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.

71. The Battle of the Hiveship

The Battle of the Hiveship

---

[REDACTED] – Sphere of the Throne

7/1/2017 – 9:00 A.M.

The summons from his Lord had been unexpected.

Not because such audiences were rare, but because it interrupted another, simpler, operation which was taking place in a less problematic Sphere. Since the audience with the Sage-King, his Lord had temporarily paused activities within the Sphere of the Sovereign, instead relying solely on their single operative to provide updates on the wider world, and for the Viceroy to give updates within XCOM.

His Lord was displeased at the turn of events, of course, and the General couldn't fully disagree, but the Sage-King would not be denied, and he had no qualms about replacing those who interfered with his mandate. He wished he shared the Sage-King's confidence that the girl posed no threat and could be controlled, but he was unconvinced. To leave such an individual unleashed made the situation impossible to fully predict or control.

There was little to be done about it now.

The palace he walked through was tranquil, and he breathed the cold air contentedly. A pleasant change to be here, compared to where he had spent the last weeks. However, he expected that his mission would be completed with relative ease. It was simple enough, trivial, to be honest.

His Lord had said to meet him in the Observation Chamber, another unusual factor in this meeting. The General had some suspicions as to what could have prompted this development, and none of them were good. It likely had to do with the Hunter's report; perhaps something had arisen.

As the doors opened, he was surprised to not just see his Lord standing, but the aforementioned Hunter. The lips of the General immediately turned downward as alarm spiked through him. "[What is he doing here?]" He demanded, ignoring protocol, so great was his alarm.

There was an order that had been given, and, unless it had been rescinded, he should not be here. Under no circumstances – unless there was a catastrophic failure…and there had been no such indications that he was at risk, had there?

"[At ease, General,]" his Lord lifted a hand sharply, cutting off his protestations. The expression on the Hunter's face was not the one of smugness or confidence that he had exhibited before. No, just masked concern and grimness. "[There is explanation for his reappearance.]"

The General reached the small table they were standing around. "[An update is appreciated, my Lord,]" he said, his voice returning to the expected neutrality. "[He was not supposed to return until his objective was completed.]"

"[That is correct, but there are extenuating circumstances,]" his Lord's tone did not change either, though his face was unnaturally still. An undercurrent of tension was in his voice. "[The Entity has been found.]"

The General froze, every thought coming to a sharp halt as he comprehended the mildly stated declaration. His eyes darted between the Lord and Hunter, a narrative beginning to form in his mind, explanations arising, none of them good. "[How? Where?]" A second thought struck him. "[Was contact made-]"

"[No, and he was cleared by the Seers upon his return,]" his Lord interrupted. "[There are no markings or cognitohazards detected. He did not have known personal contact with the Entity – but he encountered one who had.]"

That was very, very bad. Given the area of operation, this meant that the Entity was aware of, and potentially involved in, the war between the Collective and Humans – a war already made dangerous by Sovereign involvement, much less her. He remembered a conversation they had had previously, where they speculated the Entity would 'follow the Blood'. He had not expected it to be quite so fast.

How had he learned? And so quickly?

"[Who, then?]" He didn't question the claim. If his Lord was saying it, there was no question as to its validity.

"[The Battlemaster of the Ethereal Collective,]" the Hunter said wistfully.

Yes, very bad.

The General exhaled. "[How did you find out?]"

"[That's a funny story,]" the Hunter said, no humor in his voice. "[He told me.]"

"[Told you.]" The General frowned. "[Why were you even speaking to him?]"

"[Because I was captured,]" he said. "[And I suspected the reason for my capture involved the Entity – because, supposedly, the Battlemaster had been told one of us would be brought to him. By the Entity. Proof of a sort – he is interested in our kind. Or, more specifically, yours.]"

Given how the Warmaster had described the Battlemaster as 'impressively skilled' – no small compliment – and the attack on New York was doubtless unexpected, it stood to reason that the Battlemaster – and Ethereal Collective, would seek answers. Nor was the capture surprising if the Entity was involved – the standard precautions were not enough. Without preparation, they were helpless before the Entity's machinations. "[That follows its operational methods. Gain trust, then lay the trap.]"

"[Right,]" the Hunter coughed. "[What's interesting is that the Battlemaster doesn't seem to trust its intentions. He told me what the Entity had promised, and asked me what I knew. I shared what I did – namely, not to trust it, which I think he knows. The only reason I escaped and was extracted by the Riders was because he engineered an opportunity to escape.]"

"[And why exactly, did he do that for you?]"

The Hunter pursed his lips. "[Because I made a proposal. He helps us reclaim the Entity, and we would be in his debt. I saw an opportunity, and I took it.]"

"[And he agreed?]"

"[He is willing to talk. Given New York, I doubt he's immediately willing to trust us.]"

As much as the Hunter wasn't authorized to make promises or proposals on behalf of the Throne World, this was a situation where he had seen an opportunity – and taken it. One which the General could not condemn. Still… "[It may be too late. He may be compromised.]"

"[He has the mark, but from what I ascertained, he has not asked for anything – or given anything in return yet,]" the Hunter said. "[This opening will not last long, and it is unlikely that the Entity will remain unaware forever.]"

"[This matter concerns the entirety of the Throne World,]" the Lord said. "[I will be speaking to the Sage-King about utilizing this individual, and mobilizing the School for a hunt. Even if the Entity flees, it will be beyond the Sphere and away from the Sovereigns. We cannot afford to waste this.]"

"[I agree, though I am concerned about what the Battlemaster would ask for in exchange,]" the General pointed out. "[There is a war he is involved in. We cannot become entangled in such a conflict, especially one where there are Sovereigns.]"

"[I will manage the negotiations,]" his Lord said with finality. "[If the Battlemaster is reasonable, I believe an arrangement can be made. He clearly wishes answers – about the Entity, about us. I can provide them to him.]"

The implications became clear, and while he wasn't surprised, it wouldn't be the first time that his Lord had made a decision which was not necessarily on solid ground. The General's frown was maintained. "[You see him as a candidate for the Riders.]"

"[It is rare for one to be skeptical of the Entity,]" his Lord rested a cold hand on the table, eyes intense. "[He has a mindset that allows for cooperation. It would display strong willpower and perception as to the nature of such anomalies, should he continue to resist the Entity. I have also not ignored that he fought one of my best Generals to a standstill. The number who can achieve that is small, and such an individual would be useful. And, of course it would grant us a permanent presence within the Sphere – one I suspect we will need, despite the Sage-King's insistence otherwise. I will not rule his recruitment out.]"

"[Do you expect the Sage-King to sanction negotiations?]" The General asked, more for posterity.

"[Yes, the Entity is a threat he will not ignore,]" his Lord nodded. "[I suspect he will not become personally involved, but he will sanction our actions. Less certain is if he would sanction recruitment to the Riders, but he may defer to my judgement.]"

That was likely. Rarely did the Sage-King interfere on these matters – with some exceptions. Considering the circumstances, this might be one of them. It did lead to another thought that idly came to him. "[It is curious that the Entity is focusing on the Ethereals,]" the General mused. "[The Viceroy has not reported it. I imagined it would go after the Blood.]"

"[A feint, most certainly,]" his Lord nodded. "[It likely knew we would be watching closely, and wanted to make an impact elsewhere. Were it not for the Battlemaster, we would not be aware. It almost succeeded.]"

That part was said aloud. What was not said aloud was the potential that it was a trap. The Entity was no fool, and it had to know the risk it took with the Battlemaster. Yet, at the same time…the Entity seemed to enjoy a challenge, and perhaps there was not a hidden plan here, perhaps it had made a misjudgment.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"[However,]" his Lord said. "[I would not put it past the Entity to have also operated near XCOM. Perform a full review of the Viceroy's reports – and prepare the Riders for an intervention. Should the Battlemaster cooperate, I suspect we will need to be prepared to act on a moment's notice.]"

---

Pipeline Control Station – Ukraine

7/8/2017 – 9:15 A.M.

Yang leaned to the side as the shell flew past her, impacting one of the fields behind her. Under her helmet, she gritted her teeth and prepared to repel another ADVENT offensive. They'd responded with notable quickness – and they'd brought a significant amount of armored vehicles with them.

She missed when it was primarily infantry, because fighting dozens of IFVs and tanks was now high on her list of not fun things to do. It was a challenge, and was extracting a much higher toll. After getting directly clipped with one of the projectiles, which had numbed her shoulder to the point of emergency intervention (and almost torn it off altogether), she'd not rated her chances high of surviving a direct impact.

Still, it felt much better to be doing this. More honest, and there wasn't the overarching fear of discovery and a likely much slower and painful death. The Battlemaster had a plan, it was a good one to her, but it was so dangerous. One wrong move or wrong person discovering the wrong thing and…

Well, she didn't know what would happen.

Nothing good.

ADVENT also had been learning since fighting the Battlemaster. He'd infamously fought ADVENT tanks before – and no longer were just tanks used, but also interspersed with better IFV deterrents. From experience, it was much harder to dodge the shells, hop on top of the tanks and telekinetically pull them apart when there was an IFV spewing lead in your direction.

They were, she had to admit, getting clever.

She was still better.

Days of fighting, and she was still holding on. Many of the Gray Phoenix assigned to her were dead, along with much of her support. Collective reinforcements were coming though, and she just had to hold on a little longer. Unfortunately, ADVENT knew she was stretched thin, and they might have pushed a bit too far here.

Still, the Battlemaster was doing the same, and she'd be damned if she wasn't going to fight as hard as he was. Ironically, all being done to give ADVENT a better fighting chance and prolong the war to the desired point. Of course, they wouldn't know that, so in the meantime, it would be a simple fight to the death.

The pipeline transfer center had been heavily damaged in the fighting. ADVENT hadn't wasted time in completely cutting off the pipe after they'd started losing important infrastructure. That mission had been accomplished, and now the mission was to make the restoration of the pipelines as difficult as possible.

Custodians and SPECTREs had been moving along the pipelines, rigging it with deadman explosives, seen and hidden. Some would be detonated in the event that there was a mass retreat, and others would be left and potentially kill some ADVENT personnel when found. Either way – ADVENT wouldn't get their gas flow restored for months.

She brandished her weapons, seeing the oncoming ADVENT forces, the leading ones shouting orders. One hand fell to her side as she raised the other in a standard salute. It was far from a glorious moment; her armor was scratched, stained, and chipped. Her swords were caked in blood, flesh, mud, and sweat, and her cape was ripped. Nonetheless, it felt appropriate.

Effectively one woman against an army.

The gunfire started as ADVENT dove into the nearest cover, and the Engineers began erecting barriers. Most stayed close to the tanks which also began firing at her. Yang marched forward, erecting a telekinetic shield before her – a stronger one than usual, in case a tank projectile was accurate.

With her other hand, she tossed her left-hand sword into the air, and let it begin the hunt. It wasn't as difficult manipulating the one sword which flew to the soldiers, while simply maintaining a barrier (and occasionally flicking her wrist to send the caught projectiles back – sometimes hitting the soldiers).

After a few kills, it was getting close enough where she needed to move much quicker before they brought out the grenades. She recalled a freshly bloodied sword to her hand, performed a quick flourish, and leapt into action. She landed next to an IFV, and a few sword strikes decapitated the soldiers beside it.

Spinning on her heel, she thrust both hands forward and blasted the IFV with enough force to leave a sizable dent, and turn it onto its side. With a hand she threw one of her swords at an oncoming soldier, impaling him, and closed it into a fist and twisted, ruining the barrel of one of the nearby tanks.

Inside the lines, she was much more difficult to stop, and so she continued.

It was hard, tiring, and ADVENT put up a fight, but they'd made the mistake of thinking that she could be taken, even now. They should have brought XCOM or PRIESTs to reclaim this position. Maybe they hadn't known she was here, but it was too late for them now.

One soldier killed with a thrust into the throat, another Officer decapitated. A trio crushed by a telekinetic grip. A crew killed when she crashed one tank into another. They didn't stop, and she wondered how many ADVENT had brought to fight her. They appeared to have been expecting an army, and instead they just got her.

In the graveyard of tanks and bodies, she stood, for the first time breathing heavy. Looking up, she saw that there were still more. How many had she taken out? A dozen tanks? Two? Dozens of soldiers? Not a lot in the grand scheme of things. She was acutely hearing movements all around her.

Perhaps a trap she had been lured into, fighting too deeply into the enemy lines, allowing for an easy encirclement. Sound tactics for anyone, but that wouldn't necessarily help them here. If she was fully prepared, of course. And the weariness was beginning to show itself. A shout in the distance sounded.

She felt the attitude change; the air itself.

And knew what it meant.

She smiled as Sectoid Transports roared overhead, setting down back by the pipeline and the ADVENT forces which had encroached immediately began retreating. She took a breath, and was ready for her second wind. Reinforcements had come.

Today would not be the day she died.

---

Established Forward Base - Ukraine

7/16/2017 – 3:19 A.M.

Holding Ukraine was going to be a challenge. One the Battlemaster fully believed could be done. It would be difficult, costly, and dangerous – but certainly possible. If ADVENT wanted to reclaim the land, they would have to fight for each inch to be reclaimed. Though it did appear that they were committed to pushing him back.

Of course, there was the problematic situation regarding the Hiveship.

Caelior. Of course.

He had to begrudgingly give the Little Storm some degree of credit. Such an action was not easy, and it had effectively crippled the amount of support he could rely on to hold Ukraine. While fortunately enough Gateways had been installed, their ability to immediately reinforce in non-supported locations was greatly reduced.

The Moon Outpost would be able to handle some of the demand, but the Battlemaster had to shift his tactics. No more pushing forward, they had to hold the ground they had. ADVENT had cut off the pipelines, so unfortunately the Collective couldn't harness the extracted natural gas. Unfortunate, but not unexpected – and ADVENT would not be able to restore those easily when they were sabotaged.

J'Loran stood nearby as they appraised the holographic outline of the territory they controlled, that they did not, and which was contested. It was atypical from what it usually was. No longer were they having to worry about the fortified ADVENT cities, as the rural outskirts were where the focus was.

That juxtaposition appeared to have unbalanced ADVENT to some degree, and while there had been a response, it had not been a well-planned one. Or at least, not a clearly optimal one. The ADVENT grand strategy was controlling the population centers. Their entire defensive doctrine was turning cities into fortresses.

This was in response to the implied objectives of the Collective – ADVENT had determined that the Collective was here for their people, not their resources and had adapted to this. The downside with such an approach was that it limited their actions to respond when the Collective did something like this.

They could defend the cities. They could not defend farms. They could protect people. They could not protect resources. The Collective did not need resources. ADVENT did. That, the Battlemaster had noted, was a potential path to victory that he hadn't deeply considered before. He disliked the idea of an enemy withering away, starving, defeated not by skill or valor, but by biology.

It was a coward's victory, though a victory nonetheless. One he would begin to seriously consider if he intended to destroy ADVENT. Though priorities had changed, and ADVENT was not the true danger to the Collective. Humanity only posed as much of a threat to the wider Collective as they wanted them to.

The Sovereign One changed this calculus – though to what degree the Battlemaster was still unsure of. It needed to be carefully watched, but that was an issue for a different time.

Right now, there was a battle to be waged.

"ADVENT is heavily relying on their armor units to rapidly push upon Collective positions," J'Loran gestured to the map. "The land is ideally suited for this type of reprisal, and the weather is favorable."

"Effective against forward positions, less so against entrenched ones," the Battlemaster nodded.

"Yes, our forward positions – approximately sixty-three percent of them – have been forced into a retreat," J'Loran said. "The ones that held had higher unit counts, superior positioning, or major support. I would advise that you give your Harbinger a break. She can only hold for so long."

"I am aware of what she can take," the Battlemaster said. J'Loran was not wrong, but he could acutely feel Yang through the bond. She was tiring, but she was not depleted. At the same time, it would do her some good to have a short break. She had been doing exceptionally well since deploying.

It felt like she had missed something simple like this, as he had.

"Our front line is not completely stable either," J'Loran continued. "There are gaps in coverage, which ADVENT is pushing through, and then encircling the major encampments and forward positions. That needs to be rectified."

"You have suggestions?"

"Entrenched ground-to-ground systems would be ideal," J'Loran said. "Air support is also preferable. There are few choke points which can be properly leveraged. Our forces are mobile enough that if we know where they are, we can move to respond. ADVENT is at a disadvantage on the offensive, as they cannot rely on their trenches and towers to protect them."

"Blaster Bombs should be employed," the Battlemaster nodded. "SPECTREs could also properly secure the front line."

"We don't have enough SPECTREs for the entire front line, no," J'Loran disputed, his whole frame shaking 'no'. "A combination of SPECTREs, Gray Phoenix, and ARCHONs should provide appropriate front line coverage."

"Installation of scanners along it would also be necessary," the Battlemaster said.

"Agreed – that is, if we're preparing to hold the ground we have and not push forward," J'Loran looked to the Battlemaster. "Is that the plan?"

"The Hiveship is out of commission," the Battlemaster reminded him. "We do not have the ability to immediately reinforce any forward, aggressive moves. In theory it could be done; in practice we simply do not have the equipment or resources to see it done successfully."

"Unfortunately, I agree, and Disciple-7 would if he were here," J'Loran said, though his tone seemed disappointed. "I did not anticipate Caelior would be utilized in this manner."

