate them, so Grady just asked him to be ready to suppress the Collective forces around them once the rest were disposed of. He also told him to try and avoid damaging the Gateways. When asked why, he simply said his own forces would take care of it. He wasn't going to tip his hand, but he needed to tell Anye something.

Once all was said and done, he bid the Marshal farewell and wished him luck before hanging up for the time being, and letting out a modest sigh. This was going better than expected. Far better. But he now needed to relay this information to those involved in the operation. Including one group in particularly.

"You think we can trust him, sir?" Francetti asked.

"I think so, yes, and if he tries anything, I've got one hell of a gun to his head. Is the XCOM team ready?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, tell them there's been a change of plans…"

---

Central Command, Hiveship of Hive Commander 072 – Earth Orbit

7/1/2017 – 12:09 P.M.

In the vast central command of the Hiveship, surrounded by rows of computers dutifully manned by Sectoid drones, Hive Commander 072 sat in the center, peering upward at the Battlemaster. Despite their short stature, the Sectoids had – fortunately – had an affinity for building the grandiose, far beyond what their small forms necessitated.

It was a display of arrogance he could respect, and, practically, it served him for visits like this. However, today there was little time for pleasantries. He had not expected the attack on the Middle East to fail so spectacularly, while the European assault had been proceeding as expected.

ADVENT was giving some ground, but largely holding, as expected, but the Collective forces should have utterly crushed the defenders on the Middle Eastern line. They should not have encountered trouble, and they should not have been outright defeated. Now, the Turkish rear lines were exposed, and ADVENT was doubtless preparing to move in.

It appeared he would have to intervene. First, he needed to confront the one who was responsible for the spectacular failure. He was not alone. Patricia was present, with her Harbinger mask off, and she appeared extremely displeased. Her own attacks in Korea were proceeding well, though everyone knew that Seoul was going to be a difficult challenge.

"Your failure has cost the Collective resources, manpower, and time," the Battlemaster said. "It has severely damaged our efforts in the region, and ADVENT is preparing to annex Turkey as we speak. I was assured that the operation would be completed without issue."

"The Imperator is displeased," Patricia added. "Your performance has been poor."

The Hive Commander chittered once, and the Battlemaster sensed nothing from it but a mild reflex of irritation. The Humans were unexpectedly prepared. It has been taken into account, and the mistake will not be repeated again. An anomaly does not dispute the successful European assaults, or the defense against the ADVENT attack on the Hiveship, despite the previously unknown units deployed. The situation is under control.

"Is it?" Patricia raised an eyebrow. "The Hiveship has sustained damage-"

Superficial, and repairable, Harbinger. ADVENT expended a portion of their Atomic Lance arsenal and failed to cause lasting damage. This cannot be repeated, nor can they sustain air attacks of similar scales indefinitely. Our numbers can be replaced. Theirs cannot be so easily.

"Do not interrupt, 072," Patricia lifted a hand, the air around it vibrating. "I have not forgotten what you did to me when I was in XCOM. Insubordination will not be tolerated."

The orange eyes of the Hive Commander shone brightly. I care little for the body you destroyed, and I appraise this situation with more dispassion than your emotional mind can manage. Your insinuations are a distraction. I intend to rectify the failures of the operation swiftly.

The Battlemaster was vaguely amused by the spat between the two – Hive Commander 072 had once overseen the Sectoid Hive on Earth, and had faced Patricia, specifically, when it was raided. He idly wondered how Patricia had reacted when she'd heard that that same Hive Commander was actually still alive – technically.

And that it did not have a positive opinion of her, nor she of him.

"Enough," the Battlemaster lifted a hand. "This debate is beneath both of you. Explain your rectifications immediately."

Of course, Battlemaster. The Hive Commander blinked once before continuing. We will move additional forces to supplement the Turkish lines to prevent an overwhelming ADVENT push. European lines will continue to be supported on schedule. Gateways have been established in major Turkish cities, and transports will continue shuttling reinforcements into the country itself from this Hiveship.

He waved a hand, and a holographic display came up. As we speak, the Hiveship is being moved into position to begin a sustained bombardment of major Middle Eastern cities. I have judged it to be of minimal practical effectiveness, but will provide psychological destabilization. I have contacted the Zararch and instructed that I be provided with a list of names and locations for major figures to psionically puppet.

"A mass psionic attack," Patricia nodded, lips pursed. "An acceptable start, but this is not something that will be effective for long. ADVENT has also shown themselves to be...resistant to attacks like these. It will briefly disrupt them, but it is not a long-term solution."

I am aware, but the benefits are tangible. It is expected that this will damage morale and force ADVENT to scramble to attempt to identify, protect, and secure places and people of public reach. It will disrupt any planned counterattack to some degree, and limit the morale gains that were achieved in their defense of the Middle East. This will continue until it is judged that the region is at a psychological breaking point.

"I will echo Patricia's point - that you assume that ADVENT will allow you to reach that point," the Battlemaster said skeptically. "It is unlikely."

It is not expected to be permanent - but it will fulfill the desired objectives. ADVENT cannot be everywhere. They cannot protect everyone without taking away from their front lines. And should they manage to protect the influential, the people will suffice, and can continue to be targeted until ADVENT adapts, or our military objectives are achieved.

Under his mask, the Battlemaster's thin lips were in a frown. An exchange with Patricia implied they had the same line of thought. It was one thing to attack important figures through psionics, but ordinary civilians were likely to trigger some kind of psionic retaliation from T'Leth. It would not be tolerated, and the Battlemaster felt it was going to have a much larger effect if the entire Middle Eastern Collective army suddenly dropped dead.

"You will only target military, political, and administration officials," the Battlemaster said. "No civilians."

The Hive Commander's enlarged head turned quizzically. That limits the effective retaliation.

"Your orders are given. Violation will not be tolerated."

As you insist, Battlemaster. 072, wisely, did not seem to want to press further, as he accurately assessed that it would fail – and that such would earn his ire. The Hive Commander was too clinical to fight an already-lost battle.

"The European front needs to be weakened," the Battlemaster stated, moving to the real reason he was here. "We have established control of the Turkish front of the Black Sea. It is necessary to attack a point ADVENT is not as prepared for. Ukraine."

Patricia crossed her arms. "I'm not opposed to an operation like this, but why Ukraine?"

"Two reasons," the Battlemaster stated. "First, it is the only source for natural gas for Europe. Critical pipelines move natural gas through Poland and Ukraine from Russia, and, though ADVENT have strong defenses in Poland, Ukraine does not have the same degree of protection from a concerted assault. If we seize these pipelines, we cut off all of Europe. Poland's pipeline we can secure with our air forces, but taking the Ukraine pipelines will have immediate ramifications upon the entire civilian population of Europe. Cutting off their resources will have ramifications, and deprive ADVENT of a major natural energy source."

"ADVENT is moving to renewables," Patricia's voice was skeptical. "I'm uncertain how this will hurt them permanently."

"Zararch reports indicate otherwise," the Battlemaster said. "ADVENT will take years to fully transition, and Europe in particular is reliant on natural gas – primarily for heating. Much of their infrastructure relies on it, and, while it is possible ADVENT will replace or supplement it through alternate pipelines from Russia, that will take time to research, gather resources, and construct the pipeline before they can fully transition. It has the intended effect of hampering the region at a time when we need it."

"Fair point," Patricia conceded.

"The second reason is that it is a major food source for the region," the Battlemaster continued. "The Zararch identified it as one of the largest exporters of grain, and one where their harvest is approaching rapidly. A singular food resource, but an important one for the region. Its removal will force ADVENT to take action. They are torching African farms as they execute their Operation Scipio, it is time we damage them in a similar manner." The Battlemaster held up one hand, clenching it. "Even so, if we take the initiative, we will deny ADVENT a crucial resource at a time where they cannot afford to lose morale amongst their civilians."

He would prefer not to antagonize T'Leth, but crippling infrastructure and denying resources should be viewed as an act of war, and not an act of terrorism - and, ironically, was less egregious than ADVENT's actions in Africa. At the same time, it was hard to anticipate what the creature would consider a difference in those actions.

Patricia rubbed her chin. "ADVENT will not take that without a major fight. It's a major issue that they'll scramble to address. Ukraine is on the border of Russia, and most of the Russian Legions have not been deployed. There will be millions of the Russian Legions bearing down to reclaim Ukraine - not taking into account the Legions from the nearby Baltic states and Ukraine itself. This will not be easy to hold."

"No, it will not," the Battlemaster agreed. "Which is why I am overseeing it from the front lines. So long as we do not overextend, and focus on the infrastructure, farms, and locations of note, this can be done. ADVENT cannot protect an entire pipeline, their defenses are centralized around population centers. Cities and towns - farms and supportive infrastructure is not as protected. A weakness - one we can exploit."

"Indeed," Patricia nodded.

A sound approach. 072 nodded once. I will call for-

"No," the Battlemaster lifted a hand. "I do not require Sectoid support. I will need transports, but this will be a primarily Andromedon-supported mission. I have secured forces directly from the Unions to assist the Andromedon Military. Mutons will provide numerical support as necessary. Focus efforts on defending Turkey, and pushing into Europe."

"The Unions are directly involved?" Patricia asked. "How did you convince them?"

"The resources," the Battlemaster said. "Natural gas has uses for the Andromedons, and Union Viarior is looking to maintain an export of Human foods to Vitakar and Vitakara colonies. I do not intend to scorch the resources as ADVENT has done with Scipio – we can maintain and exploit them ourselves."

