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.

73. For Our Own

For Our Own

---

Office of the Chancellor, Geneva – Switzerland

7/25/2017 – 10:22 A.M.

"Damascus was the agreed upon location," Ian Powell said to the assembled group, indicating the highlighted region. "It's under our control, and simultaneously not a location that is absolutely vital to our efforts. Also, as the site of one of our more recent victories, it has certain propaganda value in having the aliens come peacefully."

"And he agreed?" Saudia asked.

"It appears so," Powell confirmed. "From reviewing the correspondences, it is unlikely that the Battlemaster expects us to act in bad faith. The location is not important for him compared to the objective. I would expect that there will be a Cleanser Ship standing by, but we can condition those movements."

Laura scoffed. "I doubt he'd be that brazen."

"Unlikely," Powell agreed. "That isn't his kind of conduct. If we were dealing with Quisilia, Patricia, or another Ethereal, I would reconsider. The Battlemaster is someone we can rely on – to a reasonable degree."

"I'll accept that." Saudia looked to Laura. "What precautions are we taking for security itself?"

"We're first tripling our PRIEST numbers in Damascus to mitigate any Zararch infiltration or disruption," Laura began. "Primarily telepaths, which we will place throughout the city to gain maximum coverage. Aegii PRIESTs will be assigned to each prominent figure – particularly yourself and the negotiators. These will be in addition to your existing protection detail."

She highlighted several sections of the city on the holotable. "We have the exact landing location and route, and will be locking it down with armored cars, Army squads, and snipers equipped with specialized rounds. I have six teams of Lancers ready to call in, three who will be in Damascus, three who will be outside it."

Saudia raised an eyebrow. "That might be overkill."

"We're dealing with the Battlemaster, Chancellor," Laura answered dryly. "There is no such thing as 'overkill'."

Saudia supposed she wasn't wrong. "Fair enough."

"ADVENT Intelligence agents will also be seeded throughout the city," Powell added, briefly illuminating a spattering of yellow dots. "All plainclothes, and ethnically consistent with the region. If anything comes up, we'll know about it. I doubt even the Zararch will attempt to penetrate this."

"Has XCOM committed any forces?" Saudia asked with a nod.

"Yes, several MECs and two squads," Laura confirmed. "Kitted in gear they say will be ideal for the Battlemaster should issues arise."

No doubt XCOM had been planning their ideal way to take out the Battlemaster. Although given past failures, it remained to be seen if now they would be effective if it happened. "And their chief ambassador?"

"The Commander, of course, along with Aegis," Laura said, briefly checking the list. "Not surprised he'd want to handle this himself."

No, it wasn't a surprise at all. He was not one to stand back when such negotiations were taking place, and he was one of the few people who had spoken with the Battlemaster in a peaceful setting, so he might be more attuned than most people. "Noted," she said. "Now - Sana'Ligna."

"As agreed, she is coming alone, and will accept an escort," Kyong stated. "We do not expect her to be a significant problem, and we have PRIESTs who will mitigate her passive aura. Her route is here-" Another section of the city lit up in blue. "And she will arrive a day before the start date."

And for the most important part. "Now the Battlemaster's entourage," Saudia said. "How many and who?"

"Beyond himself, he's bringing Yang Shuren," Kyong said, consulting his list. "Not surprising. Her medic will also be accompanying her, the same one who was assigned during the Florida ceasefire."

"A Dath'Haram, correct," Powell cocked his head. "Good. A known quantity. He will not pose an issue."

"He's a Dath'Haram, they are inherently non-problematic," Laura muttered.

"Then there is a surprise," Kyong said. "The Zar'Chon will also be in attendance."

That got a reaction out of her. Saudia wasn't inherently alarmed, but she cocked her head and fixated on Powell, eyes narrowing. "And we agreed to this?" She said slowly.

"Of course," Powell said without hesitation. "We have precious little on the Zar'Chon. I suspect he is coming along so the Battlemaster isn't taken advantage of. The Zar'Chon is intelligent, though, and it is extremely unlikely that he would try something during the negotiations."

"So the representative for the Collective interests," Saudia crossed her arms. "Potentially a saboteur?"

"Unknown," Powell admitted. "The Zar'Chon is an enigmatic figure in the Collective. We are not certain how firmly he is an Ethereal puppet. Indications are that he has clashed with Ethereal leadership at various points in the war, and is firmly focused on Collective interests. Despite the differences in leadership and strategy, the Battlemaster seems to trust him, which does indicate he has some degree of independence."

"Excluding his ties to Quisilia," Laura pointed out. "Close ties, I might add."

"That means less than you'd think," Powell sighed. "By that logic, Twitter is 'very close' to Quisilia because he's endorsed their platform."

"And made commercials for them."

"Well, yes."

"And owns stock in them."

"That is true."

"And performed cyberattacks on their competitors."

"Twitter had competitors?"

"Exactly."

"The point being –" Powell emphasized. "That we maintain our control over the platform, and it answers to us. Ravarian might be compromised, but I doubt the Battlemaster would bring him along if he felt he would cause issues."

"Truthfully, he's less likely to cause issues than the last name," Kyong winced. "Venadiar."

"The Hunter?" Saudia asked incredulously. "He's bringing him here?"

"Apparently," Kyong sighed. "Which we should keep quiet."

"I say no," Saudia shook her head. "Not only is he a wild card, he is also a Bringer creation. Aligned with the Battlemaster or not, I don't want him anywhere close to the negotiations. Or myself."

"I can make a revision, but I'm not certain it will be accepted," Kyong warned, making a short note. "Worst case, we make sure to segregate him so you won't ever know he's here. This isn't worth derailing the negotiations over."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, do we have the leverage here or not?"

"That isn't the point, Chancellor. We're going to need a better reason than 'you don't like him'," Kyong answered firmly. "Considering we're controlling the location, have dozens of snipers, a small army occupying the city, and teams of elite forces – XCOM included – standing by, we have no right to invoke fear of assassination as grounds for denial – unless you want to imply that one sniper is better than our very thorough security."

"Considering some of the shots he's pulled off, that may not be wrong," Laura muttered.

"And even if that's true, it shouldn't be publicized," Kyong continued. "We're going to have to make some decisions we're not happy with. That's part of the negotiations. The last thing we should do is signal if we're scared. If it was Patricia or another figure, we would have a case. This is not one of those cases."

She didn't like it at all. If there was an element she would never trust, it would be anything tainted by the Bringer. The Hunter was not necessarily the worst of the Bringer's spawn - but she still deeply disliked this. At the same time, she could admit to herself that wasn't good enough. "Fine," Saudia relented, knowing that this would be an argument she wouldn't win. "Are the starting terms finalized?"

"They are," he confirmed. "We're going for the maximum realistic terms. Worldwide ceasefire, full repatriation of captured soldiers and civilians, reclamation of territory, significant amounts of raw materials and resources, bans on Bringer and offensive AI units, and full schematics for advanced Collective units and technology. And ending the oversight of the Vitakara for good measure."

"Right," Saudia's nostrils flared in amusement. "And out of that, how much will we actually get?"

"Realistically? We will likely be able to extract partial agreements on most, if not all of these," Kyong said. "We specifically chose elements that he would be open to, and started on the highest end. We are certain he will demand lower terms - especially with the Zar'Chon present - and those will be within our range of accepted conditions."

"Good, so long as it doesn't go too low," she nodded. "What is the public reaction thus far?"

"Mixed to negative," He admitted. "Which we knew it was going to be. Media campaigns and regular explanations by experts and officials have assuaged some concerns, but the public at large disapproves of the possibility, irrespective of potential gains."

"Not even with PATRIOT and ADVENT Intelligence?" She shot a questioning look to Powell.

"We're playing a waiting game to an extent, Chancellor," Powell said. "Tampering with public outrage should be handled carefully. Unless you care about ratios and number of likes, it frankly doesn't matter if the people like or don't like something. We're looking for upticks in xenophobic violence, harassment, and things which actually have a material impact on the world."

He inclined his head forward. "Thus far, that has been minimal. This is simply an unpopular decision, and our citizens are expressing themselves. Until such a movement poses a tangible danger, we do not need to, or have the legal standing to interfere. Likewise, PATRIOT is focusing on education, as are our media arms. That is the legal extent of what can be done – and more importantly, all that should be done."

"Very well," Saudia ran a hand through her hair. She couldn't necessarily blame the people, but her job was to sometimes make unpopular decisions for the benefit of the long term. "And our soldiers?"

"Unsurprisingly, they're not on board," Laura said flatly. "I doubt this will affect their performance, but I guarantee that you didn't make friends by floating the idea of releasing one of the most dangerous enemies they may face, regardless of concessions. I've made my opinion on this clear, don't expect me to endorse any decision made."

Saudia pursed her lips. "Understood, Commander, but should something be reached, I do expect you to report on the factual gains."

"You'll get that, but no more," Laura said with a sharp nod.

"All I want," Saudia looked around. "Is there anything else I should be appraised of?"

"I do not believe so, Chancellor," Kyong said. "All you have to do is wait."

"Good," she nodded to them. "Dismissed."

---

Malabo International Airport

7/26/2017 - 12:22 P.M.

The wind whipped at Grady, threatening to take his cap. While ordinarily welcome on such a hot day, this was not entirely natural, and instead was intermingled with the hot exhaust from the plane that had just landed. Not the first military aircraft to arrive that day, and certainly not the last. This one, however, carried an important passenger.

Wing Major Norman Rowsdower, the air officer in command of the new front in the Scipio campaign. The Wing Director for Scipio was still in North Africa, as that was where the majority of their forces remained and where their operations had begun. With Grady having suddenly opened the way for several airfields, hardly a stone's throw from the SAS capital, soon to be militarized, it was deemed necessary for the Air Force to have a representative there to supervise it.

Things were a little hectic now, as he would launch his next operation within three days, but he didn't anticipate too much need for these new forces just yet, and he wanted to keep up the pressure on the SAS. To that end, he would keep up small scale attacks on minor settlements and outposts now that the three days he had provided the SAS to evacuate the coastline were up.

As the plane taxied to a stop on the tarmac and the door opened, a tall, middle aged black man emerged and began descending the stairs. Formerly of the United States Air Force, Norman Rowsdower was another veteran of the War on Terror, though this would be the first time they'd met.

Due to America's position of relative dominance prior to the invasion in regard to air and naval forces, it was disproportionately represented among the higher ranks within ADVENT. Some grumbled about favoritism, but America did have the most powerful navy and air force at the time of the invasion - and plentiful experience along with it. Just by sheer numbers, it was to be expected that the United States would have a prominent position in those branches of the ADVENT military, and likely others.

As the Wing Major reached the ground, Grady offered a hand, which he graciously shook.

"Welcome to Malabo, Wing Major. I trust your flight was uneventful?" Grady said by way of greeting.

"Of course, had to go around SAS territory to get here, but thankfully they seem content to watch their own skies," the man replied with a nod.

"Yeah, they've been pretty busy lately. Too many fires to put out - literally and figuratively," he said, as the two officers shared a laugh.

"Well hopefully, we can make a few more now that I'm here," Norman said with a smile.

"We'll be doing so sooner rather than later," Grady said. "As I'm sure you were briefed, I have an operation to carry out coming up soon."

"Yes, I heard. Really, Admiral?" The airman shook his head in disbelief. "Three days to evacuate an entire coastline?"

"Yeah, they're doing it though, to their credit. Things seemed a bit rushed, but they should be finished before the coming operation," Grady said with a shrug. "And if not... well, I warned them, and they should really know better than to doubt me by now." Privately, Grady thought he had perhaps been just a tad unreasonable, but he'd wanted to keep them on the backfoot and capitalize on the shock of the previous operation.

"I'm afraid it will take another few days for the rest of my planes to arrive, so regretfully I can't offer as much as I'd like," Norman said apologetically, with perhaps just a touch of irritation. Likely from the thought of being left out.

"I don't anticipate too much trouble, and there's some time left before we begin," Grady assured him. "We should be fine with just my own forces, though if any of yours are ready for tasking by the time I start, I won't complain. I have to say, I'm pleased with what ADVENT is sending."

"Air command believes these islands will provide a useful staging area for future tactical and strategic bombing of the SAS heartland," Norman answered. "I understand all of them have air strips?"

"Yes, though the rest of the islands are lightly inhabited and mostly nature preserves, so they didn't get much traffic. I've had our engineers working around the clock to expand them so they are suitable for your heavier aircraft," he said. "They should be operating at sufficient capacity not long after the last of your forces arrive. A week at most. We're mainly just bringing in more equipment and expanding the runways. The Hangars are mostly prefab and were some of the first things we took care of." They'd had to cut into the nature preserves a bit to make room for the additions, but the islands remained mostly unaffected, save for the increased air and naval traffic.

Norman nodded. "Excellent. I'm looking forward to beginning the strategic bombing."

"I assume you have a plan to deal with the air defenses?" Grady enquired. "I can take out some of them, but my options for cities further inland are very limited."

"ADVENT hasn't been idle," Norman promised. "The planes and munitions have been upgraded. They can't fly into the middle of a fortified city, but if we're smart, and you lend a hand, I'm confident we can at least rattle some windows."

They began walking towards the waiting vehicle. The ever-welcoming president had insisted on dispatching one of his limos to receive the new officer, and after security had gone over it down to the screws and checked the driver, Grady had decided to indulge him and accept the gesture.

"Interesting. I've received some more up to date equipment to replace my losses, but nothing too crazy," Grady said as they got into the vehicle and buckled in. "Mostly Ravens and some upgraded missiles. As I understand, they've figured out a way to make them more resistant to Collective point defences?"

"Yes, pretty simple actually," Norman said, with an air of satisfaction. "The hollow spaces in the missiles are packed with aerogel to better insulate them from energy weapons, and the exteriors themselves are MELD hardened. All munitions going forward will feature these advances, I'm told, across all services."

"Excellent. It's irritating seeing only a fifth of a missile salvo actually hit their target." Grady noted. "I have enough to make it work, but I'd prefer not to have to completely restock my armaments every few days." He wasn't exaggerating by much. Codex controlled laser batteries did a good job intercepting missiles.

"It can't be that bad," Norman raised an eyebrow. "You have thousands of missiles under your control, and that's before taking into account coastal missile batteries, submarines and your aircraft."

Grady gave a brief laugh. "No, not quite, but that's just because I've managed to avoid facing them head on so far. It remains to be seen how we will do in a more conventional engagement."

"And is that what this operation will be?" Norman idly inquired. "A conventional engagement?"

Grady took a moment to consider the limo driver. He would have been cleared by the PRIESTs and they hadn't found any listening devices, but it was still possible for a psion in the area to listen in via the driver. He didn't like having to deal with telepathy; he had no problem with the other disciplines of psionics, but telepathy just made things more complicated. He'd gone to great lengths to ensure his cards were kept close to his chest, and thus far it seemed to have worked. He could tell him here if he wished, the cabin was supposedly secure, but ultimately he erred on the side of caution.

"We'll discuss details at the base," Grady finally said. "So, do you have any forces ready to go which you'd like to contribute? Air support would be appreciated."

"It can be arranged, though I think you're being a bit too cautious," Norman chided, nodding to the driver. "The Collective hasn't used telepathy nearly to the extent they could have. You really don't need to be so evasive."

Grady snorted. "I would like to believe that, but I won't take the risk. There's an Ethereal active in this theater who specializes in assassination and espionage - of which you've likely been briefed on. We can speak freely once we're surrounded by PRIESTs. Until then, I am going to watch what I say, and I suggest you do the same."

"Well then, would you mind if I tag along?" he asked. "I can manage things well enough from the Shannon right now and I'd like to get eyes on what we're dealing with."

Grady hesitated a moment. It was potentially risky to have the head of naval and air operations on the same ship in a combat zone. If the carrier was taken out, the command structure would be decapitated, but so much of the command and control duties were performed aboard the Shannon that this was unavoidable. Ultimately, the carrier was one of the safest places to be, as it was protected by the rest of the fleet and multiple psions, and he wanted to get down to business with Norman as quickly as possible, so he acquiesced.

"Of course. I'd be happy to welcome you aboard."

---

The Prism

7/25/2017 – 10:22 A.M.

Hallian felt that it was a good idea every so often to remind himself of the caliber of people that he had somehow found himself around these days. It was far different to get to know the aliens that legends had been built around. While the Battlemaster still was somewhat in that category, he couldn't quite say the same about Yang.

She was a…unique individual to put it lightly, beyond just being the Harbinger of one of the most dangerous Elders alive. She was actually a person he could consider a friend now, all because he happened to be the right medic at the right place at the right time. He wondered where he'd be now if he hadn't been part of the ceasefire agreement months ago.

Still, despite Yang being a pleasant person to talk to, it was easy to forget just how powerful she was. No more was that apparent than when watching her take part in the Prism. Hallian did not know exactly how the Prism really worked, but he knew that the danger faced wasn't completely simulated.

So seeing Yang fight through scores of ADVENT soldiers, psions, and XCOM operatives was a sight to behold. It was a testament to her skill and power, and the more he watched her, the more he was reminded of watching a Bladedancer. A real one, not the imitators in the Runianarch.

A psionic, telekinetic, and sometimes brutal Bladedancer, but a Bladedancer nonetheless. She did eschew the typical grace and flexibility the Bladedancers usually possessed, but he was inclined to give her a pass because she was a less flexible alien, and her style was one inspired by the Battlemaster. Direct, clean, and aggressive.

It was fascinating to watch, and just as enrapturing in its own way.

However, he had a feeling that she wasn't training today because she needed it, but to relax and take her mind off the upcoming negotiations. This was her way of destressing, which he had recommended now that she was fully back to normal. The enemy composition – which was not especially challenging at all – reflected this.

He was almost the opposite of her this time. Unlike her, he was thrilled that negotiations were taking place, even if he was unsure what the end result would be. Still, the fact that ADVENT was willing to even entertain the idea was a very good sign, and told him that there was a slight chance that the war could be ended in the future.

If the Second Guardian could be saved from whatever fate awaited her in ADVENT – execution was the most likely one from what he'd read – it would be even better. It was going to be an experience to observe. There would be so many Elders in one place – and not necessarily on the same side. Aegis and Sana'Ligna in the same place. He would stay out of the way of course, but maybe he would have an opportunity to speak to them.