"The logic is sound," the Battlemaster mused. "He has the capability. Without the Overminds to support him, it was likely that he would be unable to properly manage a target of that scale. It implies that he has been further trained to refine his capabilities, as well as supported by ADVENT and XCOM psions."

"Troubling," J'Loran muttered. The Battlemaster agreed, though not for the same reasons. There were only two possible explanations – Aegis had been training him, or he was being personally mentored by the Sovereign One, or one of its proxies. Aegis knew some telekinesis, but he was not a master of it. Receiving knowledge and training from a Sovereign One would certainly explain Caelior's proficiency.

He wondered how the Imperator planned to respond.

He was doubtless displeased with this turn of events.

"If we are preparing to hold the ground we possess, I will have the units begin entrenchment," J'Loran said. "The assembly of Executors at relevant locations will also begin. ADVENT appears to not want to significantly escalate beyond their current response. I would advise it be kept that way."

"Which means I should pull back," the Battlemaster surmised.

"You and your Harbinger," J'Loran said. "But only until we have secured the front. Though it might be necessary to support the defense of the Hiveship."

Now that would have to be something handled by the Hive Commander. Even if he did not want to directly get involved with that situation, it was not feasible to leave the front lines here right now. ADVENT would probably be anticipating this as a response, and it was imperative that the ground they acquired not be given up.

More than likely…someone would be directly sent.

Then again…many of the Ethereals were occupied. The Overmind, Deusian, and Quisilia were potentially viable – but each of them he doubted would be deployed. It was a Hiveship, not worth escalating the war over – especially when both Aegis and Caelior were there. The Hive Commander might have to be enough – though perhaps the Second Guardian would be pulled.

That would be a more reasonable response, and her siege of Salt Lake City had stagnated.

A potential development.

The Battlemaster exited the room after a few more minutes addressing and finalizing concerns that J'Loran raised. It was time to check on the front line himself. Walking down the bare hall of the hastily constructed base, he became aware of another presence nearby. This one was…not familiar, but it was. Yet alien.

A corner turned, and he saw them, and his hand automatically went to his side. Standing before him was one who could be mistaken for a Human. Pale skin, hair which flowed to the shoulders, and a similar facial structure and anatomy. Yet there were immediate differences, the first being that this alien was far taller than the average Human, and the ears were wrong. Larger, and pointed.

This particular alien was dressed very finely, with the fabrics being an almost silk-like quality, colored in reds and silvers. He stood with a military posture, appraising the Battlemaster with no concern or fear. He was not who the Battlemaster was focused on, but the one who stood behind him. One of the aliens from New York.

Ones with red capes, who had been able to manifest the portals they had arrived in. This time, there was no winter or cold, but he was on edge nonetheless.

"Battlemaster of the Ethereal Collective," the unarmored man said in a clipped voice, almost haughty. "You made an agreement with one of our people, concerning assistance with the Entity in exchange for support from the Throne World of the Aen Elle."

So that's what this was about. "I did."

"I am here to facilitate that agreement," the man said. "I am not the one you will speak to, but you indicated you wished to determine the meeting location yourself."

"Yes."

"There is a counter-offer to be made," the man said, his face scrunched, as he paused, and then resumed. "The Sage-King has taken a direct interest in what you have experienced. He extends a personal invitation to the Throne World to meet in person."

"And who is he?" The Battlemaster could make a guess, but he wanted to be certain. "Your leader?"

The man almost seemed offended. "Despite the gross inaccuracy and inadequacy of the definition…yes, he is our ruler and leader. One who does not waste his time on the inferior. I must impress on you the honor and significance of a personal meeting. This is rarely offered to our own Courts – let alone an alien from another sphere."

The Battlemaster nodded once, and slightly relaxed his stance. "I see. I am certainly willing to meet. But not on your…Throne World. I do not know you. I do not know your people. I was attacked by your kind."

"Circumstances have changed, Battlemaster," the man said in a clipped tone. "You have his personal guarantee of safety. You will not be accosted, and will be able to leave regardless of the outcome."

"That is all well and good," the Battlemaster said. "But I do not have sufficient trust in your government, or your leader – one I did not know existed until moments ago. If your Sage-King wishes to meet, he will do so on the terms I provided."

The man's eyes flashed. "You will not be able to force the Sage-King to adhere to your demands."

"Then he will not meet me," the Battlemaster said. "I have made my conditions clear. If those are not acceptable for the Sage-King, then he may send another in his place. I do not know his significance, but I do know it does not relate to what I am managing here. I have lived as long as I have by not taking clearly foolish risks. Chancing my life on the goodwill of an army I have no knowledge of, who has personally fought me, that is something which I will not do. If your Sage-King is reasonable, he will understand this."

The ambassador was clearly not pleased with him – useful information, yet his voice remained even. "They will give a location to meet. I cannot guarantee he will accept."

The Battlemaster stated the coordinates for the Prism – it was likely the most secure place under his control, along with a date shortly in the future. "Is that sufficient?"

"Yes, it will be passed along," a clipped nod. "That will be all, Battlemaster." Without another word, he spun on a heel and motioned for the soldier behind him to act. With a gesture, the soldier manifested a portal which both of them walked through – and on the other side the Battlemaster saw a planet of green rolling hills and a blue sky.

Not unlike Earth.

The portal closed, leaving him alone.

An unexpected development – he was not concerned about whether he would meet the leader of the Aen Elle. It mattered little to him. But he suspected that if this Entity was as consequential as implied, they would meet his demands.

Time would soon tell.

---

Nulorian Outpost Cells

6/17/2017 – 10:22 A.M.

Not how he'd hoped it would go, but it was…something.

Nartha stood a short distance from the cell where his parents were being held. After being brought back, they'd been stowed away for the time being. Miridian didn't seem to particularly mind that they'd been brought back alive, though his eyes had seemed amused, as if to say to Nartha "I told you so."

At least they were alive. They'd come around, and if they didn't…well, they would still be alive.

"You want me to come with you?" Shun asked from beside him, arms crossed and leaning against the wall.

"Not this time," Nartha shook his head. "They've already been shocked quite a bit. You might be too much."

"What, we don't have to be obvious," Shun seemed amused. "I wasn't exactly planning on kissing you in front of them. Just for…moral support."

Nartha frowned. "Is that actually a thing that works?"

She shrugged. "Depends on the person. Makes them feel better, and you are…well, you're not your normal self."

"I suppose I'm not," he said. "It just seems so…clear to me now. The Collective. The Zararch. It's difficult to see the other perspective. A year ago I probably would have reacted similarly."

"And you changed," Shun reminded him.

"Yes, and I should remember that," he rubbed his eyes. "It was a gradual thing. No one was trying to convince me, but it happened. I made the mistake of thinking maybe you were the enemies I thought. Maybe that's the only thing they will accept. Still…" he trailed off. "I'm their son. I would have thought they would have listened to me."

"Hey, come here."

Or more, she came to him, pulling him into a disproportionate hug. It didn't quite make him less troubled about what would come next, but her head rested on his chest, as he held her tightly…well, at least someone here did genuinely care. He certainly couldn't talk to Miridian about any of this.

"Thank you," he said, as they separated. "I'll do it this time. I don't think it'll take long."

"Alright," she nodded. "Miridian is having his meeting."

"How could I forget? He's only mentioned it to me four times this morning."

She smiled impishly. "Someone missed their Morning Stimulant, it sounds like."

He smiled. She was probably right.

He walked down to the cells, which were usually empty given how quickly the Nulorian went through their captives, and the one where his parents were kept had two guards outside, both armed and both Borelians. "I'm going to speak to them," he told the leftmost guard.

"And who are you?" One growled.

"I'm the one who captured them, and they're my parents," he said. "Now open the door."

"Should have killed them, Aui'Vitakar trash," the other one muttered, though they did open. Miridian must have told them who he was. "They're not talkative, knock when you want to get out."

"Understood."

The cell was dimly lit, and fairly small. It was clearly supposed to be for one person, and only a small batch of extra blankets were provided for the extra occupant. Both of his parents were awake, and his mother immediately reacted, jolting up. "Nartha!"

"Mother," he nodded once. His father barely acknowledged him, sitting straight, and staring directly forward. His face was stone-like, and eyes blazed with a cold fury. "Father."

No acknowledgement.

The silence stretched for a minute. His mother broke it first. "What are they going to do to us?"

"Nothing," Nartha said. "Miridian would prefer you dead, but so long as you're out of the way, he won't touch you as long as I'm alive."

Her eyes widened. "You know Miridian."

"Unfortunately, yes."

More time passed. Nartha sighed. "I'm not going to convince you through one conversation. Or two. Or three. I know that, much as I want to believe otherwise. It's not how I changed my mind, and it won't be how yours are changed either. The only way to do that is to show you."

Both of them, even his father, seemed to be waiting for him to elaborate. "You're going to be moved out of here," he continued. "I don't trust the Nulorian, even if Miridian is reliable to some degree. You'll be moved to XCOM. Cairu is living there. XCOM will treat you well, and maybe you'll…" Nartha trailed off, then sighed. "Well, understand better. I'd wish you'd forgive me, but if not, as long as you understand, I'll be content."

He didn't know what to expect next. Maybe some acknowledgement, saying that they understood and still loved him, or something. But there was nothing. His mother just looked miserable at hearing the entire situation, and his father was still intentionally silent. "I probably won't see you for some time," he said. "I still love both of you, and I always will. When you see Cairu…tell her hello from me."

No verbal response, but his mother gave a nod which was ever-so-slight.

That would be good enough.

Maybe they'd see Aegis. Ironically, they'd probably both be inclined to listen to an Elder more than him. Whatever worked. Without another word, he turned and exited the cell, with a vague hope that one of them would say something, but neither did, and he left to meet up with Shun, before both of them went to Miridian's meeting.

One where he said that the next stage of their operations would be laid out.

---

Turkey

7/15/2017 – 2:22 P.M.

An army marched forward.

Angela was still struck by how unfathomably big the Hiveship was, even at this distance. The divisions were organized, the squads were in place, and the war machine methodically advanced towards the smoldering wreck. The lack of any surrounding vegetation prevented any fire from spreading throughout the area, but there were some fires burning on the outside hull of the Hiveship.

At the same time, it looked fairly intact for the impact it had survived. Probably because it hadn't been forced to the ground because of damage, but because of psionics literally pulling it out of the sky. Not that the Hiveship was ever going to fly again; Angela didn't think those kinds of ships even could lift off on a planet.

All that said – the Collective was not going to let this one go without a fight. Angela could imagine just how many valuable components were inside – to say nothing of the raw resources ADVENT would gain from scrapping this, and of course the morale boost from taking down a symbol of alien might.

All the more reason the Collective would want to deny them.

As they marched, Angela wondered just what the Collective would do. There had to be Gateways inside the ship – it would be foolish not to, even if she wasn't familiar with the intricacies of Sectoid engineering. Even if they were damaged, not all of them likely were. There would be a stream of reinforcements.

Given that the Hiveship had practically served as a staging point for the push into Turkey and Europe, there were likely to be even more armed forces. The crash had probably killed some of them, but likely not all of them, and more would be arriving through any working Gateways. What would be coming through the Gateways…

That probably depended on how badly the Collective wanted to keep the Hiveship.

The Hive Commander was there, she could faintly sense it with a light telepathic probe. It worried her, even if she didn't let that show - the helmet definitely had its uses here. It was vastly more palpable and potent then the Sectoid she'd fought during the Night Stand. It wasn't quite comparable to Aegis, who was leading the march, but it was…closer than she was comfortable with.

There were still no visible signs of life from the Hiveship, though the closer they got, the more she could tell that something was going to happen. "Sensing anything?" Oscar asked as they marched. "You've been quiet."

"Nothing specific," Angela said. "Except for the Hive Commander – that stands out. But there's a lot of minds in there. A lot. We're going to face an army."

"Well, that's what we signed up for," Oscar hefted his rifle. "Let's hope it's a shaken army."

It did make her wonder. "Can Mutons even have low morale?"

He considered that. "I've heard that some of them are actually pretty smart."

"The Sargons? Right, but those aren't the majority," she said. "And they're probably conditioned to not feel shaken."

"True, and no point asking that question for the Sectoids," he continued. "Probably too much to hope that Vitakarians are on there."

"On a Hiveship?" She cast a long look onto the silver behemoth. "No. I think I would have sensed them. Their minds are unique. Like Humans. Mostly just Sectoids and…" she trailed off as she felt a new telepathic presence approaching.

Cecilia's head snapped towards her. "What is it?"

Angela swallowed. "Something just came here. It's at least as powerful as the Hive Commander."

"Hold."

The command came from Aegis, who'd augmented his voice to be able to reach the assembled ADVENT Army. The marching stopped, several hundred meters away from the crashed Hiveship which waited dauntingly in the distance, fires burning atop the hull and large gashes in the metal – or parts which had been ripped away entirely.

There was a period of stillness; of waiting. Sand lightly blew. Angela took a breath, preparing herself for the fight which was about to break out at any moment. Then it hit.

A psionic attack out of nowhere; one of sheer power she'd never experienced before. It didn't just hit her, it hit everyone – even Aegis who took a step back before reasserting himself. Angela also refocused, and it seemed it had been the telepathic equivalent of a punch. Several soldiers had fallen to the ground, knocked unconscious by the sheer power of it.

She quickly pulled her squad up. Joel had stayed on his feet, as had Cecilia, but they probably had splitting headaches. Glen and Oscar had fallen to a knee. "Hey, on your feet," she ordered, while soothing their minds as well as she could. Oscar seemed to sway on his feet, but then gradually recomposed himself, and gave a short nod, indicating he was back.

Angela quickly went to each of them, wiping the headache aftereffects from their minds – and beginning blanket protection. What could that have been?

"ADVENT."

The voice she heard with absolute clarity – it was solely from a telepathic source. She had enough experience to know the difference. The voice was raspy, laden with power, and seemingly unfathomably old. "Look at that!" Young pointed out in the distance, and she saw it. A figure in an orange robe.

An Ethereal.

Right? What else could it have been.

But not one they had encountered before.

And…she frowned. The presence was manifesting itself, one strong enough to nearly obscure the Hive Commander and the other powerful mind that had arrived. This was…something different. It was probably an illusion. It wasn't the Imperator, but who else had the power to emit this kind of projection?

Aegis seemed to know who it was. Angela felt his overarching presence link into her own, reinforcing the protection that she provided. The Ethereal stepped forward. The orange-robed Ethereal watched silently. "This is your single chance to surrender the Hiveship," Aegis declared.

"No. Your army will turn back, or they will pay a heavy price for their arrogance."

"Arrogance, speaks the Overmind."

The Overmind must have been who this was. Ethereals definitely had a thing for titles over names. "It is arrogance to fight when a battle is lost, it is arrogance to feed the soldiers to the war machine. You have lost this Hiveship, let not your pride force you to lose more."

The Overmind stared from under the deep hood. There was nothing but blackness underneath. Probably more due to the illusion than anything else. "Then let your corpses serve as an example, lest you invoke the wrath of the Sovereign."

"The Sovereign shall not meddle here."

"Shall it not? Then stand and behold your end, Aegis. Let your rebellion come to an end and the dreams of your puppets with it."

"They're coming," Glen pointed. Angela wished Bradley were here so he could call out exactly what they were facing. But she could see it. Emerging from the broken hangars and the entry points, were legions of aliens. But they were not the standard Mutons and Sectoids – those did fill some of the ranks, but this was different.

They wore the glistening red armor of the Muton Elites, and some of them had the augmentations of the Berserkers. But it was the towering Mutons in black armor which gave her pause. She had never seen or heard of anything like them, and a quick probe revealed that they were…odd; it was hard to discern anything from them.

They were far from the simple-minded soldiers she had fought before.

There was more.

Masses of Sectoid drones, assembled to defend their Hiveship poured from the openings like cockroaches, mixed in with the armored Vanguards. And further between the masses were tall Ethereal-like entities also covered in black. Joel sucked in his breath. "This is worse than we thought."

"What are those?" She asked, and sensed they were psionic. "More Ethereals?"

"Not exactly," he said slowly. "I don't know for sure, but I know that ADVENT calls them Meat Puppets. Uses nanotech. Very bad. Very, very bad."

Angela swallowed, starting to get more nervous. The Collective was devoting a lot more to this than she'd thought. A Hive Commander alone would have been hard enough – but now they were going to be facing some of the best in the Collective. And that was all without taking into account the individual who was at the front of the assembled defense.

The Second Guardian.

Apparently she wasn't in Utah anymore.

The specter of the Overmind stood between both armies, as the sun blazed overhead. The voice grew louder, more ominous. Words laced with certainty and finality.

"The path is closed. The way is shut."

Aegis responded by flicking his wrist and a barrier appeared between the Overmind, which would have bisected it, had it not been an illusion. "So be it."

The form dissolved into nothingness, and the entirety of the ADVENT Army came under a telepathic attack – though instinctively Angela knew it wasn't the same source as the first one. This was more conventional, and weaker. This, she suspected, was coming from the Hive Commander.

It would occupy her, but she could resist.

Aegis though seemed…not quite paralyzed, but he seemed slower. She wondered if he was facing a directed attack instead of the blanket one they were under. There wasn't anything she could do to help though, she could only hope he could hold his own. Someone shouted something, and it grew into a roar.