"Makes sense," Patricia nodded. "Though, Viarior will have to provide the infrastructure and supply lines to maintain harvesting. That will require a major investment on their part."

"They are aware, I have convinced them it is for the benefit of the Collective," the Battlemaster paused briefly. "The Unions are growing tired of the prolonged conflict. I have been speaking with them directly, and impressed upon them that, the more involved they are, the faster it will come to an end. I expect there will be more support in the coming months."

He briefly paused. "Additionally, I am in the process of moving a contingent of Vitakara Forallah, and Logarian to manage the resources. We cannot rely on the Human civilians willingly cooperating, and they are more suited than the Andromedons for long-term resource management."

"The Logarian and Viarior already have a working relationship, do they not?" Patricia asked.

A sharp nod. The Vitakara's civilian logistics and coordination department had very close ties with Viarior. "They do."

It was more risky to involve multiple parties, but Vitakar's farming and logistics industries would greatly simplify the process, and obfuscate any other activity that happened. It would also have the added benefit of involving more aspects of the Vitakara in the conflict, and preventing more unrest from fomenting on Vitakar.

"Excellent," Patricia nodded. "If the Unions and Vitakara are finally going to devote resources to Ukraine, we should employ them similarly in the territory we have already captured. There are resources they would find interesting."

Such an excellent idea, Harbinger, the Battlemaster thought with a grim sense of amusement.

While this would hurt ADVENT in the short term, there were ways he would mitigate the long-term damage. Viarior was perfectly positioned to act as a middleman, one that would act with the full support of the Collective. It was unfortunate that 072's failure had necessitated this step, but it would have been far more conspicuous to do nothing in response.

Is there anything else that you wish for your operation, Battlemaster?

There was, in fact, one more thing to be aware of. "I intend for this to catch ADVENT by surprise," the Battlemaster said. "There will need to be some coordination – and, for that, I intend for Nebulan and Sicarius to support it."

I am listening. The Hive Commander's fingers wrapped around the ends of the armrests. Describe your plan.

---

Maiduguri Exterior – Nigeria

7/3/2017 – 10:22 A.M.

Tanks fired and artillery streaked across the sky, impacting into the barricades and trenches that had been erected by the SAS. The black-armored soldiers shouted and returned fire, supported by the silver-armored Runianarch, as they hurriedly did everything they could to slow the siege.

It was, ultimately, futile. Or soon would be.

On a hill, the rows of Order of Terra Squires stood in a row as they waited for the orders to march forward. Behind them, smoke rose from small collections of houses and farms they'd encountered. Fertilizer, sewage, and bodies were being dumped or poured into a nearby stream, ensuring its contamination, as hundreds of ADVENT soldiers arrived to reinforce.

Operation Scipio had continued unabated as the long, brutal march continued – now, though, resistance was fiercer, and more and more cities were fortifying and putting up a more difficult fight. No more were they quashing small, barely-defended towns, they were now facing moderately organized SAS defenses.

This particular siege had been going on for a week, beginning with a successful, organised defense, which had slowly been worn down, as Scipio's commanders sent reinforcements to overwhelm the defenders. The city that had once stood with some degree of modernization was slowly being torn down under the constant shelling.

There was a lack of alien or SAS armor counters to the tanks ADVENT fielded, though the SAS soldiers were fielding anti-tank weapons, which had scored some hits. As the siege had gone on, the shelling had only gotten more intense. Kaya had wondered how many civilians were being killed – and was then told that the reason ADVENT was intensifying was because there was a stream of civilians that were fleeing.

Exactly as ADVENT wanted.

Today was the day they wanted to end it, to close the noose.

The arrangement was a single Order of Terra unit between an armored vehicle or tank, all of which would move forward together. The Squires made up the front line, with the Knights close behind. The Standardbearer was in the center, ready to activate the PDS Standard. Behind them were the masses of ADVENT soldiers, intermixed with Aegii psions, who would protect them from Collective rockets and artillery.

As Kaya looked out over it, she saw another city that would, once more, be completely destroyed.

What would once have been a massive undertaking, ADVENT had brought down to a brutally effective science. In a detached way, she found it fascinating. First though came the purge, the order for which had just been issued.

"Forward line, march. Fire support intensifying."

Ravens streaked overhead, firing missiles in a series of airstrikes. The ground shook as tanks fired at the SAS line in unison, and, together, the line marched forward, converging in an unbreakable forward line. The SAS focused their fire on the front line, but the towering shields absorbed the barrages with ease, if they weren't outright redirected by Freya's PDS standard.

Kaya was not about to activate her own personal PDS field yet, that would come when the front line was broken and the SAS trenches were breached. Her rifle was in her hand, and she was aiming through the gaps, occasionally firing, though, not hitting anything that she could see. She could hear unintelligible shouts coming from the enemy lines, through the ground-shaking blasts and rockets streaking overhead.

Artillery fire continued pounding the trench lines, and boxed barrages were cutting off reinforcements, throwing up dirt and metal. SAS artillery had been directly targeted by Hussar snipers with anti-material rounds and nanite projectors. For one long hour they marched, making progress foot by foot, methodically and deliberately.

Above, Collective missiles streaked towards them, only to impact a psionic barrier that appeared over them. It was a surreal and frightening feeling to see the multi-colored explosion in such close detail, knowing it was only stopped because of a psion. Casualties had been suffered, some tanks had suffered direct rocket hits, as had some of the Squire lines.

But it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

Roughly fifty meters from the trenches, which were still holding SAS forces, the line paused. Behind them, the Purifiers moved forward, clanking with each ponderous step. Fortunately these Purifiers weren't using ClF3, but regular napalm – ADVENT needed to move into the city, after all.

Behind them were squads of ADVENT Rocketeers, ironically carrying both grenade launchers and rocket launchers. Unlike the typical arsenal, the orange-marked ADVENT soldiers were carrying special munitions. White Phosphorous and nerve agents were the principle weapons today, with the delivery agents, ultimately, unimportant.

"Burn them out," Freya told the Purifiers as they walked past.

"With pleasure, ma'am," one said, as she positioned herself in the gap made by the Squires. The order was given a few seconds later.

"In position."

"Execute."

Streams of flame spat out as the Purifiers unleashed their payloads against the SAS lines. Kaya could feel the heat from where she was standing, through her armor. It was awe-inspiring just how far flamethrowers could really reach. The Purifier weapons did have cone and range adjusters to operate in close-quarters environments, but, in the open, without restrictions?

Media had really sold the flamethrower short in what it could do.

It easily reached the SAS lines, and it didn't take long for the screams of pain to start. The rapid retreat began, even as the metal barricades turned red-hot, with some melting. Bodies, loose equipment, and fabrics caught on fire, adding to the chaos.

"Smoke them out!" The order came from behind her. The Rocketeers lifted their grenade launchers or aimed their rockets and fired. Canisters and rockets shot into the city, a white trail behind them. Most went too far into the city to see the bursts of white or grey lethal gases, but that was, ultimately. the point.

Each Rocketeer contingent had been given points of attack, organized in such a way as to effectively coat the city in poison, accounting for gas spread and dissipation. The filters in the armor would be strong enough to protect against the lingering after-effects, so long as no one went over and tried to directly sniff a sarin-laced piece of fabric, or something equally stupid.

The filters also wouldn't be strong enough to resist a true white phosphorous or nerve agent cloud. It would be several hours before the gas dissipated to the point where they could enter and finish the job. But, if the mathematicians had done their job, if the Rocketeers aimed correctly, and if the SAS didn't have a collection of gas masks, it would kill everyone inside – or at least put them out of commission.

Kaya found it rather darkly ironic that there was one point in history where everyone had come to the agreement that chemical weapons were horrific and bad, and now they were being used on a pretty regular basis. This was the third time she'd personally witnessed ADVENT use it to pacify a city – usually after it had put up more than token resistance.

She couldn't deny it was efficient. But she was never going to really be able to forget the noises that came from the cities as everyone slowly died from the poison. Going door-to-door and clearing the city out manually felt better than standing for hours and waiting for everyone to die.

Nevertheless, this was a war. There were no rules, nor could ADVENT afford to abide by some 'code of warfare'.

She didn't tune them out though. She couldn't do that.

So they stood, and waited under the sun, which beat down on them. Eventually, it went silent, relatively so, anyway. The gas clouds had dissipated, and the order finally came.

"Forward. Secure the city and prepare it for demolition."

Another city fell to Scipio, and the march of destruction continued onward.

---

Joseph Ray Shannon – Deck

7/2/2017 – 11:22 P.M.

Kunio could see the island in the far distance. He could definitely do this, he was sure of it. All that remained was to wait for the final go-ahead.

With a final wrench thrown into things.

"Slight change of plans," Sahra walked over.

"Good or bad?" Hank asked.

"Good," she said, though her tone was…a bit surprised. "The SAS commander on the island surrendered."

Kunio blinked, and the rest of the squad reacted in similar ways. "What do you mean surrendered?' Kunio asked. "Can they do that?"

"Well, yes and no," Sahra clarified. "From what Grady explained to me, the SAS forces there aren't going to fight us – but the Collective forces are still a threat. Basically, our job is now a lot easier."

"Are they going to help?" Kathryn asked, idly handling her Alloy Cannon.