Yang probably wouldn't approve, or the Battlemaster, but he remembered Aegis from before this had started. Like the Battlemaster, he was one who was at least somewhat involved in the Collective, and Sana'Ligna's reputation spoke for itself. Unfortunate that this war had divided them, though they at least seemed aligned in wanting the Second Guardian spared.

Presumably.

The doors hissed open as Yang walked through, taking her helmet off and shaking her short hair free, though he noticed it was a bit longer than normal. Her bangs stuck to her brow, and she scowled to herself until she noticed him, and immediately brushed the misshapen hairs behind her ears. He lifted a water bottle, and it flew out of his hand to hers.

"You're here early," she said pointedly, though not angrily.

He cocked his head. "You're surprised?"

"Good point, I probably shouldn't be," she said, drinking from the water bottle. "Thanks."

"You're bad about keeping your fluid intake consistent," he pointedly reminded her. "Your modifications mitigate this to some degree, but I'd prefer you not be on the fringe of dehydration."

"Well…thanks," she said, finishing the bottle quick enough that he was glad he prepared just in case. He pulled out another bottle and held it out. As it flew to her hand again, she threw him a suspicious glance. "How many of these do you have?"

He smiled. "Enough."

She muttered something under her breath, but continued drinking. "Was it relaxing?" he asked sitting on the couch.

"Very. Some days it's nice to cut through some easy soldiers," she said, placing her swords up. "I hate it when things get complicated."

"The negotiations?" He asked.

She seemed to consider making a smart response, but just sighed. "Yes. I have a bad feeling about it."

"About what's going to happen, or doing it at all?"

"Both," she sat down on the couch beside him, still in armor. "I don't trust ADVENT is actually going to do anything, and I don't trust ADVENT, XCOM, or the Imperator not to screw us over."

Instinctively he flinched at that, a bit surprised at what she'd said. "The…Imperator…" he asked slowly.

"I…" Yang winced. "Sorry. Just…going to be on edge from this. You've looked at the itinerary, right?"

"No, it's not been shared with me."

She muttered something to herself. "I'll have to get that sorted. Short version is we're going into a lion's den, and ADVENT is barely letting us come along."

"A lion's den is a dangerous allegory, yes?"

"Imagine a room full of tigers," she said. "That's the analogy."

"Bad then."

"I'm surprised you're not more nervous," she narrowed her eyes. "In fact, you seem more excited."

"Well, I think that ADVENT will negotiate in good faith," he said. "If they're at least considering it, maybe there can be a peaceful end to the war."

Yang snorted. "Maybe."

Hallian crossed his arms. "I know that is code for 'no'."

"I prefer to be a realist," she said grimly. "ADVENT will never agree to peace so long as the Imperator exists. He's far too powerful for them to ignore. The Imperator, the Overmind, hell, even the Battlemaster – each of them are existential threats to ADVENT in their own way. We have a bad track record of peace anyway. Even if that did happen, in a few decades we'd be in a new war, one probably more widespread and bloody than it is now."

A depressing analysis, but he could unfortunately see her point. "A…question."

"Go ahead."

"Is that what you want?" He asked. "The war to continue? Because it's simpler?"

"You a psychologist now?" She asked rhetorically, but went silent for a few minutes. "I don't know. Honest answer, Hallian. I don't know what I'd do if it all stopped. I don't want to live under ADVENT, and I equally despise what the Collective allows. I'm not a leader or visionary, I'm just…following what the Battlemaster is planning." she gestured aimlessly. "I guess whatever I'd do would be what he does."

"But you do have preferences," he said.

A shrug. "Sure I do, but we don't always get what we want. What I want is…" she trailed off, pursing her lips. "Well, a dream. Maybe it's best if it stays that way. There were things I wanted that turned out much worse than I'd hoped. 'Be careful what you wish for,' and all that."

He nodded. "I suppose I can understand that. Though I've never been one to want for much."

"Because of your culture?" She asked, shifting to face him more directly.

"Mostly, yes," he said. "I've always believed that cooperation and compromise has achieved the best results, and overcame problems that would otherwise be insurmountable. Division, factionalism, and agenda is…alien, for lack of a better word. Humans and Andromedons often strike me as…well, prideful and wasteful."

Yang seemed to find that amusing, and let out a short chuckle. "That we are. That said, some differences are not reconcilable. And there are ideas, people, and agendas which should not exist, and we unfortunately have too many of them. Compromise and negotiation only works when both sides want a similar end goal, and even then…" she waved a hand vaguely. "It doesn't always work out. There are exceptions to your most intrinsic beliefs, it's just a matter of how far you have to push."

"That is true," he agreed. "But returning to the subject at hand – I think that the negotiations will be good."

"We'll see," Yang said, and stood again. She looked at him for a second. Then motioned him to follow. "Here, help me take this off."

"Sorry?"

"This armor is very nice, but it's a pain to put on by myself," she said matter-of-fact. "You're here, so you can help if you want."

"I can do that," he stood, and followed to her own quarters. It was a request he definitely wasn't going to read into, but it was without a doubt a demonstration of trust. Yang had few or no friends here besides the Battlemaster. It felt good that she seemed to consider him one as he did her.

With two people, the process for taking off the battle armor definitely went faster. He was surprised at how intricate it was. No wonder it took her sometimes a half hour to put everything on – and why she wore it everywhere even when she probably didn't need to. It wasn't exactly something that she could put on at a moment's notice.

Soon though, it was done, and racked on the stand in her spartan room. Now in her undersuit, she rolled her shoulders. "Thanks, Hallian."

"Anytime."

She smiled slightly, and walked over to the corner and picked up what seemed to be a minigun replica of some kind that he hadn't noticed, as his attention had been understandably elsewhere. "This is for you, by the way. Since I'm not able to protect you when I'm in the shower, it's not fair leaving you defenseless here with a hungry tiger roaming around."

He eyed the weapon. "You know I'm a pacifist, yes?"

"Didn't realize water guns broke the pacifism code," she teased. "I asked Fectorian to make a military-grade water rifle. This, apparently, was what he interpreted it as. I'm surprised he didn't ask questions. Anyway…" she handed it to him, which he accepted. It was lighter than he would have thought. "I'll be back in a bit," she told him, walking into the shower. "We'll talk after."

He smiled as he appraised the water gun. "I'll be waiting."

Once she was inside, he looked in more detail at the weapon he'd been given, and a child-like giddiness filled him as he realized that the tables had turned against his feline rival. Let's see you back me into a corner now, you overgrown metallic hairball.

---

Joseph Ray Shannon, CIC, Bay of Guinea

7/26/2017 - 2:45 P.M.

"Alright, everyone, thank you for coming," Grady said to the small group of advisors. "We've got some time left before the operation starts, so let's go over everything. I would also like to introduce Wing Major Norman Rowsdower, who will be in charge of local air forces. He's still waiting for all of his assets to arrive, but he wished to come with us and get an early start on things here."

"Thank you, Admiral Grady," Norman nodded. "I'm mostly here in an observational capacity, but I do have some assets ready to go, so we can use this briefing to decide how best to use them."

"And what assets might those be?" Commander Grant Thompson, of the Amphibious landing forces, asked.

"At the moment I am told that five fighter wings are ready for takeoff." Norman answered. "In addition, four upgraded B-52 bombers will be ready by the time combat starts, along with two enhanced AC-130 gunships and three squadrons of B1 Lancers. I can also spare a heavy transport plane or two if necessary. Then there's the best part. It will be close, but I have been assured that a B2 stealth bomber will be ready by the start of the operation. Aside from it having the aforementioned upgrades, it is still fairly stealthy and hard for Collective defenses to accurately target."

Thompson let out a low whistle at that. "So, ADVENT is bringing out the big stick. This should be interesting. I wonder how the Collective will feel being beaten by an airplane design that's over 50 years old."

"Not so primitive if we've upgraded it - as we've upgraded everything else in this war," Grady pointed out. "But tell me, you mentioned something about the bombers being enhanced?"

"Not just them, the transports and gunships too, but yes," Norman clarified. "See, at one point the US was considering using molten salt reactors to power their strategic bombers. Sadly, they didn't go ahead with it due to competition for funding and politics, but ADVENT took the knowledge and employed it here."

"How so?" Grady was admittedly quite curious now. He didn't need to be told about molten salt reactors; his carriers had been upgraded with them as a backup power source. The technology was truly remarkable, and it actually made him furious that the research had been abandoned ever since the 1950's. Making the technology as old as the bombers they'd just discussed.

"Well, a lot of the space formerly taken up by fuel tanks has been stuffed with aerogel for protection, extra armor has been added to the plane, especially the wings, and most importantly, each one is now equipped with it's own PDS, with sufficient emitters and power to provide full protection without any gaps." Norman listed off. "We're even working on a support plane that is capable of generating a field large enough to protect nearby aircraft. We're still working out the kinks, but I'm told it will be ready soon. The Collective may as well be shooting nerf darts when those are activated.

That was certainly quite the arsenal. Hypothetically, this should be enough to level the playing field for him when attacking fortified cities. The enemy would soon find that their attempt at emulating ADVENT defensive doctrine would not be entirely effective.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Well, there's a few tanker planes for refueling that are set to go but otherwise, yes," Norman finished. "For now, anyway. Give me another week and I'll have more options. I just hope the airfields can handle the extra traffic."

"For now, just land the larger planes at the Airport in Malabo, the rest can be placed on the other smaller island airstrips." Grady advised.

ADVENT had gotten quite lucky when Equatorial Guinea joined. While the mainland was still under enemy occupation, the country also controlled several small islands in the area, all of them with airstrips and lightly populated, if at all. The only one he could not use just yet was Corisco, as it lay too close to the shore and too far south for his current purposes. Though it would potentially be very useful not too long from now when he moved onto the final phase of his offensive operations.

One thing he did not mention out of an abundance of caution was that ADVENT was currently in talks with the nation of São Tomé and Príncipe. A small island nation with no mainland territory that was nearby. He'd been told the country was on the verge of joining, and all that remained was a few final details and for ADVENT to covertly transfer personnel there to secure it before the Collective could respond. If all went well, he'd have access to at least four airfields, all within range of the SAS coastline - in addition to his carriers and amphibious assault ships. Things were going well, and he felt he could help break the stalemate on land and potentially end the campaign by the end of the next month if not sooner.

"With that out of the way, I think it's time we move on to the battle plan," Grady said. "Our target this time is Port Harcourt, the last major coastal city in the SAS north of Malabo - the other two have both been nuked." He needed to send a thank you to the Chancellor at some point for taking out Lagos before Scipio began, as it gave him one less obstacle to deal with. Soon, he could turn his attention towards the poorly defended, and not yet fully integrated south, but for now, he needed to wrap things up here.

"As you can see, it's not an especially large city, as the Collective focused their efforts on Douala in order to protect the missile batteries there. With all of that lost, they are suddenly quite vulnerable. Defenses are lighter than at Douala, but not insubstantial." Grady continued, bringing up a model of the city on the holotable.

"Reconnaissance has confirmed the presence of five flak towers, but only three of them will be a direct obstacle; the others are on the far side of the city and positioned to defend the northern approach," he said, as he zoomed in on one of the aforementioned structures.

"These appear to be constructed from some type of concrete, and are covered and reinforced with heavy alloy plating," he continued. "In addition, I've been informed by ADVENT Intelligence that each one has its own barrier generator and is capable of protecting itself from any direct attack so long as it remains active."

A few points were highlighted in green. "In terms of weaponry, they are fairly standard. Several plasma AA batteries, and quite a few point defense lasers. Below the roof, the weapons are primarily aimed at ground forces and there are a great many of them. Again, mostly energy weapons, though there are reports of some machine gun emplacements, mostly Gaussian. Make no mistake, these towers will be the biggest obstacle. Even if we take the rest of the city, these towers will likely still be active. The final holdouts."

"And how do you intend to deal with them?" Norman interjected. "My bombers might be able to survive a pass or two, but if that barrier is up, they won't be able to do much damage."

"I'm glad you asked," he said. "As you can see, the first flak tower we will encounter is on the southern tip of the minor island of Okrika, where it can guard the waterways leading into the city proper. We have to assume it has been fitted with at least some heavy plasma guns facing towards the water. Combined with the confines of the Bonny river, which limits maneuverability, there's a very real possibility it could turn into a turkey shoot. These are CODEX controlled, and I highly doubt they are likely to miss a slow moving escort ship coming down the river." He pointed to the flak tower in question.

"Thankfully, there is a way to circumvent it; a bit before the river reaches that point, it splits off to the west behind an uninhabited island, but the waterways are still narrow." Grady paused. "Eventually, this will take you into the city proper, but there is unfortunately another flak tower in the way on Kidney Island." Grady moved his finger up the hologram until it reached the flak tower in question.

"Again, it is well positioned to guard the river," he repeated. "Further south, and to the east, the river does branch off and give some access to the edge of the city, but it's limited and too shallow for anything bigger than a patrol boat, so we can't rely on just that."

Grady now gestured to a point further east. "Here, we have the last of the immediately relevant flak towers, guarding the split in the Okpoka River just south of Trans Amadi. There is no way around it if we want to go further into the city."

Now he brought his hand further north from the center of the city. "The remaining two flak towers are positioned near the north edge of the city, where it transitions into the suburbs. This puts them close to the air force base, which has been repurposed by the Collective and is host to both alien and SAS aircraft. These flak towers can be left until after we've secured most of the city, as they unfortunately make any airstrike on the air force base dangerous. Even with these upgrades, I am reluctant to send them into the heart of the city's AA defenses and above an active airfield."

Finally, he brought his hands back and gripped the edge of the display, leaning over it. "This is all, of course, augmented by dozens of minor AA emplacements scattered throughout the city - which we still don't have a full count of. Thankfully, these are much more vulnerable to attack. These are formidable defenses, and had the SAS purposely built them with a naval attack in mind, this would be a nightmare. As it stands, it will just be tedious."

"So what's the plan, then?" Thompson asked, impatient and waiting to hear what his part in this would be, if he was to have one.

"Well, we've lucked out. While the Niger Delta is an absolute mess of waterways, a lot of the ones here are designed to accommodate large cargo ships, so I am confident that at the very least, most of our destroyers can safely navigate them," he said, highlighting the areas in question. "Our cruisers potentially could as well, but I don't want to risk it, and they are better used to help protect the main fleet and provide long range fire support."

A few holographic pieces appeared. "We are going to send a destroyer task force, accompanied by our few littoral combat ships and a few dozen patrol boats and landing craft. The destroyer and littoral combat ships will fire their guns at essentially point blank range. We'll pick destroyers which received the gauss cannon upgrade to take point." As he said this, the hologram displaying said task force began making its way up the river until it reached the Okrika tower.

"This will be a dangerous task, as there's barely room to maneuver, and at that kind of range it's hard to miss for man or machine, but I'm hopeful the new guns will at least be able to knock out some of the flak tower's gun emplacements." Grady crossed his arms. "They will be receiving fire support from the rest of the fleet, but our missiles won't be effective unless those cannons can bring down that barrier, at least temporarily. Then we'll find out just how many missiles those things can take. I'm sure ADVENT will appreciate the intel." This elicited a few chuckles from those assembled as they imagined potentially hundreds of missiles crashing into the structure.

Without the barrier to protect it, he didn't care how tough it was - he had all the missiles in the world to throw at it, and he'd hardly used them up till now. Once the tower was sufficiently damaged, he could even send a landing force to clear it out. The amphibious forces had been getting restless, especially the marines - or ADVENT Army as they technically all fell under now. They had basically done nothing bar some light combat mopping up Malabo and a few drills.

"Now," Grady continued. "I know your men are getting tired of sitting around, Thompson, so I have good news for you. I just hope they are ready."

"Sir, if you don't give them something to do soon, they are liable to jump ship and pick a fight themselves," Thompson said lightheartedly.

"Good. First, get me the best frogmen you've got, Lancer or otherwise. I want them to swim out under cover of darkness and head ashore, then make their way through the mangroves and waterways until they reach this area, down Amadi Creek. Tell them to rig these bridges to blow, then get back in the water and swim down to this mangrove swamp to the southwest of the Fimeama neighborhood." Grady traced a finger in the vague area. "There, they will recon the enemy perimeter and search for weak points. I don't want them taking any unnecessary risks, though; observation only, and tell them to stay by the water. Once they get an idea of the local forces and their routes, they are to rest and wait for morning."

"Once the fighting starts, they are to blow the bridges, get back in the water and head here," Grady indicated another point in the map. "This is their next target, the Churchill St. Isthmus. It is the only thing connecting this part of the city from the rest of it to the north. I want them to set up as best they can there and prevent the enemy from getting any reinforcements to the south for as long as they can. While they do that, we will be landing troops just to the south to gain a beach head, but it's going to take a little while. We will send patrol boats downriver with reinforcements and ammunition when we can, but most of them will be busy dropping troops off to the south."

"With the bridges destroyed, it will take longer for the enemy to move troops between the east and west parts of the city, and hopefully this will make holding Churchill St. easier for them. Once the beach head is secured, they will be relieved and can take a patrol boat back to the fleet," Grady finished.

"What about these bridges here? To the northeast, near Trans Amadi?" Thompson inquired, gesturing to an area connected to four bridges, two on each side, past Okrika.

"That takes them right past a flak tower. The risk of them being discovered is too high." He shook his head. "I'll just blow them with missiles later when I begin landing forces at Okrika. Once the flak tower there has been dealt with. You can get past the Okrika tower without much trouble, but there's no easy way around the Trans Amadi tower."

"With all due respect sir, that water is pretty deep," Thompson noted. "The only ones they would need to pass by the flak tower for are those on the western side."

Grady paused to consider this. While he could hit those with missiles, the nearby flak tower meant there was a good chance they would be intercepted. He'd need to spend a good number, not much in the grand scheme of things, but still. It would also mean the enemy would have a window during which their forces could cross the bridges. Again, not a big issue, since they weren't near Okrika, but it would allow the enemy to move their troops around elsewhere in the city to respond to new threats or emergencies.

Knocking out the bridges would inconvenience them, but not to the same extent as destroying those to the east would. These bridges were also much sturdier and longer. That would make it more difficult to destroy them, they'd need more time to set the explosives, and require more of them.

"No, not worth the risk. But you could send a team towards Okrika through the mangroves and blow the two bridges connecting these islands, as well as the one on the western side of Okrika," he suggested. "That should slow things down. After that, I would need them to hold the Okrika road bridge - not blow it. We're going to need it once we secure that part of the city. Think they can handle that?"