The tanks fired. The soldiers followed.

The Battle for the Hiveship had begun.

---

Nulorian Outpost – Borelian Wastes

6/17/2017 – 2:00 P.M.

"I would like to thank you, Nartha."

He narrowed his eyes. If the words were sarcastic, he would have expected that. Instead, Miridian genuinely seemed to sound sincere. Or at least he did not sound…well, irritated. "For what, if I can ask?"

"By accident, I think that this will turn out in our favor," Miridian said, lowering his tablet. "The successful kidnapping of a sitting member of the Aui'Vitakar will do two things. It will show the rest of the politicians that they are not safe, and it will push the body down the path of greatest backlash. The Zararch won't care if he's alive or dead – better the entire family is gone, less to cover up."

Miridian smiled thinly. "An accelerated timetable can be worked with. That will mean the Zararch has less time to prepare. There is a plan the Speaker wishes to execute, on a timetable, around a certain period. I expect that he could attempt to stick to that, but considering the circumstances…"

"Or they won't," another Nulorian Vitakarian suggested. "One body is not enough to disrupt the plans. Especially, as you mentioned, they have no family to inquire after them."

"Not quite true," Nartha said. "My grandparents are alive – though they do not speak on a daily basis."

"Even then, easy enough to silence," the Vitakarian insisted. "I would not count on this disrupting the plans of the Zararch overmuch."

"If they do that, it still continues in our favor," Miridian mused. "Siaru, we have video."

"RECORDINGS OF TARGETED ENTITIES HAVE BEEN ACQUIRED. PREPARED FOR DISTRIBUTION."

"As I suspected," Miridian nodded. "The Zararch can cover it up when one representative goes missing. Few will notice, and the media is under strict control. It is far harder to keep a secret if it is publicized."

Nartha didn't exactly like the idea of exploiting the capture of his parents, but he also didn't think he could raise an objection to it. Though he did have a question. "To what end?" He asked. "The Aui'Vitakar will consolidate faster into the Speaker's Vitakarian state. Is that actually ideal?"

"The end goal is not ideal," Miridian clarified. "What is ideal is the Aui'Vitakar quickly meeting in one place to address the situation. We have received reports that Quisilia is…occupied with other matters, and it is unlikely he will address the Aui'Vitakar. That removes the biggest obstacle to what we intend to do."

"You cannot think to attack the Aui'Vitakar," Nartha shook his head. "That is suicide."

"On our own? Perhaps," Miridian looked to Shun. "However, I do not intend to do this alone. I have been reading some of your history, Shun Anwei, and there is quite a litany of stories to draw inspiration from. Of small militias and terror organizations that were able to outwit and paralyze nations far more powerful and better supplied than they were. If there is one thing I have learned from your history, it is that such displays of audacity can be beneficial – if we plan well."

He looked around the room. "We have XCOM, ADVENT, Siaru, and our own people. We have the means to enter and paralyze the Aui'Vitakar in the heart of their institution – and force the Collective to decide how they wish to respond. And the people will see their vaunted leaders torn down and exposed for what they are, before they are executed."

"Assuming you mean to employ them as hostages," Shun pointed out. "That won't exactly make the Collective want to negotiate."

"I don't intend to negotiate," Miridian smiled. "I want them to think I do. Our intention, Human, is to expose and punish the government which has sold our species to the Ethereals. They are irredeemable, and will be disposed of as such. I am not planning on forcing concessions, or peacefully engaging, I am intending to discredit and destroy the Aui'Vitakar fully and completely – and escape intact."

"That is not going to make the people support you," Nartha shook his head. "Ineffective as the Aui'Vitakar are, they are not evil. They do not all deserve to die."

"We've had this discussion," Miridian said neutrally. "We're not going to have it again. In addition, there is also some interesting news to consider."

"What news?"

"There is an Ethereal here," Miridian said. "An…odd one. No one has seen him before, and he's been here for several months. On his own, working with a few select Vitakara. There's a Sectoid Vanguard around him constantly."

Nartha and Shun exchanged a look. "I've not heard of one like that," Shun said.

"Neither has anyone else," Miridian agreed. "We do have a name, though – Mortis'Ligna."

"Related to Sana'Ligna?" One of the Nulorian asked.

"Unknown, but it seems possible," Miridian acknowledged. "Supposedly, he's doing research here. For what, I was unable to determine. If XCOM has information on him, then we could use that."

"I can ask," Shun nodded slowly. "Though if you're asking what I think you are…"

"Yes," Miridian's eyes glowed malevolently. "We are going to kill Mortis'Ligna."

---

Turkey

7/15/2017 – 4:54 P.M.

The intensity of this battle at the beginning was almost equivalent to the final hours of the Night Stand, and in some instances, even more intense this time because ADVENT was on the offensive. Soldiers and Officers shouted orders and callouts as the Collective forces rapidly moved into position and the desert sands had become home to streaks of orange and green, intermixed with tank rounds.

Artillery shells blasted from the towed and stationary launchers ADVENT had brought with them, and fighters and bombers had roared overhead, even as the Collective had scrambled their own fighters. The airstrikes and bombing runs were unfortunately not effective, as the Meat Puppets seemed to be taking a largely defensive role, manifesting shields and telekinesis to block or redirect missiles fired their way.

At least they were occupied.

Angela saw the front lines of Sectoid drones collapse, and the corpses had immediately been put to use. It had taken her a while to figure out what the Collective was doing, and when she realized it, she was both surprised and sickeningly impressed. The corpses of the Mutons and Sectoids were being piled on top of each other to create makeshift barricades.

They were quite literally sending swathes of their soldiers to intentionally die. The unknown elite Mutons were then sealing the walls of corpses together with a substance that looked suspiciously like that grenade that she'd heard XCOM used. Might be the same thing, considering everything was derived from alien tech.

These black-armored Mutons…they were much, much smarter than any other alien she'd fought before. She was unable to really break into their minds, although it was difficult to do much more than probing, as the weight of the Hive Commander's assault was unrelenting. She was on her own in this.

She gritted her teeth, and ADVENT pressed on.

ADVENT was advancing at a snail's pace, between the mixture of Order of Terra frontline and tank protection, it was extremely slow going. The rocketeers had tried launching chemicals towards the Hiveship, but the majority of those were stopped by Vanguards or Meat Puppets.

Engineers were rushing forward, digging secondary trenches and establishing fallback points in the event of a retreat, and hanging close to repair any damage done to the tanks. As if on cue, one took a direct hit from a Collective rocket and exploded, killing everyone inside and most nearby, close enough that she could feel the rush of heat from the blast.

"Glen! Get over here!" Joel ordered. "Oscar! Young! Plug the front line!"

"Yes sir!" Both soldiers shouted as several other squads rushed to fill the gap now exposed from the destruction of the tank. The sand was strewn with molten metal, small burning shrapnel, and blood they trudged through.

"PDS field activated," Cecilia stated, firing her own weapon. The streams of plasma fire from indecipherable sources was like an ocean of never-ending waves. A PRIEST marched forward, and a purple barrier manifested, giving the soldiers cover to move forward. The Engineers established some temporary barricades, which would hold until Order of Terra Squires could arrive.

Joel kept barking orders, and Angela helped Glen move some of the alive, but mutilated survivors away. Red trails were left in the shifting sands as Glen quickly administered battlefield aid, and Angela mercifully knocked the barely-conscious screaming soldiers out. Burns, missing limbs, the explosion was bad.

"Thanks," Glen said curtly, patting her shoulder.

"Think most of them can be saved?" She asked, briefly stiffening to reinforce her mental barriers.

"The ones we pulled out, yes," Glen looked up to see a helicopter overhead. "Airlifting them out will save them, I've bought a few hours. There's going to be a lot more of this."

And there was.

ADVENT and XCOM psions were up on the front lines now to break the defensive. Angela had never seen mass-psionic warfare like this before, though this had been covered extensively in training – at least in concept.

In practice…it put to shame most movies she'd seen. Were it not a life-or-death situation, she would have been in awe.

ADVENT Dynamos manifested maelstroms of energy against the front lines. Streams of energy emitted from their arms and hands, powerful enough to tear through the defending Elites and forcing the Meat Puppets and Vanguards to protect themselves. Offensive Telepaths coordinated with a mass-telepathic attack to paralyze.

Combined psionic arms.

And it looked like it just might be enough to break through.

When the mists and storms vanished, there were many dead aliens. Not enough though, not nearly enough. The barriers protecting the important soldiers fell, and the battle resumed in earnest. Aegis was unable to be the deciding factor, the directed telepathic attack combined with focus from the Second Guardian was consuming his attention.

Though he was certainly holding his own.

Both Ethereals seemed ready to fight each other, though they could not simply charge into the fray. But ADVENT was getting closer, even as aliens were still coming out of the Hiveship. More soldiers fell. A sniper shot took out one of the Squires, forcing a replacement. More tanks and vehicles were neutralized, repaired, or replaced.

Mentally she felt the minds around her go silent, or flared up with alarm, pain, and other sharp emotions. She steeled their resolve, suppressed their fear, and calmed their minds, all while protecting from the oppressive telepathic blanket imposed by the Hive Commander, hunkered safely within the crashed ship.

One of the airstrikes got through and took out a Muton corpse barricade, creating an opportunity which ADVENT used to push forward in the brief lull. Angela's armor was no longer undamaged at this point, bearing chipped damage from plasma bolts that had hit in several places, and it was smeared with sand and fluids.

Two battles in these conditions had instilled in her a strong dislike of sand.

Yet they pressed forward.

Joel kept yelling his orders, redirecting fire towards perceived chinks in the Collective defense. But the calls were coming closer. She'd almost had a heart attack when a sniper bolt had barely missed his head. Oscar and Young had both taken direct hits to their armor. Glen was surprisingly fine, though you couldn't tell from how bloody his armor was.

Cecilia was also similarly holding the line, though was back and replacing her battery. The fire was intense, and the line had temporarily stopped while the rest of the front line caught up. They were the closest of any ADVENT force to the Collective line, to where she could see pretty clearly the mounds of bodies the Mutons were firing over.

Engineers were erecting more barricades, tanks fired shells which took out small groups of Elites, and armored cars rolled up, with more squads of ADVENT soldiers pouring out the back. Reinforcements were more difficult here; the sand and poor terrain slowed everything down. Still, it was relief for all of them as they augmented the lines.

Then it happened. One shot; perhaps deliberate, perhaps random. A single green bolt of plasma, which seemed brighter to her eyes, or maybe it was setting desert sun. A bolt which slammed directly into Oscar's head.

One shot.

His mind ceased to exist.

He'd never felt a thing, at most he'd seen a bright flash.

His body fell backwards onto the sand, a sizzling hole where his head was, as the plasma after-effects ate away and cauterized the flesh. Angela didn't hear Young's scream. She didn't hear much of anything in that moment. Just a brief paralysis at what she'd beheld. How it had happened in nothing but a moment.

Punctuating that, the soldier closest to him also took a shot to the head and fell down, also dead.

That jolted her back to reality, and the sounds of life and battle which had faded to the background in the brief second Oscar had been killed. Glen rushed towards him, and Young was kneeling beside him, screaming at Glen to do something. Angela saw that couldn't happen. Bradley had been wounded, there was a chance for him.

Oscar was dead. He couldn't come back from that.

Joel ran over, and almost tore Young from the body, screaming at her to get back into the line; how soldiers were still fighting. The forceful order seemed to jolt Young back to her duty, and Angela helped; she suppressed the grief and pain. She would feel all of that again later, but if she wasn't focused…then Angela would lose two friends today.

She looked at Oscar's body. Gritted her teeth.

Not one more.

The Hiveship loomed, and she knew that was going to be a promise easier said than kept.

---

London Garrison, England – United Kingdom

6/17/2017 – 9:11 A.M.

The cup of tea felt warm in his hands. A good temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. "I didn't know you made tea," he said to Nobuatsu.

"First time in a while," the squad medic said, taking a seat. "Hopefully I didn't mess it up too much. The London Garrison is stocked. We didn't have this in Busan and Vietnam, otherwise I would have done it earlier."

Duri took a sip. He couldn't immediately place the taste, probably a herb of some kind. "It's good."

"Yes, it is," Beatriz also said. "Thanks."

"I would say we should get to why you wanted this talk," Cara said, tea ignored as she focused on Duri. "It has to do with the debrief, I'm guessing?"

"It does."

"About what happened?"

"Or what didn't happen."

"Mmm," Aleksandra swirled the tea in her cup. "You are unique. Resisted the monster."

Duri's lips pursed, as the memories of it came back. "Barely. If it had lasted a few minutes longer…"

"Still more than any of us did," Beatriz visibly shivered. "What that was…god. Psionics."

"I don't think any of us want to go there right now," Cara grunted. "I'd rather not talk about that."

"The point is, yes, it had to do with that," Duri said, taking another sip of his tea. "Did any of you hear about the Phobos Project before?"

"Mentioned once, not much else," Beatriz said.

"Same," Miguel said. "I know someone who knew another guy who'd gone into it. He didn't say what it was, though."

"From what I've gathered, it's a special unit of individuals who are…capable of resisting telepathy," Duri recalled the conversation. "Non-psions. Apparently there are certain techniques that can be used to affect it, and mitigate certain telepathic attacks."

They all took a moment to digest that. Beatriz propped her chin on her wrist. "And this can't be shared with everyone, otherwise I guess that ADVENT would have mandated that."

"No. There seem to be factors."

"Like."

"Strong emotions. Trauma." He shrugged, not feeling the need to elaborate more. They could all draw the lines with just that information. He offered a faint smile. "You need to be suitably unstable."

No need for elaboration on that, though none of them attempted the same vague humor. "So what does this mean?" Cara said, pushing forward. "You're not going to be our officer for a while?"

"The Phobos recruiter seemed to imply I would leave for a short time, though she didn't say the exact length," he said. "She didn't say where, or if you could also be relocated. I suppose she would give me those details, but she said to talk it over."

"You're not sure you want to do this?" Nobuatsu asked.

"No," he vaguely indicated the barracks. "There's a war going on. It doesn't feel right to leave for an experimental program, especially given what we've faced recently."

Beatriz seemed to be watching him closely. "Are you sure you don't want to do it?" She asked. "Or that you don't want to leave us for a short time?"

"Both, I suppose," he said. "I am willing to do anything to stand against monsters like Senorium. I want to do that. But I also have a responsibility here-"

"Spare me the bleeding heart," Cara snorted. "In my view, anything that can screw up that monster is worth taking. I'd feel better if we have someone who can handle that instead of all of us being screwed. We've been fighting since the beginning, and we've almost been together this whole time. ADVENT's probably not going to deploy us specifically anytime soon, so we're going to be doing nothing for a while. Duri, whatever you do, don't feel guilty of all things, especially since you're probably the reason we're all alive right now."

"Besides," Beatriz said. "I think this is something you need to do."

He didn't think she was wrong about that.

"Nothing more I can add," Nobuatsu said. "I agree with that. Besides, if ADVENT is directly approaching you, it's probably important."

He waited a few seconds, mulling it over, even though the path seemed clear now. "Then that is what I'll do. I'll pass along the details once I inform Jordan. In the meantime, congratulations on your promotion, Cara."

"Honored, sir," Cara lifted her mug. "I'll do my best."

"I know you will," he said. "All of you. And thank you."

"Probably us who should say that," Beatriz said, exchanging a look with Cara. "This is what? The third time you've saved me?"

Duri chuckled. "Something like that."

"A vacation you deserve then," she returned the smile.

"I somehow doubt this is going to be a vacation," he said, recalling the purpose of the program. "Though perhaps it will be a good change of pace."

And if it worked, he would never have to fear the ghosts of the past, and those who would exploit it.

---

Hiveship Exterior - Turkey

7/15/2017 – 10:10 P.M.

As the sun fell, the battle similarly toned down – or at least that was how Angela perceived it. ADVENT continued to advance, but it was clear they were going to dig in for the night. As much as Angela knew that they needed to breach the interior, the front line needed respite of some kind.

And she could only keep them going for so long.

"Launch the canisters!" Came the order.

From behind the front line the ADVENT Rocketeers fired in unison, and the discharge of air or roar of a launch sped towards the Collective lines, containing chemicals of some kind. Angela didn't know exactly what agents they were using, but it must have been poison of some kind.

White clouds puffed up, mixed with fireballs and other thinner gases. "Seems to be mostly White Phosphorus," Glen said, wiping his gloves with a bloodied rag. "Makes the most sense. Corrosive."

"What would have been the alternative?" Angela asked, tearing off her helmet and accepting a bottle of water which she gulped down.

The pursed lips she could imagine under Glen's face. "Nerve gas probably. If we weren't trying to take the Hiveship, ClF3."

Even as she was partially focused on suppressing the psionic pressure, that caught her ear. "Isn't nerve gas illegal?"

"And White Phosphorus isn't?" He asked.

"Was it? I don't know," she shrugged. "Didn't realize ADVENT was employing chemical weapons."

"Far as I know, it's a more recent decision," Glen said, also pulling off his helmet, and also taking a bottle of water. "Guess ADVENT figured it should be used. Can't say they're wrong."