"Yes – kind of," Sahra said. "They have some influence over the forces there, so they're going to call them to assemble. They're going to call the Vitakara to one place, force them to stand down, and call multiple other Muton units to various places and gun them down. Once we're on-site, we let Grady know, he lets the SAS commander know, and the city goes dark. Then, we help take out the Sectopods, secure the Gateways, and mop up anything else."

"Right," Bryanna said, her voice skeptical. "And how do we know this isn't a trap?"

"Worst case?" Sahra shrugged. "Original plans still apply. Grady seems to believe him, and I don't think he'd intentionally risk us like this. Anyone have any questions before we go out?"

None of them shook their heads. Despite the surprise turn of events, they'd hashed out the planning hours ago, and gone over everything important. It was time to actually do the mission – though it was going to be an odd mission. Fighting alongside the traitors of the SAS was going to be strange.

Sahra nodded to Kunio. "Take us over."

At that, Kunio took a breath, settled himself, and connected the two points through the Psionosphere. While they'd been waiting, he'd lightly probed and determined, roughly, the place they needed to go. With a simple motion, the portal manifested, and he walked through it. A second later, they found themselves on the island – right before the port city itself.

The hours in the Dreamscape and with Fiona had paid off well.

"Perfect," Sahra said, taking a quick stock of the area. "Couldn't have asked for better."

"Appreciated."

"Admiral, this is Caesar-1," Sahra said. "We're on-site, and ready to move in."

"Roger that, Caesar Squad," Admiral Grady replied through the comms. "Will communicate to our mutual SAS contact. My fleet is standing by to provide fire support for the Sectopods."

"Will do, moving in now," They moved under the cover of darkness.

"Conley, let us know if we're coming up on any alien patrols," Sahra said as they followed the streets on the path to where the Gateways were. "No attacks – not yet, just let us know."

"Got it," Dawn said with a sharp nod.

So Yong-Ja had been the one assigned to carry the portable nuke, which was strapped to her back. She was the one to protect in this mission, and, as much as XCOM Engineering had assured them that it couldn't be accidentally set off, Kunio was very much not a fan of being near any kind of nuke, 'safe' or not.

"Mutons, coming up on this street," Dawn immediately said.

The Squad immediately took cover behind some cars or stuck to the shadowed walls of the nearby buildings. "Any others nearby?" Sahra asked.

"No, not immediately close by."

"Good," Sahra said.

"We going to jump them?" Hank asked, clenching his autocannon tightly, a lurking anticipation in his voice.

"Not necessary," Sahra's helmet turned to Dawn. "Can you take them out quietly?"

"I…yes, sir," Dawn nodded.

"Do it, no reason to go loud if we don't need to."

"Ok. Give me a moment."

A few moments passed, and, as the Muton patrol walked past, one dropped, suddenly. The Mutons froze, and then the next one fell. Then another, and another, until all of the Mutons were lying on the ground, lifeless. Kathryn patted Dawn on the shoulder. "Good job."

"Thanks,"

"We'll celebrate your first combat kills back at base," Sahra said, motioning them to continue. "Grady, when is the city supposed to go dark?"

"Any moment."

They were probably a third of the way there, and, when the city went dark,it threw the already-dim lighting into pitch darkness. Not a hindrance to them, thanks to night vision and Dawn's telepathy, but it would definitely hinder anyone else – especially on the communication front.

The silence was shattered by the sounds of impacts and explosions from Grady's fleet, and projectiles flying through the air, which Kunio briefly saw, before they hit various points in the city. Sahra appraised the aftermath. "Guess some of the Collective forces didn't stand down."

A few minutes passed, and the faint sounds of fighting began to appear all around them, some in the distance, others more audibly close. "Looks like the SAS commander is legit," Hank grunted. "Honestly kind of surprised."

"Makes our job easier," Sahra nodded. "Let's keep going – and give some help if any of them are in our path."

Moving at a brisk pace, they continued moving through the streets. There were some civilians out (for reasons Kunio couldn't figure out – especially considering the sounds of fighting), but they quickly shrank back into their homes or nearby buildings when they caught a glimpse of them.

Sahra had Dawn knock them out. No point in having potential liabilities.

Kunio hadn't been part of a special forces unit like this before. He'd heard about the protocols and missions, but this was one of the first times he's seen them employed in the field. Quick, efficient, and lethal. Another Muton patrol was put down by Dawn, who was holding up pretty well, for her first mission.

Then again, it hadn't really gotten tough yet.

Their first big obstacle was ahead. A Sectopod, standing in the middle of a city center, surrounded by some Mutons who apparently weren't being lured into SAS traps. All of them were on alert.

"Time for our friend to come through," Sahra said. "Admiral, we've got a location on a Sectopod. Requesting fire assistance." She rattled off the exact location of the Sectopod, and Bryanna and Yong-Ja utilized a laser targeter to further amplify the accuracy, which was transmitted back to the carrier.

Kunio was waiting for something to happen – and it was taking a while. Then, there was a loud shriek, and the entire square exploded in orange and white. The blast shook the ground, nearly throwing him to the ground with its intensity. When he looked back, there was nothing but destruction. The Sectopod had taken a direct barrage, and not even alien alloys could protect it against that.

"Wish we had that in a few missions," Hank muttered. "Think XCOM could look into fielding a navy?"

"Take it up with the Commander," Sahra said as they kept going. "Assistance appreciated, Admiral."

"Of course, Overseer."

There were distinct sounds of fighting as they reached the port itself where the Gateways were housed. The good news was that the Gateways had been secured by 'friendly' SAS forces, and they were facing off against the more numerous Mutons and the Sectopods that were supporting them. Luckily the Collective also didn't seem to want to lose the Gateways, otherwise they would have leveled the building.

As it was, they were going to reclaim the Gateways shortly.

"Engage!" Sahra ordered, and XCOM properly entered the fray.

"Give me the high ground!" Hank called to Kunio.

With a practiced motion, Kunio opened a portal, and aimed the exit point on top of the roof of a nearby building. Using more portals, he quickly helped reposition all of the squad into their most optimal positions. A new crossfire of green plasma joined that of the Mutons and SAS forces, the former of which quickly had to deal with the new threat from all angles.

The Sectopod had to be dealt with, though.

"We going to get more artillery support?" Bryanna called as she wounded a Muton, which was dragged into cover by several of the aliens, who returned with suppressive fire.

"Too close!" Sahra said, sniping and taking out another Muton.

"Let me try something!" Kunio said, not sure if this was going to work, but thinking there wouldn't be a better time to try it. "Cover fire! And distract the Sectopod."

"Hank! Focus on the Sectopod. Kunio, make it fast!"

Standing up fully, he extended a hand to the turning Sectopod, and briefly closed his eyes as he found an anchor point – the easiest part. The hardest was going to be the size. Air rippling around him, he saw the portal materialize under the foot of the Sectopod and it fell through. He willed the size to get larger, and larger, until it was large enough to swallow the whole Sectopod, alongside a few Mutons, for good measure. Where had it ended up? All he knew was that it was somewhere in the ocean – and, unless he was mistaken, Sectopods couldn't function when fully submerged. Once it was all the way through, he closed the portal, and the largest threat to the squad and SAS was gone.

A wave of exhaustion hit him, but he pushed through. "Move to the Gateways!" Sahra ordered, as the Muton lines continued to wither under the sustained fire of the SAS and XCOM soldiers. The SAS forces stood aside and let them through, even if there was some noticeable wariness from the way they tensed as they moved past.

He noticed a Muton whose head had been melted off. Dawn had been busy.

As they'd rushed forward, Yong-Ja had slipped the portal nuke off of her back and was prepping it as she walked. At the Gateway, which was turned off, Bryanna began working it. "Time to prime?"

"Five minutes," came the curt reply. "Timer set for three minutes."

"Cutting it close, are we?"

"Shut up and let me work."

"Everyone back outside except essentials," Sahra ordered. "Battle's not over yet."

"Yes, sir!" Bryanna nodded. "We'll have this done shortly!"

Kunio didn't join the others who returned – in the unlikely event that something went wrong, he was responsible for making sure that any primed nuke detonated far, far away from here, which meant he was stuck, feeling somewhat useless, as both women worked to prime the Gateway and nuke, respectively.

"T-Minus one minute," Yong-Ja updated.

"Synchronizing with the last known Collective Gateway," Bryanna said, her fingers flying as she manipulated the console. "Connection is established, I'll have about thirty seconds before they realize something's up."

"Fifteen seconds to prime completion."

"Accepting Gateway handshake."

The Gateway hummed to life as the purple energy in the center appeared and stabilized. There was a loud beep, and Yong-Ja stood, holding the rather non-descript nuke. "Tossing it through!" With a sharp motion, she threw the nuke through the portal with quite a lot of force.

"Severing connection."

The portal within the Gateway vanished, and powered down – and no sign of the nuke. Bryanna laughed. "We did it!"

Yong-Ja whooped, and gave Bryanna a high five. "Great job," Kunio told them.

"You did good too, you stood there perfectly," Bryanna said, chuckling, and patting him briefly on the shoulder.

"Thank you so very much," he said sarcastically, though only briefly. "What did you justify for the connection."

He could hear the smile in her voice. "Materials transfer."

Kunio snorted.

However, he felt much better now that the nuke was somewhere else. Somewhere, some Collective base was going to have a few minutes of panic before annihilation. All in all, it was a successful mission.