Thompson considered it. "I'll need to assemble a few extra squads, but it shouldn't be a problem. What if they can't hold the bridge, though?"

"Then tell them to fall back to the south or get back in the water, and head for the Kalio island mangroves, but I do not want them blowing that bridge," Grady insisted. "If it gets that bad, I'll do it myself, but I don't want to risk the bridge getting blown by accident... and they'll need the explosives for the other bridges, and for holding that one."

"Understood, sir," Thompson replied.

"This city may look tough, but it's just got a lot of layers, and we're gonna peel it like an onion." Grady finished up. "The place is an absolute mess in terms of layout, so we should have some time before they can fully mobilize their ground forces in response. Once the first two flak towers are dealt with, and the beachheads secure, the ships can move up and flatten the city with the guns if they need to. The flak tower on Kidney Island can be saved for last, then we can hit it with everything we've got and start securing the western half of the city. Once those three towers are down, I'll be able to send in proper air support, and our missiles will have a better chance of hitting something. Let's show these traitors we don't need a nuke to handle the likes of them."

Grady smiled at that, and those gathered around the holodisplay saluted and filed out. He would drop anchor as close to Port Harcourt as he safely could, to make the frogmen's trip that much shorter. They were in for a busy night and a rough morning.

---

Salt Lake City, Utah – United States of America

7/23/2017 – 8:34 A.M.

Sierra now had a better appreciation for why ADVENT had implied (or outright said, she couldn't remember) that a conventional victory of attrition wasn't possible against the Collective. They had enough bodies to where they could throw them at a city for weeks with no significant progress, but there would always be more.

Her Valkyrie suit had quite a few more dents, scratches, and scars than it had before – and that was the superficial stuff. There'd been far more serious damage inflicted, though that thankfully had been repaired, and while it was, she'd been in the trenches. She seemed to have accidentally become something of a fixture, and ADVENT soldiers now cheered when the towering MEC woman came to save the day.

It was a good feeling.

Anna and Ted had continued fighting with her, though they were exhausted from all the time spent on a seemingly endless grind. Thankfully – it had let up when the Second Guardian had mysteriously left the battlefield. They'd wondered where she'd gone, only to learn a few days later that she had not only gone to defend the crashed Hiveship – she was captured.

That had been a night of celebration across the city.

It had also been a clear shift in momentum, and in the following days she could tangibly experience it. Attacks were consistent, but less intense. There were still hundreds of Mutons, but fewer than there had been before. The attacks were less focused, and seemed to exist more to keep the pressure on ADVENT than actually pushing forward.

Sierra had a feeling, a good one, that the siege was going to end and soon. The Collective would pull back and reassess. Which was further confirmed by the newest orders she'd received. Orders that elicited initial confusion from her two friends.

"Turkey?" Anna wrinkled her nose. "That's still going on?"

"Invading a country takes time," Ted answered with a shrug. "It's been going pretty fast, actually. There's been a lot going on."

"From what it sounds like, they are nearing the end," Sierra said. "The major cities – Ankara specifically – those are what's left. All they need us for is the final push. Break the Collective lines. Since the Second Guardian is gone, XCOM seems to think we're not needed here."

"Too bad," Anna leaned back, her voice almost disappointed. "I kind of wanted to see this to the end. I'll have to ask some of the guys to send me pictures when the last alien slinks back to the coast."

"Speak for yourself," Ted grunted. "I never want to step foot in this city again."

Sierra smiled slightly. "Who knows, we may need to come back at some point. I'll enjoy breaking another Collective stronghold all the same."

"Indeed!" Ted smiled. "More victories for us."

"I wonder what they're going to do with the Second Guardian though," Anna mused. "ADVENT says they're going to negotiate for her release. You think they're serious?"

"Doubt it," Ted shook his head. "Giving back an Ethereal would be insane. Stalling for time, or PR reasons. Not serious."

Anna didn't seem convinced. "ADVENT generally doesn't waste time. They've got their PR people defending this. A bit much for just a show."

Sierra didn't know either, only that she wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea, no matter how remote, that the Second Guardian could be released. "XCOM seems to be on ADVENT's side too. They're taking part in the negotiations. I don't think the Commander would waste his time if it was fake."

"Really? I could see him doing that," Anna said. "Still, I'd bet this whole thing was Aegis' idea. I doubt he liked the talk of execution."

"Very likely," Ted nodded. "He is…very opposed to any Ethereal deaths. I suspect he used his leverage to convince the Commander this is a good idea."

"Must have been a hell of an argument," Anna said. "Commander's not intimidated by an Ethereal."

"Which probably means it's serious," Sierra sighed. "And if the Battlemaster is involved, he's actually going to try and get her back. Should just have her shot and be done with it."

"That was probably the reason Aegis went on the Hiveship op," Anna pointed out. "If it had just been ADVENT or us, we'd have shot the Second Guardian. None of this capturing, a bullet to her head. I'm probably biased though."

"All of us are," Sierra said. "For good reason."

"Guess ADVENT didn't consult with us before deciding if releasing a powerful Ethereal that's killed hundreds of us and commanded one of the largest sieges was a good idea," Anna said wryly. "Can't wait for them to drag Saudia over the coals if she actually does this. What could the Collective even give us?"

"Prisoners? Ceasefires?" Ted frowned. "I'm not really sure. Not anything worth an Ethereal."

"Maybe the Imperator in chains, but that's not going to happen," Anna shrugged. "Hopefully the Commander knows what he's doing and doesn't listen to Aegis' sentimental arguments." She tapped her head knowingly. "If the Ethereals didn't want to die in a war, then they shouldn't have fought in a war."

"Flawless logic," Sierra muttered dryly. "Some of them probably think that."

"Well, we have Turkey to distract us for now," Ted stretched as he stood. "When are we ordered to move out?"

"Later today," Sierra said. "Apparently, we're going to be part of a strategy meeting with the man organizing the attack."

"Oh? Who is it?"

"A man called the Lion."

---

Nulorian Outpost – Borelian Wastes

7/13/2017 – 12:33 P.M.

For a mission that was guaranteed to shake the foundations of Vitakar, Nartha found himself surprisingly calm. He should likely be afraid of what could be waiting for them in the Aui'Vitakar chambers, but he notably wasn't. Not this time. There was a sense that had seemed to descend on all of them, a calming sense. Nartha would have said it was almost psionic were it not for the fact there were no psions around.

The Nulorian around him were focused, but animated as they prepared for the operation. Armor was donned, weapons were checked, and supplies were gathered. Old Borelians and hardened Vitakarians chatted amicably as they readied themselves. The few Dath'Haram that were involved were similarly prepared, eyes cold as visions of their enemies danced in their eyes.

For his part, Nartha was going to rely on XCOM gear. Shun had made a brief trip back to the Praesidium for equipment, as there were going to be a few XCOM soldiers also along for the operation – probably something the Commander had insisted upon to keep Miridian in check. The operation was not going to be a quiet one – but hopefully it would be swift.

As it turned out, Shun had brought back more than just equipment. Accompanying her were a team of four aliens, two Vitakarians, a Cobrarian, and a large Borelian. A female, from the looks of it. "Nartha, glad you're ready," Shun said, suited in her own armor and helmet tucked under her arm. "Miridian come down yet?"

"Not yet," Nartha shook his head. "Expecting it shortly. Outside of that, we're ready to go." He looked at her entourage. "Reinforcements?"

"Directly from XCOM, the Commander wants a few of them deployed for this operation. Something that they're invested in," Shun said.

"Runi'carreria'borelia," the Borelian stepped forward, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. "Chimera Squad, as are the rest of us."

"Chimera Squad?" He shot a questioning look to Shun.

"Alien soldiers in XCOM, new program," she explained. "There's enough qualified defectors the Commander wanted them to have some way to contribute."

"An alien," he said with some amusement. "Working for the extra-terrestrial combat unit."

"The irony is not lost on us," Carreria chuckled. "But XCOM has been good to us. We have an enemy in the Collective and what they have subjected our people to. If XCOM is the best way to strike back, then I'll be on the front lines."

Nartha was pleased the Commander had gone as far as to incorporate aliens into XCOM more directly. Pragmatically it was the smart decision, but he'd wondered in the back of his mind how he would ultimately fit into XCOM at the end of the day. Now, it seemed, there was something viable.

It also told him that there was a not-insignificant number of aliens now in XCOM.

Quite ironic.

XCOM hadn't skimped on outfitting the Chimera Squad either – Carreria and the Vitakarians were wearing what were likely modified versions of Titan armor, but the Cobrarian was wearing something entirely unique. It was clearly XCOM, and very sleek and durable, but also designed for a Cobrarian warrior.

"XCOM made all of you custom armor?" He inquired.

"They did, as I said," Carreria bared her teeth. "They have treated us well."

"I'm glad to hear it," Nartha nodded. "Were you briefed on the mission?"

A nod. "Break into the Aui'Vitakar chambers while it is in session. Capture the representatives, get out, and deal with them. I assume there are factors in place that ensure this is not a suicide mission."

"There are," Nartha motioned up. "The Nulorian have a machine intelligence, Siaru. Better than a CODEX. We allow it to capture the network, lock down the chambers, disable the defenses, and we have the time to act. We have a Teleporter on hand to exfiltrate those we capture. We get out, mission accomplished."

"I see," Carreria threw a suspicious glance around. "I believe you are being honest, but I do not trust that these terrorists will be so gentle."

"Truthfully, they probably won't be," Shun admitted. "Miridian has said he'll keep them in line, but we're not expecting every representative to be captured."

"Right," she nodded. "And what if an Elder arrives?"

"LIKELIHOOD OF ETHEREAL ENTITY INTERVENTION IS MINIMAL. CALCULATED RESPONSE TIME FOR QUALIFIED ENTITIES EXCEEDS PLANNED ON-SITE OPERATIONAL TIME."

The Chimera Squad aliens jumped at the deep voice. "And that is Siaru," Nartha said. "He's not good at introducing himself."

"Was he…listening?" The Cobrarian's tongue flicked out.

"It can be generally assumed that Siaru is listening everywhere here," Nartha shrugged. "It's not an AI, don't worry, but it is a data harvester and apparently has an algorithm to interject when it is considered appropriate. But that's what it also comes down to – there may be an Ethereal – but it's unlikely."

"Good," Carreria grinned. "This will be a good day, presuming the Nulorian do their part."

"Speaking of Nulorian, looks like it's finally time," Shun muttered, as Miridian entered the room. The light chatter and conversation from the gathered Nulorian stopped as they stood at attention; informal attention, but it spoke to the respect and awe they held for the legend in their midst.

Miridian's eyes briefly trailed over the arrived Chimera Squad, though he said nothing, and took a place in the center of the room. "The operation is prepared and finalized. The Aui'Vitakar are now in session. They will be there for no less than six hours, with a maximum of eight. That is our window."

He clasped his hands behind his back. "We have struck Vitakar before, we have hurt the Aui'Vitakar, but it will pale in comparison to what we are doing today. This will show the powerlessness of the Elders, and that their fall is inevitable. It will show the Vitakara that there are none who are safe from our reach – and for the sharp-eyed, the help we have."

He finished with a lingered gaze on Nartha before looking away. "Likewise, the consequences of failure are high. Do not expect this operation to finish without issue. Siaru is a powerful asset, and we have powerful friends – but remember the contingencies. We are hitting one of the most important places on Vitakar. To expect it to be easy is foolish. Prepare for the worst, and prepare to overcome. Understood?"

There was a yell of affirmation, no collected and synchronized affirmation, but the cry of rebels and insurgents. Shouts that were laced with suppressed anger and fury, as the collective histories of those who were called terrorists were remembered. This was to be their moment, and it would be seized.

History was to be made this day. Nartha hoped the future would look upon it kindly.

---

SAS Command, Abuja – Nigeria

7/24/2017 – 9:20 A.M.

Betos hadn't met Macula's esteemed Harbinger before. He'd not informed her that this was even a development until recently, and then had only made it clear that he was going to be utilized "Where he was needed". Since he was being sent to the front, and had proven effective in pushing ADVENT back, she'd been content with his existence outside the chain of command.

Now though, she needed help.

He was a large man. Much larger than her, and larger than most of her soldiers. She wondered where Macula had found him, as he wasn't a native here. He spoke with a clear European accent, and she knew he was from Sweden, so she had a feeling he'd jumped ship after ADVENT had annexed his country.

ADVENT policy continued to have consequences, a fact she took a petty satisfaction in.

Tyres Skoglund was a man who in most circumstances she would quite like. Despite his hulkish appearance, he was very much a gentleman, well-educated, and quick to laughter. A very nice man, before you learned he'd previously been part of Sweden's special forces and had only recently retired to be a boxing instructor before the war.

A killer good with compartmentalization, and now with an axe to grind against ADVENT. A sentiment she could understand, and needed to draw upon now more than ever. The situation was stabilizing, but it was still going to slow, and ADVENT was continuing their destruction of the continent.

Their mandate was clear – if they couldn't destroy her, they were going to make her life, and the lives of everyone under her a living hell from which it would be difficult, if not impossible to recover from. Of course, it wouldn't be impossible, but it would force them to spend months rebuilding.

Something they were already having to do, and that would give ADVENT plenty of time to mount a counterattack, and next time they might not be able to push them back. There was so much pushback and conflict on all sides, and the tension and effects were starting to manifest themselves in the "safe" cities of the SAS.

Refugees pouring in, faster than shelters could be built to house them. Food that was already rationed was cut further, leading to outcry, complaint, and protest. The people were scared and clamoring for answers which she couldn't provide in a satisfying way. The Collective was doing what they could, but there was only so much they could do every day.

It wasn't just the SAS they had to feed and supply, after all - there were large numbers of Collective soldiers deployed to Africa, and Mutons ate a lot. Cheap to produce or not, the fact was that the Collective was going to prioritize their own, and then the SAS military proper, the government, and the people got what was left.

Prioritizing resources. She hated doing it, but she knew that the choice between the soldiers fighting hungry or the citizens wasn't a real choice. It felt like a betrayal, but she couldn't ignore reality. The best she could do was make sure they were kept alive. Keeper had proposed having groups of refugees be moved off-world. Volunteers he'd specified, but Betos was wary of that.

She knew that if the choice was offered, there would be people who took it just for the promise of a home and food. They wouldn't leave Earth willingly, and to her making such an offer felt too much like coercion – and would undermine the SAS. If people left in large numbers, it would reflect badly on the SAS, and trigger more of an exodus to places directly under alien rule.

No, it wasn't bad enough to consider that yet. She still had a few ideas.

"Have you heard of a certain Admiral Grady?" She asked Tyres.

"Considering he was the man who blew up the Collective's little sea fleet, talked one of your men into defecting, and most recently blew up one of your ports…" the man stroked his beard with a knowing smile. "Yes, I've heard of him."

Betos wasn't feeling as amused. "He's become more of a problem than we expected." She brought up a holoimage of him. "It's bad enough that he's used the latest attack to launch bombardments along the coast with his fleet, and likely preparing ground invasions. Limited gains thus far, but the coast was supposed to not be breached. Grady has outplayed us so far – I want him stopped."

"I can agree with that, but what's your plan?" he asked. "Grady's not a front-line kind of leader – I can crush his little incursions easily enough, should he pursue such a path, but that's not what you want, is it?"

"No, I want him dead," Betos said flatly. "We know where he is. He's made his carrier his base of operations. Zararch reports confirm he divides his time between the carrier and the Malabo capital."

"Yes, both places are under total ADVENT control and subsequently difficult to penetrate."

"Is that going to be a problem?"

Tyres raised an eyebrow. "Grand Marshal, if you want me to tell you that I can one-hundred percent storm his carrier and smash his head into pulp, I'm afraid I have to disappoint you. I'm flattered you think so highly of me, and that you're quite frustrated – but let's be very clear what the reality of what you're asking is."

He placed a finger near the holomap which displayed Malabo and a nearby carrier. "First, I would have to approach the island undetected – a difficult feat in and of itself. You do realize that the carrier is crawling with PRIESTs who will detect me from miles away? Not to mention I'm quite certain he has several squads of Lancers to call in if needed – and I wouldn't be surprised if he has a direct line to XCOM, who can teleport a squad of their own to deal with me."

He smiled, amused. "I'm good, Betos, but I'm not a miracle worker. I'm not an Ethereal."

"I'm not asking you to go in guns blazing," Betos resisted rolling her eyes. "You're Macula's Harbinger – I suspect you don't need those tactics."

"I am indeed Macula's Harbinger, and quite honored to be so," he nodded. "But I am not Macula, nor possess his traits. While I am aware that many Harbingers reflect the characteristics of their Anchors, Macula preferred to choose someone who could shore up his weaknesses. Macula is the one in the shadows, I am his blunt instrument. Besides – do I look like a sneaky assassin?" He finished with a laugh.

Betos furrowed her brow, and crossed her arms. "So, are you saying you can't do it."

"That remains to be seen," Tyres lifted a hand, palm vertical as he smiled. "I'm not saying I can't do it, I'm saying that I'm going to need a more cohesive plan than 'Please go kill him'."

Betos narrowed her eyes. "You're leading somewhere with this."

"Yes, because you're overthinking it," Tyres said. "Admiral Grady is one man, who's had an admirable streak of luck, with a fair showing of skill. But there is a much simpler solution to your problem than asking me for help – which I am more than happy to provide, of course – but you don't need me here."

"Then what?" Betos snapped. "I'm not in the mood for insinuations and riddles."

"You saw what the Collective did to Busan, did you not?"

Betos immediately realized where this was going. "The Reinarm Cannon."

"Exactly," Tyres smiled, though this smile was cold. "No psion, defense system, or clever tricks can stop several tons of irradiated magma pouring down on you. Burn the traitors in Malabo to ash, sink an ADVENT carrier for good measure, and purge an irritant." He waved a hand. "I suppose it's possible that Grady may escape, but I know men like him."

"That what – he would stay?"

"Clever men are their own worst enemy," Tyres said, resting a hand on the head of the axe belted to his hip. "No doubt Grady will try and formulate some brilliant plan to save the island or destroy the cannon. He will fail, of course, but he may convince himself it is possible. And in the event that he moves his carrier away from the island, well…"

He cracked his knuckles. "I believe then I could take a flight over to a disoriented and unsteady ADVENT carrier. I'll certainly have an easier time boarding it than the Andromedons – though I'll bring some help, I think. Some of your boys are good fighters, enough to give ADVENT some trouble."