The clank and hiss of armor caught her ear, and she turned to see rows of Purifiers marching towards the front line. "Excuse us, Ma'am," one of them said in the synthesized voice typical of the ADVENT helmets. Angela and Glen stepped aside obediently as the Purifiers reached the front line, which was a mix of tanks, makeshift barriers, and corpse barricades.

Young, Cecilia and Joel were near one of the barricades, continuing to exchange fire with the nearby Collective line. As they'd pressed forward, it had become more apparent that the Collective line was growing more disorganized. Angela couldn't tell whether it was a coordinated retreat, or if ADVENT was taking out that many of them.

Or maybe Aegis was simply drawing their attention.

Angela crawled up on the back of one of the tanks, and she looked in the distance and saw the psionic battle play out in the distance. The Second Guardian had properly engaged Aegis, along with a lot of the Meat Puppets. Aegis was supported by XCOM psions, Templars, and several of their massive MECs – two of which were carrying melee weapons, and another was…well, massive.

The Goliath, it was called. A literal walking tank.

She sometimes forgot that XCOM was just as, if not more advanced than they were. She wondered what they really possessed. Regardless, the mini-battle was taking place. Aegis alternated between dueling the Second Guardian and protecting against the Meat Puppets. It was a continual battle of give and take, with neither side giving up much ground.

All of XCOM was probably modified to go on for days without rest, and the Collective was probably the same way. Neither was willing to take irretrievable risks, not yet. It was reaching the first night, and both sides were evenly matched. She was glad they were there though, because ADVENT had the edge in a pure battle against the Collective.

She took a breath, closed her eyes, and allowed a brief moment of reflection. Oscar dead. Young was fine for now. She wouldn't be forever. Hopefully she could hold it in until the battle was over. Tomorrow ADVENT was definitely going to push forward – assuming they weren't going to do that tonight in some capacity.

She hopped down from the tank, brushing several loose strands of hair out of her face. The Purifiers lifted their weapons near the front line, and massive gouts of flame shot towards the enemy lines. Angela ignored the spectacle as Joel marched up. His arm was bandaged from taking a direct plasma hit, and his armor was caked with blood and sand.

"What's the plan for tonight, sir?" She asked.

"Helmet on, Blackburn," he ordered, shooting a glance to the front line. "This is not a place to let your guard down."

"Yes sir," she immediately complied.

"Front line is going to hold here," he said, briefly checking his rifle. "ADVENT doesn't want to overextend. Second wave will be moving in six hours. We're part of that thanks to psionic support."

Angela wasn't surprised, though she looked around. "Reinforcements, sir?"

"En-route," he said. "ADVENT has Hussars arriving to support priority target removal. Lancers will be supporting the breach of the Hiveship. SHIVs, Purifiers, and Order of Terra will be supporting in larger numbers as well."

"Right," a sharp nod. "Do we have objectives upon breaching?"

"Gateway shutdown," he said. "We're assigned to the Lancer commander, who knows the route," he pointed in the distance. "Do you see that opening?"

"Yes, sir,"

"That's our breach point," he said. "A warning – it's probably going to get worse."

She swallowed. "In what way?"

Even with his faceless helmet, his tone left little ambiguity. "In every way."

For a few seconds, the only sounds were the regular pounding of artillery, gauss fire, and the punctuated sounds of pain. "I've been on ops like this before," Joel finally continued. "Read about more. This is the kind of thing we sign up for. This is our Normandy, and it was the front lines which gave the Allies victory in the Second World War. Some things don't change."

Angela shook her head. "Oscar will be the only one, sir."

A short nod. "And that is our hope. But our mission comes first. Understood?"

"Sir, are you asking me something?"

"Keep Young together," Joel said. "I can push her for a while, but her judgement is compromised."

"I'll do what I can, sir."

"That's all I need," a sigh emerged, or perhaps it was just an exhale. "Get some rest while you can. It may be the last for a while."

"Will do, sir," Angela nodded once, with a quick salute. With a brief telepathic message, she let one of the nearby telepaths know she was going to rest shortly. Once receiving an affirmative, she released her mental defenses for the first time, feeling the pressure abate. She was somewhat paranoid that there would be an attack, but there wasn't a way she could protect herself when sleeping.

She hoped that Joel was also going to get some rest. He was over by the rest of the squad now, and probably telling them the same thing. At his insistence, they walked away from the front line, and another squad took their place. Thinking on her feet, she quickly approached the slower-walking Young. "Hey, come over here, we've got to get some rest."

The mute woman didn't respond, but followed her without question. There weren't a lot of good places to rest, but Angela found a place behind some crates that had been brought in. None of them were going to be lying on sheets, and the heat would have dissuaded her from blankets even if they'd had them.

The sand that would have normally irritated her was barely noticeable as she plopped down with an exhale, taking off her helmet. Young almost collapsed to the ground, or maybe it was just the illusion of her releasing the tension she'd carried with her for hours now. The suppressed grief and pain was returning in full force.

"Hey," Angela said, reaching over and gripping Young's hand, turning to her, looking into Young's helmet that she hadn't removed yet. "It's ok. It's not your fault." Young didn't say anything, but that had been the thing that pushed her over the edge. Even through the noise, she could hear the faint sound of sobs and her shoulders shook.

"Shh, come here," she felt almost parental pulling Young into a hug, and taking off her helmet as she rested it on Angela's dirty chestpiece. She said soothing, comforting words for the young soldier, stumbling her way through it. She seemed to need to get it out, and that was what was probably best.

Angela didn't know how much time passed, but the emotional expulsion, with a few psionic nudges to help soothe her, and she soon fell into an exhausted sleep. It definitely wasn't the most comfortable place to be in, but hopefully Young would be a bit better when she woke up. Less overcome by grief.

At least until the end of the battle.

"We're going to get through this," she told the sleeping woman, the tear streaks clear on her dusted face. "I promise you."

With that, Angela leaned her head back and closed her eyes, and despite the thundering sounds of battle, she was able to fall into a fitful sleep herself. A sleep she needed to treasure, lest it be the last one she experienced for a while.

---

Malabo Government Building, Bioko Island, Malabo

7/10/2017 - 7:00 PM

Grady took one last moment to look himself over in the reflection of a nearby window, straightening out his dress uniform and checking to see that everything was meticulously kept in order. Though he was not a vain man, this was about discipline. It was also more important than usual, as this time he would not be setting an example for those under his command, but representing them and the ADVENT Navy at large to some extent at a social event. Seeing everything was in order, he stepped back and looked over the rest of his delegation.

With him were his executive officer; Francetti, the commander of the ADVENT Amphibious Division (apparently they were not to be called marines anymore, though he had no idea why, as most of them had previously been marines prior to the war) and finally the more unusual of the group, the former Division Marshal of the Malabo Garrison, Anye Mukala, the latter of whom was dressed in a suit which had been provided for him by ADVENT, as appearing in his old SAS uniform seemed unwise.

He was distinctly uncomfortable, but Grady had invited him to the event, and truth be told, he had been an important part of making his last engagement as clean and (relatively) bloodless as it had been. He held no particular malice for the man, and just viewed him as someone who had found themselves on the wrong side of a war through circumstances beyond his control, just like so many others throughout history.

Many in ADVENT considered the SAS to be even lower than the Collective, not just seeing them as collaborators but as traitors to the species as a whole, but Grady didn't see things quite so simply. Ultimately, men like Anye were not the ones that made the big decisions, and had no say in what direction their country went. He was just a soldier fighting for his home; the blame ultimately lay with the upper leadership, and it was they that Grady held in contempt for bringing such devastation upon their own people and working with the enemy.

"Why am I here, Admiral?" Anye asked with some irritation. "They know who I am, I led the occupying force sent here to oversee their integration."

"You are here because you were integral to the Battle for Malabo, and I want to make sure they know it." Grady said pointedly. "They still see you as the enemy; as an occupier. This is something I will not abide. I meant what I said about looking after you and your men, and that extends to ensuring they are not falsely vilified by ADVENT and its allies. Not if I have a say in the matter," Grady finished as he led the delegation up the steps to the Government Building, though it was more of a palace in reality.

The structure was unconventional, and clearly some sort of modern design with great curved semicircles of glass windows facing away from each other and connected at the middle, with one of the semicircles being notably lower than the other. Glass domes stretched over the entryways between the tips of the semicircles, though again there was an element of asymmetry in the design so that each side was different. It was not as gaudy or pretentious as the palaces of other dictators, but it was nonetheless the home of one.

Awli Musoka had been, and ostensibly still was, the president of Equatorial Guinea before the occupation by the SAS. A position he had held for decades thanks to repeated landslide "victories" in elections. Elections where there was rarely an opponent, and foreign observers were not allowed to investigate. He was, in truth, a dictator in all but name, and had ruled as one since not long after attaining power.

The Chambers of Congress and the courts had been controlled by him and his party since the 90's, and he had managed to block any and all opposition from gaining more than a token presence in any branch of government. His power had been secure, or so it seemed. As it turned out, not all had been happy with this arrangement, and in secret an alliance of what little opposition existed and some disgruntled elements from his own party had conspired with the SAS and Collective to topple him.

This had ultimately culminated in the occupation of Equatorial Guinea and the president effectively being put under house arrest within his own palace until the next election, where he would be voted out in a closely monitored election overseen by the SAS and likely the Collective. He had technically remained president - but only as a symbolic place holder to give the appearance of a peaceful transition of power. Only things had not quite gone as intended.

Despite previously being seen in mildly negative to neutral light by most of the public, this had changed with the arrival of foreign military forces, it was even further inflamed by the presence of the aliens themselves. Xenophobia and prejudice had existed in Africa for decades, if not longer, and had been exacerbated by the aftereffects of colonialism. Ethnic and religious divides had long been used by rulers in Africa and elsewhere to hold onto power, and this nation was no different. The fact there were literal aliens among the occupying forces made the public especially suspicious and wary. Stories and rumors had spread widely, and while the people appeared calm on the surface, resentment and suspicion had been bubbling just beneath.

He didn't know if this had been planned from the start by ADVENT or XCOM, or if they had simply taken advantage of something that was already simmering, but it had resulted in the people welcoming ADVENT forces (albeit with some trepidation). When the Collective forces had been subdued and the SAS contingent given their formal surrender, the people had cheered and the not-quite-deposed president had taken full advantage of this to shore up his position. Support for the president was at an all time high, and for the first time in over a decade it wasn't just government propaganda.

Now Awli and those elements of government on the island that had remained loyal to him (or at least pretended to) were hosting a formal event to welcome ADVENT to their country. This would be followed by talks and negotiations between the President and ADVENT officials regarding integration into ADVENT. Talks that certainly promised to be interesting, and that he would thankfully not need to be present for. He did not envy the ADVENT emissaries who would have to explain to the good president that he would need to institute some reforms.

Still, these events were important, and he had even let a number of his officers attend, not just those that arrived with him. It would not hurt to establish good relations with the country's leadership, as he would be using the island as a base for the foreseeable future.

"While I appreciate the gesture, I think they would prefer to not be reminded of my time here as Marshal, and I to not be reminded of my role in the battle." Anye sighed, apparently resigned to his fate.

"Do you regret your decision?" Grady asked as they walked up to the entrance.

"It is too late for regrets, those men were my responsibility and I did not wish to see them die needlessly," he answered flatly. "Do not mistake my surrender for a defection. I do not approve of ADVENT, and I doubt that I will change my mind. I did what was best for my men, that is all. So long as they are safe and not treated like your criminals are that is good enough."

"Ah, you've heard of our prisons? It's been somewhat exaggerated, though admittedly not by much," Grady said. "In any case, it's still early, perhaps ADVENT will continue to tweak the process moving forward."

Anye was clearly unconvinced. "I highly doubt it will be changed for the better."

Not entirely inaccurate. "You're probably right."

"Welcome, may I have your names please?" The attendant at the door requested as they walked up. A local man in a valet's uniform while ADVENT soldiers guarded the entrance and casually scanned the crowd through their peculiar helmets.

"Vice Admiral James Grady," he said to the attendant. "These three here are my Executive Officer Francetti, the Commander of my landing forces Grant Thompson, and Anye Mukala, who is accompanying us at my request."

The attendant briefly pursed his lips, apparently recognizing the name, but opted to say nothing and just have them sign themselves in.

They continued inside where they were greeted by the sight of well dressed political and military officials as far as the eye could see, waited on by uniformed staff members carrying trays of drinks or manning tables covered with food. Grady wasn't entirely sure where to go first, but was spared the hassle upon hearing someone shouting to him.

"Ah, if it isn't the man of the hour! Welcome, Admiral Grady!" An accented voice boomed, walking up to him with a champagne glass in hand, was President Awli Musoka. With a grin on his face, he extended an arm towards Grady, which he reflexively took, giving it a firm shake.

"Thank you for the invitation, President Musoka, it's a pleasure to be here," he replied in the same practiced tone he always used at such occasions. Being in the higher ranks meant having to attend these events from time to time, and he had grown accustomed to them, though he would much prefer to either be back on board his ship or relaxing at home.

"No, no, please, the pleasure is ours, Admiral. Is that not right, my friends?" Awli rhetorically asked those walking behind him, presumably various government officials who had managed to ingratiate themselves with him following Grady's victory. All of whom either clapped or offered the usual flattery.

"Ah, and I see you brought guests, would you do me the honor of introducing me-" he continued before briefly pausing upon seeing Anye, and to his credit, said nothing and simply continued after a moment or so. "-to your friends…"

"Of course, this is my Executive Officer and second-in-command Francetti, this is the commander of my landing forces Grant Thompson, and this is-"

"I know who he is, Admiral," Awli dismissed. "But come! Let us talk and enjoy the night. After all, we are celebrating your victory, and the beginning of a bright and prosperous partnership with ADVENT."

Well. He'd mostly said nothing.

Grady knew better than to make a scene, and let them move on. Anye didn't look especially happy to be there, but he was at least availing himself of the food and drinks and Grady did his best to keep an eye on him and make sure he wasn't harassed by anyone.

It was almost an hour before Grady could pry himself away from the President and his staff so he could seek Anye out. He found him by himself at the hor d'oeuvres table, helping himself to some peppered shrimp.

"That's finally over with," he said, grabbing a plate and joining Anye. "I've always had a thing for these. Most of the time you just get cold shrimp with cocktail sauce, but ever since I took a trip to the Caribbean and tried these, I just couldn't go back. Surprised to see them here; guess the president has good taste, at least."

"You mean the dictator?" Anye curtly replied, taking a sip from his glass.

"Yeah, him." Grady said before biting into a shrimp.

"I don't need your pity, Admiral."

"Good, because you're not getting it." That was mostly true.

"Then why all this? I told you, I'm not defecting," Anye repeated dryly. "A few shrimp are not enough to change my mind."

"Ah, but you see, these aren't just shrimp, they're peppered shrimp."

"Well, I stand corrected," Anye snorted sarcastically. "Nevertheless, my mind is set."

"Yeah, I know, and I get it." Grady turned more serious. "Even if it was the right choice, no proper soldier wouldn't feel something at having to surrender. To actually switch sides would take even more. But you acquitted yourself well in that battle, and you have a chance to do some good."

Anye eyed him warily. "Get to the point, Admiral. What are you suggesting?"

Grady took another bite of the peppered shrimp. "I would like to offer you an informal position onboard the Joseph Ray Shannon, you'd have no official rank and no authority."

"You might want to work on your pitch." Anye said dryly.

"Let me finish. You'd have no official rank or authority, but I would consult with you on matters related to the SAS and local populations," he explained. "You'd essentially be a close advisor to myself and the rest of the upper command."

"You want me to help you kill my people?"

"No, I want you to help me save them. These people didn't choose to be puppets for the Collective, Betos chose for them. They are all paying the price for the actions of one cowardly bitch and the rest of her deserter friends. They didn't come here to help you, they came here to save their skins. They abandoned their posts and betrayed their fellow soldiers and their own countrymen."

"And I haven't?"

"She isn't one of you," Grady repeated. "She has no allegiance to this land or to anyone but herself. She left knowing full well what we were fighting against, and she joined the Collective knowing exactly what they were capable of and had done. She took advantage of your hospitality. She is now your self appointed leader. If Awli is a dictator, what is she?"

"What do you expect me to do?" Anye demanded. "Help you crush my own people?"

"No, I want you to help me minimize unnecessary losses. I have orders to raze every major coastal settlement, but I decide how to do it. If I can get others to peacefully surrender, or even just to cooperate after they've been captured, I can prevent unnecessary bloodshed."

"And make your own task much easier."

"That too. This is not an invasion, this is a punitive campaign. Once we've done enough damage, we'll leave and the SAS will be incapable of mounting any kind of resistance for the foreseeable future. They'll be nothing more than a burden to the Collective and become irrelevant to the larger war. They are suffering now, but once this is over it is unlikely we will need to mount similar campaigns here in the future until after we drive out the Collective."

Anye waited a moment. "You really think you can do it, don't you? You actually believe you can defeat the Collective?"

"No, I know we can beat them."

"Based on what?" Anye's tone signaled he was unconvinced.

"Call it a hunch." Grady admitted. "It may seem ridiculous, but my gut tells me something more is going on in this war than the likes of you and me know. Things that don't add up. Things are in play here that we are not privy to. Maybe it's just delusional on my part, but ADVENT isn't stupid. In the brief time they've existed, we've been able to rapidly close the technological gap with the Collective and establish not just an effective defense, but even launch successful offensives."