There was probably just one Sectopod to go, and then it would be over.

Between teleporting the squad, taking out a Sectopod, and no longer having to fear an accidental nuclear detonation, he was feeling pretty good about how this mission had gone.

---

Over the Black Sea – Near Ukraine

7/4/2017 – 10:12 P.M.

It was not often that the 'silent fleet' was employed. One which deployed asymmetrically from a known Collective point, and instead of going directly to the target, it instead landed closer to the surface, usually of the ocean where ADVENT had a more limited reach and then proceeded to the target zone. Hugging the seas, the fleet then moved towards their intended target.

In this case, the route moved from the Mediterranean through the Black Sea, and would end on the city of Sevastopol and the small peninsula which extended from Ukraine. All of the coastal cities were being targeted, with Yang hitting Feodosia, and himself hitting the largest city. Zararch reports indicated that defenses were moderate , but the majority were further inland, or on the Romanian border.

And even then, only Sevastopol was properly protected.

The fleet was composed of Sectoid and Andromedon transports, carrying Muton Elites and the Praetorian Guard, with only a relatively small number of baseline Mutons. Even those were the result of a new program he had put into motion some time ago.

A unit of smarter baseline units with an altered training regime. While the majority of Mutons were still utilized the old way, this method of more specialized units, pioneered by Disciple-7, had the potential to revolutionize the way Mutons were utilized – in more ways than one.

There would likely be a need for smaller, more specialized Mutons that answered directly to him. The Mutons of this group would immediately stand out from the others, as the armor had been colored a dark grey in contrast to the standard green. The designation had been something numerical, until Yang had suggested a better name.

The Grey Phoenix Division.

He saw no reason to oppose it, and, thus, that was what it had become. In addition to the Grey Phoenix Mutons, there were also thousands of Andromedon Soldiers and Battlefield Engineers prepared to deploy in numbers ADVENT would not expect. Apear Machine Intelligences would launch cyberattacks which would flood ADVENT feeds, disrupting them, and planting numerous Jamoiar viruses, to further sow confusion.

Stuirah transports already incorporated jamming software that existed fleet-wide, which also encompassed the Sectoid transports. What the Battlemaster was personally looking forward to observing was the Union Zacarrim soldiers in action. Far more humanoid and mobile than their brethren, they were towering, imposing, and the pinnacle of Andromedon cybernetics.

Shorn of the cumbersome suits, these Andromedons were a fine mixture of metal and flesh; their organs replaced to allow them to breath the poisonous atmosphere, their limbs augmented to equal every Andromedon soldier in raw strength, and their flesh modified to be resistant to the toxic oxygen and hardened to the bullets and plasma they would face.

Very rare, very dangerous.

Of course, the ultimate advantage was the concurrent attack Hive Commander 072 was launching – with the army augmented with a mass hallucination by Nebulan. ADVENT would frantically believe that they were facing three times the number of soldiers actually there – with the Battlemaster leading them.

They would realise the deception, of course, but, by then, Ukraine would have already begun to fall.

Prior to the landing, Sicarius and her Harbinger had infiltrated and seeded the minds of Officers and soldiers with mental contingencies. When they saw the fleet approaching, it would vanish from their sight and minds. ADVENT had yet to implement mass Manchurian Conditioning across the board – and, until that happened, such vulnerabilities would be exploited.

A perfect operational trap.

"Prepare to drop," came the voice of the CODEX. He briefly checked the bond with Yang, feeling her own resolve. She was ready and prepared. Today would not be a day of challenge – that would come later. Today – or tonight, rather, the fall of Ukraine would begin, and the fall of Europe, if ADVENT did not adapt.

The transport she was in started shaking as the ADVENT defenses began firing – an expected development, but one which happened without nearly as much intensity as it should have. He hadn't heard of any casualties suffered, either. With a thud, the door to the transport opened, and the Battlemaster faced a trench line, which was only now being frantically staffed.

The reaction was immediate.

"It's him!" One of the soldiers screamed.

The Battlemaster flourished his sword in a brief salute towards the doomed soldiers. "Open fire!"

With the Gray Phoenix at his back, he charged forward, the air blurring around him as he reached the trench line. ADVENT trenches were well-designed and protected, and far too small for him to operate in comfortably. Unfortunately, they were incapable of standing against psionics. With a telekinetic pull, he ripped the protective barriers and sloped roofs of the trenches open, and sliced, stabbed, and cut his way through the defenders.

A kick threw one Officer into a trench wall, snapping his head back with a crack, a telekinetic compression crushed the organs of every soldier around him, and a closed fist brought a trench barrier down on top of a half-dozen soldiers. A PRIEST tried fighting, blasting him with psionic energy, which he sidestepped, before killing him by bringing down the trench structure down on top of him.

The Andromedons and Grey Phoenix had similarly penetrated the initial trench lines. The Mutons were tossing gas grenades into the enclosed trenches, and using explosives to create collapse points to trap entire teams, or herd them into killzones set up by other Grey Phoenix or Andromedon units.

The Andromedons were using copious amounts of acid to break through on their own offensives, and using their drones to harass, attack, and outflank ADVENT defenders. One Zacarrim soldier had managed to get into one of the trenches, and was ripping the soldiers within apart with his augments.

The trenches had fallen, and the city was bare of defenses. ADVENT was in full retreat and on the open streets, where he was unstoppable. His sword lost its sheen under the moonlight, and the reflection was tinged with crimson, as it cut down one Human after another. Yet, the Humans fought, and they fought well.

With each PRIEST he fought, he ended them quickly. Some tried to copy his attacks of a quick snap of the neck, or pinning him in place for others to shoot. Mass-devastation dynamo attacks were attempted, and he was pinned between an Aegii barrier more than once. Yet, each he overcame, and each he ended quickly.

They were simply too slow, too weak, or too untrained.

Yet, they stood and fought.

Several Order of Terra units engaged him, duels which he honored by limiting himself to mere physicality. Blades crossed and he felt the rush and thrill of engaging so many at once. So outmatched, so inferior, but they did not run. They tried to fight. They held up their small shields against his greatsword, and their weapons of minor length against the sheer size of his own.

They, too, fell.

One by one.

Rockets he deflected with a swipe of his hand, grenades he returned to the sender. Each attack they tried. They knew who he was, they knew what he could do, but they simply had nothing that could properly stop him. XCOM would not come, not yet, and they had nowhere to go.

At some point, they seemed to realize that.

While a few out the outskirts had likely received the order to flee, when they were roughly halfway through the city, something changed. No more was he encountering groups that were retreating or fleeing. Now he was turning alleyways and facing machine guns, tanks, and entrenched units.

He was approaching intersections that had been fortified. He was leaping onto rooftops to execute teams of snipers. ADVENT stood and fought, and, be it buying time or increasing the cost, they were not fleeing.

Already, the effects of the Night Stand were making themselves known, he assumed.

However, there would be no miracle this time.

Only death.

Their barricades were uprooted with a telekinetic pull. Their bullets frozen in the field he maintained. Their rifles useless, their volume irrelevant, as he could move to them in the blink of an eye, as he fell into the trance-like rhythm of battle. A rhythm and dance of blood, oil, smoke, and death.

And a comfort settled upon him.

This was where he belonged.

On a battlefield, there were no debates, no plots, no conspiracies, no necessity to do something. It was a simplified facet of life, where all of life's wide-ranging possibilities were condensed into a pure and simple format. Kill or be killed. Ally and opponent. Friend and enemy.

How he wished he could go back to this, to leave such complications to others.

But times had changed, and so had he.

Yet he was, and always would be, a warrior.

And, for now, that is what he would revel in.

ADVENT did not flee from the giant silhouette of blood and smoke, and it granted them the only mercy possible on the streets of battle.

That of a quick, honorable death.

---

Situation Room, the Praesidium – Classified Location

7/7/2017 – 9:12 A.M.

A grim situation played out on the screens and holomap as the partial Internal Council appraised the current situation. Successes such as Malabo notwithstanding, they were seeing losses in equal or greater number to their successes. In many cases, the best result was simply holding.

The operation to retake Turkey was underway, but the Collective was likely going to be able to hold, even if General Avel was orchestrating another insurgency within the country. But, so long as the Hiveship was in operation, Turkey would have an endless supply of reinforcements.

The Battlemaster had cut a swathe to Ukraine's critical infrastructure and seized both pipelines and farmlands. It definitely wasn't enough to change the course of the war, but Europe was going to face an energy shortage within months. Poland didn't have the infrastructure to handle the necessary volume, and manual shipments from Russia and America were inefficient.

It also, unfortunately, wasn't a simple matter of upgrading all energy sources to elerium. A large amount of European infrastructure was specifically built for the resource, including cooking and heating. ADVENT would have to physically tear out the old infrastructure and build something new.

Talks pertaining to that were taking place on a local level, but ADVENT had made the decision to provide the natural gas somehow, and begin implementation of a longer-term solution once the shortage was addressed. It would still be years before all fossil fuels were phased out, unfortunately, and, for now, it remained a vulnerability.

To a lesser degree, the seizing of the farmlands would also impact the region. Ukraine provided a significant amount of grain, but that was something that could be supplemented by Chinese and American shipments. It would hurt their supply overall, but it was much more manageable, even if it was a hassle.