It was a plan, but she was unsure about one thing. "Malabo was part of the SAS. ADVENT has destroyed much of Africa already, I don't want to do it myself. I don't want to be party to destroying it further, even if it can be justified."

The man snorted. "And look where that mindset has gotten you."

She was silent for a moment. Tyres continued after a moment. "We don't get what we want, Grand Marshal, not in war. We make decisions, hard ones, and live with it because that's our job. Do you think ADVENT cares that you hold the mythical moral superiority over them? No, they don't because they're winning. Where you will hesitate to destroy a traitorous city, they would raze to the ground without a second thought."

"And they are wrong to do so," Betos said.

His nostrils flared, and he shook his head. "I'm saying that doesn't matter. Right and wrong matter to a small subset of people – and no one has won a war because they were on the 'right side'."

"You're telling me to take the easiest solution," Betos challenged. "Not the only one."

"I'm telling you the most feasible solution," Tyres corrected. "You want an in-depth, complex operation involving hundreds of soldiers, logistics chains, contingency plans, and the very high possibility that it'll fail in the end? Fine, take that approach. You can take that and satisfy your conscience – or you can be pragmatic for once in your life and get a victory."

She bristled. "Do you think it was easy forming this alliance, and running these countries?"

"Easy? Not exactly, but it isn't as impressive as you let on when you had the support of an Ethereal," he said with a smile. "And for one who cares about morality, you didn't take long to ally yourself to dictators and abusers."

"I-"

"I'm not condemning you," he said. "You did what you had to, and it paid off in the end. No one will miss them. But you have a problem with what lines you're willing to cross, and that's left you paralyzed now. I don't know if you're lying to yourself, or if you've changed, but at the end of the day, you're an easy mark for ADVENT, and I'm sure they're happy to be facing you instead of someone who won't handicap themselves."

He straightened. "You know my proposal. I have a little jaunt to Ankara to make to extract some assets, but I'll be back soon. In the meantime, you need to figure out if this is a war you want to win or not. And word of advice, if you're going to rely on the aliens to save you from complete collapse, then don't be surprised when you find yourself unneeded."

"Is that a threat?" She asked quietly.

"No, Grand Marshal," he smiled again. "Consider it a friendly warning. I actually like you. There isn't enough idealism in the world, but there is a time and place for it. I'd hate to see it be your downfall."

With that, he turned away and left, leaving Betos alone and with too much to think about.

---

Damascus – Syria

7/27/2017 – 10:11 A.M.

Under normal circumstances, the Battlemaster would not have considered an arrival under such conditions. There was a constant tension in the air the moment he and his entourage touched down, and the number of ADVENT soldiers and special forces awaiting them was not especially comforting. This could certainly be construed as a trap.

However, he knew what it really was. An attempt at intimidation. Both he and ADVENT knew that they wouldn't risk an attack or trap – and that such an attempt at intimidation wouldn't work in the end. It was more for the benefit of their citizens who would otherwise protest than to actually use against him.

Nonetheless, Yang in particular seemed perturbed by it, but didn't say anything. A nudge through their bond seemed to put her more at ease, which he felt her gratefulness for.

They saw little of the city itself, as ADVENT insisted on transporting them personally, and he sat in a (largely cramped) transport that carried them to the negotiating site. It was an awkward ride, to put it simply especially with the ADVENT soldiers standing around them. The Hunter had tried making a few jokes that had been received...well, poorly.

They were going to be here some time. He'd been told it would be at minimum several days of hard negotiations – probably longer. He didn't intend for this to take any longer than necessary, however.

He suspected he would be able to determine very quickly if ADVENT was willing to come to an arrangement or not. It was promising, but nothing could be discounted until the talks properly began. There was a squad of ADVENT soldiers accompanying them, and while their faces were hidden by helmets, he could vaguely sense their nervousness.

Not unexpected, considering who he was – and who he was with.

When they arrived, they exited to another squad who escorted them inside. In the distance the Battlemaster could see a line of media personalities and organizations, a few of which were shouting questions. ADVENT soldiers promptly ignored them, as did he. The Hunter did give a wave and a mocking smile to the crowd before following them.

Eventually they were led into the main negotiation chambers, a large ballroom that had guards stationed along the walls, and in the center were the main negotiators. Sana'Ligna stood, speaking with Aegis off to the side. For ADVENT, Chancellor Vyandar, Ian Powell, Kyong Suk-Chul, and Laura Christiaens.

For XCOM, it was Aegis, the Commander of XCOM, Director Zhang, Anius Creed, and Ariel Jackson. A notable number of the Commander's Internal Council. They were intermixed with ADVENT, and the Commander and Saudia were talking as they entered. Conversation in the room briefly stopped.

It was only for a moment, as Sana'Ligna made a short announcement saying that it would begin soon. Yang and Hallian stayed together, and took their seats. Ravarian surprisingly walked over to where Powell and Zhang were standing, likely to engage in some degree of double-talk. The Hunter simply leaned against the wall, and played with his pistol.

The Battlemaster, however, made his way towards Aegis who turned to face him. It was the first time seeing each other since he had left. There had been that brief interaction in D.C., but little beyond that. Both Ethereals took a moment, looking through each other's helmets to where their eyes would be.

"When I thought we would meet again," the Battlemaster said. "I had believed it would be in battle."

"As did I," Aegis said. "A curious turn of events."

"Indeed," a pause. "She is secured and safe?"

"She is," Aegis said with a nod. "I have ensured it. No tampering with her body or mind – much to the irritation of ADVENT and some in XCOM."

"Unsurprising," the Battlemaster said. "They would have killed her had you not been the one to defeat her."

"Yes, hence why I have placed myself in this position," Aegis said. "We disagree on the direction of the Collective, but understand that I have not forgotten my oath to protect our kind. It is good that you have not either."

"No."

Aegis waited a moment. "He has not directed you to do this."

"No. But he has not contested it either."

"Apathy is not acceptable for one in his position," Aegis stated. "You know this."

"That is not what we are here to discuss, Aegis," the Battlemaster said, an edge to his voice. "You know this as well. I will not abandon the Collective, no matter how much you wish me to."

"We are not enemies, Battlemaster," Aegis stated. "I am not telling you to abandon the Collective, as I have no intention of abandoning it – I am merely taking a more direct stance opposed to the direction it has gone. It cannot be changed within, so long as the Imperator reigns. A fact I believe you know."

How little Aegis knew, if he knew what he was planning, he would likely be surprised or impressed – probably both. Ironically, it proved his assertion that nothing could be done in the Collective false. A fact that the Battlemaster was going to keep to himself for now.

"Let us gather and begin," Sana'Ligna said. "We will have time to speak with each other between sessions."

The Battlemaster took his seat opposite the Human negotiators, and Sana'Ligna continued, speaking from the middle of the two sides. "We are each aware of the purpose and stakes of these negotiations, which both sides have graciously agreed to. The terms of conduct have been established and accepted by all – it is expected that they be held to."

There was a chorus of nods. Such agreement largely amounted to not attacking or harassing each other – which would be little issue, and the Hunter was smart enough to restrain himself when needed. "Both ADVENT and the Ethereal Collective have sent their proposed demands and concessions," Sana continued. "These are, of course, the opening exchanges, and it is important to understand that compromise on both sides will be necessary if an agreement is to be reached."

Sana gestured to the ADVENT side. "As you are the hosts of these talks, and the holder of the Second Guardian, you may address this first."

"Thank you, Sana'Ligna," Saudia said, fingers laced together and resting on the table as she focused on the Battlemaster. "The terms that you have proposed initially to us are, put simply, unacceptable. I am curious if you understand what you are asking from us. You more than anyone should understand the threat that a single Ethereal poses to our soldiers, and Commander Christiaens can attest."

"I can," the older woman's hard eyes turned to him. "Frankly, Battlemaster, I am seeing little reason to acquiesce to any agreement that will objectively result in more of my soldiers dying."

"From a certain point of view," Ravarian interjected blandly. "We can dispense with the emotionally appealing rhetoric. We both understand that soldiers are going to die, let us not grandstand over the method in which they are killed. If it is not the Second Guardian, it would be a plasma shot, a Chryssalid, or a psionic attack. You do not know if what you say is true, do not pretend like it is."

"As difficult a concept as it is for you to understand, I do happen to care about this," Laura snapped. "We don't treat our soldiers like Mutons."

"Yes you do," Ravarian said pointedly. "Unless we have been fighting ghosts, Humans are soldiers just as our Mutons are. They are used for the same purpose."

"Enough!" The Battlemaster lifted a hand. While he didn't completely disagree with Ravarian's point, the fact that Commander Christiaens raised about the Second Guardian leading to more ADVENT deaths was true. "We are aware of the consequences of releasing her to us. That is the point of these talks – to establish what can be exchanged for what you are giving."

He lowered his hand to the table. "Equally, your own demands are unfeasible. If you wish to completely halt our offensive, as well as prevent the deployments of elite Collective Units, I can assure you that will lead to the deaths of our own soldiers. Which I do not intend to place in more danger than necessary. Something I'm sure you can understand, Commander Christiaens."

"Unsurprisingly, we both want the best for our soldiers," Ravarian added. "Any agreement poses risks to us. That is what we need to determine – the minimal risk for all."

"We should perhaps start on a less contentious aspect," Sana interrupted. "Personnel repatriation to ADVENT."

"This is non-negotiable," Saudia said firmly. "We want every single Human captive, soldier or civilian, returned to us unharmed, untampered, and unmodified."

"As well as the remains of any Humans in your possession," Laura added. "From your planets, stations, and bases."

"Right," Yang suddenly spoke up, her lips a thin line. "Fair enough, but what if they don't want to leave?"

"I'm sorry?" Laura asked, cocking her head.

"Simple question," Yang repeated. "What if they don't want to leave?"

"I find that scenario unlikely," Powell said slowly, making a note on his pad. "Not without coercion."

Yang snorted. "I'm sitting right opposite you, Director. Believe it or not, not everyone thinks that ADVENT is the solution to the world's problems, or the best option for that matter. I know that goes against your propaganda, but take it from me – not every Human in the Collective wants to go back."

"You are linked to an Ethereal," Zhang said neutrally. "You are not objective."

"No one is objective," Ravarian interjected. "Not here – and she is right. There have been Human civilians who have been relocated and peacefully integrated into several Vitakara colonies. I think they would be opposed to being forced to return to Earth."

"I would believe this means that they were not originally abducted," Powell said. "Let us not pretend that psionics are not a factor here."

"Then are the Vitakara who've defected done so under coercion?" Ravarian asked. "Many of those who are now being integrated into ADVENT are former captive prisoners. If we apply this same logic, how are we to know the PRIESTs have not been forcing them to change sides?"

That was a good point, and why the Battlemaster had brought him along. Honestly, this had been a condition that he found simple. Yes, he was prepared to repatriate the Human captives, though this question obviously extended to those who had integrated on Collective worlds. A small number, but not one to be forgotten.

"There is a simple solution," Aegis said. "Offer the option to return. Let them accept or not."

A pragmatic solution. "A fair proposal."

"We are not the Collective," Saudia said, narrowing her eyes. "We have strict laws in place that prevent what you are insinuating. I find it very difficult to believe that any Humans would willingly wish to integrate with their captors. If you recall, a great many of the defectors were detained after they defected, for security reasons."

"But not all of them," Hallian said.

"Not all, but the majority."

"We are not going to remove integrated Humans without their consent," the Battlemaster said flatly. "I support the choice being offered. I oppose no choice whatsoever. You would rightly oppose us demanding 'our' people back, even if they had integrated. Apply the same courtesy to us."

"Perhaps there can be another solution," the Commander said. "Teams of psions, Collective and ADVENT. XCOM would also be willing. A random portion of integrated aliens on each side to ensure there was no tampering. Otherwise this will remain a roadblock. I assume that you do not oppose the repatriation of captives, Battlemaster?"

"No. This has been made clear."

"The sticking point is the so-called 'integrated Humans'," the Commander nodded. "This is not an obstacle we should waste significant time on, not when there are more contentious matters to discuss."

"And why should we consent our integrated citizens to alien probing?" Laura demanded. "To prove something we already know?"

"That is exactly what you are asking us," Ravarian said. "The concept of integration is not a radical one – your own history is filled with such. Please do not pretend now is an exception."

The Battlemaster sat back and both sides went back and forth, and realized that if there was this much discussion on a relatively simple issue, then these negotiations were going to take a fair amount of time. ADVENT did seem like they wanted to find a deal – or at least XCOM did – but it was clearly going to be a painful experience.

He could now understand why Yang did not like the idea of negotiations. These ones, unfortunately, were not likely to be short.

---

Near the Aui'Vitakar Chambers, Vitiary - Vitakar

7/13/2017 – 2:11 P.M.

Nartha had not met Lavallic ir Nara before, and that was something he was privately thankful for. It hadn't been explained that she was to be their teleporter – or that she was an Agent of T'Leth. He wished that Fiona had been the one to assist on the operation, as she was…well, almost the opposite of ir Nara.

Where Fiona was conversational and helpful, ir Nara was…not. She seemed to hold an inherent disdain for everyone around her, though her own skill could not be denied. She was also oddly tall for a Human woman - the only woman of comparable height he'd seen was Saudia. Even then, there was something slightly off about her; it almost reminded him of when he'd tried to pass as a Human.

There were certain tics and actions that you did unconsciously when in skin not your own. It was not simple to adjust to a radically different body. Hair had taken some time for him to get used to, and he'd probably scratched his head more often than normal. Interestingly enough, ir Nara also seemed to have a habit of messing with her hair, running it behind her ears and pausing ever-so-slightly when she touched them.

Nartha didn't know, exactly, if it meant anything, but it was enough to make him wonder. "Ir Nara," he said to Shun as they moved within Vitiary, disguised in the back streets. "Have you worked with her before?"

Shun shook her head. "Not really. I've heard of her though. Took on Patricia once. Not nice, but she's good at her job."

"Right." He was glad they were hanging back from ir Nara, as she was speaking something to Miridian who appeared to be the only person she was moderately interested in. "Where is she from?"

"I'm not sure, actually," Shun mused. "American? Maybe British, but she doesn't have an accent. Never asked. Why?"

"Just curious," he said, not quite ready to propose something that was probably wrong, and more importantly not relevant to the mission right now. "She seems different from the other Agents I've met."

"She is, her and Crevan are an odd pair," Shun said, checking her rifle. "Then again, Fiona also came with them, so who knows. Anyway, we should focus now. Chambers are ahead."

"Indeed," He lifted his weapon as the Nulorian, Chimera Squad, and XCOM positioned themselves along the exterior of the building. Nulorian technicians had disrupted the exterior cameras with some kind of microwave weapons, and this was a place where there was no foot traffic as well as no entrance. Just a solid wall of the Aui'Vitakar Chambers.

Luckily, they had a teleporter. Ir Nara lifted a hand, and a blueish portal materialized. With the odd staff in her hand, she briefly jabbed forward, and dragged it along the ground. "Path is clear – proceed."

Each of the Nulorian, followed by Nartha and Shun. There was a brief flash and they were inside the large hallway. According to the schematics, they were in the storage and maintenance area, one which was largely automated. A few plasma shots took down some of the drones, the whirring of the technicians destroyed the nearby cameras.

"Find a terminal," Miridian ordered as the Nulorian began fanning out. "Any one will do. We have limited time until the alarm is sounded and defenses activated."

Each of them were armed with a memory stick that would connect Siaru to the Aui'Vitakar network. In a place like this, it wasn't going to take long to find a terminal, and while most of them searched, a few Nulorian took positions at the nearest doors. Nartha idly took note of what was being stored, which appeared to largely be dry food, furniture, and replacement parts.

An interesting collection, but one he didn't look too closely at. He spotted a terminal near an elevated platform. "Terminal found," he called, and leapt up to it, one which was clearly not supposed to be normally accessed. An emergency one, probably intended for the drones in the room, but he knew all of them were in the same network.

He plugged the memory stick in, and according to Miridian, he didn't have to do anything. Supposedly, Siaru would work quickly and if it worked…they'd know very fast. He hopped down, to Miridian's approval. "It will not be long."

Indeed, a few minutes passed, and then there seemed to be a shift. In his earpiece, Nartha heard the unmistakable voice of Siaru.

"ALARMS DISABLED. DEFENSIVE ENTITY HAS BEEN NEUTRALIZED. INITIATING BUILDING LOCKDOWN. I AM ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL OF SYSTEM DEFENSES. AWAITING ORDERS."

Nartha did not see Miridian smile under the helmet, but he could hear the satisfaction in his voice. "Target all security personnel. Begin issuing verbal commands to staff and aide personnel to congregate. Lock down the Chambers, we are moving in."

"AFFIRMATIVE."

"Remember," Miridian reminded the gathered Nulorian as he lifted his rifle. "No hesitation."

The doors opened to the wider Aui'Vitakar, and the Nulorian charged out, weapons raised and some yelling battle cries. In the distance, Nartha heard the whirring of autoturrets heating up, and the synthetic weight of Siaru's commands. The screams of panic started moments later.

The operation had fully commenced.

---

Damascus – Syria

7/29/2017 – 1:04 P.M.

A break in the negotiations had begun for the day, and it had been a productive morning session from what the Commander could determine. He was reminded how much he really, really did not like this kind of negotiation. Even with ADVENT being focused and efficient in what they wanted, they were still irritatingly willing to argue over minutia for no reason other than to drag things out.

He, Aegis, the Battlemaster, and Sana all appeared to be of the same mind, ironically enough, in that they were willing to make reasonable compromises. The whole issue with the integrated Humans (and aliens) had been an irritating distraction that had taken several hours to resolve, with everyone ultimately accepting the proposal Aegis had put forward. Maybe if there were more Humans in the situation, he would think ADVENT had reason to drag it out, but after Ravarian had shown the numbers, it was too small to really justify, at least compared to the numbers of aliens in ADVENT.

It had continued more smoothly after that, though unsurprisingly it was Laura, Powell, and Ravarian who were the most contentious and willing to fight over small details. The good news was that a resource agreement had been secured, which would supply ADVENT with enough alloys of all qualities to be put to immediate use in the fleet (not that they knew that), as well as elerium, MELD, and alien foodstuffs.