"So I've noticed."

"We've taken out or turned multiple Ethereals over the course of this war. The Collective may not give a damn how many Mutons or Humans die for them, but Ethereals are the leadership, and as far as we're aware, irreplaceable. Each one we kill is something they can never recover from, and further reduces their hold over the Collective. That's how we'll win this, I think. By knocking off the ones in charge, one by one if necessary, until they're either all dead or they get tired of dying."

"What do you mean?" Anye asked, his curiosity apparently piquing.

"The Imperator is the ruler of the Collective, and supposedly the most powerful Ethereal alive," Grady explained. "We may not be able to kill him now - but you know who could? The rest of the Ethereals."

Anye was back to being dubious. "You think they will overthrow him?"

"I think that, once things reach a certain point, they'd be crazy not to. How many more of them have to die you think before the ones that are left start asking themselves if they're next?" Grady shrugged. "There are billions of us, and only a handful or so of them at most. And that number is only going to get lower. At some point they won't be as eager to join in the fighting personally, we're already seeing it with the Avatars. That's their way of trying to get off the battlefield, I think. They're using us as goddamn surrogates so they don't have to risk their own skins. But it won't be enough. Their army can barely fight without the big guys babysitting them. And that's another point; how long do you think the Collective races will be willing to fight and die in a war that's got nothing to do with them?"

Grady decided to drive the point home. "We've interrogated prisoners, you know, asked them if they know why they are here. They don't. Even the higher ranking ones are clueless. It's pretty pathetic, actually. Even in our most pointless wars, we generally came up with some kind of excuse, even if it was just a lie. My country knows better than anyone. The Collective doesn't even give them that, though. That isn't going to fly forever. Eventually something's gotta give, and it isn't gonna be us. Without the Ethereals to hold it together, the Collective will come apart at the seams. That's how we'll win, we just need to loosen the threads a bit." Grady finished.

"You've clearly thought this through…" Anye trailed off.

"I'm not the only one. ADVENT keeps their cards close to their chest, we know why we're fighting and what our part in the war is, but the endgame? That's unknown to anyone save maybe the Chancellor, the top brass and the Congress of Nations. XCOM as well, of course." A brief pause for another shrimp. "Without much to go on, the troops will talk. I've heard all kinds of theories, some folks think we're training up an army of super psions to dogpile the Imperator, others think we're figuring out teleportation psionics so we can start invading the Collective directly. A few are saying we're gonna build our own fleet of warships and take the fight to space, but that's a long way off. I'm not sure we could do that without securing the solar system first. We haven't even fully figured out how to produce alien alloys ourselves, and substitutes are still in testing to my knowledge. Whatever the case is, I know without a doubt that we are gonna win this."

Anye sighed, putting down his drink and turning to face Grady. "Listen, I-"

Suddenly, they became aware of the crowd having gone silent, save for a low murmuring. The music stopped, and every eye was looking either outside or at one of the many television screens that filled the chamber. Grady himself took a look and nearly dropped his drink.

It was footage of the harbor where his fleet was moored. The repairs had progressed remarkably well, and he'd even picked up a few ships from what little Equatorial Guinea had in the way of a navy - a gift from the president, he'd been told. They, of course, required some refitting before he would send them out, but they weren't entirely useless and it made for a gesture. That wasn't what drew his attention, though.

Large green explosions could be seen on screen, detonating near the fleet. He saw them come in as green streaks through the night sky, his own ships blazing away with their countermeasures, as well as those that had been positioned at the harbor by ADVENT or repurposed from the emplacements left behind by the SAS and the Collective. The volume of fire was incredible with tracers, lasers, and even some plasma beams and bolts lighting up the sky.

Counter Missile batteries were operating at full capacity and doing their best to intercept the enemy missiles before they entered range of the rest of the defenses, and while most of the enemy munitions were thankfully intercepted, a few managed to sneak through. He could already see the burning wrecks of three ships, their crews scrambling to escape the inferno and get clear of the wreckage before the munitions cooked off.

"-Sir, sir! We're under attack!" He finally became aware of the voice in his ear, as he and the other officers were all wearing earpieces to keep in contact with the fleet in case of an emergency - such as this one.

Grady clicked the receiver immediately. "Acknowledged, status report?"

"We are being engaged by long range enemy plasma missiles, we lost a few ships in the initial wave but thus far most are still afloat and fairly intact. The defense grid is just about able to keep pace for now, but we're gonna need more to prevent additional damage."

"Are the psions assisting?"

"As best they can, sir, they weren't all outside when the attack started, and they're all still getting into position. They should all be active in a few minutes...the ones still alive, at least."

"Understood, tell the fleet I'm on my way." He ordered, before turning to Anye "We'll finish this conversation later, think about what I said."

He started rounding up all of his personnel even as Awli was storming towards him, concern as well as anger evident in his face. "Admiral, what is going on? You told me they would not attack us!"

"I said they would be foolish to attack," Grady hurriedly corrected. "Evidently. they haven't learned their lesson, but I assure you, I intend to make sure they don't forget who is in control here. They will pay for attacking us, and you. You have my word. Now if you will excuse me, I need to get back to my fleet. Don't worry, Betos won't hit civilian targets, and there's contingencies in place to ensure the safety of you and your people."

Whatever Awli said next, Grady did not hear as he was already making for the exit.

This would be a long night…

---

Kano – Nigeria

7/10/2017 – 2:11 P.M.

They had been bound to run into a wall at some point, and for the first time Kaya had experienced, ADVENT was running into a wall during Operation Scipio. Unlike many of the smaller towns and cities that had been encountered before, Kano was one which had been heavily augmented.

Executors were embedded deep within the city, launching missiles and bombs towards ADVENT advances. Heralds and Sectopods also augmented the defenses, as an established physical perimeter was consistently stocked with Mutons and their SAS commanders. ADVENT had employed the standard tactics, though they seemed to be having less of an effect here.

Poisoning the water sources, torching the nearby farms and resources had been performed, and in the background, fires were still burning themselves out. However, it was almost certain that this city had Gateways, and would be able to supply their soldiers with food, water, and resources easily.

Two front lines had been formed in the interim, one by ADVENT, the other by the SAS. They couldn't perform a sustained advance, thanks to how entrenched the SAS was (Ironically, they'd taken cues from ADVENT and designed trenches to defend their perimeters – thankfully no Flak Towers were created yet).

Though there were still distinct differences between the ADVENT trenches and SAS trenches. The SAS had prioritized rapid construction and maximum firepower, which meant their trenches lacked overhead covering, and were largely designed for Mutons to easily stand within and fire from. It increased the volume of fire, at the expense of protection.

The ADVENT line was not especially impressive either. Kaya's arms were tired from hours of helping dig the trenches themselves. They were a far cry from some of the bases she'd walked, and she imagined this was the true World War I experience, especially with the rain the past few days. They were muddy, smelled terrible, and the experience was nothing but misery.

The tanks and artillery were spread out along the line, firing intermittently as the Engineers were focused on installing the proper barricades. The SAS had snipers who were not shy about taking their shots. ADVENT had their own, obviously, but it was far more difficult to pinpoint them from the more exposed trenches.

It was a good time to hone her sniping skills though.

She fired a shot. A Muton went down.

Fish in a barrel. It felt like cheating to pinpoint the Mutons from here, but that was always a guaranteed kill, as opposed to…well, anything else. The hulking creature fell back, and the body was dragged away, and another Muton took its place, and the streams of green plasma fire began firing in her direction. She pulled back her muddied weapon, and waited for it to pass.

"Good shot," Freya said, walking up. Like the rest of them, Freya's armor was caked in mud and sand, which had thankfully become less common as they'd pushed deeper into Africa.

Kaya nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"What's ADVENT's plan here?" Genevieve asked, hopping down from her firing position, taking the opportunity to check her clip. "We're Knights and Squires here. Outside of Kaya, we're all pretty useless unless ADVENT just wants us to shoot lead downwind, and that's basically doing nothing."

"ADVENT's bringing in additional artillery," Freya said as several tanks fired in unison. "Kano had stronger defenses than they were expecting. Point-defense systems for shooting down canisters and rockets. We push too much forward, and we get taken out by an Executor. This is the minimum safe distance."

Kaya remembered very well when they'd pushed forward, and a massive section of the advance had suddenly been annihilated in a bright green blast. The Priests hadn't been able to react fast enough, and the designated line was the best place that gave them enough warning and time to react.

Of course, they could be completely aware as they marched forward, but the advance was far too slow and dangerous. The sheer volume of fire was far worse than previous operations, and they didn't have enough Priests to protect from the front and air.

"With that said," Freya continued. "I've heard that ADVENT is going to be sending us some help. They didn't say what, but that it was unlikely the Collective could stop it."

Kaya's brow furrowed. Genevieve's voice also sounded puzzled. "What? A missile?"

Freya gave a helpless shrug. "I don't know. They didn't say. ADVENT's being stressed on multiple fronts here. Worst case, we're going to gas the trench lines as best we can."

"Air support?" Reinhold asked as he fired toward the trenches, himself situated where Genevieve had been.

"Minimal," Freya shook her head. "Infrastructure is terrible here, and any air support takes time. Good news is that it's the same for the SAS – they thankfully don't have a large air force."

"So what you're saying is that we're going to be here for a while," Kaya said, fruitlessly wiping her hands off.

"At least a week, probably two before things begin moving," Freya sighed. "The SAS is determined to not let us get farther. It's not just here, Scipio as a whole has hit the wall. It was inevitable, and we may be moving into the second phase if we don't have breakthroughs."

That was…probably the most likely. Kaya remembered what Phase Two of Operation Scipio was. Figure out the SAS strongholds – and keep them occupied, then ignore them. Smaller specialized squads would fan out to predetermined points and raze them to the ground. The SAS would either want to hold their strongholds, or spread themselves out to protect the farms, water sources, and mines.

It wasn't an ADVENT advance so much as dozens of small squads going out and causing chaos. The cities were the clear targets for destruction, but if they couldn't break through, ADVENT would be satisfied with ruining the land itself. And when that was completed…Phase Three was the final withdrawal.

"Victory" as it would be called.

She almost hoped that this would be what happened. This whole operation had been draining, and the sooner it was over, the better. She was almost thankful that the SAS was able to put up a fight here so they wouldn't have to gas another city or burn another farm. Of course, neither of those would be stopped. Not yet.

Not until Scipio was over.

"If that happens," Freya said. "It's possible they'll pull us out and move us to another front line. We're not trench fighters. Don't expect that right away, though - High Command hasn't decided what direction to take yet.

"What are they waiting on?" Genevieve asked. "If we break through?"

"That, and Admiral Grady has an operation of his own planned," Freya said. "Don't ask details. I don't know."

There was a series of nods, since neither had anything to add to that. "Keep up the good work," Freya patted Kaya on the shoulder. "We're making progress. There's only a little longer yet."

Kaya hoped she was right, though also had a feeling that it wouldn't be that simple.

---

Hiveship Exterior - Turkey

7/16/2017 – 4:26 A.M.

Freeze.

The telepathic command sent out and wormed its way into the defenders who froze for a brief second, which was all that was needed for the ADVENT forces to mow them down. Angela had thought that they would be augmented by Lancers, but as it turned out, ADVENT had sent a new, specialized unit to assist – in addition to the Order of Terra.

They were less armored than what she would have expected. Their armor plates were thinner and there was a certain sleekness to them which other pieces didn't have. Their helmets were also angled instead of the geometric patterns of the regular soldiers and Priests, resembling something closer to an inverted triangle with eyeslits of red.

What made them stand out more were the black and grey fabrics that were woven through their armor pieces, most notably the arms and waist, resembling something close to an armored trench coat. Their belts were strapped with acid grenades, and in their hands held Flechette Rifles, which she was told were based on an XCOM design.

They were the Stormtroopers, ADVENT's mobile close-range combat unit.

Three hours ago, four hundred Stormtroopers had made their way towards the alien lines, which had been besieged for hours by canisters of nerve gas and short-term nanites. Angela had unfortunately not been able to get much rest. The blessing and curse of a psion – and a telepath in particular – was that it was not easy to shut off the brain.

Under normal circumstances, she could concentrate enough to block most of the noise, but there was too much going on, too much pain and death, that it made what little sleep she could get fitful and incomplete. Nor had she reached the point of pure exhaustion which would bypass her troublesome brain.

The sleep seemed to have helped Young, at least, and now all of them were near the breach point which still had wisps of the poison floating around. Not nearly enough to kill them, but it didn't exactly make Angela feel comfortable.

A frozen Elite was only deterred for a few moments, but that was all the Stormtroopers needed. One shot from their Flechettes blew apart the head, and two more hit the knees, blowing those out and it fell to the ground with a thud, before another Stormtrooper blasted it in the remains of its head.

Several Order of Terra Units also charged forward, their swords blazing and stabbing and slicing, while Angela's Squad fired at any enemy that moved. Joel and Young took down one of the black-armored Mutons. The breach point was reached, and the Stormtroopers and several ADVENT Engineers were hooking up several explosives.

Angela closed her eyes and focused, pushing the oppressive presence of the Hive Commander away. "It's a hallway, definitely," she said to the lead Stormtrooper. "I can sense soldiers running through it, but not congregating."

"As we thought," the Stormtrooper grunted with a nod. "Schematics were right then. It's not too far from one of the Gateways. Back up!" He yelled towards the assembled ADVENT forces. "Stand by for detonation!"

Taking a place behind the line of Squires, Angela waited under the night sky and seeping cold. There was a flash, followed by a massive boom as the side of the Hiveship was blown open, and the Stormtroopers surprisingly jumped in first, followed swiftly by the Squires and Knights.

"We'll hold the line here," the Standardbearer of the Order of Terra squad said to the Stormtroopers. "Shut down that Gateway."

"Oh, don't worry, sir," the Stormtrooper sounded bemused. "We're going to do something much worse to it." With a click of his weapon, he waved the assembled forces down the opposite path of the hallway. "Move out!"

For such small creatures, the Sectoids built paradoxically large structures. Angela idly wondered why that was. Maybe it was to make themselves seem less small? Perhaps they saw grandiose structures as more impressive, especially if built by such tiny aliens? Whatever the case, the Hiveship was easily big enough for Humans, and truthfully was something she'd expect to easily fit Ethereals.

"Incoming!" One of the soldiers shouted as they ran straight into a group of black-armored Mutons, who skidded to a stop and immediately opened fire. Several ADVENT soldiers on the front line were cut down, as Glen leapt into action while everyone moved into cover. The Stormtroopers aimed their weapons and fired at kneecaps, hands, and heads, crippling their opposition.

Not even they were immune to the enemy fire though. Despite their speed and optimal positioning, one was shot to pieces, and another had been cornered by one of the Mutons who ripped her head off in a violent spray. But they pushed forward, and a combination of grenades, autorifles, and acid won the day.

Even as it had extracted casualties – and now the Collective definitely knew they were inside.

The alien has crossed the threshold. You shall suffer the consequences, Human. Your Gift is insufficient before the Hive Commanders.

Angela gasped as the pressure intensified. It was still not out of her control, but if it previously was a headache, it was now closer to a migraine. It was a struggle to keep everyone nearby protected.

I can do this.

"Angela!" Joel jogged up; he definitely could tell that something had happened. "What is it?"

"It knows we're here," Angela said through gritted teeth. "The Hive Commander."

"Do you need-"

"No, no. I've still got it. Let's get to that Gateway."

They finally reached the Gateway itself after minutes of fighting through a few dozen Mutons, a small horde of Sectoid drones, and actual mechanical drones. Angela was surprised those were there, since she'd not seen them used since the start of the war. Probably repair-focused, and they were easily taken out.

The room where it was kept was not overly large, or at least by Human standards. It was roughly what she would expect if it was accounting for Sectoids, which it probably was. A good thing, considering it meant the defenses were limited. The problem? The forces that were waiting were a mix of Berserkers and Elites.

"Back!" Joel yelled, a command echoed from other soldiers. The Stormtroopers leapt to the sides and everyone else backed up, firing rapidly. Angela's hands clenched, as she was near-frozen from the pressure from the Hive Commander.

Watch them die, Human. Slaughtered by the legions I command.

Out of my head!

A Priest Telekine lifted one of the Berserkers into the air, and everyone shot at it relentlessly. Another had its kneecap blown out, while another Stormtrooper tossed an acid grenade on it, and it howled as the chemical burned through its skin. The Elites were taking advantage of the chaos, however, as they marched up, their weapons spraying green bolts, seeming not to care if the Berserkers were caught in the crossfire.

Joel was coordinating fire, as Cecilia had her shield activated and was moving into position to disperse the bolts. One soldier was impaled by the Berserker blades, and a Stormtrooper was thrown back by a solid punch. Angela's head whipped around, and froze.

A name formed on her lips, which opened soundlessly under her helmet.

All it took was a second.

A Berserker charged forward, straight into a trio of soldiers. All were hit. Young was in the middle. She was knocked to the ground, prone for but a moment. One hand came up, as if she knew what was coming. One hand to protest in vain for what was about to come next. The armored fist of the Berserker slammed down onto her helmet.