All in all, it was a commendably run operation by the Battlemaster, which had forced ADVENT to scramble a response. Russian and European Legions were mobilizing, and the Battlemaster was signaling multiple attacks that ranged from supplementing the Turkish invasion of Europe, to going north into Russia and opening that front, or moving east into Kazakhstan.

Highly inconvenient, and it put the European theatre on full alert. It was going to prompt a massive buildup, and, already, copious amounts of resources were being redirected to core European territories – and contingencies being executed for protecting resources until more permanent solutions could be developed.

South America was a stalemate as well, with the attacks continuing unabated. ADVENT was holding the line, even as the Collective was consolidating their territory over the southern regions of the continent. The First Guardian was growing more competent and aggressive, and, one of these times, there was going to be a breach.

North America was stable – for now. Caelior was holding off the largest offensive in Salt Lake, but the Second Guardian was adapting well. Localized kinetic bombardments were frequently utilized to distract him and tie him up. Zararch Snipers were present in significantly higher numbers, and the Collective had given up any pretense of holding back.

A daily and nightly barrage from Sectoid Bombers, Muton Grenadiers, and Executors. Supply lines and Gateways had been established by the Collective, and the siege was fully implemented. Caelior had been effectively neutered, and the Commander grimly thought that the Collective had put them in an awkward position.

They could move Caelior out, and put him somewhere more useful, but, with the amount of manpower, ordnance, and organization, that may be leaving Salt Lake City to die. Keep him, though, and his power was effectively tied up. Already, Caelior was growing tired. Something would have to change soon.

The most pressing matter, however, was the Hiveship. One which, while it still bore damage from the atomic lances, had largely repaired itself.

Since the Night Stand, it had been raining down indiscriminate bombardment into Middle Eastern and European cities. It was largely missing them, but it had caused infrastructure damage and casualties. On top of that, mass telepathic attacks had taken place against media figures, soldiers, and government officials, which had the effect of causing panic and terror, before most were killed in various ways.

Shooting themselves on live television, throwing themselves off of buildings, stepping in front of cars, mass shootings before ending their own lives. Overall, it had disrupted, demoralized, and damaged the regions, and was dutifully covered by the press, spreading the psychological damage further.

And there was one obvious source. The Hiveship.

Specifically, the Hive Commander within it.

There was a consensus. "We need to take out the Hiveship," the Commander said.

"We're all in agreement on that," Creed said in a weary voice. "Thing is, it's a bit difficult to take down a ship the size of a small country."

The Commander looked over to Kong. "No luck?"

"I'm afraid not," Kong shook his head. "I've seared the schematics into my mind. There is no singular weak point that will take out the entire ship, save for the Hive Commander himself. This isn't the Death Star, where a lucky torpedo will solve the problem, nor is there an inherent weakness we can exploit. I've looked everywhere and what we have is what we're getting."

"Again, our best option is going to be getting a strike team on board and bringing it down," Creed again proposed. "Kunio can likely pull it off if one of the Agents is unavailable. We did it with the first Dreadnought, we can do it again – we just take a few more soldiers."

"A singular team with no means of reinforcement, against a ship which can isolate entire sections at will through psionic barriers?" Zhang's face, already set in a permanent mask of disapproval, turned even more hostile. "No. You have the specifications. There is nothing stopping the Hive Commander from teleporting in SPECTREs, Meat Puppets, or these new Mutons the Battlemaster is using. This is generously assuming the Hive Commander lets them walk wherever he wants."

"And, out of curiosity, what do you suggest?" Creed demanded, sighing in exasperation. "This isn't something we can solve with a well-planned intel op."

"I would consider utilizing the equipment ADVENT is building to deal with the shrouds," Kong said idly. "But that would take too long. It may require ADVENT expending all of their Atomic Lances to bring it down."

"Which is risky," the Commander grunted. "If that was ever a possibility, they should have done that the first time. I'm skeptical that another attack will be as successful. Four or six Lances…even then, I don't know if that would be enough."

"Then we're stuck with T'Leth," Creed rubbed his forehead. "I don't see another option."

"No, I have an alternate idea," the Commander said, resting his hands on the holotable. "Caelior."

That communicated the idea well enough. Zhang's eyebrows shot up. "You want him to bring it down…by himself?"

"Yes."

"Based on what?" Creed was equally skeptical. "He's powerful, but his greatest achievement was a setup to facilitate a propaganda campaign. He lifted that carrier, yes, but this is several times larger than that."

"He has the raw power, Aegis can attest to his training, and we have limited options," the Commander said. "We have the most powerful telekine in the known galaxy – Sovereigns excluded – it's perhaps time we use him properly."

"I would like to point something out," Kong said, lifting a hand. "This is assuming the Ethereal is even able to pull this off – do you understand what kind of impact this will have if it lands in the wrong place? This was already an issue, but, I was under the assumption that the Hiveship would be blown into pieces – an intact Hiveship being crashed into Earth would be…unfathomably destructive."

"As in…?"

"Optimistically? It gets brought down in the desert or in a place with minimal life," Kong said. "Worst case? This crashes into a city. Even if Caelior can force it into an irreversible descent, are you certain he can prevent it from crashing into Istanbul or Ankara? Or god forbid somewhere more populated?"

"Maybe he can send it to the ocean?" Creed suggested.

"Good idea – except for the tsunami that would create in the process," Kong answered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The point being-"

"The point being, there isn't a way where this is coming down which isn't going to hurt in some way," the Commander interrupted. "I can understand that. I also understand that the status quo will also get people killed, and in greater numbers."

"One thing I should also add," Zhang noted. "Unless it is a particularly nasty crash – a plausible outcome – we will be facing a fully intact Hiveship with a very angry Hive Commander, and, if we're unlucky, functioning Gateways. The problem is only partially solved. We turned the Collective base in the sky into one on the ground."

"Which means we have to have ADVENT ready to stand by and assault it," the Commander said. "With some heavy-hitters of our own. I doubt Caelior would be in a position to contribute, should he manage this."

"Aegis?" Creed asked.

"Yes, and a few of our own psions."

"I don't know about pulling Aegis from Korea," Creed admitted. "That gives Patricia a straight shot for Seoul."

"Aegis has bought Seoul the time it needs," Kong dismissed. "I was informed by ADVENT that Daedalus is operating at minimum capacity. It was already a fortress – and Pluto is also in the area. She can be deterred for the time it will take to claim a crashed Hiveship."

"I also want Aegis there to provide protection," the Commander said. "Caelior cannot be afforded any distractions – and it will reassure him to have Aegis there."

"He's friends with one of the soldiers, isn't he?" Creed asked.

"Conley? Yes, so I've heard," the Commander nodded. "Has she recovered from Malabo?"

"Yes, she's doing very well," Creed nodded. "Not bad for her first mission. Are you thinking she should go along?"

"Potentially, it might be good for him," the Commander mused. "I don't want her involved in any fighting. Any following battle will be bad – far worse than Malabo. She needs a few smaller-scale missions before we put her in the trenches."

"Agreed," Creed nodded. "I'll talk to her, and let her know she'll be going along."

"I want Caelior to have a few days to recover," the Commander said. "I'll have Jackson connect me to Laura after this. Unless she has other ideas, I think she'll be open to the proposal. ADVENT will have to flood Salt Lake with PREISTs when we pull out, and I'll begin the process of pulling our own heavy hitters for this. We absolutely do not want to give time for the Battlemaster or First Guardian to intervene and turn a short, bloody takeover into a siege."

"Not the most ideal plan, but we don't seem to have another option," Creed pursed his lips. "I'll begin drafting the teams."

"And I'll speak with Laura. Dismissed."

---

SAS Command, Abuja – Nigeria

7/3/2017 – 8:22 P.M.

Betos deliberately, gently, carefully, put down the single piece of paper which had words written on them that she sincerely wished did not exist. Of all the things to happen, of all the times for it to occur, this was the absolute last thing she needed. Furious didn't even begin to cover the roiling emotions she was experiencing right now.

Fury, disappointment, confusion, and, underneath all of it, an undercurrent of fear.

Not for herself, not truly, but for what this represented. Of course, it reflected poorly on her, and her immediate subordinates, but the Collective couldn't just replace her. If anything, this particular incident had seen to that. If this happened when she was in change, what would happen if someone else was?

She realized her fist was clenched, and forced her body to relax. This was unacceptable, and the Collective was – rightly – going to demand answers. She was still trying to figure out how it happened, and more importantly, how they were going to respond. ADVENT was still marching into the heartlands, and the reports had somehow only gotten worse.

Shelling, bombing, airstrikes, those were no longer sufficient for ADVENT. It wasn't enough that they were destroying literally everything in their path. The videos, pictures, and first-hand accounts were something out of nightmares. Destroyed mines, farms set on fire, and the soil salted and laced with chemicals, and poisoning critical water supplies.

It was a cruelty and ruthlessness that she was still taken off guard by. The ruthlessness of ADVENT had been on display during Deus Vult, but Operation Scipio showcased their sheer brutality. There was no pretense or justification – it was merely punishment for defying them.

She had never truly regretted her decision to leave ADVENT, and, if nothing else, she could take comfort in that she was not taking part in the atrocities they were committing. Though, she wondered how an enemy like this could be truly fought. An enemy that couldn't be appealed to or reasoned with, an enemy that would burn the world rather than lose it.