Jackson had also ensured that XCOM wasn't left out. They'd demanded several dozen schematics for various pieces of alien technology (upon request of Vahlen and Mercado), and a number of very specific components used for psi-tech. He didn't actually think the Battlemaster knew what it was, but Ravarian certainly did, judging from the look – one of irritation when the Battlemaster had overridden him and approved it.

ADVENT had also jumped on the schematics train, demanding schematics for the SPECTREs, Heralds, Executors, and effectively every armored alien unit. That hadn't been as successful, and at the end of the day, full schematics for the Sectopod and Herald would be shared, which Laura seemed satisfied with.

Privately, the Commander suspected that both were on the verge of upgrades, which was why Ravarian had been willing to part with them, and the Battlemaster hadn't had an issue. That said, it was probably pointless to expect more than that. All in all, that had been a solid day and a half of successful negotiation.

Now the contentious parts began.

Today was where the proposals for calculated ceasefires and territory ceding was taking place, and it was…proceeding. As expected, the Collective was not especially thrilled with the idea, but it was indicating that it was willing to do some pauses in certain areas. Korea had been flatly rejected, which they had expected, given that Patricia was the one leading it.

Thankfully, ADVENT hadn't pushed hard over it. The Battlemaster was reluctant to end the campaign in Europe, but the Commander thought there was potential to convince him, though they had to pick their battles. Laura wanted full withdrawals in Southeast Asia, Europe, and South America, which was a nonstarter for the Collective.

Thus, it was proceeding.

The least-tense part of the whole event was the breaks in between. He'd been surprised, or perhaps not, to see Powell seeming to be having long conversations with Ravarian, with Zhang sometimes joining. All of them likely probing and prodding each other for hints and information. Tempting, but he had enough to focus on.

"It appears that this day is less contentious than I had feared," Sana'Ligna said, walking up to him. Despite some reservations, she seemed to have been a fair mediator, and was more skilled than he'd expected in keeping everyone on track, and defusing tensions. "Let us hope it lasts."

"Let us hope," the Commander took a sip of water. "It's just a matter of finding the right compromise."

"A task easier said than done," Sana sighed. "It seems there are those on both sides who do not wish these negotiations to succeed – or not without compromise."

"That was inevitable," the Commander mused. "All this for a single Ethereal."

"Yes, but you know her importance," Sana said. "I appreciate your willingness to insist upon this, despite ADVENT pressure otherwise. It gives hope."

The Commander raised an eyebrow as he appraised her. "I wouldn't expect this to be the future. The war will not end peacefully, no matter how much you wish it to. So long as the Imperator rules, we can never be safe."

"Do you actually believe that?" She asked. "Even when your Sovereign is protecting you?"

"T'Leth is reliable for now, but I'm not going to risk my species on it," the Commander said. "Given his particular history, it would not be surprising for him to leave one day. The Imperator is immortal – and without this deterrent, he would try again. I'd prefer not to test our luck. If you want peace, ensure the Imperator is no longer a problem."

Sana just sighed. "While you are here, there is something I wanted to ask you. Before the negotiations conclude."

"Go ahead."

"You have a biopath in XCOM, do you not?"

The Commander took a sip of water, thinking. Only a few missions, and the Collective had already learned. Unfortunate, but it was likely to happen at some point. He was, however, surprised that Sana knew. "I'm surprised you heard."

"I wouldn't have," Sana said. "Mortis told me."

The Commander appraised her with new interest. "How did he know? And why did he want to know?"

"He didn't know much," she said. "It was why he reached out to me about it, to see if I knew. I had not heard. Biopaths are rare, and to my knowledge, she is the first of her kind for your species."

"To our knowledge, yes."

"A girl, yes?"

"She is a woman, yes." A pause. "Any particular reason you are curious?"

"I'm curious how she is being trained," Sana said. "Both out of personal and professional curiosity."

"Improvisation, and a fair bit of research," the Commander said. "She's been a diligent student. Referenced a number of papers both you and Mortis wrote on the subject. She is progressing well."

"That is good, I suppose," Sana said. "I will pass that to Mortis."

"Just that?" the Commander asked, mildly surprised. "And I thought you were going to ask to train her."

"No, while I would not be opposed to shaping her talents to heal instead of maim, I suspect that few of your soldiers hold me in high esteem," Sana flicked a dismissive wrist. "Nor do I think you would trust me with her. If she has grasped the basics, and it sounds to be the case, then I can at least be assured she will not accidentally hurt herself or others."

"For what it's worth," the Commander said. "You have kept to your word. We remember that, even if we disagree on the war itself."

"A small victory, I suppose," Sana said. "There is another reason."

"Which is?"

"I do not know for sure, but I believe the Collective is looking to capture or eliminate her," Sana said slowly. "Mortis indicated his concern, especially when I said she was...young."

Well, that was both unsurprising, and disturbing. "I do not suppose you have details?"

"No confirmed details, but I have my suspicions," Sana said. "Your biopath is...one who the Imperator would wish to capture. I would expect Sicarius to have taken up a mission like this, should it be true."

The Commander nodded. That made sense, and it appeared he was going to have to be careful as to where he sent Dawn. She'd have to be told, he supposed. He wasn't completely sure she'd handle the news that the Imperator's personal assassin was potentially being sent after her well, but she was mature for her age. She likely could adapt well, and frankly he didn't have a choice.

"Thank you," he told her. "I - and her - appreciate you providing this."

"I only do it because I do not wish for another child to perish in this war," Sana said. "No more or less."

"Nonetheless," he inclined his head. "Thank you."

He was about to continue the conversation, as it had been the first real conversation he'd had with the Ethereal since…well, the last time. However, he saw Jackson approach, a stern look on her face. "Commander, a moment?"

"Certainly." He gave Sana a brief goodbye, and followed Jackson to a secluded corner of the room. "What is it?"

"Nothing extremely concerning, thankfully," she said. "However, something that should be brought to your attention. ADVENT found something."

He raised an eyebrow. "Specifically…?"

"That's the thing," she said. "They aren't sure." She pulled out a small holodisplay, which displayed what appeared to be a very damaged suit of armor. It looked almost medieval, though if the Collective or an advanced species had designed it. It was clearly damaged, but surprisingly intact.

"An alien suit?" He looked up, confused. "A new piece of Collective gear?"

"No," she shook her head. "It's not Collective. It's an alien design for sure, but there are Human remains inside and the suit design is…advanced."

"How 'advanced'?"

"Enough to where they're calling us," she said dryly. "Or maybe they're spooked."

"Why would that be?"

"Because they found this along the Atlantic, near France," she said. "By complete accident – some fishermen were the ones that detected something odd, and called in ADVENT when they couldn't get it out. They thought it was some scrap or waste to be recycled. As it turned out, they found a long-buried suit."

He rubbed his chin. "How long was this buried, exactly?"

"ADVENT estimates that the suit could be over five centuries old," Jackson shrugged. "Carbon dating on the remains hasn't been conducted yet. I don't know how accurate that is, but it's old. Old enough that it begs the question of what exactly an alien suit is doing here that's supposedly that old."

"And we're sure this isn't Quisilia attempting a joke?" He asked half-serious.

"It's something he'd do, but I don't think so," she said. "At least ADVENT doesn't think so. We might want to ask the Chronicler some more questions."

"Yes, for sure," he said. "And I know Mercado and Vahlen will want to take a look at it. Are they moving it to us?"

"Once I have your approval, I'll give the order," she said.

"Do it."

"Done," she said after a moment. "Hopefully they'll have something preliminary by the time we're done with this."

"Speaking of, it seems we're going to start again," the Commander noted, seeing the attendees gradually move back to congregate at the tables. "Let's go. Hopefully this will go smoothly."

---

Aleppo - Syria

7/23/2017 – 4:22 P.M.

Anna threw Sierra a questioning look. "Are you...sure this is the place?"

Sierra herself needed to do a double-check. She quickly brought up the address mentioned in her orders. At the time she'd thought that something about it seemed off, but hadn't put it together then. "This is the place."

"Not exactly hungry," Ted muttered. "I think there was a letter or number missing from your address."

In almost all cases, any mission briefings with ADVENT had taken place, as expected, in an ADVENT base or facility. It was logical, expected, and otherwise standard procedure. Right now though, they were in the middle of a street in Aleppo, out of armor, and attracting a lot of attention - Sierra especially.

She didn't fail to note they gave her a wide berth - and there was also no shortage of people taking pictures, who also thought they were being subtle. Couldn't blame them though, she'd likely do the same if a towering humanoid machine just appeared. She hadn't decided if Ted and Anna in their regular clothes made them stand out more or less.

The building in question? Sierra wasn't even fully sure. It seemed to be a little shop or restaurant along the road, with a little sign before it in Arabic. "I don't suppose you can read what it is?" She asked dryly.

"I wish," Ted wrinkled his nose. "I do know it's Turkish, whatever it is?"

"How do you know that?" Anna asked.

"Parents immigrated from Iraq a few years before the War on Terror," he said. "Taught me a little Arabic. Enough to pick out a few things - I think it's a shawarma place."

"A what?"

"Oh! I've had those before," Sierra remembered. "They're very good. Since we're here, we might as well stop in."

"Fine, we'll make a detour," she said.

"Better than standing here awkwardly," Sierra said as they entered. She had to bend down to get into the door. Inside was what one would expect from a little restaurant like that - except that there were two ADVENT soldiers inside, and it seemed like the entire place was empty.

"Here for the briefing?" One asked.

"So this is the right place?" Anna said, confused.

A shrug from one of the soldiers. "It is, and no, don't ask me why it's here."

"Food's good though," the second one said. "Word of warning, the guy that you're going to meet…" he paused. "Do you know him?"

"Only the basics."

Both soldiers chuckled. "Word of warning, the Lion is a bit...unorthodox."

Sierra looked around. "So it seems."

"In the corner over there," the leftmost soldier pointed. "Can't miss them. Lion doesn't care if you salute, but General Avel is also present."

"Matt, they're XCOM, not ADVENT," the other one snorted. "They don't salute."

"Sorry, sorry," 'Matt' waved a hand. "Anyway, move along, move along."

She looked around. Two men sat down, playing a card game. The first she didn't recognize, though she recognized the uniform. The second was General Avel. They sat at the center most table, with enough room for two dozen people to sit around them.

"Frost Queen, face up," the first man said. "Three damage to your Goblin Warrior card."

General Avel nodded slowly. "Which activates my trap card, Reflection Mirror, all damage goes back to you."

"Cheeky." The first man replied, he placed his cards on the desk, checking his watch. "I suppose we'll wrap it up, seeing as early arrivals are here."

Avel's eyebrow rose. "Escaping from my victory, are we?"

"Ah, the old 'I would have won anyway.' Is it?" the first man snorted, and placed his cards on the table, face up. "I beg to differ."

"One day, you'll explain to me how you always end up with the good cards." Avel sighed, taking away the cards.

Sierra frowned. "Are they…."

Anna smirked at the sight. "Yes."

Ted opened and closed his mouth, before shaking his head. "That's the Lion, I'm going to guess."

The Lion glanced at them, measuring them. Judging. Weighing. As soon as the glance was over, he nodded and welcomed them. "The anticipated guests of honor have arrived. Come. Sit." He checked his watch.

She saluted General Avel, before awkwardly sitting as the chair creaked under her weight. This furniture was not up to XCOM standard.

Avel drummed his fingers on the table, as officers started arriving. Some idle chatter filled the air, and before long all the chairs were filled up. The officers likewise didn't seem to fully know why they were here either, but dutifully saluted both Avel and the Lion, as they took their seats. A fair few also eyed the XCOM trio, and her in particular. Finally, Avel glanced at the Lion. "I believe these are all the relevant officers."

"Excellent," the Lion replied, standing. "I will assume that all of you have read the analyst reports?"

Nods all across the table, XCOM personnel included. Likely not as in-depth as some of them, but they had read the documents ADVENT had sent them.

"Allow me to give you a more direct demonstration," he said, waving a hand. A Turkish man entered and dropped a rifle on the table. "This is the weapon being currently used by the Turkish Army." He raised the weapon. "Light, solid. Accurate." With a well rehearsed motion, he pulled the slide and ejected a round.

The round was large, and it spoke of deadly and precise vision. The Lion held it up between his fingers. "Designed by the finest Turkish minds, and clearly derived from our own weapons. Alloy piercing, lighter than standard, and deadlier than any old-generation rifle. This is merely the most basic of basic preparations they have undertaken."

"How were they able to design this so quickly?" An officer asked.

"Two possibilities," Avel said. "The first is that the Collective has been in contact with certain Turkish officials longer than anticipated, and they've poached engineers and scientists to prepare for them. Alternatively, they were able to acquire some of our weapons, and reverse-engineered them months ago, and the Collective now can provide the industry to create them. Ultimately, it doesn't matter."

The Lion's eyes met all the officers in the room. "They are fully supplied with these weapons - and a few others from their alien benefactors." With a flick of his wrist, the holographic display turned on. A topographic three-dimensional render was displayed, with the mountainous and steep terrain displayed at full force.

"And the rest of their military?" the Lion rhetorically asked. "Aircraft? Tanks? APCs? Infantry armor? Mobile and fixed artillery?"

The Lion swept his finger, a red line being drawn. Taps of his finger highlighting certain defensive chokeholds. "With all relevant factors taken into consideration, breaking their defensive lines will take us…"

He looked at his watch, before briefly looking at Avel. "What would you say? Tomorrow?"

"Give or take," Avel answered.

"Pardon?" One of the junior officers asked incredulously, her tone utterly confused. "The reports estimate two to four months. Which is to say nothing of the regional pacification afterw-"

The Lion turned his gaze on her. Cold, gleaming eyes alight. The officer's mouth clamped shut. "The Turks want a war," he said slowly, carefully, firmly, the undercurrent of judgement weaved within the short declaration. "We will give them annihilation, and nothing less."

A Turkish man dragged a chair into the mix, and sat down. His facial features reminded Sierra of an angry goat, with his expression resting at seemingly permanent contempt.

"This is Lieutenant Colonel Kizgin Ofkeli of the Turkish armed forces," the Lion introduced him, uncaring of everyone. "Insignificant, unimportant, and utterly of no note. Truly, his presence and lack thereof, is much the same."

Kizgin sneered back at him. "As unpleasant as ever."

That seemed to alarm some of the attendees, who shot each other alarmed looks, and the hands of a few fell to their waists and their pistols. Avel noted this, and firmly interrupted. "At ease. I've cleared his presence."

"And your face is as pleasant as ever," the Lion said, seemingly sincere and ignoring the sudden tension. "With his aid, we will be able to destroy all our enemies in this operation. The linchpin of our operation, and how we will bypass their security beyond our initial entrance, rely on him."

"Enemies. Destroy. Annihilate," Kizgin said, measuring the words. "Careful of your words, walking corpse. They tread already light lines."

"What is light, Lieutenant Colonel, is the weight of shawarmas on my table." The Lion said. "These are my guests, and you are supposed to feed them."

"The dead do not count as guests. And I only feed allies. Which are you?" Kizgin stated, raising a hand, on the edge of clenching a fist. Turkish workers shifted their motions, and she could hear them reaching under tables and inside their aprons. She briefly met Anna's eyes, and conveyed a silent message. Her servos and joints tensed ever so slightly, and if this man did something stupid, he would find out exactly why threatening a MEC was a very, very bad idea.

"Allies." The Lion smiled. It did not reach his eyes. "Consider it a deal made. And sealed."

Kizgin lowered his hands and snapped his fingers, workers starting serving shawarmas. The air of tension was undercut by the smell of ketchup and chicken, and everyone, Sierra included, slowly calmed down.

"Who's going to pay?" Avel scratched the stubble of his beard, looking at the Lion.

"You," the Lion replied. "I did win the game."

"Truly, the epitome of Arabian hospitality." Avel scoffed, grabbing his shawarma. Several officers followed his lead.

Food was no longer something she really needed, but her tongue remained one of the last organic parts of her body. One thing that wasn't neutered by the artificial nature of metal. She took a bite, tasting it. It was good. Excellent, even. It made her realize that there was a simple pleasure in eating that she had forgotten, as it was no longer important. Perhaps something she should change.

"Valkyrie Morrow," the Lion said, turning to her. "You and your team will commit to the advance with the Horsemen units. You will be the vanguard. Prepare for your finest moment."

Sierra felt that was slightly dramatic, but she couldn't knock his enthusiasm. "Understood. Do your soldiers know what to expect from me? We do not normally operate in conjunction with ground units. We're usually...faster."

The Lion smiled. "The Horsemen will keep up. And yes - they know what you are."

She took another bite. "Good. I look forward to working with them."

"As they you." There were a few more details discussed, but soon the Lion and Avel moved down the table, discussing specific portions of the operation, as Sierra appraised the Lion himself while eating. She'd known he was instrumental in the Night Stand, and now in person, she could see that. Impressive, and his apparent willingness to be on the front lines was admirable. In some ways he reminded her of the Commander, at least in his willingness to fight with his own men.

More impressive considering his age. She hadn't been able to find an actual age for him, but he was at least in his fifties, probably sixties. She also hadn't seen a face as scarred as his before, and his eyes held an unnatural intensity to them. She wasn't surprised that he had the loyalty of his men, and struck her as a good leader, whatever his past had been.

Well, it seemed like he was a good asset. Fears put to rest hopefully.

He was also one of the few in the room who hadn't so much as blinked when he'd seen her at the beginning. Which meant that he had encountered another MEC pilot before, or more likely, simply was not intimidated by her. She could respect that, professionals were always welcome and she was glad there was one person who didn't get caught in her appearance outside of XCOM.

Finally, the overviews that were tailored to each officer were finished, and it was time to get into the specifics of the overall operation - namely how an entire country was going to fall in a day. "As for the operation, we will proceed in three phases." The Lion walked around the table, his boots clacking on the ceramic tiles. His presence looming over sitting officers. "The first phase," he started. "Will use these."

The holomap of Turkey changed, and several yellow lines went under the land. "These are a series of tunnels that run under the major cities," the Lion continued matter-of-fact. "Used for smuggling and insurgency historically. Now we will use them to bring down the Turkish puppets. Our infiltration forces will use them to bypass defensive points - both in Ankara and Istanbul."