A crack that Angela did not hear, but imagined vividly in her mind manifested. A crack of the helmet which turned into the sound of a squish, like a bug being crushed by a concrete brick. Only a second.

Dead in a moment.

Only a corpse with gore for a head remained.

She likely imagined it, but she felt like dark amusement rippled from the mind of the oppressive Hive Commander.

Perhaps it said something.

Something she did not hear.

A moment of clarity hit her. The rage she felt. The grief of realizing the night had claimed another of her friends. For but a moment, the weight lifted from her mind. The weariness faded and was replaced by nothing but power. In her hand she held the minds around her.

The presence of the Hive Commander faded, and with an almost trance-like control, the minds of the Mutons she penetrated deeply. She was not gentle. She tore through their minds without regard for psyche, reveling in the pain she caused them.

Die.

And they died.

The hulking beasts fell down, lifeless as the other soldiers looked on in surprise. It didn't take them long to look at the woman in bloodied armor, standing as a tense statue, one hand resting at her side, while the other raised, and radiating from her the tangible purple aura of power.

That seemed to be what broke the spell, and with a rush it faded, and the absence was enough to cause her to stumble. Hands grabbed her arms, keeping her upright. Her vision swam, as she struggled to reassert her control. "Angela, are you alright?" Joel's voice, asking her.

She stood, control regained, even as she looked to the carnage. "I'll live, sir," she said, her voice tight, and her eyes fixed on Young's corpse. Glen was kneeling over it, and his heart was similarly heavy.

Joel was also controlling his own sorrow, though he didn't let it color his voice. "Good woman. We're getting close to the end."

Several reinforcements had come through the active gateway, though they were quickly killed, and the Rocketeers were firing ordnance through the portal to damage whatever was on the other side as the Engineers worked to shut down the Gateways and retune them to ADVENT frequencies.

Angela briefly took off her helmet, taking a long drink of water, trying not to look or dwell on the corpse. She took a deep breath. No more. No more.

The only comfort she could take was that hopefully, somewhere, Young was with Oscar again. Flipping her helmet in her hands, she put it back on, and walked to rejoin her squad. They were on the Hiveship. Now they had to claim it.

And kill the Hive Commander who resided in its center.

---

Joseph Ray Shannon - Malabo Harbor

7/11/2017 - 5:00 AM

Grady wearily rubbed the tiredness from his eyes once again. The drive back from the event felt like it had taken hours, and even once he arrived back at the fleet, there had been no time for rest. He had been up all night coordinating defenses, rescue operations, and damage control between the entire fleet and local ADVENT forces. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, the adrenaline having long since faded, replaced by an almost robotic state, where he hardly thought, hardly ate, his only sustenance being unhealthy amounts of coffee and his consciousness further prolonged by stimulants. He felt as though he had one foot in the waking world and the other in bed.

Nevertheless, they had done it. The initial attack had been thwarted, and the defenses bolstered. The number of missiles streaming in had slowed for now to an intermittent nuisance. Explosions were heard, almost like the tolling of a clock calling out the hours, such was their regularity. They had been fortunate, as the cost was relatively light; most of the ships lost were corvettes and frigates out on patrol or near the edges of the harbor defenses. His destroyers, cruisers and carriers - the real meat of his fleet - had all made it with little, if any, damage.

One destroyer had been caught in the blast from a near miss, and had been evacuated in a matter of minutes, for fear the fires might spread and detonate the vessel's munitions, but it had turned out to be a false alarm. The fires which had not already burned themselves out were easily extinguished by the damage control team he sent. Some of the vessel's armaments were slagged, the windows shattered, and one side of the hull sported a notable, scorched dent, but otherwise, the ship was intact, and the only deaths were those unfortunate enough to be on the side of the ship nearest the blast.

They were almost out of the woods now; there were only a few more things left to deal with before he could at least depart for his quarters and sink into blissful oblivion for the next few hours. The most pressing of these was determining the source of the attack and deciding on a response. The origin of the missiles had been simple enough; they had all come from the city of Douala, just across from the island in Cameroon. It was an ideal launchpoint, and he could see why it had been chosen.

He was somewhat surprised that there were no additional missile sites either in other cities or scattered between them. He figured they didn't think they could be defended and would just be hit by retaliatory missile strikes, which is what he would have normally done to Douala by now. Unfortunately, the SAS had not been idle. While he had made good use of his time in Malabo to repair his fleet, it had similarly given the SAS time to strengthen their coastal defenses in the area, and nowhere was this more apparent than in Douala.

Its position practically guaranteed it would be a target for him; indeed, if it were any closer, he would probably be able to see it from the port of Malabo. The SAS had, therefore, fortified it to a remarkable extent, largely with the aid of Collective technology. ADVENT Intelligence reported that there was an unusually large number of Collective forces compared to those of the SAS.

He supposed that only made sense, given it was their technology that was being used to attack him, and their technology that would defend them. While there was no great domed barrier as there had been in Seattle, the city did clearly have several individual barrier generators interspersed throughout to provide overlapping protection when the need arose. Defense lasers and plasma batteries bristled along the harbor and jutted from many of the taller structures. The missile batteries themselves were clustered together in groups dotted around the city to prevent any single strike from destroying them, and many had buildings between them and the sea to offer additional protection. It was, he had to admit, a decent defense.

He knew he could crack it, but he would need to pay a high price. Either in time or in ships. Neither of which were in great supply at the moment. Particularly given the fact Command was starting to get insistent that he launch his amphibious invasion of the mainland. Scipio had made remarkable progress, but was starting to lose steam as it encountered better defended cities which had had time to prepare themselves. Opening another front could help draw away SAS forces, or at minimum speed up the process of laying waste to enemy territory. Unfortunately, Douala was just not an ideal place for landing troops.

On paper, it looked great, since it was in the heartland of the SAS, but the fact of the matter was that it was surrounded by thick jungles crisscrossed by long, narrow roads. So while his forces could certainly come ashore, they would have difficulty moving deeper inland from there without opening themselves up to attack, and in a worst case scenario, the enemy could potentially bottle them up in a pocket on the coastline, which would basically make them useless and force him to either defend them or evac them. Commander Thompson had been adamant that starting there would be more trouble than it was worth, and said to just raze the city and be done with it.

Of course, that was easier said than done. But he couldn't ignore it either, else it would be a constant thorn in his side, a knife at his back waiting to stab him when his guard was down. He bitterly contemplated the possibility of having come this far, only to flail uselessly and fizzle out. No, he would not allow that. The SAS needed to be taught a lesson, else they might be emboldened.

But how?

"Penny for your thoughts, sir?" Francetti asked, coming up with a mug of coffee in each hand. It had long since gone cold, but it was appreciated, nonetheless.

"I'm trying to decide how to deal with Douala." He grumbled, accepting the cup and taking a sip.

"Yeah, they're dug in pretty deep," she agreed. "We could probably blast them apart eventually with enough cruise missiles, but that would take a while, and we'd lose most of them."

"I know."

"What about nukes?" She offered.

"That could work, but the area is surrounded by wildlife refuges, and ADVENT is hoping to avoid causing too much ecological damage, they'd never approve it." He said with some bitterness.

Truthfully, he actually didn't disagree in principle. He'd made use of nukes before, of course, but the circumstances had been very different. In the ocean, the radiation and fallout could be quickly dispersed, and the area would eventually recover without much difficulty. Though you wouldn't want to eat anything you fished up there for a decade or two. On land, there wasn't a huge mass of water to contain the blast or dissipate the radiation. This meant everything in range of the shockwave would be destroyed, and it would not grow back quickly without a large cleanup and restoration project. He wasn't sure how fast the trees here grew, but he had a hard time believing the area could be reforested in under 50 years or so.

"Yeah, and an amphibious assault would be suicide." She muttered.

"Indeed."

"Don't suppose you could get them to surrender?" She posed half-seriously.

"Doubtful," he shook his head. "They've got a much stronger position than Anye did, and they have to realize that. I'd also be surprised if the Collective wasn't monitoring every outgoing call after Malabo."

"It's too bad we aren't fighting Collective naval forces anymore," Francetti mused. "That was so much simpler; they were wiped out with just a torpedo."

"Yeah, well we aren't fighting them at sea anymore. Guess we won a bit too hard. Torpedoes aren't much good on land, either. It's too bad, since I don't think they could really-" As he was about to finish that thought he suddenly had an idea. Like a light bulb coming on in his mind. It would be unorthodox for sure, and he would need to check with Command to see if it would work, but if it did, the city wouldn't know what hit it.

"Sir?" she asked, noticing his abrupt pause.

He allowed himself a grim smile and finished the last of the coffee before putting down the mug.

"Thank you, Officer Francetti. Could I ask you to do me a small favor before I retire for some much deserved rest?"

"Of course, sir. What is it?"

"Send a message to the SAS and the Collective informing them that they have seven days to evacuate Douala," he ordered. "After that, I will not be held responsible for the fate of those that remain."

"Uh...sure, sir," a pause. "Does this mean you have a plan?"

"Indeed, tell Anye to be ready. We'll give them a chance to surrender, just like we did with him."

"Yes, sir, I'll have someone fetch him. I can handle things from here, at least for a while longer."

"Don't push yourself too hard, I need you awake tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir, I'll just wrap up a few things and hit the sack in an hour or two."

With that out of the way, Grady made for his quarters. He would be going to sleep, but first he needed to run some numbers with ADVENT.

---

Collective Forward Command Center – Korea

7/16/2017 – 12:22 P.M.

The march continued, and seemed to be one of the few places where the Collective was making actual progress. From her review of the current Collective offensives, most were stalled, if not outright repelled. There was good news on the African front, where the SAS was finally making a competent stand.

Patricia wondered how long that would last. Perhaps Macula and Betos had finally instilled some spine in the defenders. Or perhaps they were rallying because there was the very real possibility that ADVENT could somehow steamroll the SAS. It was a doubtless impressive campaign, though one which should have been ended long ago.

The offensives in America and Europe were stalled thanks to Caelior actually assisting ADVENT and removing the Hiveship from the equation, of which there was an ongoing battle with conflicting information. Reports switched from a quarter to half of the Hiveship had been captured by ADVENT.

They were taking losses, but Patricia was slightly disturbed that they'd been able to move this quickly. The Gateways were too small, and bottlenecked the potential amount of reinforcements – all of which could be infantry, which ADVENT and XCOM could successfully defend against.

The Second Guardian was supposed to have mitigated Aegis' threat, and now there was a concern that she had been captured or killed by Aegis. The Overmind had lost contact, as it was suspected that T'Leth was blocking his oversight, though this again wasn't confirmed. Sicarius would likely be sent to report soon if there was no change or update.

Senorium continued his mission in Southeast Asia, though was running into a fair amount of resistance, especially now that ADVENT knew what they were dealing with. However, he was likely able to adapt, and his progress had been acceptable. That left her, and the final push to Seoul where half of Korea would be captured.

Well, it would signal the fall of Korea entirely. ADVENT was staking everything on Seoul standing against the Collective assault. Zararch reports indicated that ADVENT had several pieces of unique technology they would employ to defend the city. Likely, though she doubted it would be enough in the end.

There was the matter of the aircraft which had almost hit her. From the gathered data, Fectorian had assessed that it was likely hypersonic, and thus almost impossible to predict through standard equipment which had…been irritating for sure. It required a constant air presence, and even then this mystery aircraft had been easily able to outrun Sectoid Fighters, though those had typically been enough to scare it off.

Still, it would only take one mistake.

She was not going to die through a missile strike. Some ends were too unceremonious.

Seoul, though…as she appraised a holographic outline collected from Zararch operatives, she knew it wasn't going to be easy. It had been turned into a true fortress; dozens of Flak Towers, three layers of trenches, artillery and mortars seeded throughout the streets and perimeter, and there appeared to be a concerted effort to rig the city similar to how the Lion had rigged Aleppo.

The civilian population had long since been evacuated. There were only the warriors left.

Good. It would be much easier without concern for collateral. Though this time, she would not resign herself to destroying the city – at least not completely. She was skeptical that the Reinarm Cannon could be employed again without triggering an equivalent retaliation, but psionics were fair game.

And of course, there was the matter of the former Korean DMZ, which had since been turned into a mixture of airfields and artillery emplacements. Further missile silos and artillery batteries were seeded in the North Korean mountain ranges, and ADVENT likely had a nuclear submarine or two off the coast if the worst happened.

While she hadn't confirmed it yet, it would be unsurprising to learn that T'Leth had systematically seeded his orbs throughout the city to negate telepathic interference. She was making that assumption, considering how important Seoul was to ADVENT. All in all, a tough nut to crack and that was putting it mildly.

She had enough forces to make it work; the pieces and tools were at her disposal. It was simply a matter of how best to use them. Of course, some tools were better than others, case in point the 'support' she had so helpfully received from Quisilia.

Sabrina Mori was idly tapping away on her phone, and Micaiah was taking selfies, both of them in their armor, and likely having not paid attention to almost anything she'd been saying for the past half hour. Her lips pursed, Patricia snapped her fingers. No response. "Are you listening?" She finally demanded.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, sure," Sabrina gave an idle thumbs up, not looking at her at all.

"Totally, sista," Micaiah added, also not looking at her.

"Really," Patricia said dryly. "How much artillery does ADVENT have entrenched in the DMZ?"

"Who knows, and who really cares," Sabrina finally looked up with a shrug. "Look, I know-"

That was definitely enough. Her hand raised, Patricia closed the fist, and both women were lightly suspended in the air, a hand going to their throats. "Now let me be clear," Patricia said calmly. "If you are both going to get yourselves killed, I don't necessarily have an issue with that. That said, Quisilia, for some reason-"

"Yesss!" Micaiah said in a disturbingly happy voice. "Harder!"

Not knowing exactly how to respond, and legitimately unsettled when she realized the implication, she let them both drop, staring at Micaiah and briefly contemplating teleporting both of them to a deserted island somewhere. Sabrina burst out laughing. "You should've seen your face!"

Patricia's face was deliberately still. "Please, never say that again."

"Lighten up, Harbinger," Micaiah chuckled, rubbing her throat. "I get it though, we're not the people you're used to working with. That's fine, but seriously – we're not soldiers, and these briefings are sincerely the most boring thing I've been subjected to since Biology One."

"Classical history for me," Sabrina nodded in solidarity. "Point is, I get it. You're trying, good for you. But seriously sista, tune it to your audience a bit."

"I'm not your sister."

"Hey, we're all in the unique club of women telepathically bonded to the same species of aliens!" Micaiah pointed out with a smile. "If we're not sisters in some way, well, we should change that! Sister bracelets?"

"We're not in a fucking high school club," Patricia spat, considering once again removing this problem altogether. "I do wonder how you managed to exist in the normal world before now."

"A question I ask myself every day," Sabrina agreed sagely.

"I'm not dumbing down military strategy and tactics into memes just for you."

"Look, that's your problem," Sabrina jabbed a thumb behind her. "You're thinking like a military commander of all things. Not a practical demigod. Or demigoddess. Whatever. Point is, everyone is putting too much emphasis on things like troop numbers, equipment, and so on, when I can literally just teleport behind their lines and take out a whole bunch of them, just like that."

Patricia fingered a device from one of the pockets on her belt. "Really. You think that psionics negates everything?"

"Practically speaking, yes," Sabrina said. "Sure, it makes the non-psions feel better to think they can take us-"

Patricia flicked the switch on the device, a very interesting piece of technology Fectorian had concocted after she'd asked him a question. She fortunately had her ear protection in, as was customary when close to a war zone. The Mori Twins on the other hand, were not so lucky. The sonic shriek was instant and both women yelled and clutched their ears as she intensified the noise.

Fifteen seconds would burst the eardrums, twenty would cause an aneurysm. They deserved to be pushed to the edge as much as possible for their asinine arrogance. When the blood came out, and both women were on the ground, she shut it off. The damage wouldn't be permanent, and the Collective would heal them right quickly.

She knelt down before Sabrina, who for once looked actually shocked…and afraid. Good. Patricia held up the device. "You both are very lucky I'm on your side right now," she said verbally, though she projected it telepathically since both were deafened. "If both of you had been facing an enemy who had actually prepared, you both would have died humiliating deaths. Sneer at technology, at tactics, and planning all you want, but if you are both arrogant enough to believe yourselves above those who do not have our power, then get out of my sight, and never come back, or I will kill you. I have no tolerance for fools, and when our victory relies on soldiers following orders, wild cards are not applicable. Think very carefully on what you wish to do. Quisilia may tolerate your antics. I no longer will."

She smiled, leaning slightly closer. "Understood?"

A couple frantic nods.

"Good," she stood, and exited the room. There were a few other minor matters to attend to. The Mori Twins would either come around and grow up, or they would not come back. Either way, she had a mission to carry out, and the first – and hopefully only – battle of Seoul would begin.

---

Kano – Nigeria

7/13/2017 – 10:31 P.M.

There was an intense energy in the air, and for the first time Kaya could say that she was truly worried about what was coming next. "What can you make out?" Freya asked in a low voice. The amount of fire exchanged between the two sides had stalled in light of the most recent development.

Soldiers were rushing to and fro throughout the trenches, Officers were quickly barking orders and demanding clarifications from their superiors. The energy was intense, and from the body language of a few of the Priests, they seemed on edge at what they were about to face.