Now that they had reached the cities and towns more fortified, the new tactics were emerging. Sarin bombs lobbed into every corner, trench lines doused with White Phosphorus and napalm. Chemical warfare on a scale so extreme that some of the pictures she'd been shown had legitimately appeared to be covered in fog, so dense was the nerve gas.

And this, thiswas the side that these traitors had defected to?

The righteous fury redoubled.

And ADVENT dared point to the crimes the aliens had done as some kind of moral equivalence. They spat and called her a traitor, a sell-out to her species while they were gassing families and children who had followed a different path. They mocked her as a pawn of the aliens while they starved and sanctioned non-compliant nations to oblivion, and then had the gall to think that they were somehow better. That Humanity owed allegiance to them implicitly, merely because they were untouched by alien support.

While at the same time crushing any independent opposition.

And they didn't even hide it.

That troubled her most of all. ADVENT was not hiding who they were, yet their support had only solidified further.

Their influence was such that it could even turn her own soldiers against her when given an opportunity. Perhaps it was coercion, but they could have called for help, they could have done something instead of rolled over for ADVENT to take over. Cowards. Traitors. This could not continue.

A knock sounded.

"Come in."

Keeper entered, face set in a grim expression as she expected. "I presume you've heard the development?"

"Yes," Keeper's tone was neutral. "A concerning one. And disappointing. Your soldiers were assured to be loyal."

"We have not had major defections before now," Betos said. "We had good reason to trust their loyalty."

"Loyalty which appears to have been misplaced,"

Betos pursed her lips. "To some degree, perhaps."

He cocked his head. "I'm surprised you admit it."

"What would I stand to gain from denying it? No, Keeper, I am not confused about this, I am furious," her hand was clenched again. "I had thought I could trust those under my command. Clearly, I was mistaken. I will need to rectify that."

"Oh?" Keeper definitely sounded slightly surprised – and encouraged, by her controlled outburst. "It happens that I came to discuss solutions – but I will let you go first, in lieu of Macula's absence."

Betos relaxed herself, her eyes steel, as she met the blue fire of Keeper's. "The CODEX was able to save the exchange between Marshal Anye and Admiral Grady. He should have informed us immediately, or one of his subordinates should have. They did not. Clearly, there are reliability issues. New protocols will be instituted. Negotiations between ADVENT and the SAS will be conducted by Collective representatives, or with Collective witnesses." She cocked her head. "I want a cadre of your Runianarch Officers to serve as attaches to all major divisions. I suspect that there will be no open discussion of treason if there is an observer. Or if there is, it will not be able to be achieved successfully."

"A solid approach," Keeper said approvingly. "I will also ensure that the CODEX is properly programmed to immediately flag and intercede in such cases, instead of solely communications facilitation. I would also advise seeding Zararch operatives as attaches to combat units. The rank and file can be undermined even if the leadership is not, and defections will have an impact on our capabilities and morale."

"I will work to see if that can be implemented," Betos said. "However, I would prefer the Zararch be utilized for another purpose. I want every single ranking officer interviewed and their reliability assessed. Marshal Anye was clearly never completely loyal, and, if I had known that, he would not have been placed in a vulnerable position like that."

"I can work to begin a phased interview approach," Keeper said slowly. "You are aware that we will likely find individuals who are…problematic?"

"I am aware."

"And what do you wish to do?"

"Those who are wavering, we simply watch and make sure they aren't placed in a position where they can damage us," Betos said, voice flat, resigned, but cold. "Any active saboteurs, collaborators, or traitors should be arrested, tried, and sentenced. We will make the proceedings fair and public. With the horror ADVENT is unleashing upon us, the people deserve to see those who sold out to the devils trying to destroy us."

"That can be done," Keeper said, eyes shining. "There will doubtless be accusations of the Collective 'assuming control', irrespective of your wishes or not. I might suggest that this be done in coordination with SAS Psions. If they lead the investigation, we can provide training and analytical support. The perception will be more in your favor."

"That is acceptable."

"And if I may ask…what do you plan to do to Malabo?"

Betos laced her fingers together, eyes cold and voice somber. "The island will know no peace from this moment forward. I would suggest that the number of munitions be tripled, because there will be a non-stop bombardment of the island until ADVENT is gone, or it is reduced to dust. Munitions specifically for dealing with a fleet, as they are no doubt preparing for a retaliation."

"I will see to it that it is arranged."

"And as for the remainder of the Equatorial Guinea…" a brief pause. "I want ten thousand soldiers within the country. I will not put it past ADVENT to try and launch a 'liberation' operation, and the traitors may hold their tongues if they know their families are under our watch. Ensure that their mission is solely to protect. We are not ADVENT, we will not make threats – but we will also not be blind to the possibility of exploitation."

Keeper smiled, a rare expression on the normally somber face of the Vitakarian. "Do not worry, Grand Marshal, it will be done, and ADVENT will soon come to regret their actions."

---

March to Gaziantep – Turkey

7/8/2017 – 10:22 A.M.

The city stood in the distance, waiting as ADVENT marched forward.

The lines of ADVENT legions stood a few thousand meters away from the hastily constructed lines. In the distance, Angela could barely make out the specks of Mutons and rapidly augmented Turkish soldiers that supported them. Yet, there were far from enough to stop what was coming.

The air was thick with the feeling of determination, a growing hunger and desire to bring down the Collective and the collaborators, who had threatened the stability of a region which was only just starting to recover. Vengeance was the emotion Angela sensed the most, the excitement at bringing the traitors and aliens to justice.

One she could not help but also be caught up in.

Days of preparation, and the counterattack had begun in proper. She was aware that there was some kind of massive XCOM operation which was likely to happen in days, though she was unsure of the details. What was important, according to Joel, was that ADVENT was going to establish a solid foothold in Turkey.

One from which they could rapidly expand.

Today was one such attack, and a dozen more were taking place all across the country. The Lion was conducting some kind of independent operation, but she was involved in one outside of it, this time. The moderately sized city of Gaziantep, one she had never heard of before, but history was unimportant, here.

There was only the conquest and capture.

ADVENT wasn't intending to fully raze it, though, at least from what she had heard, something the composition of the invading force seemed to confirm. The tanks were primarily there to provide cover and protection, supported by the Order of Terra who created a front line to march behind.

Aegii Priests were liberally seeded throughout, and provided protection against any bombardment, and the Rocketeers were equipped with gas grenades and other chemical canisters. There were teams of Molosser Handlers, with their mutts, who were a lot bigger than Angela had expected. She'd heard of them, of course, but it was another thing, entirely, to see them up close.

She'd asked to pet one, and weirdly, it was just like a regular dog. It liked headpats, panted, and licked like any normal one. It was just massive, muscular, and lean. Closer to an oversized wolf than a regular house dog…or even a K9 German Shepherd. They were kind of cute, though, in an intimidating way.

And, of course, they didn't go into battle without protection. They looked even more fierce wearing their battle armor, which had, apparently, undergone several innovations since their first deployments, months ago. She also saw teams of Lancers and Hussars moving throughout the ranks, though armed with laser weapons, interestingly enough.

Squads of sand-blasted MDUs were also present, and augmented the front lines, ready to be deployed with pin-point accuracy. There were also some teams of soldiers which were specially marked. Joel had explained those were teams tasked with securing important historical sites, museums, and so on. Apparently ADVENT wanted to avoid unnecessary damage to them.

Although at the same time, they were prepared for a full kinetic assault. There was no shortage of artillery equipment, and the Air Force was standing by to hit the city, if needed, instead of just the front lines. Although, until further notice, it seemed they would be firing primarily chemical rounds.

Angela didn't know if that was better or worse, or if there were civilians left in the city. It stood to reason that there were some left somewhere. She hoped they would stay down, and not go outside.

The march began.

There were some psions that she could sense in the city, but they were fewer. Vanguards, probably, there was no distinct leader like the one she'd mentally withstood in Aleppo. Enough to easily protect against. The tires groaned and the treads clanked as the machines fired and advanced towards the trench lines.

The sounds of thousands of footsteps, augmented with the battle cries and shouts throughout the ADVENT lines, enlivened the attackers, even if they knew it would be unlikely to break or damage the morale of those they fought against. But righteous fury was a powerful thing, and one Angela couldn't help but be affected by.

Today, they were here not just to avenge, but to liberate.

The people who had been betrayed by their government, and who knew not what their future would be. ADVENT might not have been their wish, but it was better than the alternative. Irrespective of that…the aliens here posed a threat to everyone around them. It was time they be removed.

Her squad marched with calm resolve. Oscar and Young near the Order Squires, weapons raised and aimed towards the enemy lines, Joel a short distance behind, in constant contact with his peers in the other squads, and Cecilia preparing to activate her PDS field and negate the oncoming fire.

It still hurt to look onto one of the nearby tanks and not see Bradley kneeling with his rifle there, probably with a short quip ready to go, but there was little that could be changed. They had a mission to complete, and Bradley wouldn't want them to linger when there were aliens to be fought.

The gap between the militaries closed.

The exchanges of fire began.

Angela felt only resolve, determination, and righteousness.

There was no fear as ADVENT marched forward.

The annexation of Turkey had begun.

---

Daejeon – South Korea

7/10/2017 – 9:22 A.M.

Smoke and fire fueled the scene of devastation the invasion wrought through South Korea. Legions of Mutons and Custodians, followed by the ponderous stamping of Executors and Sectopods, sounded, to the background of the low thunder of missiles, which fired and exploded upon the enemy lines.