Red dots lit up within the major cities. "The Collective has been upgrading and installing anti-air and missile defenses," he said. "This has proven to stalemate our advance. Myself, my operatives, and ADVENT Special Forces will move through the tunnels and take over the defenses – they will be running from a central location, as the Turks in their infinite wisdom, slaved them to a central station – one the Collective has not had time to change. This is where our Turkish friends come into play."

Kizgin grunted. "The station will be under our authority. Your people will be able to take control. I will ensure the defenses are minimal."

A smile danced on the Lion's lips. Sierra had the impression of a predator, malicious and hungry for blood. "With control of the missile systems, combined with ADVENT air support and that of XCOM, the lines of the Turks and aliens will be shattered. The timing will be precise and overwhelming. The weight of our entire combined arsenal will be final. The second phase will start then."

The holomap of Turkey vanished, and was replaced by a symbol Sierra didn't recognize, but did contain several Arabic characters. "At the same time, Turkey has been holding dozens of Ikhwan insurgents in their prisons – sentenced to life. They will be freed, and will cause additional chaos behind the lines."

"With the aid of Kizgin's men." The Lion stated. "They will run roughshod over internal supply and defensive lines. Attacking every last weakness the Turks have. Their supply warehouses will become their bane. Their weapons turned against them, and their prisoners made to haunt them."

One of the officers seemed skeptical. "Releasing prisoners is already risky, but the Ikhwan? You do remember who they were, General?"

Sierra certainly remembered, and Ted in particular seemed outraged. "Islamic fanatics. The Caliph's Sharia enforcers," he practically spat. "Aided and abetted the Caliph's insanity, and butchered non-believers and dissidents across the Caliphate and beyond. With respect, General, why the fuck are we springing these people? The Turks were right to lock them up."

"Yes, Lion, let the lunatics out of the asylum," Kizgin muttered. "What could go wrong?" He scoffed. "Brainless idiot."

Avel chuckled. "Hear that, Lion, apparently our esteemed guests know more about the Ikhwan than you do. Impressive."

"Naturally, they do," the Lion said, his eyes betraying his amused tone. "I'm certain that you are immensely knowledgeable on this matter. Tell me, then, Archangel, under whose authority did the Ikhwan operate? I'm certain you know the answer to that."

"More than you likely think. They were the Caliph's personal Sharia enforcers, sent across the Caliphate to enforce the Islamic tenets, and later lackeys during the War on Terror. I had family during the War, Lion. I know who they are and what they did. I'd warn you not to imply otherwise." A pause. "Respectfully, sir."

"Then you're also aware that they were personally culpable of collaborating with insurgencies, insurgencies who aided Van Doorn." The Lion smiled, teeth bared. "Training, equipment, insider movements. Medical supplies. Planning. The very same insurgents who saved your uncle from being beheaded, Archangel Holden."

"Of the sixty most despicable war criminals of the Caliphate," the Lion said. "The Ikhwan have directly killed ten in secret, arranged for the deaths of another three, and all but handed another thirty to Van Doorn on a platter."

"That's…" Ted paused, for the first time unsure what to think. "If that is true - then who were the ones who bore that name during the War? I am not misremembering this. Were these Ikhwan you talk about defectors or traitors?"

"Oh, and there was that small, insignificant and little known time where they counter-couped the Caliph." The Lion shrugged. "It was swift - and put down fast enough that the media didn't pick up on it. Not that your propaganda would have acknowledged the Caliphate as anything but united in their monstrosity. Didn't affect the War on Terror much, outside of taking out half of the Caliph's collection of madmen, destroying his plans, and almost taking him out. Small things, really. The Caliph did enjoy that episode."

The Lion laughed, a deep, throaty growl. Sierra had never heard such raw malice before. "Shame he did not enjoy it to his grave."

Avel's fingers drummed on the table. "For the service of the true Ikhwan - not the pretenders the Caliph propped up - and who you remember - they were exiled, imprisoned for life, executed, and branded the villains of history. Those who weren't captured and boiled in acid during the counter-coup, were sent fleeing. Fleeing to their deaths, usually." Avel pointed at Ted. "Are you still of the opinion that we should let them rot in place? Maybe execute them? Any of you?"

Sierra had a feeling that most of them hadn't known those details. She wasn't really sure that the Lion was the most unbiased source, but Avel appeared to be backing him up here, which must have meant there was some validity to it. Ted hesitated a few moments, then shook his head. "If they are who you say, and not the butchers I heard roaming the sands of Arabia and the rest of the Middle East, then fine. Let us hope they are as...reasonable as you claim."

"If the fact that the Ikhwan of all forces had attempted to execute the Caliph for violating Sharia, became known…" The Lion glared at Kizgin. "Perhaps the War would have been shorter."

Kizgin sneered at him. "Perhaps if a certain man didn't think he could outsmart the Caliph, he would have a much, much shorter reign. Dagger to the skull would have done wonders."

"Funny." The Lion glared back, heat in his voice. "I remember someone being confident the situation was under control. That Egypt was on our side, Turkey was willing to negotiate, and Israel would hold."

Kizgin broke his glare, instead pushing the ketchup bottle to Avel. Avel took it, adding it to his shawerma.

The Lion looked away from Kizgin, instead raising a brow at Avel. "Extra ketchup?"

"It's good ketchup." Avel shrugged, nodding slightly to Kizgin. "No reason to waste it."

"Back to the matter at hand - Without them, the Turks have their backside protected," the Lion paused, measuring. "With them, we expose the Turks from the front, flank and back. They have nothing to hide behind, and nowhere to defend. I intend to win this battle, and the Ikhwan will assist us in this endeavor."

There was a finality to his statement, and to Sierra it seemed clear that Avel had signed off on this, and probably a few other ranking officials in ADVENT. They'd had to before agreeing to this, otherwise they were going to be slapped - hard - by the Oversight Division. She didn't like the idea at all, and had not missed how the Lion avoided saying what would happen to them afterwards. She did, however, trust that if it became a problem, ADVENT would step in. Maybe they'd get lucky and the Ikhwan would all die in the revolt.

"With the lines in chaos on the front and within, the remainder of the resistance will be activated," the Lion continued, taking a list from a nearby ADVENT Intelligence officer. "The population fosters significant resistance efforts. This was not a popular decision, and the majority of the government was displaced in a coup. We have located and in some cases extracted ranking military and government officials."

"Officials who opposed us, no?" Another officer asked.

"They did. They do not any longer," the surety in the Lion's voice was almost unsettling. "They've arrived at a new understanding, and will be necessary to restore order once the Collective is vanquished. The attacks will be followed with a signal, and embedded insurgents will begin their own attacks - courtesy of Kizgin."

He focused on the XCOM trio. "Ankara is the capital, and the most important city in Turkey. This is where you and the Horsemen will commence your operation." His eyes swung around the table as he made one final address.

"Officers," the Lion said. "By tomorrow, there won't be a Turkish frontline." He raised a shawarma as a toast. "By dawn." His eyes sharpened, glinting cold. "Armies will shatter and crumble."

Even if she was not thrilled with some aspects of the plan - the majority of it seemed solid, and as amazing as it sounded, it sounded like it could be pulled off. If this plan, filled with so many random and unpredictable variables, was able to turn what should be a months-long campaign into less than a week.

Mad or genius, it probably didn't matter. What she did know was that tomorrow was going to be quite chaotic, no matter how it ended.

---

Aui'Vitakar Chambers, Vitiary - Vitakar

7/13/2017 – 2:38 P.M.

Weapons fire and the whirring of machines sounded as the Nulorian marched through the Aui'Vitakar Chambers. Busy on most days, they were notably crowded as the insurgents went through. With Siaru in control of the building, it gave them a force multiplier which could not be overcome easily.

The Runianarch Guards stationed stood no chance as they were ripped apart by autoturrets, or Nulorian weapons. A few particularly brave (or stupid) guards had tried to attack ir Nara who'd raised a hand and a blue portal had manifested underneath them – and sent them to a place Nartha could only guess at. But he felt the utter chill, and something suddenly clicked for him.

The event where it would be packed. The Speaker absent. No Ethereals. Expected defenses, nothing more. A lack of a Zararch presence - had there even been warnings that this could be attacked? It looked normal, so normal, exactly like they expected. Exactly like they expected - except for the Speaker.

Oh no.

No, it couldn't be that obvious, could it?

Not the time to think about it. There were a few bystanders who tried to fight back. They were shot down by Nulorian who then shot everyone nearby for good measure. Nartha opened his mouth to call them off, but was too late. Luckily the majority of people were complying and filing into rooms or lying on the ground upon the direction of Siaru and the pointed weapons of the Nulorian.

They didn't spend too much time organizing the bystanders. They weren't important to Miridian's plans, not in comparison to the chambers themselves. Soon enough they were by the doors, and each team was in position. Nartha had his weapon ready, even though they knew that the interior would be pacified.

"In position, Siaru," Miridian commanded. "Any interior resistance?"

"MULTIPLE ENTITIES ON OPPOSITE SIDE OF ENTRANCE. RECOMMEND PHYSICAL PACIFICATION."

"Duly noted," Miridian said with some amusement. "Pacify resisting representatives. Kill the troublesome ones."

There was a chorus of affirmations. "Ir Nara, prepare for immediate teleport back to the planned location."

A nod from the helmeted woman. The doors to the chambers opened, and on the other side was a small crowd of the well-dressed representatives who immediately shrank back when they saw Miridian and the Nulorian on the other side. "Move back!" Miridian commanded harshly, stepping forward and gesturing with his rifle.

A Borelian roared and stepped forward. "You will not enter so easily, terrorist-"

A shot turned his head into fur and brain matter as Miridian continued marching forward. "All line up or you will be shot." Turning to his lieutenant, he spoke, making sure it was loud enough for those nearby to hear. "If they resist, kill them."

Nulorian soldiers had similarly entered through the other two entrances, and had pushed the large gathering of representatives back. Nartha was acutely aware that they were somewhat outnumbered, though that didn't really matter when the representatives were effectively helpless. Even most of the Borelians were unarmed, as males were usually sent as representatives.

The Oyariah were the ones who were most actively resisting, as they no doubt knew what would happen to anyone who fell in the hands of the Nulorian. As Nartha assisted herding the representatives into groups, it wasn't uncommon to hear a few shots ring out, both from the Nulorian and autoturrets firing on a representative- usually Oyariah.

Ir Nara had begun the process of teleportation, going quickly to each group, creating a portal, and the Nulorian forced the captives to enter it. At the same time, Miridian was making his way to the central speaking platform. "Seems like we missed the Speaker," Shun said. "Shame."

"Yeah," that didn't sit right with Nartha. This was a place and meeting which the Speaker should have attended. If he wasn't, it either meant he had better things to do, or had suspected something like this would happen. The latter seemed more likely. This suddenly felt like a trap, and he moved away from the captive group and approached Miridian.

"Ready the cameras," Miridian was saying to a nearby operative. "I want all of Vitakar to see this."

"Where is the Speaker?" Nartha interjected. "He should be here."

"You're right, he should," Miridian said immediately, not looking at him. "Either he is not here, or he is hiding. He will be dealt with, either today or later."

"And you don't find that concerning?" Nartha demanded. "Why would he not be here unless he suspected something?"

"That we'd attack the Aui'Vitakar?" Miridian asked skeptically, finally looking at him through his helmet. "The Collective has never had the foresight, nor realized our ambitions. It is far more likely that they considered this not worth sending their puppet."

Now alarm bells were really ringing in his head. "This isn't right. This was supposed to be attended by everyone, and chaired by the Speaker. If everything was normal, why wouldn't he be here?"

"We don't have time to debate this," Miridian snapped. "Regardless, we need to proceed before time runs out."

"Siaru, run a scan," Nartha demanded. "Anything out of the ordinary."

Miridian didn't say anything, but he felt palpable irritation as he marched down. "Where was the Speaker?" He asked one of the Cobrarian representatives.

"He…he did not come," she said, flinching as he approached. "He did not give a reason. He never arrived."

She wasn't lying, that was for sure. So he'd never come, and that was a serious indicator that something was very off about this. He quickly ran through the process in his head, if he was wanting to trap the elusive Miridian, and had no concern for collateral damage, there wouldn't be a better opportunity than trapping the Aui'Vitakar…

He spun around and returned to where Miridian was standing. "We need to abort."

"Enough, Nartha," Miridian said neutrally as the cameras began turning on, little drones that hovered. "If something was going to happen, it would have."

"I would do as he suggests, Miridian," a new voice spoke, as Nartha turned to see one of the Chimera Squad Vitakarians walk up. A man, it seemed like. "It would be a shame for you to come so far, only to fall by your own arrogance."

"This is not an XCOM operation," Miridian said, though his voice was oddly slow, as he turned to the Chimera Squad Vitakarian. "I will take up complaints with the Commander." He looked to say something else, before the Vitakarian reached up and took off his helmet. Definitely a Vitakarian, but for some odd reason, Miridian went still when he saw the face.

Then his eyes narrowed. "We do not have time for this."

"On the contrary," the Vitakarian smiled – an oddly Human smile. "We have all the time we need." He briefly clapped his hands twice, and something…shifted. Nartha wasn't even sure he was seeing things correctly, but it was close to a frame skip where Miridian and the Vitakarian weren't in the same place they'd been a millisecond earlier.

Probably nothing.

"Fine," Miridian said, and clicked his earpiece. "Abort mission. Ir Nara, prepare for immediate retreat."

Nartha blinked. Where had this come from? Not that he was necessarily complaining, but it had been less than a second from Miridian resisting deviating from the plan and then aborting the mission. It was almost psionic, were it not for the fact that he was sure no psionics were in play.

The Nulorian seemed similarly surprised, but held their tongues and immediately complied with the new orders – though not without some grumbling. "What do we do with them?" One of the Nulorian asked. "Shoot them?"

Miridian appraised the captives. "No…leave them. Their time will come soon."

That was very uncharacteristic of Miridian. Nartha had almost expected him to order it out of spite. To show mercy was very odd. "Portal is ready!" Ir Nara called, and all of the Nulorian rushed through it, along with Nartha and Shun. The portal emerged a short distance from Vitiary proper.

It wasn't the safest place, but it had been the agreed-upon place in the event of an abortion. There was a brief moment of confusion as the Nulorian and Chimera Squad reasserted themselves.

Then the entire ground shook. One of the Nulorian shouted and pointed, and in the distance there was a green-orange blast that rose to the sky, followed by smoke. Nartha didn't need to be told where that was. They'd only been there moments before.

Miridian appraised the fireball in the distance, silent for nearly a minute. "It appears you were right," he said, without turning to face him. "Ruthless. I did not believe they would go so far to kill me. Impressive."

"How many were in there?" Nartha wondered aloud.

"Thousands, which is to say nothing of those who died in the aftershocks," Miridian said matter-of-fact. "Very clever. I couldn't have engineered a better false flag myself. The Speaker is more clever than I gave him credit for." Miridian's voice was a mixture of irritation and admiration.

"What does this mean?" Nartha asked.

"It means that the Collective is preparing to secure their direct hold over the Vitakara," Miridian said grimly. "And I provided them the pretext to do so. I dislike being played for a fool." He turned away, motioning Nartha to follow. "Let us return. There is much we have to assess."

---

Damascus – Syria

7/29/2017 – 1:36 P.M.

"As we made clear," Ravarian was saying. "Korea is non-negotiable."

"We're not speaking of a full withdrawal," Christiaens insisted. "But discussing a reduction."

"Commander Christiaens," Ravarian sounded somewhat exasperated. "That theatre is currently under the control of Patricia Trask, who is not taking part in these negotiations, and retains full control over the operation. Even if we wanted to negotiate for them, it would be impossible. Hence why we made it clear they were a non-starter."

The Battlemaster could not really comprehend why ADVENT was bringing this up at all. He had thought the issue had been settled long ago, if it was an "issue" at all. The Commander also seemed to want to move on, and Sana finally stepped in. "In both preliminary drafts of the negotiations, it was acknowledged that Korea was not to be pursued for a multitude of factors. I would ask that ADVENT respect this."

"Concurred," the Commander said.

"Very well," Saudia said, seeming to signal to Laura to drop it. "Fortunately, there are a number of other fronts which can be properly negotiated. Powell?"

"As we speak there remains a dedicated offensive against Europe through Ukraine," Powell stated. "One which you have personally taken part in, Battlemaster. There are also significant fronts in Southeast Asia, South America, and North America. Between all of these, I presume that we can arrange a solution."

"We can start with Europe," Laura said. "A full withdrawal of all forces, and the return of all European territory currently possessed by the Ethereal Collective."

It was for that reason that the Battlemaster was reluctant to cede any territory in Europe. The offensive taking place there scared them, as it targeted a soft underbelly of ADVENT – one that had been exposed. He and Ravarian had discussed this, and had generally come to the conclusion that ADVENT primarily wanted time to build up the defenses – which worked for him.

However, some gains in Europe had to be maintained. "Full withdrawal will not happen," he stated firmly. "We are willing to cede some frontal territory, but at most we will accept a ceasefire."

"We're going to need more than 'frontal' territory," Laura stated. "A ceasefire does nothing but offer time – for both sides. It is hardly a concession."

"If that were the case, then you wouldn't have approved it as an acceptable condition," Ravarian said. "Additionally, I believe that Florida proved that it is less the time, but how one uses it. If ADVENT is concerned that time will not give them what they want, it reflects on their suboptimal strategy rather than a ceasefire being of little use."

The Battlemaster noticed the Commander seeming to resist a smile as Ravarian made his case. Much more eloquently than he could, and clearly to the annoyance of Laura. Powell intervened. "It also matters which pieces of territory are ceded. Such would need to be carefully considered. It costs little to cede ten pieces of useless land while keeping one crucial one."

A very true statement. Ravarian and Laura both got out maps, and with his own direction, the exact pieces of ceded land were argued over. It was an utterly exhausting argument that went so deep into the minutia he was tempted to withdraw the "ceding territory" offer entirely to spite the ungrateful Humans.

He was even less pleased knowing that this was only the first contested front.

Hey, calm down. Yang, likely sensing his frustration. He took a breath, and reminded himself why he was doing this. Fronts could be retaken, and at the end of the day, they wouldn't matter if he succeeded. This was partially a show, but he also deeply disliked the concept of giving up hard-won gains for nothing.