A Collective army was marching to support the city – one directly towards the ADVENT lines. On its own, that wouldn't necessarily be a cause for concern. What was cause for concern was who was leading it. Kaya swallowed. "It looks like an Ethereal at the front. And…" she zoomed closer in.

There was definitely a smaller figure beside the towering alien. It was a hulking man, easily one of the largest she'd ever seen, even from this distance. The armor he wore looked closer to something the Battlemaster would use, and a cape of purple fell from his shoulders. His full beard made him look like a viking, solidified by the actual warhammer he held in his hand, and two axes hooked to his waist.

She had a bad feeling about what that meant.

"A viking." She finished.

"A viking." Genevieve drawled.

"He looks like one, anyway," Kaya said, tuning the scope slightly. "Unfortunately, I think he's one of the Ethereal puppets, if that mask he's holding is any indication."

Vicki joined her and looked out onto the encroaching army. "That's bad."

"Yeah."

And it wasn't mentioning that front line of black-armored human soldiers behind the Ethereal and unknown soldier. She didn't know for sure, but believed that they were SAS psions. Those matched some reports they'd been given, and there were…well, a lot of them. Outside of the range of effective fire, but that would change.

"I don't suppose we have a plan, sir?" Reinhold asked Freya with a sidelong look.

"Awaiting a determination," Freya said tightly, one hand to her helmet's ear. "This came at a really bad time. I don't know how much support we're going to get."

"ADVENT had to be able to predict we'd be fighting an Ethereal eventually," Kaya said tightly, as she noticed that the viking had put on the mask and was marching forward. "There has to be a contingency!"

"Of course they did," Freya snapped. "But it's going to not come right away. We'll need to hold out until XCOM or the Pantheon come – and both are occupied with a dozen other fronts."

"Right. Wonderful," Kaya took a deep breath. "They're moving out."

A single nod from Freya. "Then the attack will commence shortly. They're reaching minimum effective distance. Take your shots as you see them. And pray the Priests are prepared to repel an Ethereal."

"Thanks for the reassurance, sir," Xun, Kaya's other Samurai counterpart, quipped with forced lightness.

"Of course," Freya deadpanned. "For ADVENT and the Order."

They saluted, as they turned their attention to the oncoming infantry-heavy army. It was primarily SAS soldiers and Mutons, intermixed with Custodians and a few Heralds here and there. Apparently the SAS had engaged in a major tank battle further across the continent, which had destroyed close to two hundred Heralds, while ADVENT had suffered somewhat greater losses, and had done well enough to push forward – an excellent trade by any metric considering how easy it was to replace tanks opposed to Heralds.

Psions were going to be the equalizer here.

The Ethereal was hanging back, and seemed content to let his puppet lead the charge. The threshold was breached. "Fire!" came the commands throughout the line, and the fighting resumed in earnest. Tank cannons fired in semi-synchronous patterns, and were joined by a thousand sniper rifles cracking at the same time like thunder.

A purple barrier manifested over the encroaching army, a similar tactic ADVENT had employed many times before. She could see that it was being maintained by the line of psions behind the viking, and the shells and rounds bounced harmlessly off, or were pulverized when they slammed into the psionic barrier.

They had clearly prepared for this kind of attack.

Officers were shouting clarifications, and soldiers were shouting affirmatives as the strategy changed. The telltale smoke trails followed the canisters of chemicals being launched, which seemed to be aimed right in front of, or to the sides of the arm. The viking raised his hand, and was joined by several of the SAS psions. The canisters were flung far away or crushed into useless metal chunks.

That plan didn't seem to be working either.

"We could use a bombing run right now," Genevieve said worriedly as they kept getting closer. The city itself had resumed its own offensives, and the shelling and rapid volume of fire had returned, putting pressure on the attackers who were being forced onto the defensive. Kaya was forced to duck after a few bolts strayed too close.

Alright – we can do this. Or we'll die trying.

Her hand went to her shield and sword, and it seemed likely that she was going to need both sooner than later. While the psions were likely to maintain their distance, it seemed likely that this viking was looking for a fight that was close and personal.

She was under no illusions on what her chances were.

She could only hope for a miracle.

---

Hiveship Interior - Turkey

7/16/2017 – 9:30 A.M.

The portal spun up, and a few seconds later, several dozen ADVENT soldiers marched through, followed closely by Priests, Lancers, and Stormtroopers. The numbers of ADVENT soldiers didn't abate, and these soldiers were fresh from Europe, America, and Russia, and ready to secure a victory for ADVENT.

It was needed, as the bodies were continuing to pile up from each side. The hallways of the Hiveship were turned into killboxes as each side relied on improvised cover, armor, and sheer luck to win the day. Inevitably it seemed, ADVENT broke through because of a combination of psionics and superior manpower.

There were a few waves of good news that had given many in ADVENT a second wind – it seemed that Aegis and XCOM had defeated the Second Guardian and she had been secured, and was being removed from the battlefield. There were also rumors that Aegis had been gravely wounded in the process, fighting the Meat Puppets, and it explained why he wasn't assisting further.

Or he could have been moved to a more pressing front. No one knew, but the news of an Ethereal being defeated was good enough for most. ADVENT continued their march through the Hiveship, claiming gateway points, and shifting the tide of the battle further in their favor. "That's another Gateway under ADVENT control," the Stormtrooper said, likely speaking to a superior. "Sixty-five percent of locations are under our control, Gateways are functioning in forty percent of them. We have the upper hand."

That they did.

Angela held onto that, throughout the grimness and pain. They were pushing deeper. The Hive Commander pressing down upon her emitted nothing but dismissal and arrogance – but there were consequences to a prolonged mental attack. It was impossible to hide everything forever, and she had sensed something quite pivotal.

The Hive Commander was growing concerned.

It's all coming down for you. Your end is near.

My end, Human? I cannot die.

Then why are you afraid?

It was answered with another head-splitting attack – one she was used to at this point. Her body seemed permanently tense as she jogged with the ADVENT soldiers, fists clenched, as she maintained her mental shield over all of them. She was hopped up on far too many stimulants now, but there was no choice.

They needed to push if they wanted to win. She would do her part, or she would die. From the aliens, the Hive Commander, or a heart attack. No matter what, she would not stop. She couldn't. Her body would break before her mind did.

Yet there was an undeniable fact as they pushed deeper into the core of the Hiveship. The presence of the Hive Commander was growing more pronounced, it was growing stronger. Yet it was not invincible, and the battle had weakened it, even if it drew upon the minds of its drones. It knew it was being cornered.

In its arrogance, it believed it could succeed still.

I cannot die, Human. It does not matter if my body dies this day, I will emerge once again. Death is a state we are beyond. Thousands of your kind die in a futile gesture to stop that which cannot die. Strike me down, and I will return more powerful. I learned from my failures with XCOM, I will learn more should I fall.

I do not intend to fall this day.

Angela pushed the words out of her mind. Lie or not, it didn't matter at this point. Hive Commanders were symbols of power, the death of one was a blow that couldn't be covered up. It doesn't matter if a body comes back, claiming your name. We will kill it just as we will kill you. The undying are only a threat should they remain invincible. You have nothing but fear-mongering. You know you cannot win, else why are you preparing to nullify our victory.

So you understand the futility of what you face.

You cannot win this war.

You will sacrifice thousands in pursuit of victory.

Thousands have already died to kill me.

Your friends have died in moments.

It amounts to nothing in the end. Your prize is nothing but metal and flesh.

Enough!

It kept taunting her. Bringing up Oscar and Young to demoralize her, to remind her of her failure. Yet it kept miscalculating; the pain and grief gave her a burst of strength to silence the infernal voice of the Sectoid. She wondered if he was speaking to all the psions, or just her. She supposed that it likely didn't matter.

It was still going to die, and if it was focusing on her, at least it wasn't focusing on anyone else.

The sound of an explosion shook the halls, and the frontmost line of soldiers was blown apart. Everyone ducked into cover or behind one of the Squires and began returning fire as they faced a line of the black-armored Mutons, several of them holding grenade launchers and heavy plasma weapons.

Angela gritted her teeth, keeping the mental shields maintained around everyone, as they began returning fire. A Rocketeer fired a plasma rocket in return, and it directly collided with one of the Mutons, killing it instantly. He was sniped by a stray plasma bolt in response. "Concentrate on the grenadiers!" Joel ordered, and Cecilia and several other soldiers who'd lost their commanding Officers complied, sending directed barrages of gauss slugs into the heavily augmented Mutons.

Glen was rushing to treat wounds, and was bandaging up the arm of a fallen soldier, then one who'd taken a chest wound. Cecilia's Shieldbearer armor was operational, and it was negating enough of the firepower to let the Stormtroopers charge forward, their acid grenades and Flechettes taking down the goliaths.

"We've got something coming in the back!" Someone shouted, and Angela spun around to see a sight that she'd actually never seen in person before. Floating through one of the connecting hallways was a Cyberdisk. Which was…well, just a floating disk. Very big. She'd heard stories about the odd machines, though they hadn't been seen in action in a long time.

With the sounds of whirring and clicking, the disk transformed into a terrifying mechanical weapon, sprouting long-barreled guns and a single yellow mechanical eye which turned red as it beheld the targets. "Reposition!" Joel yelled as the soldiers near the back swung around to deal with the new threat. "We've got a Cyberdisk here, ADVENT, requesting support in the Theta Junction."

"Understood, two more squads on your trajectory," another voice said, probably another Officer or Stormtrooper. "One Cyberdisk?"

"Affirmative," Gauss fire sounded and tore into the machine, though it returned with a golden-white barrage of its own which blew one close soldier apart. "We can probably hold-"

A purple barrier from bottom to top suddenly cut Angela off from Joel and the few soldiers on the other side. The others who'd come to support skidded to a stop when they encountered the solid psionic barrier. Angela remembered in horror of a capability of the Hiveships – that there were points that the Hive Commander could cut off.

You are in my domain, Human. Now watch them die.

"Get this open!" Angela screamed as the soldiers frantically searched for a control panel or device that would bring down or disrupt the barrier. The other front seemed to be under control, but Angela didn't care about that as Joel and the soldiers made a valiant defense.

But it wasn't going to be good enough. The Cyberdisk methodically executed the soldiers, person by person, and no one had the weapons to effectively take it down. The barrier cut off all sound from the other side, so Angela could only watch, not hear the carnage. Yet she felt.

Joel was calm. Serene almost.

He knew he was going to die, and he accepted it. He aimed his weapon, and fired a few shots at the Cyberdisk. One hit a tube, spraying out some liquid, but the leak was plugged by some kind of integrated nano-repair system. The guns trained on him, and he was the last one standing.

I'm so sorry.

There was a feeling she sensed, one he did when he was smiling under the helmet. In his cover, he looked back, eyes meeting even as helmets obscured them. He gave a slight nod; an acknowledgement. The other ADVENT soldiers on her side were firing into the corners of the hallway, to perhaps disable the mechanisms.

You are a fine soldier, Angela. I'm proud of what you've done.

Please…don't…

Another nod.

I wouldn't have it any other way. Kill that Sectoid for me. It was an honor to serve with you.

The Cyberdisk fired.

The mind of Joel was extinguished before his ruined body fell to the ground. Soundless as she watched.

The stimulants flowed through her, screaming that she needed to move, yet the world seemed washed out. With each step she'd taken, it was like walking deeper and deeper into a nightmare she couldn't wake up from.

This can't still be happening.

Someone was yelling at her. A hand grabbed her arm. "Angela!" Glen yelled into her ear, pulling her back. "Come on! We're moving forward."

"Joel…"

"I know!" He spun to face her, grabbing both of her arms, and intently focusing on her. "And he wouldn't want you to die immediately after him! We need to keep moving. Cecilia is taking charge – can you go forward?"

"I…" She took a shuddering breath, tensed and reasserted herself as much as she was able. "Yes sir, just…lead the way."

"This way, come on," he gripped her hand. "We're close to the end."

Indeed, you are close.

Step closer, Angela Blackburn, step closer to the end of everything you cherish and love.

I await your arrival. Let us see if you maintain your arrogance in the face of power.

One foot in front of the other.

There was only one focus that mattered.

The death of the Hive Commander, and she was going to make it slow.

---

Kano – Nigeria

7/13/2017 – 2:21 P.M.

Hours passed as the fighting intensified. The good news? ADVENT was keeping the encroaching SAS army at bay, and their march had stalled as the SAS prepared to entrench and launch an offensive of their own. The bad news was that Kaya doubted that ADVENT would be able to hold without reinforcements.

Or something to stem the wave about to crash upon them.

Scattered reports were coming across a fracturing chain of command. Some were saying that they were holding against a separate attack, some that the Ethereal had personally intervened, and had dismantled an entire front. Freya kept requesting clarification, but signals were intermittent, and most of them believed the SAS was employing jamming equipment.

Telepathic attacks were taking place, and the few Priests defending were struggling to keep the flood of SAS Psions from overwhelming them. The position seemed untenable in the long term, and there were preparations for a retreat. The psionic shields which the SAS had deployed had been paused, though were erected for larger ADVENT barrages.

Kaya aimed her sniper rifle, picking out the likely SAS psions. Breath in. Fire.

The gauss bullet froze a meter from her intended target. The psion looked at it, and then threw it in her direction while pointing. Kaya gritted her teeth, retreating into cover as a new hail of plasma fire flew her direction. The SAS was doing this smart. It seemed there were telekines evenly positioned throughout their forces, and all of them were maintaining telekinetic fields.

They had a lot more psions than she'd thought, though considering the average numbers of Human psions, it unfortunately followed that the SAS would be able to awaken a large number in a short amount of time. Had she known this, she probably would have requisitioned a laser rifle. Rarer as those were, that was the only universally effective weapon against psions outside of Aegii.

Kim and Genevieve were holding down suppressive fire, and all of the Squires were gaining valuable experience in using traditional rifles. Them also primarily sending suppressive fire downrange as opposed to target removal. It was not going to be good enough. "Head's up, he's coming!" Genevieve yelled.

"Who?" Kaya responded.

"The viking," she clarified, the shorthand that had become accepted quickly though the trench line. "Seems like…a direct charge."

Kaya brought up her rifle and saw that the armored warrior had indeed broken from the front line of the SAS and was moving forward. Not with any great speed, but warhammer in hand, and a telekinetic field around him, he seemed unafraid of what awaited him. That was not good.

He'd made a calculation that ADVENT would be unable to effectively stop him.

He wasn't wrong. Not unless there was an immediate recalculation.

"We need to fall back," Kaya said. "Freya, sir, we can't hold a position against one of those things."

Nearby, Freya was also appraising the encroaching soldier. Several tanks fired at him, one missed, and the other had the shell deflected with a wave of his hand. There were no mines that had been laid, so he was at no risk for an untimely death. Rocketeers fired canisters towards him containing chemicals, but those were similarly tossed aside.

"Freya," Kaya insisted. "We don't have the psions."

A hand was to her ear. Freya's voice was grim. "Similar determinations have been made by the Lieutenant. High Command is cut off, and we're having trouble getting through. Retreat is being implemented now. The unknown Harbinger is the primary target, all Priests are instructed to implement occupying tactics until the majority of the force is gone."

A sense of relief came over her. Good. Better to retreat and live another day, than overextend here. They would come prepared better next time. Several streams of psionic energy were shot from various points of the trenches towards the viking, which forced him to move out of the way, and he entered into a dance of dodging the psionic flames.

Good. Not an Aegii then. Primarily a telekine it seemed.

There was a chance then.

Kaya hopped down from the firing line and grabbed the nearest munitions box and began packing it up, and was joined with the other soldiers putting together the remaining crates and handing them up to soldiers on the other side to load into trucks. They needed to salvage as many resources as possible.

The trenches wouldn't be dismantled, and were a loss, but the Collective wasn't going to get anything else if it could be helped. Behind the trenches the trucks were backing up, and more were hopping out as a desperate rush took place to load up everything quickly. Kaya remembered the drills doing this months ago, and had hoped they wouldn't be in this position.

Lucky that everyone remembered the procedures. The fatigue many of them were feeling that had seeped into the prolonged siege was replaced by adrenaline; knowledge that taking too long raised the chances of death. It didn't take long before the SAS seemed to pick up on what was happening.

The army began moving forward again, even as the viking had been stalled by the sustained barrage and had retreated. Genuine or not willing to push forward? Whatever the reason, that had saved at least a few lives, at the cost of occupying one of the largest SAS cities.

"Hit the smoke!" One of the Officers called out as the last of the crates were loaded up, and the soldiers were exiting the trenches. Engineers who'd planted smoke bombs along the trenches detonated them, releasing grey-white smog across the entire ADVENT line. Kaya didn't know the specifics, only that it was a heavy, long-lasting smoke that wouldn't fully dissipate for several hours.

Not perfect, and it wouldn't stop anything – as the bolts of plasma which shot through could demonstrate, but it would cover their retreat. As Kaya hopped into the transport, and it began rolling, she finally slouched in relief as the adrenaline faded. Her pounding heart relaxed slightly as the possibility of death faded.

A defeat by any metric.

The SAS had won this round. She wondered how ADVENT intended to respond.

Normally she would expect it to be brutal, but the nature of Scipio made her wonder what would come next. ADVENT would not be content with a victory. They would want to crush the SAS forces completely.