Streaks of orange gauss fire and green plasma were exchanged, and bodies fell, lifeless, to the ground every second. The ground shook with the impacts of shells and exploding mines buried deep, to trap the oncoming forces. The Flak Towers that had stood as stalwart bunkers interlinking the trenches around the city were battered, broken, and failing.

The end was near, and Patricia was here to end it and claim another victory in the march to Seoul.

This was merely a prelude to the main event, one which she expected to be a difficult fight. She intimately knew just how protected Seoul was, as she had been involved in reviewing its defenses. Beyond the fortress that would have been a rival to Busan, there was the copious amounts of artillery and firepower that had existed along the former DMZ.

North Korea had once had enough to ensure that, in the event of a civil conflict, it would be able to overwhelm Seoul's defenses and lay waste to the entire city. Now, that arsenal had been turned to strike just beyond the city. What had once been a dark cloud of destruction hanging over the city had turned into its shield.

Poetic, in a sense.

Her armor was dirty, her cape ripped and plucked from the punishment she had sustained. Stains of red blood were splattered over her, intermixed with dirt, sweat, and oil. It was necessary for commanding ADVENT's attention on the front lines. Trained and disciplined their soldiers may be, but they were helpless against her.

As a couple squads were finding out right now.

With a wave of her hand, a portal was summoned, and she stepped through into one of the trench lines. Shouts of surprise greeted her entrance, and with both hands she grabbed the head of the closest soldier and quickly twisted it, killing the woman nearly instantly, as she raised both hands to her sides, energy gathering around them, and consolidated into streams of corrosive power that ripped all of those who were unfortunate enough to be caught in its path apart.

With a clenched fist, she crumpled the trench barriers, leaving a hole for the Collective forces to march through as she marched through the trenches, stepping over lifeless corpses and killing the few who were wounded beyond help with a single telepathic thought. And while she walked, she projected the unsettling, unshakable fear into the minds of all who resided still within the city.

It was always in the heat of combat where the link between her and the Imperator was the strongest, one where she took comfort in, and her reach expanded far beyond her own mental capabilities. To draw upon the range and depth of power the Imperator possessed was a drug which was difficult to withdraw from afterwards.

Yet she could do so, she always had. One day, perhaps, she would have a skill such as this, but, for now she would draw upon his own strength.

A Priest was in the trenches. A telepath, one which was fruitlessly trying to focus on her, to gain so much as a foothold into her mind. He was afraid, she could tell. A flick of her wrist crumpled the man into a mound of misshapen limbs and flesh. Organic bodies were so fragile when unmodified.

So many ways to wound, incapacitate, and kill.

The Harbinger moved on, leaving a trail of bodies in her wake. Aegis, who had posed a brief challenge, had unexpectedly departed, and she had taken advantage of that. She wondered where he had gone, though it was always possible that he was handling Ukraine, or another of the many fronts. Seoul was ultimately the stronghold that could not fall.

ADVENT would fight her every step of the way, but they knew – as she did – that the coming battle would decide the outcome for the country. Until that point, though there would be few who could stop her in a battle such as this.

Then, everything shook, as an explosion wracked the ground. She immediately erected a personal barrier around her, and looked out to the encroaching Collective forces, just in time to see the fireball rise into the air as something struck one of the rear divisions, and was followed by another massive explosion that she immediately classified as a MOAB, or similar equivalent. Not even the Executors had been able to shoot down…whatever that had been.

Something caught her ear as the explosion faded, the unmistakable sound of a sonic boom.

Patricia immediately leaped up into the air, hovering a fair distance above the battlefield as she surveyed the damage the unexpected strike had caused. It was clearly a high-ordnance bomb, though short of a nuclear impact. Collective forces were swarming, and comm chatter directed air forces to secure the skies.

She looked to the air, trying to see where the strike had come from. Surprisingly, there was no sign of it, which was unusual. There was always a source, and no plane could strike and depart fast enough to escape detection – that she was aware of. A grim thought settled on her that this was, perhaps, some new project ADVENT had decided to use.

Her mind briefly ran through some of the necessary requirements for a missile strike to be successful, combining it with the Imperator's own link. It must have been a hypersonic missile of some kind, and, if ADVENT went all out, one coated with reflective material and a hardened shell to reduce the chance of missile interception.

Very expensive, very rare, but completely plausible and within ADVENT's willingness to produce. Though, the platform of delivery was where the question mark remained. One that she would have to determine at a later point – but it seemed that ADVENT hadn't quite given up slowing her down, even with Aegis gone.

In the distance, she saw a small fleet of Sectoid aircraft approaching. Whatever had interrupted their conquest, it would not be able to do the same thing again so easily. Turning back to the city, she returned her focus to the city that she intended to subjugate.

There was a mission to complete.

The march to Seoul would not be stopped.

---

Turkey

7/15/2017 – 12:14 P.M.

The operation Angela had heard rumors of appeared to be manifesting in a way she hadn't expected it to. ADVENT had made significant inroads into Turkey, though thousands had been moved to what appeared to be a largely barren desert (barring roads and the occasional gas station).

In the apparent middle of nowhere, they stood. Then the largest PRIEST unit she'd seen in one place had arrived, followed shortly by several thousand of ADVENT's special forces of multiple branches. "What's going on?" She asked Joel, slightly antsy as she looked around.

"Short version?" Joel said rhetorically. "I'm not completely sure. Apparently though, ADVENT is going to bring the Hiveship down, and it's estimated to be in this area."

"That's…very precise…" she said slowly, appraising the desert. "How…"

She trailed off, and looked back at the gathered PRIESTs. "They cannot be serious."

"What?" Oscar asked. "You have an idea?"

"Are they planning to telekinetically pull it down?" She asked incredulously to no one in particular.

What sounded like a cough sounded from Cecilia. "No way. Could they even do that?"

"In theory?" Angela said. "In theory…they could. I'm not a telekine…but this is the equivalent of trying to mind control an Ethereal several continents away. Just because it's possible doesn't mean it's possible, if you know what I'm saying."

"Yeah, psionics can only defy the laws of physics up to a point," Young commented. "Stopping a missile, sure. Has anyone ever been able to pull a moving spacecraft out of orbit? Much less a Hiveship?"

"I suspect we would have heard of that," Angela said.

"There's clearly something else here," Angela said. "Joel?"

"I only have what they've told me," Joel said with a shrug. "But I don't think it's as simple as…" he trailed off. "Well, I think we might have our answer."

He nodded away, and Angela immediately felt the presence encroach on her mind; the overpowering sensation of a telepath who was more powerful than she was. An Ethereal, no doubt, but – she breathed a sigh of relief when she realised it was a friendly one. "Aegis is here?"

"Not just Aegis," Cecilia said, nodding towards him. "The other one is there too."

Indeed, there was that other Ethereal who'd defected…what was his name…Caelior? That sounded right – she remembered the coverage of an Ethereal by that name leading the invasion of Japan, and he'd been captured, and then reemerged as an ally. XCOM seemed to have a knack for turning Ethereals.

Accompanying the Ethereals were close to fifty XCOM soldiers – more in one place than she'd ever seen before – and there were aliens interspersed with them. An Oyariah of all things, definitely some Vitakara judging by the size, and a couple Borelians.

There was an oddly short person near Caelior, who clearly wasn't an alien, because they were a psion. Angela performed a slight probe, and felt a little bit of panic and alarm before she – it was definitely a woman – calmed down and realized it was friendly. She visibly looked around, and her helmet met Angela's own briefly, before she returned her attention to the larger Ethereal. A friend then?

She was pretty short, but Angela supposed that wasn't the best of reasons to find her odd.

"Remind me," Young said. "What is Caelior's…thing, I guess."

"If I remember right," Joel said. "He's a telekine."

The squad exchanged some looks, and Angela didn't need telepathy to sense a growing anticipation. "You don't think…"

"Maybe. If anyone could pull it off, it's an Ethereal."

Angela moved forward slightly, wanting to watch what she hoped was going to be a…proper display of Ethereal power – one which was on their side, for once. She could sense the growing anticipation and excitement from others around her, as everyone seemed to see where this was going all at the same time.

Still though…

Even for an Ethereal, this could not be easy.

Angela wondered if the Collective was appraising them, probably wondering why the army had pushed into Turkey and seemed to be…waiting. It wouldn't take long for them to realize something was off and…well, Angela didn't know what this was going to look like, or if it would be successful, but once it started, it was probably going to be difficult to stop.

"Can you even see it?" Oscar asked, peering up into the sky.

"Barely, you need a scope or binoculars," Cecilia said, handing him her own binoculars. "That direction, you can barely make it out."

"Can I see that when you're done?" Angela asked.

"Yeah, just a sec," the PRIESTs and Ethereals (with some people who she assumed were XCOM psions) were moving further away from the main force, while everyone looked on with equal degrees of trepidation and hope. Oscar handed Angela the binoculars, and she peered up where Oscar directed her to.

It was a good thing it was a clear day. It was only a speck, but she could definitely tell it was the Hiveship, which truly showcased just how massive it was. It was still too far away for her to make out a lot of details, though it definitely had some black spots on it, probably damage from when ADVENT had attacked it.

"Looks like it's starting," Young noted.

Caelior lifted a calculated hand to the sky, and the air rumbled. The hair on Angela's neck stood up, as the spike of power was such that she could feel it from here. She felt different as well, as if everything was static and a bit syrupy. The air around Caelior turned to a vibrating distortion, leaving the sand around him suspended in the air.