If ADVENT had taken them in war, he would accept that. It felt wrong to simply give them away. However, the Second Guardian was more important. She needed to be saved. Finally, an agreement that everyone seemed satisfied by was decided. One front down, many more to do.

"North America," Laura said.

"You will need to be more specific," the Battlemaster replied.

"There are several fronts," Laura clarified. "Particularly in Utah, Texas, Minnesota, and Winnipeg."

"Noted. We do not intend to cede ground on these."

"But you can order your forces to pull back from their established positions," Christiaens proposed. "You have repeatedly attempted to break Salt Lake City for weeks now with no result, even with the Second Guardian leading. We want ceasefires and troop pullbacks across the North American fronts."

"Across all the fronts is unacceptable," Ravarian shook his head. "We may be able to negotiate for certain positions, but not something universal."

"I would suggest that Salt Lake City be one such city," Sana proposed. "There has already been a tremendous loss of life on both sides. It would be agreeable for the fighting to cease temporarily."

The Battlemaster was not inherently opposed to that. "That could be done."

"One city is not enough," Saudia shook her head. "Laura?"

"Agreed, Salt Lake we can accept a ceasefire and withdrawal," she laced her fingers together. "At minimum you must do the same for Winnipeg and Minneapolis."

The Battlemaster ran through the positions in his head. Both of those were proposed, so it was possible that both were in weakened positions due to the continual attacks. Or it could be bait. He didn't intend to cede both of them, it was a matter of which benefited the strategy the most. If necessary, Minneapolis, and the Minnesotan front could be ceded, as they would retain Winnipeg, and likely scare ADVENT from moving too deep lest they be flanked.

"We can offer a ceasefire for Minnesota," the Battlemaster said. "A shorter ceasefire can be offered for Winnipeg – but no retreat."

Laura's face hardened, as she seemed to realize what he was doing. "I don't think so."

"I fail to see what is unfair about this," the Battlemaster said. "You will not get everything you want."

"No, but even in giving something up, there is strategy," Laura said. "We are not blind to it."

"As we are all aware," Ravarian said, his voice tired. "We did spend nearly an hour discussing the minutia of Ukraine. Must we also do this for the United States and Canada?"

"That depends," Laura said. "Do you want the Second Guardian or not?"

"I do not think you realize how unpopular this decision would be for our citizens," Powell noted. "If we are going to do this, we are going to ensure that it is as thorough and acceptable as possible. We have time and willingness to do this."

Well, if it was a test of willpower they wanted, he would provide that. It was going to take more than fake arguments over details that did not matter to dissuade him from saving an Ethereal. No matter how irritating the experience was. "Do not worry, ADVENT, I will not be going anywhere. Let us discuss details."

And so they did, for hours they talked about fronts, patches of land, troop movements, withdrawals, ceasefire lengths down to the day and hour, and in such excruciating detail that even the Commander seemed ready to intervene and get it over with. He believed Yang had gone to sleep, and Hallian of all people was providing some commentary and suggestions when appropriate.

The Hunter meanwhile was miming shooting himself in the head, which for once, the Battlemaster could relate with. If nothing else, these negotiations had given him a much newer appreciation for the simplicity of the war. If by some miracle he was able to succeed in his place, the first thing he would do was find someone qualified to administer the Collective.

As he had decided he was very much the wrong person to do it.

---

The Throne Room of the Imperator – Temple Ship of the Imperator of the Ethereal Collective

7/30/2017 – 4:22 A.M.

The silence of the Temple Ship was welcome after her days on the front lines of Seoul. Progress was slow, but it continued to be made in increments. No longer did she have to project a barrier over the army, as smaller shields had been erected in important positions, the trenches and defenses were in place, and they were able to successfully hold their own.

The unknown death ray was still a problem, one that Fectorian was presumably working on. The Mori Twins were similarly continuing their efforts to destabilize the artillery lines in the DMZ. The front was not going to fall, but it had not yet cracked the shell of Seoul - and likely wouldn't for a while yet.

Now though, there was a matter to address.

Patricia cocked her head. "Did you expect him to do this?"

"It was a possibility," the Imperator conveyed no strong emotion through their bond. "When the Second Guardian was captured, it was a distinct outcome I anticipated."

"Anticipated?"

"The likelihood that the Second Guardian would trigger negotiations for her release was high," the Imperator continued thoughtfully. "Tell me, what would XCOM do when faced with her capture? What is the calculus by which they are operating?"

Patricia thought for a moment, knowing he was leading to a larger point. "ADVENT is involved," she said slowly, pacing in the Throne Room with the stars of the galaxy around her. "That complicates matters. ADVENT will want to kill her. The Commander, Zhang, and Creed, will likely agree. Aegis, and perhaps some others will not. The question then becomes how to address this. Detention holds problems, and would strain relations with ADVENT - while leaving open the possibility…"

She trailed off, making the connection. "Negotiation offers a solution, a way to eliminate the problem and gain something from it. They beat her once, they know they can do it again. The risk is smaller."

Approval emanated through the link. "Correct. It is not a matter of security, but optics. She is in a unique position - powerful enough to be a threat to the average soldier, yet not so powerful as to be consensus on her fate. Negotiation is a compromise, one that ADVENT and the Commander in their pragmatism will accept."

A thought came to Patricia. "Did you intend for her capture?"

"No, but this was taken into account when she was sent," the Imperator looked down on her from the throne. "We lost little, yet let ADVENT think they have a victory. The Second Guardian would not die, and she could serve a role even in defeat."

Patricia nodded slowly. "I'm not certain I see - what are we gaining from this but concessions to ADVENT?"

"ADVENT is arrogant, but they are intelligent," the Imperator said thoughtfully. "They know the Battlemaster will make significant concessions to gain her back - and they will overplay their hand here. What they ask for will tell us much about what they plan - and I know they are planning. They know the war cannot continue indefinitely - so, Patricia, what are they planning?"

The revelation came to her. "This is why you have not interfered."

"The Battlemaster will interpret it as disapproval," the Imperator flicked a wrist. "He is honest and earnest. ADVENT will believe him. They in turn will act honestly to him, believing they are weakening us. The demands ADVENT gives will not stop the war, but it will reveal their endgame."

"Then I should follow them more closely," she said, almost to herself. "See the details of what they demand - and what the Battlemaster is giving them."

"Do so. Consult with Ravarian and the Zararch, I believe that they have some theories based on the initial negotiations," the Imperator ordered. "ADVENT will get what they want, but ensure what we learn is more valuable."

"Yes, Imperator," Patricia inclined her head. "I will find what they intend."

"I have no doubt, Harbinger," he finished. "Go, and do so."

---

Ankara Outskirts - Turkey

7/24/2017 – 8:36 A.M.

The city of Ankara was in sight, and the march had taken place through the night. Sierra was out of the Valkyrie and had instead rode with Ted, Anna, and the men and women who made up the Lion's Horsemen. Having plenty of experience with an Archangel, she was curious to see their own suits.

She'd only had tenuous knowledge of the ADVENT Celestials, but those for the most part were less aerial units, and more next-generation paratrooper equipment. Powerful, protective, and able to perform some movements, but far from dedicated air support. The Horsemen weren't exactly that either, but they were closer.

Focused primarily on speed over protection, the Horsemen were still primarily confined to the ground, but were able to augment their speed through boosters, mechanics, and grappling hooks. They reminded Sierra of the genetically-enhanced soldiers – Carmelita in particular – but somehow more flexible.

She was looking forward to seeing them in action.

Agents and other special forces had been sent into the city through the tunnels overnight, as the rest of the army had marched. There was already an offensive taking place against Ankara, but their arrival effectively quadrupled the numbers of the attacking ADVENT forces. Sierra wondered what the Turkish soldiers were thinking as they saw the ADVENT reinforcements.

Without a doubt the city was well-defended. The missile systems, fortifications, and trenches were dug and augmented with Collective resources. It would definitely be enough to hold them for some time, but not forever. Luckily, they would not have to worry about that for much longer.

Overhead the start of the air battle began. Normally, she would prioritize helping in the sky, but her role this time was here. Now the Horsemen were gearing up, the tanks were rolling into position, the gaps were being plugged with the Order of Terra, and jets roared overhead. It was time to get started.

Anna and Ted were armored, and once the signal was sent, she would enter the Valkyrie and join the forward charge. For now she stood with a small group who would begin the assault. The Lion stood in his own Horsemen armor, the helmet under his arm. Several other officers and General Avel were also nearby.

"Everything is in position," Avel said, appraising the city in the distance. "Now we hope that they respond to your signal."

"They will," the Lion sounded confident. "There is no doubt."

"What about Turkey?" Avel looked at one of the officers. "Any official communication yet?"

"Actually…yes," the officer coughed, her face slightly befuddled. "Directly from 'President' Hosmunt Kaan. He wishes to discuss surrender terms."

Sierra also found that puzzling, as did Avel, who raised an eyebrow. The Lion just chuckled. "Go on, I wish to hear this."

"That was…fast," Avel said slowly. "I'm surprised he capitulated this quickly."

"Not…their surrender, General," another awkward cough. "Ours."

"Ours," Avel said blankly. "Ours?"

"Come now," the Lion gave a predatory smile. "Kaan is an ideologue to the very end. And one arrogant enough to believe his delusions."

"Should I send a response?" The officer asked.

"Prepare an artillery barrage, northmost trench line, right in front of the main entrance," Avel ordered. "I believe that will be all the answer he needs." He nodded to the Lion. "Send the signal."

"It will be done," he said, putting on his helmet. "Valkyrie Morrow, prepare yourself. Our charge will commence momentarily."

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

With that, she rushed to where the Valkyrie had been stationed, and within a few minutes she was fully plugged into the suit. Her sight augmented as she reacquainted herself with the feeling of flight and power. It really was so much different outside it, as much as she was trying to not become reliant on the suit, living outside it was a reduced experience in many ways.

She fired her jets, and performed a quasi-leap before landing before the mass of Horsemen and Archangels, a few of them who stepped back as she landed. There were three Horsemen teams that would be charging from various directions, but theirs was the tip of the spear.

"Soldiers," the Lion's voice hissed in her ear. "I have three orders for you: do not die! Do not hesitate! Do not fear! Let them never forget this moment!"

The Horsemen thumbed their breastplates and stomped their feet, and as one, they fired their jets and began flying across the sands of no-man's land. Anna and Ted fired their own jets and joined, flying at a slightly higher altitude than the Horsemen who were effectively performing boosted jumps, landing on the ground and running a few steps before leaping up again.

Behind them the ADVENT Army began moving forward, and the tanks and soldiers fired their weapons. Artillery roared overhead as the first salvos were exchanged between armies. Jets from both ADVENT and Turkey roared overhead, the latter joined by Sectoid fighters. Turkey responded with equal speed.

Plasma and projectiles were fired against the encroaching army, the Turkish lines augmented with Mutons, Custodians, and other alien units – fortunately not their more advanced ones. Sectopods fired their own artillery salvos from the city limits, and the Turkish defense systems whirred to life, taking aim at the ground and sky alike.

Sierra flew higher than all of them, though still at an altitude that was much lower than she was used too. There were a number of options she was considering taking, from the deployment of cluster bombs to torching the lines with napalm. Her missile countermeasures were also primed, in the event the systems didn't go down quickly enough.

The barrage of enemy fire was already being directed against them, and her suit took the brunt of it, as had been the plan. Small-arms fire was largely harmless, though it was less so for the Horsemen. The Lion's soldiers did seem to know how to avoid the worst of it, as they were continually changing their directions, speeds, and angles, making it effectively impossible for a non-machine to get a lock on their movements.

It was made all the more complicated by the erection of psionic barriers that manifested for only milliseconds, existing only to confuse and block projectiles like rockets fired from the Turkish lines. However, not all of them were able to avoid the barrages. One Horseman was clipped, and crashed to the ground. Another wasn't able to dodge a rocket.

Not once did they stop. They couldn't stop. Casualties were unavoidable, and slowness meant death with minimal protection.

"We're cutting it close," one of the Horsemen said, her voice focused. "They better take the systems, or this is going to get a lot worse."

"They will," the Lion responded. "Have no doubt."

They crossed the threshold where the guided missiles would be able to effectively target them – along with the automated anti-personnel turrets. She zoomed in on the systems, and saw them aiming towards them, and she prepared to deploy the countermeasures. They wouldn't be enough for the group, but it would negate the worst of the barrage – once.

She noted there seemed to be a movement of hesitance. If she breathed normally, her breath would have been held.

She heard it, more than she saw it. When she did see it, she felt awe. The sky almost seemed to dim, the sheer cacophony deafening. From their lines, enough missiles to shake the Earth sky fired.

Not at them, nor around them. At the Turks.

They angled down, around, or to the sides and opened fire on the Turkish and alien lines. In a beautiful, synchronous moment, every Turkish defense system fired at once, and she watched in astonishment bordering disbelief as the defensive lines were lit up with the orange-white color of explosions.

Mutons were cut down by the gauss miniguns.

A Sectopod was thrown off-balance by a coordinated missile barrage.

Bunkers, tanks, machineguns nests, scattered and confused. Well-prepared infantry shell-shocked, scrabbling at guns flung away from their hands by the explosions.

Turrets and missiles were flying all over along and behind the Turkish lines, turning the previously stalwart and protected trenches of Ankara to death traps.

Like a wave, a human tide of rifles and bayonets accompanying machines of war, the legions methodically advanced across the no-man's-land untouched. Nothing stopped them, nothing slowed them down. She could feel the air vibrate, so loud were the roar and cheers.

The first into the Turkish trenches was the Lion, the respective emblem on his breastplate marking him out, bayonet ramming a man into the dirt. The Horsemen pushed their thrusters, roaring loudly at the sight to follow him, and just in time as their charge hit the now-disrupted Turkish lines.

Infantry were picked apart, surrounded, and out maneuvered. In seconds, she saw them run and rout. Unable to even put up a defense.

Sierra activated her flamethrowers, torching a trench of Mutons and Turks, while sending a micro-missile barrage towards a group of snipers on a nearby roof.

She saw that there were Turkish and alien technicians managing the systems who were frantically trying to regain control of the systems, but they proved to be nothing more than easy targets for the Horsemen who pulled them off walls with grapples, jumped up and tackled them before throwing them off buildings, or simply putting a bullet in their heads.

In minutes they had breached the city of Ankara, and Sierra, floating at an altitude that allowed her to see the immediate portion of the city, saw that it had become chaos. ADVENT on one side, insurgents on the other, the Turks choked to death in the middle.

The battle should have taken weeks.

Even months.

Everywhere she looked, it seemed there was a street battle taking place. Turkish and alien soldiers rushing to defend the front lines who had been attacked by a mixture of civilians and a slightly more augmented resistance. They wielded basic and ADVENT firearms, men and women in regular clothing, some wearing turbans or hijabs firing without care at their enemies.

For their part, the defenders were reacting with similar ruthlessness, firing into crowds, many of the regular civilians fleeing or hiding, though some joined the fighting and overran the isolated defenders. That didn't go quite as well against Mutons, who were able to splinter the skulls of the brave but stupid Humans with a single blow.

It seemed to be chaos, but she was able to pinpoint that there were several individuals who were coordinating or directing the rebels. Not over the majority, but they were starting to assert their control. Resistance leaders, or the Lion's Ikhwan, it was impossible to tell which – only that they were clearly the leaders.

The sounds of fighting were everywhere now, and at this height, she was able to see the scope to which the fighting spread, and couldn't help but feel awe and a sense of giddiness at the sight. She didn't know how the Lion had somehow managed to pull all of this off, but he'd come through on what had seemed a far-fetched promise.

She hadn't been sure if the city would fall in a day, and it probably wouldn't completely, but she was certain now that the collapse of Ankara would come momentarily. Now it was time to do her part, and, her weapon systems ready, she angled downwards and joined the fray.

---

Damascus – Syria

7/31/2017 – 9:51 A.M.

Days of hashing out details had made the Commander question the viability of a peaceful solution to the war, not that it was ever really going to end decisively one way or another. Exaggeration aside, he did have to admit that at least they were close to an agreement within a week of actually starting negotiations.

He distinctly remembered it being commonplace for such agreements – ones which were far less high-stakes or important to be fair – to take months or longer to do. After a certain point it became ludicrous, and was only propelled by the money on each side. Generally, if a deal was to be done, it would be done.

It likely helped that the Battlemaster was the primary driver on the other side for this. He'd shown a dislike for dragging out the negotiations, while ADVENT and Ravarian had been more in favor of arguing the details, even though everyone seemed to be on the same page as far as the broad strokes.

Well, not over everything, but thus far the Commander was satisfied by what had been able to be extracted. Resources, people, critical ceasefires, territory reclaimed, most of it useful, but not necessarily a major loss for the Collective – or at least not irreversible. Here was where the actual impact would be made.

"There is not much that we can agree on," the Commander said. "But the existence and perpetuation of Paradise Station is one of those topics. Would we not agree?"

"Without hesitation," the Battlemaster answered.

"Of course," Yang said. From her tone and face, she had been deeply affected by her own experience with the station. Seeing the Battlemaster's Harbinger up close in these days had been a very interesting experience. She was similar to him in many ways, but was notably not loyal to the Collective, and in fact seemed to express a distinct dislike of it.

Though she also disliked ADVENT, she didn't appear to hold a burning hatred for…anything. He would almost call her aimless, were it not for her clear loyalty to the Battlemaster. A curious situation, and even more curious that the Battlemaster appeared to outright tolerate it.

Ravarian, he noted, did not join in, though perhaps it was because he did not want to make his positions clear one way or another. He was a very shrewd Vitakarian in person, and he did not enjoy the same level of impunity the Battlemaster had – especially if he reported to Quisilia as believed.

"Good," the Commander continued. "Our demands then are simple – a permanent moratorium on the usage of any personnel, technology, or units derived from Paradise Station, or otherwise identified as followers of the so-called Bringer of Paradise."

"Now, now," the Hunter chuckled. "Would that include me?"

The Commander met the eyes of the creature. "Yes."

"Smart," he said with a smile. "I wouldn't want to fight me either."

"That is a significant logistical and strategic handicap you want to impose," Ravarian said. "As well as one that may be impossible to effectively enforce."