A question to be answered later.

For now, and for the first time in hours, Kaya drifted off to sleep, her dreams filled with gas, screams, and purple maelstroms.

---

General Son Mi-Yeon stirred the tea in her mug idly as her subordinates worked under her within the converted skyscraper which now served as the command headquarters for ADVENT's defense of Seoul. She quite liked the view, and there was nothing quite like overlooking the perimeter of the city, dotted with Flak Towers and trench lines.

Controlled demolitions had brought down a number of Seoul's buildings, mostly unimportant skyscrapers and shops. The culturally important places had been preserved, though anything of value had been taken out long ago. Other strategically important locations had been converted to snipers nests that could see far beyond the lines.

Sensors, missile defenses, and traps had been strewn throughout the city. Mi-Yeon was going to have to personally thank the Lion at some point; his strategy and unique method of booby-trapping the city was quite inspired, even if it went against certain doctrines. Particularly the electrified water filled mud holes, those were certainly an acquired taste. It'd be a pain to take down when all of this was done.

Nonetheless, she stood as the commander of one of the most protected places in ADVENT, with the arsenal of a few countries at her disposal.

And a few special toys.

She smiled at the thought. The traitorous Patricia Trask was heading to her, and if she thought that Busan was trouble, she was going to find Seoul an absolute nightmare. Korean soldiers were diligently waiting in the trenches, and thousands more were behind every corner and alley in the cities. Even as the perpetual darkness had fallen over the city, if she'd thought that would deter or dampen the willingness of ADVENT, she was gravely mistaken.

Patricia would long for the days of Busan. Or any other city for that matter.

The sound of a throat clearing attracted her attention. She turned to see Officer George, a fairly young man in the military intelligence unit from America, who had glasses a bit too round for his eyes, and had an obsession with keeping his hair slightly styled. Odd priorities, but he was a fairly bright kid, so she tolerated his eccentricities. "So, you have a report for me?"

"Yes sir, I do," he handed her a file. "Early this morning. We expect the Harbinger and her army to reach the minimum effective threshold early this afternoon."

Mi-Yeon nodded as she looked over the report. Her lips pursed as she read. Seoul was a fortress, but Patricia was bringing quite the army, if this was accurate. Less of a surprise, more of a confirmation of what most were expecting. Patricia was going to try and win. "Does it appear they'll attack immediately or their plan of battle?"

"I don't know," George said.

"Fair enough." She wasn't surprised, that wasn't the kind of intelligence he dealt with. And he was primarily a messenger. "In that case, it appears it's time to mobilize. Thank you for the report. Dismissed."

He saluted, and departed as she walked to her desk and sat down, bringing up the feeds of the expected arrival paths of the Collective. She picked up the phone and made a quick call. "We expect that the Collective will arrive within hours. Place the city on high alert – and ready Daedalus." After receiving an affirmative, she opened the direct line to her DMZ counterpart.

"Yes, we have expected time of arrival and position," she said. "The moment they cross that threshold, I want hell to rain down upon them."

She smiled at the affirmative. "Good hunting, Lieutenant. Shatter their skies."

---

On Approach to Seoul – South Korea

7/21/2017 – 2:19 P.M.

Behind her, the army marched.

It was a formidable sight. Thousands of Mutons, Andromedons, Runianarch, supported by Heralds, Sectopods, and Executors. Custodians and SPECTREs were behind in small groups, to be used at the opportune moment. Engineers were already constructing forward bases to allow Gateway support, as well as construction factories to produce spare parts.

It was going to be a siege, but it was one which she would win.

And the city before her promised a long, painful, and costly siege. Her cape flapped in the wind, as her helmet rested on her face. Her link was strong, and both were prepared for the conflict to come.

They know not what they face.

They shall soon find out.

Cities had been conquered and assimilated as they had reached this inevitable conclusion. The mountainous range was less than ideal for a long-term conflict, especially for a large army, but it was hardly an insurmountable obstacle. Now it was in sight, and now the battle would begin.

There was little that needed to be said. Patricia had no plans to insult ADVENT with an offer to surrender. Both sides were too entrenched, and the lines had been drawn long ago. Now it was time to see who would emerge victorious. Under the perpetual darkness, both armies prepared to clash. "Weapons raised," she ordered the army. "Begin entrenchment in the designated locations as we reach them. Expect ADVENT to begin attacking the moment they have an opportunity."

The plan had been drawn down to the last detail. Zararch scouts and open source materials had provided them with ideal places to create trench lines, employ natural terrain, create sniper nests, and establish artillery locations. Hundreds had been marked, and each soldier knew what their role was.

Even the Mori Twins had a change of tune after their lesson, and would play their role. They could be reasonable when their childish attitudes were stripped from them, though they went out of their way to avoid her wherever possible. A sacrifice she was all too willing to permit. There was a war to win, after all.

"Enemy fire detected," the dispassionate voice of the CODEX sounded in her ear.

Patricia frowned. Already? That didn't seem right.

She pulled out her holodisplay as she walked, and her eyes widened. There had to be a zero or two that was accidentally added. Seoul certainly had a lot of artillery, especially with the DMZ, but these numbers…all at once? No, something seemed wrong. Zararch numbers couldn't be that off unless…

Perhaps more were in the city? The DMZ had become more fortified? Even still, they were far outside the effective range of the DMZ…or should have been. She looked up into the sky, and saw a hail of shells which no one could likely see without vision as enhanced as hers that streaked over Seoul, along with more that were firing from it.

She stopped walking, lifting a fist in a signal. "Brace for impact! Deploy frontal shields."

This command was directed not towards the soldiers she was leading, but the six other teams leading forces to force an encirclement of the city. The terrain made a single approach with a single army impossible. With a hand, she raised it up and a psionic barrier manifested which blanketed the entire army.

The size was enormous, and while she could maintain it indefinitely, that would limit her ability to support the offensive in other ways. She briefly probed the area of the city itself. Dead. Or blocked. T'Leth had indeed made telepathic domination impossible. A pity, but not unexpected.

The first wave of shells hit.

They blanketed the barrier in bright bursts, some hitting the ground with thuds or into the mountains splintering stone and throwing up dirt. Barrages like these usually lasted a second or two. One second, then two, then four, and at six the barrage finally stopped…until a few seconds later another smaller barrage hit.

So, that is what they will be doing.

Synchronized artillery blasts, which would force her to maintain the shield unless she wanted to move her army into the open, at risk of decimation. That was not going to be sustainable. She immediately altered her plans. "Proceed forward, prioritize shielded defenses at assigned points."

Affirmatives came from the Mutons and soldiers. With a shift of her wrist she angled the barrier to resemble an angled sheet in the sky, as opposed to the domed barrier. The army marched forward, now into a land that was shelled. The artillery fire continued.

Then came a sight she did not expect. A beam of light materialized from the sky, and seemed to hit…a mirror? She focused, and it seemed to be one floating in the air. The beam bounced off of the mirror and towards another of the strike positions. In the distance, she could hear a faint boom. "What was that?" She demanded.

"It was…it took out one of the Heralds!" Came the controlled, though intense response. "It cut right through!"

Several possibilities ran through her mind. A superheated laser? From the sky? Had to be some kind of satellite as a power source. She again focused her eyes forward – at this distance it still wasn't clear, but it definitely seemed to have damaged the mirror to some degree. Still, that was not good, and it had only taken-

Another beam fired from the sky, onto a different mirror, and towards another group. "Harbinger, Executor has sustained significant damage. Direct hit-" the transmission was cut off, as she heard the explosion from here, as the copious amount of munitions triggered and exploded.

Only a second.

She needed to make some decisions. "Institute defense procedures immediately, exploit terrain to protect heavy assets," she ordered. "Begin scans for orbital weapons, and send fighters as appropriate to destroy them."

She didn't think the issue would be resolved that easily, but ADVENT had made the first – and admittedly effective – move. This was going to be a long fight.

But this did not change the outcome.

Seoul would fall, no matter what tricks they intended to employ here.

---

Hiveship Interior - Turkey

7/16/2017

One foot in front of the other. A march reaching ever closer to its conclusion.

Time didn't seem to affect her much anymore. It had just been a continuing infinity; one out of her control, one which had lost its grip over her. Perhaps it was the drugs, or her mind slowly giving way to insanity, but she existed in an ongoing fugue, a zombie on the march to a conclusion.

Angela felt calm, despite everything. Or perhaps numb.

Something had snapped; broken inside her, perhaps irreparably. A part of her wondered if this was some kind of horrifying dream, and she was sleeping, or perhaps bleeding out somewhere in Aleppo. Yet it seemed too real to accept this kind of fantastical explanation; too much seemed surreal.

It was one thing to lose one of her friends. Two was another. But everyone was dying, in the span of hours.

Even if they got out of this, she wondered what would happen next. Assignment to a new squad? Cecilia taking over? What would happen when everything had changed? Even before this they'd needed a new sniper, and at this point, they needed a new squad. Something that was difficult to wrap her mind around.

All too fresh.

Pain suppressed under drugs and adrenaline.

More Gateways had been captured in the Hiveship. Armies kept marching through, despite the Hive Commander employing the working psionic systems to cut off or kill soldiers. Yet as they'd gotten closer, that had happened less and less. That had something to do with pinpointing the mechanisms, and Gunners and Engineers destroying them, but it couldn't be all.

The Hive Commander appeared to accept that they were coming.

And he was preparing.

It watched her. Savored her pain and grief.

But it did not press for concern of provoking her fury. Angela did not fear the Hive Commander, it was just a puppetmaster she had rejected since this entire conflict had started. It could not break through, despite its vaunted power. It's time was coming to an end, and it appeared to know that.

Stormtroopers, Lancers, Priests, and more were reaching the center command center of the Hiveship. Angela had been offered a chance to take a break; she'd done enough, they said. She'd refused. She needed to see the Hive Commander die. To avenge her fallen friends. It would not bring them back – but it would bring her some closure.

And satisfaction, silencing the voice that had mocked her.

Four teams, from four doors that led to the command center. Locked, of course, and the Engineers began laying breaching explosives. Angela could sense the Hive Commander on the other side, waiting for them to enter. It did not fear, it did not run. It was assured in its arrogance, its pride even as the battle had collapsed around it.

And why should I fear, Blackburn? I cannot die.

She didn't respond. There was no point now.

The breach charges went off, and the ADVENT forces poured through the holes and into the command center. It was like much of the rest of the ship. A wide bridge in a perfect circle, with rows of consoles that would normally be occupied with Sectoids. A ruined holoprojector hung from the ceiling. The center platforms were incrementally raised like steps proceeding the director of the Hiveship itself, which sat within a chair.

It was a scrawny thing. Small. Skin of a rotting orange, and eyes which blazed with fiery light. Eyes which were cruel. Angela had heard that Sectoids were devoid of emotions, that they acted out of amorality. Yet today had shattered that lie. Sectoids were creatures of emotion like any other, and they were dominated by evil.

More proof was within the command center. Dozens of Sectoid Drones lay dead, some of them slumped over their consoles or chairs, and others on the ground. While some had clearly died from the crash, others had no visible injuries. Killed in all likelihood by the Hive Commander. Expendable fodder.

Save your hypocritical sorrow, ADVENT. One would not mourn for the deaths of tools. You mourn not your tools, as I do not mourn mine.

The Hive Commander was no longer speaking directly to her. It was speaking to all of them. It stood from its seat, disconnecting several implants from its shoulder. Its enlarged head seemed to glow. You waste your time.

Soldiers took cover, as Stormtroopers swiftly took flanking positions and Priests gathered their power.

There is nothing left but emptiness and sorrow.

Fall, and witness the might of a Hive Commander.

A finger flicked, and a trio of soldiers flew into the wall, as ADVENT opened fire. The Hive Commander surrounded itself with a psionic barrier, and froze a dozen projectiles in the air before they were violently thrown back. Most splintered against the consoles and chairs, though a few soldiers fell violently back.

Glen rushed to prop one up. Priests lifted hands and psionic power manifested around them, firing at the Hive Commander, which focused the psionic shield against the storm of energy. Angela could feel its irritation, and closed a fist sending a telekinetic shockwave behind it, knocking some Stormtroopers and Lancers back, though they quickly recovered.

More bolts of psionic energy manifested and fired towards the entrenched soldiers, some hitting and wounding. Angela attempted a telepathic probe, but the mental defenses of the Hive Commander remained remarkably strong. It was rested and healthy; it had not fought physically for hours like many of them had.

The Hive Commander threw a hand up in the air, and a shockwave went out, throwing those nearest back, and causing everyone else to stumble. Another hand tensed, and around the command center metal screeched and groaned as consoles were torn from the floors and moved around at rapid, lethal speeds. Some of the Telekine Priests created counter-bubbles, where they strained against the Hive Commander, but these were few spots of security.

Angela threw herself to the ground to avoid the maelstrom of debris, and was joined by a few others, as they nonetheless pulled their rifles up to continue firing at the Hive Commander. Glen was against the wall, just out of range of the center of the debris storm, pulling one of the wounded soldiers away.

Then it stopped, everything hovered briefly for one second, long enough for Angela to realize what was going to come next. "Everyone to the ground now!" Verbally and telekinetically, those who heard reacted immediately, or they did not. Every single piece of debris was flung in all directions, violent shrapnel and improvised debris impacting and killing whatever was in the path.

Angela could almost hear the neck of Glen snap as one of the destroyed consoles slammed into him, and likely breaking his body in other places. His dead body slumped over that of the wounded soldier, a life he had been able to save as his last act.

That was what he would have wanted.

She wanted to scream. She couldn't.

Not yet.

Now though, the Hive Commander seemed to be tiring. ADVENT soldiers lay dead, but many more were still alive, and still fighting. The Hive Commander couldn't maintain a universal shield, so was directing it wherever the most fire came from. The Stormtroopers were moving around to find a flank, and were being picked up telekinetically, sometimes following with their heads exploding or their necks snapped.

Not before they got in some wounds. The constant barrage of acid forced the Hive Commander to scurry around, and it was bleeding from multiple wounds it was suffering. Not fatal ones – yet. Psionic energy coalesced around its arms as its own streams of psionic flame spewed out.

The sheer power was enough to burn through the armor of the soldiers. The quick ones leapt out of the way. The slow ones were burned alive. The Hive Commander was smart, targeting the heavier soldiers. The Lancers, the Gunners, the Shieldbearers. "Cecilia!" Angela shouted, her voice raw after the hours of fighting. "Get down!"

The Shieldbearer tried to move out of the way.

The stream of purple flame was faster. Another brief shriek of pain, and then it was over. Another smoldering corpse fell to the ground, destroyed beyond recognition.

The thud of her body falling echoed in Angela's mind. The numb realization of what had now happened. All gone.

Everyone.

Gone.

Dead.

The fighting still went on around her. A surreality became the overriding factor. She almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of what had just happened. The cocktail of drugs interfered with just feeling…anything. It was a jumble of emotions; ones which she knew would destroy her if she let them.

Nothing really mattered anymore.

This had to stop.

Her vision focused on only a single thing. The orange alien with yellow blood smeared over its naked body; the alien with a faint aura around it, violet power it delighted in exercising. The mind she had touched for so often in this battle. Everything now focused on it. If she was going to die today, she would make sure this creature harmed no one else.

Everything she had, she focused on the Hive Commander. Ignoring the psionic flames. Ignoring the telekinesis. Ignoring self-preservation. Her mind was a vice, if not able to penetrate the mind of the alien, enough to quarantine it. To grip the mind so that the body could be shot. Be still. Stop. Freeze.

Mantras were repeated and impressed. The Hive Commander stumbled.

You already failed.

She ignored it, and tightened the grip.

It would only take a moment for a single shot to end the creature.

A Stormtrooper charged with his weapon primed.

Let this be your legacy.

The Psionosphere seemed to shatter as a horrific noise, a scream, a howl, an indescribable noise seemed to emanate as if the thin barrier that separated reality and Psionosphere was briefly broken. A telepathic attack that would break any defense, and within it, a final vengeful command scripted by the alien.

It couldn't be stopped on its own.

There was only one thing to do.

She moved herself between it and the world. A bandage that would take the brunt until it healed itself. It would only be a moment where she would be vulnerable, but it would be enough, and those alive would be saved. She was almost curious to find out that the final command the Hive Commander had sent out was not verbal. She wasn't sure what it was, an attack?

She felt it enter her mind. It went deep. It would almost certainly kill her.

A sacrifice. One she could accept.

The Psionosphere closed a millisecond later.

The Stormtrooper fired, and its head blew apart.

Angela collapsed to the ground. Her legs didn't work, her nerves were on fire and numb at the same time. Her vision seemed to fade in and out. Her heart rate seemed to be slowing down. It seemed instinctively harder to breathe. Whatever the Hive Commander had done…it seemed to be shutting her down, organ by organ.

She sensed people around her, people she didn't recognize. Some hands touched her, she was faintly aware she was being moved. The void of unconsciousness called, and now she felt the need for rest. Rest she might not wake up from, but she was not certain she wanted to.

Rest she was not sure she wanted to wake up from.

Maybe she would join them now, otherwise she would walk the world alone.

Angela Blackburn drifted off, and soon after, the Battle of the Hiveship came to an end.

---

To be continued in Chapter 69

Revenant