"Woah," Oscar commented softly, and Angela turned and saw that the binoculars were hovering in front of Oscar, and upon further observation, Caelior appeared to have created a kind of weak stasis field around all of them. She briefly released her rifle, and saw it hover. She could still move…but there was definitely some resistance. Closer to being underwater than in zero gravity.

She wondered if it was even stronger closer to the Ethereal. Nonetheless, the cadre of PRIESTs echoed the movement of Caelior, and their arms were lifted to the sky. One of the XCOM psions took a kneeling position, and the air became distorted around them as well. Some kind of coordinator, probably.

If they were augmenting Caelior, that would be expected.

Her eyes turned back to the sky, and there was not any noticeable change. This was likely going to take some time.

All they could do was wait.

---

Within the Hiveship, Hive Commander 072 sat, as the drones around him soullessly worked, with his subtle direction provided when necessary. This was a well-prepared template, one which had been created specifically to function on such a vessel. Hive Commander 072 did not desire obtuse and inefficient micro-management.

Such menial tasks were beneath a Hive Commander.

He remembered little of the world beyond his work within the Hive established on Earth. One which had been raided by Human insurgents of XCOM. Insurgents which he had believed posed little threat. Yet, the aliens had bested him, and, upon his reawakening, safe within his Hive, he had sought to determine the cause.

Psions they had, yet they were weak.

Numbers they had, but no means of fast reproduction.

Creativity they possessed, but such was merely a substitute for an applied war machine.

When Hive Commander 072 sought to return to Earth, it would be as one who had mastered the Human means of warfare. One who was capable of exploiting their weaknesses and negating their strengths.

The plan had not been as successful as envisioned.

Yet it was far from a failure.

ADVENT lacked a means of negating the machine of power he commanded. Their greatest weapons had done little but cause superficial damage and terminate replaceable personnel. The logistics of the Greater Hive Commanders remained superior to the terrestrial ones of Earth, and would remain as such indefinitely.

It appeared it would take a longer time than anticipated to properly subjugate the Humans, but such was assured to happen. So long as he remained untouchable, there was little the Humans could do to remove his presence. A shadow of the Hiveship fell upon their European continent, and something resembling satisfaction spread throughout Hive Commander 072.

A feeling of invincibility, of surety.

A glance to the screens which continually displayed the position, vitals, and diagnostics appeared to be normal – although a number caught his eye. Eyes narrowed slightly. Numbers which indicated the Hiveship was ever-so-slightly out of position. A simple adjustment. With a single thought, the command was sent to the drones.

It was far from the first time small corrections needed to be made. Perhaps it was a defect in the template, one which he would personally see was excised from future iterations, once these were processed. Or perhaps it was an issue with the flash-training modules. A quick psionic command brought up the documents for review, which he perused for several minutes.

Another glance at the diagnostics.

Another notable divergence.

What was this?

Hive Commander 072 made no effort to hide his displeasure as the order to bring the Hiveship back to the necessary orbit was given – one which was hurriedly accepted by the drones. 072 sat back, concerned that this batch was rapidly deteriorating – or perhaps there was another issue here.

With a finger tapping a haptic display, the full diagnostic schematics were brought up – all the engines were online – but several were at full power, the ones tasked with bringing the Hiveship into acceptable orbit. Ye,t that could not be necessary – only a brief boost, if that, was necessary.

With a hurried motion, the sensor readings displayed before him. Not only had the divergence not been corrected – it was actively worsening at an alarming rate. He watched in a mixture of surprise and alarm as the numbers climbed, and climbed at an exponential speed, finding it difficult to determine what was happening.

Such readings could only originate from a gravity well of immense strength – and Earth had no such gravity well, certainly not one which could affect them to this degree. Another check confirmed that the engines were healthy – but now all of them were at full power – and it was not reversing the trend.

Slowly, but surely, the Hiveship was moving towards Earth.

A pulse and demand was sent to his drones, demanding an explanation for what was happening. He received nothing, no explanation, only the confirmation of the drones working to bring the Hiveship back into a stable orbit. It made no sense – Hive Commander 072 checked the sensors for readings from Earth.

No change.

Rarely was 072 faced with a situation without plausible explanation, yet he could not conceive of what was causing this shift – or of how to stop it. The engines were clearly doing little, and there was no sudden increase in gravity, nor had they been set on a dangerous orbital path.

Unless…

With a command, he ordered several teams of drones in the logistics cell of the Hiveship to run a series of calculations on the expected landing zone in the event of a crash. There was a mental acknowledgement, while 072 shifted to exterior cameras and focused sensors. He would only need a location.

One was received, even as the Hiveship rapidly fell further.

With the estimated coordinates received, he cross-checked them with CODEX data, and what he saw made him pause.

Thousands – no – tens of thousands of life forms were detected in that region. A region which should have been devoid of life. More than that, there were clear telltale signs of ADVENT systems in the region. Signals intelligence picked up known ADVENT frequencies, and detection systems had known ADVENT material signatures.

That did not make sense. Unless they were somehow causing this.

Their psions? No, no, they were too weak. Humans were incapable of such a feat.

Yet there was another who was not.

A traitor.

Hive Commander 072 sat still, eyes blazing with cold intensity. This could not be tolerated, and the numbers showed the Hiveship continued to plummet ever closer to the ground. There was little time to act before the course became irreversible.

A single command ordered all available weapons to fire upon that location, and for all wings to launch and scorch that area to glass. All available forces were to arm, and prepare for combat. ADVENT would not undo him so easily, and they could not stand against the full military might of this Hiveship.

And, yet, there was a grudging acknowledgement that ADVENT had similarly adapted.

This time, though, this time he would destroy them.

---

When this had started, the Hiveship had been impossible to see without assistance.

Now it was visible, and growing larger by the second.

They were actually doing it.

Then the Hiveship had started firing. When Angela had seen the sheer amount of firepower heading their way, she'd instinctively taken a step back. Then she realized this was what Aegis must have been here for. The Ethereal lifted a hand, and a domed psionic shield manifested above the entirety of the ADVENT force.

The massive plasma bolts had slammed into the ground beyond the shield, and into it, shaking the ground. The barrage did not stop, and maintained its intensity, even as the Hiveship was growing ever closer. Now, it was glowing orange as it entered the atmosphere properly, and she knew the course was irreversible.

There was also a fleet of Sectoid Fighters and Bombers flying towards them. Aegis' shield absorbed every missile, bomb, and plasma shot, seemingly unperturbed by the amount of punishment the barrier was sustaining. Now that it was easily within sight, Angela saw that it was even larger than she'd even thought.

And heading right towards them!

She swallowed. She hoped that Caelior wasn't going to be too accurate when he brought it down. The Ethereal's arms were extended, as if holding onto something massive. The unconscious stasis field had intensified further, to the point where it was legitimately difficult to move quickly. It was not like moving through water, it was like moving through mud.

She really, really did not like that feeling. It was almost suffocating in its totality. She could only imagine what it was like closer to him.

Explosions sounded and fired onto the shield, and the Hiveship barreled closer. How large was it, really? The size of a small city? A medium one? Even if it crashed, Angela realized that this wasn't going to be a simple matter of seizing it. That thing was large enough to support an entire army.

Even if a portion of them died in a crash, that would only be a fraction.

Maybe it was the stasis field, or maybe she was now more worried, but she gripped her weapon tighter and took a breath.

Everything is going to be ok.

We survived Aleppo.

We can take a Hiveship.

The white-orange metal of the Hiveship glowed as it fell from the skies like a falling star. With an almost detached amazement, ADVENT witnessed the fall of the Hiveship as it impacted the land with the intensity of an earthquake. The ground shook with such force that Angela stumbled and fell down, though quickly pushed herself up.

When she stood, she saw the behemoth in the distance, embedded in a self-made crater of dirt and sand piled around it, burning and smoking from the many places it had been damaged. The artificial stasis field around them all vanished. Caelior appeared to fall to the ground, and half of the PRIESTs, and the XCOM telepath also fell similarly to the ground, while the others swayed on their feet.

Medical teams immediately rushed forward to treat the exhausted psions.

"They did it," Angela said in a detached voice. "They really did it."

"They did their part," Joel stepped forward. "Now it's time to do ours."

That they did. Angela knew that the Collective was absolutely not going to let them take the Hiveship. It may not fly again, but it was a valuable prize that neither side intended to lose. ADVENT had the advantage for now.

It was time to press it before it changed.

Heart steady, head clear, and her will firm, Angela joined the mass of ADVENT forces as they marched towards the Hiveship, not only to claim the symbol of power they possessed, but to kill the Hive Commander who rested within.

From the distance, she could hear the Middle Eastern attachment yell. Like a wave, a possessive, reverberating wave, more voices joined it, scattered, but present. "Cry in ire, for that which is higher!"

That had been enough to break the hushed and solemn march with furious emotion, emotion which was to be weaponized against their enemies.

And so, the Legions marched, and the sands would soon run with blood.

---

To be continued in Chapter 68

The Battle of the Hiveship

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A/N: Another chapter done, and need to give credit where it's due. Thanks to Thuzan and King for helping out with the Grady and Hakeem scenes respectively, their contributions have definitely made the chapter better. Thanks for reading, as always.

- Xabiar