"I'd prefer the Battlemaster to answer this one," the Commander said, looking at the Ethereal. "He may have a different opinion."

"Unfortunately, Ravarian is not completely wrong," the Battlemaster said. "I have no desire to utilize the abominations from Paradise Station – and I have not. I will remind you that even if I enforce this, I am ultimately subordinate to the Imperator, and other Ethereals could similarly move around me."

"That is not our concern," Kyong said. "This is our demand."

ADVENT taking the hard route again, which meant it would be up to him to force the compromise. Fortunately, he had a good one. "Are you the commander of the Collective military?"

"I have control, correct."

"Then by that authority, you should be able to manage unit deployments," the Commander said. "Or are there further limitations?"

"We are both aware of the limitations, Commander," the Battlemaster said slowly. "We should not pretend otherwise."

"No, and we understand that the Imperator or Patricia cannot necessarily be relied upon," the Commander lifted a hand. "Which of course, you can't admit, which is fine. Nonetheless, there is a way you could mitigate their usage worldwide which would make deployment of such units problematic."

"Do explain, Commander."

"Declare Paradise Station an official enemy of the Ethereal Collective," the Commander smiled. "Provide a limited time for any…deployed assets to leave, but afterwards any Bringer units will be marked with the same designation as us."

"That is a highly provocative action, Commander," Ravarian narrowed his eyes. "And completely out of the question."

However, despite the words of the Zar'Chon, the Commander noted the Battlemaster appearing to think it over. Truthfully, the Commander did not expect him to accept out of hand. It would be a major risk, and in truth it had been more of a probing gambit. The fact that the Battlemaster was considering this seriously was very curious.

The speculation had been that there was a deep divide between the Battlemaster and the Imperator – now the Commander was thinking that not only did that divide exist, it was much, much deeper than they had originally believed. The very fact that the Battlemaster was doing this of his own accord indicated as much.

If this was taken, it could almost be construed as a dare against the Imperator – reverse this, I dare you.

And implied…a few other notable possibilities as to what the Battlemaster's endgame was. The Commander did not think the Battlemaster would make such a decision without figuring the consequences, and if so, he had a plan. Though what plan it could be was…difficult to see, without serious extrapolation. It was deeply unfortunate that neither XCOM or ADVENT Intelligence had insight into the Collective.

There was something far deeper going on with the Battlemaster, and he very much wanted to know what it was.

"You are technically correct," the Battlemaster said. "However, it would not be a broad declaration of war. Only the Imperator can impose such a designation. What I can do is expand the definition of uncategorized enemy category. In the event that such entities operated in territory controlled by the Ethereal Collective military, they would be terminated."

He rested a hand on the table. "These terms we will agree to."

Ravarian shot him an alarmed look. "This may be premature."

"It is not," the Battlemaster said flatly. "This is the way."

Even ADVENT seemed moderately surprised that he'd agreed. They hadn't expected to get such a broad agreement, and had clearly underestimated the depth of the hatred the Battlemaster possessed for Paradise Station. However, that hatred certainly painted him in a better light, and the Commander found it interesting that they could all find some common ground here.

And there was also something else that had been an obvious undercurrent throughout all of this – the Battlemaster actually cared about the Second Guardian. The Commander didn't quite know the reason why, and Aegis had not indicated that both Ethereals even knew each other well.

Yet still, he was here, giving up concession after concession, enduring days-long meetings and talking peacefully with people who should be his enemies. The Battlemaster was not a diplomat, and had outright indicated as such. Yet he was here, and personally doing everything he could to achieve her freedom.

It could merely be because she was an Ethereal, and there was one thing that bound all of their kind together, it was that they always looked after their own, no matter the circumstance. Aegis, Sana, and the Battlemaster, they were all united in the goal of ensuring she lived. That was one explanation.

There was perhaps another one, one that the Commander could relate to. The Second Guardian was ultimately a subordinate to the Battlemaster, one of his soldiers, and he did not leave his soldiers behind if he had a way to save them. That was something he could understand and respect.

These talks had revealed quite a lot, and there was perhaps something more to consider here. At the end of the day, they would get what they wanted from these negotiations, and the Commander was, oddly enough, not quite as concerned about the Second Guardian being returned.

The schisms in the Collective were deeper than he'd guessed.

He was very curious to see what they would lead to, as he was certain the Battlemaster was in the heart of them.

---

Ankara - Turkey

7/24/2017 – 4:29 P.M.

The battle continued, and slowly but surely, the tide was turning. The chaos was being brought under control as the street battles were won, and the leaders became more coordinated, now armed with radios and actual communications equipment that had been rushed to them by ADVENT officers.

Not all of the battles were won though. There was many a street filled with the corpses of insurgent and civilian alike, as the Turkish and alien soldiers had fought their way to each other, drawing new asymmetrical battle lines across the city. Sierra didn't have much time to see the aftermath, as she was needed at the hotspots.

Mostly ones dealing with heavy vehicles, particularly Sectopods. An armored car of Turkish soldiers had also been a prize that she'd destroyed with a well-aimed missile. That had been satisfying. Ted and Anna had similarly supported her attacks, and many an alien fell under their barrage of psionics and plasma fire.

The ADVENT Army proper had begun to enter the city, and had fully dismantled the front lines, killing most of the defenders, while capturing a small minority who surrendered. The air battle was similarly going in their direction, as Sierra saw wrecks crashing in the distance, or destroyed outright by ADVENT fighters and hacked air defenses – it also looked like there were some Firestorms in the mix.

This was not a battle, this one was an execution. Merciless, zealous, and complete. Nowhere could she look, and see anything except them winning.

It was total defeat for the Turks, almost contemptuously so.

The ring of Horsemen were also closing in on the center of the city, where the government almost certainly was. The Lion had stationed soldiers in the tunnels, cutting off their escape that way (in the unlikely event they knew about them), and the streets were too chaotic to get out that way.

In effect, the government in question was trapped, barring an Ethereal intervention, and Sierra had a slight suspicion that the Ethereals weren't exactly going to swoop in and save a Turkish collaborator. She idly wondered if what happened here would give Betos any pause, if she found herself in a similar situation.

Ah well, something to ponder on.

The Horsemen had taken some losses of their own, but for the most part they were swiftly moving across the city, only stopping to shoot at the Turkish defenders, aliens, and anyone else disrupting the rebellion. They avoided the vehicles, choosing instead to call her in, which she then handled.

All of them now were moving to the capitol building.

To the sides of the building, she watched Horsemen teams set up weapon emplacements, heavy caliber guns suited for piercing through heavy materials. There were a half a dozen of them on each side. She noticed the infrared attachments.

She saw the Lion walking towards the front doors of the building. Utterly irreverent of shaking men pointing their guns at him. Terror, plain, paralyzing terror gripped of the soldiers outside, and why they were here. Further completing the terrorizing effect, she landed on the ground near him with a thud, while Ted and Anna landed on nearby buildings, priming their weapons.

"Valkyrie Morrow," he greeted her, pausing his walk. "Pleasure to see you here. I expected you to be enjoying yourself?" He gestured at the gunfire in the distance.

"Well enough," she said, priming her weapons. "Ready to make a proper entrance when you are. Structure is weak on the top, but the doors can be destroyed with several rockets."

"No need to waste rockets." The Lion raised a hand, she heard the weapon teams rack their slides. "To the officials of the Turkish Republic." The Lion called out, amplifying his helmet speakers to project his voice. "This is my one and final offer."

Men swallowed. Guns trembling, eyes hardening. They knew death had come.

"Call the surrender, or…" He paused. "Or all personnel not considered of value will be killed. You have ten seconds."

The speakers turned out. "Go to hell!"

He lowered his hands.

A dozen weapon emplacements opened fire, shell cases clanging. Men turned to confetti, torn apart and bisected. Holes bored into the building as they fired into it. The doorway was shredded, splinters raining down.

The gunfire ceased.

One of the men at the entrance whimpered, his legs blown off. The Lion executed him with a pistol shot. "Any heat signatures of consequence?" He asked a Horseman.

"None."

"Clear the building of stragglers," he ordered, holstering his weapon. "Round them all up, weapons teams, overwatch on any incoming hostiles. Any squads go dark?"

"Will inform."

"Good. Go," the Lion said. He glanced back at them. "You are welcome to join me, Archangels."

"Impressive," Sierra said, looking down at him. "But unnecessarily performative." She fired a small missile that blew open the door large enough for her to enter. "No point in wasting time - you can come with me - I think your attack scattered most of them. Ted, Anna, go in from the roof. Lock it down."

"Got it," Ted flipped off a quick salute, and he and Anna shot into the air and vanished.

Sierra motioned for the Lion to proceed. "After you."

"Not all of us have the benefits of an infinite budget," the Lion mused, appreciating the entryway. They stepped in, Horsemen first. Them and the Lion second.

It was a charnel house. Bodies torn to bits by the heavy munitions, defensive points destroyed utterly. Limbs and viscera strewn about, and blood soaking the marble tiles.

The Lion's boots squelched on the floor.

Several things seemed to click for her as she and the Lion marched inside, flanked by the Horsemen who kicked in doors, fired shots, and added to the carnage around them. So thorough were they - or so terrified the Turks were - that there was hardly any opposition. Yet there was something...else to the Lion.

She'd had suspicions, ever since he'd answered Ted's argument about using the Ikhwan. She'd not really assessed the implication, but now it seemed to resonate. What he'd said was not the words of someone who had only second-hand knowledge, or simple academic interest. That was not just the words, but the intensity of someone who was involved.

She couldn't say for certain, but she was almost certain that the Lion was actually, somehow, part of the Caliphate. It was insane, and by all accounts he probably should be dead...but it would certainly explain why he seemed to know so much, not just about the region, but what had happened to it, why others seemed to know him, why he had such loyalty from the Middle Eastern Legion - and why ADVENT was keeping an eye on him.

Which begged a very important question - why was he helping them at all? She'd have expected him to take advantage of the war to strike, or become an alien proxy. But here he was...on their side. Which was a good thing. She didn't like the implications of what someone like the Lion could do against them.

"Do you mind if I ask a question?" It felt somewhat awkward from the size difference as they walked, so much so that she considered, and then decided to eject from her suit. She could set it on autopilot to follow. Leaping out and hitting the ground, she was still taller than him, but it was more...even. They kept walking, the Valkyrie trudging behind them.

The Lion glanced back at her, his eyes seeming to look through her. Intense, in a way she could not explain. "Ask," he said. Almost commanding her.

"You didn't come from the Arabian governments, did you?" she asked, unsure how best to phrase the question.

Without turning to face her, the Lion answered. "My full title is General of the Caliphate Armed Forces. They used to call me the Lion of the Caliphate. Now I am the Lion of Arabia."

So she'd been right...and was surprised he was admitting it. And she didn't fail to notice he used the word is. Not was his title. Implying it still was worth something. She narrowed her eyes. "Brave to admit that, especially to someone you don't know."

Gunfire rang out, rooms being cleared, men being killed.

"Men are fickle creatures," the Lion said, blood squelching beneath his boots. "They arrogantly hold faith in their presumption. They let their delusions blind them, until they believe them true." He turned his head, eyes almost burning. Cold. "You did not ask the question you want to ask."

Bullet cases rolled across the floor. Ringing with every step he took, bouncing with every missile strike and artillery bombardment that landed. "If that was where you came from," Sierra finally said. "Then ADVENT is the absolute last place I'd expect you. Not just because of the War on Terror. Also because of Deus Vult. So why are you actually here?"

"If you expect me to mourn the herd of cats that were our dearly departed governments, then you're sadly mistaken," the Lion started. "Deus Vult was idiocy, a mistake dressed up as a glorious triumph of the civilized world over the uncivilized world. Pouring gas on a roaring flame and expecting success."

Admittedly, she probably should have expected that answer. Probably best not to interject further.

The Lion looked down, staring at Turkish soldier, dissected from the waist down by the initial strike. 'Help.' The man mouthed weakly.

"Again. You asked the wrong question," the Lion said, drawing his pistol and firing. "You do not want to know why I'm here. No. You want to know why I'm fighting for you. So allow me to ask back. Why are you fighting here?"

She was glad her face was covered and mechanical, else it would betray her confusion. It seemed like a trick question. "On the macro or micro scale? I was assigned to this operation by XCOM, I'm in this building because of you. Or do you want a more philosophical answer?"

He smiled, lips curled, amusement at absurdity. "Think on your life if it had gone another way. You could have been home. Married. With annoying children, and a quiet life. You would grow old. You would die content."

The Lion holstered his pistol, his smile fell. His eyes were haunting. "Instead you will die kicking and screaming. In some battlefield or another. All of us all will. Every last one of us that walks this path, will die upon this path."

"So, let me ask again. What madness possessed you to throw your life to this gaping maw?" His eyes drilled into her. "Why are you here, Valkyrie Morrow, fighting a war when you could sleep at home?"

This was definitely not how she expected the conversation to go, in fact it seemed almost surreal, asking the question surrounded by the dead, on the path to more death. "Because it is my duty, it has been what I have felt I must do in my life. Protect and serve. Once it was for my country. Now it is for my species. And both of us know that there is no real choice in this war - we either fight or give up and be enslaved under alien power. Given the choice...I would rather die fighting to make a difference, not in a home with a husband and children, fearing the inevitable end." She paused for a moment. "And given where you come from, I imagine you also understand this."

"You fight, Valkyrie, not out of duty to a species that will forget your name. Not out of love for people you will never know. Not out of dedication to a death where you will suffer," the Lion replied.

His steps rang on the marble tiles, Horsemen rushed from room to room. Outside, she could hear the weapon emplacements gunning down stragglers through the building walls.

"You fight out of faith that it will matter," the Lion replied. "Not only fight. Not only that. You sacrifice. You give everything you hold. Everything you are. You slit its throat to the altar that it means something. Anything."

She could hear Turks screaming.

Horsemen gunning them down.

"Every life you offer to that altar of meaning another sacrifice." The Lion's boots were a constant beat. Paced. precise. "Even if you would die, you knew it had meant something. Because you were not merely existing. You were alive."

"You were alive, your every action held meaning. Every decision changing fate. All for…" The Lion paused. "Freedom?" he asked. "Liberty?" he continued. "Happiness?" He smiled, lips curled. "Which of these do you think lies at the end of our path, Valkyrie? Which?"

"If it goes well? All of the above." Her pace matched his own. She heard a sound, her eyes snapped to the soldier hiding in the room. She aimed and fired her Alloy Cannon, punctuated by a sharp shriek. "And if not for me, or you, then for those that can't fight like us."

"We fight, Valkyrie, not for freedom. If we wished to be free, we'd have not bound ourselves as warriors, fated to die. If we wanted liberty, we'd have lived lives of pleasure, avoiding pain. And happiness?"

He looked around them. "There is no happiness to be found here."

"No," the Lion muttered. "We fight and we sacrifice and we defy and we die. In the name of something greater, in the name of something higher. To stand taller. To stand prouder. We live to die, so that at the end…"

The door to the president's office was before them. Horsemen surrounded it, dead soldiers having fought tooth and nail to protect it.

"...That at the end, we have withstood hell and laughed at it's timidity. We have seen tyranny and cast it down, and we have seen horror, and braved it. All in the name of a better world. "

Horsemen related their weapons. The Lion drew his rifle, bayonet ready. "Everyone who dares stand in the path, will be our sacrifice to a better world."

He turned to her. "Is there anything, anything else worth sacrificing all that you are, your very existence, for? Is there anything more terrible and noble? Anything, Valkyrie Morrow?"

Sierra appraised the man warily. He was much more long-winded and eloquent than she'd assumed, but there was something that had crystallized in his speech, an intensity and energy that was atypical.

He seemed so very off in a way that was difficult to describe. This was not how normal people spoke - especially not when surrounded by the mangled corpses of Turkish soldiers.

Still he had asked her a question. "I'm not the right person to ask that," she finally said. "But for me? I agree with you." She nodded at the door. "And we have a mission to finish. One moment, I need to get back in the suit." She turned and prepared to enter the Valkyrie again, though turned back to face him. "And thanks for answering."

A nod, and she entered the suit, as he put on his helmet once again.

He raised a hand. Three fingers held up.

"Ted, Anna, are you in position?"

"On the roof and ready to move in," Anna answered. "Guns are hot."

"On the Lion's signal."

He lowered one finger.

Horsemen tensed, drawing flashbangs.

Second finger. She readied herself.

The third finger went down and the Lion kicked the door, a Horseman threw his flashbangs, she rushed in, smashing in the door and a good section of the wall. The pop and light of the flashbangs went off, as she took quick stock of the room. Not too unexpected, just over a dozen soldiers in semi-protected positions. Near the back was a man who was most certainly not a soldier.

That, Sierra believed, was Hosmunt Kaan.

He was not an especially impressive-looking man. Gaunt and older, with a wispy beard and spectacles, he was hardly the embodiment of the so-called Ottoman spirit he wished to resurrect. Perhaps to be expected.

The soldiers, already disoriented from the flashbangs, were even more terrified of the towering MEC before them - which she didn't give them time to contemplate, raising her wrist and expelling a jet of napalm that torched the first rows, as the Horsemen charged in, the Lion impaled a man through the throat, slamming him on Hosmunt's table, cracking it to pieces.

Hosmunt screamed in anger and fear. "You!"

Within moments, the Horsemen had executed the disoriented and disorganized remnants. A few minutes, and the chamber had fallen quieter, the room secure.

"Hosmunt Kaan," the Lion said, tearing his bayonet out of the gurgling man's throat.

Kaan fixated on the Lion, armored and helmeted, but seemed to know who it was. "You!" His tone was terrified and furious at once.

The Lion cocked his head. "I don't even know who you are."

"I know you, whore!" Kaan yelled, retreating away from the Lion. "Whore to the Caliph. Whore to ADVENT, loyaless cur and twice damned trait-"

The Lion's fist slammed into Kaan's jaw. He fell, tears in his eyes and blood in his mouth. He turned around. "A pleasure to meet you, President."

Kaan hissed. "Kizgin, it was him?"

"Your ability of observation astounds me."

"Traitors..." Kaan barked. "Men with no loyalty, selling to the highest bidder. Men of no principles, murderers and imperialist foreigners! No better than whores! And you, imposter, playing the role of a dead man. As if only idiots would-"

The Lion smiled, from his pocket, he flashed a small pin of a snarling lion.

Kaan paled, fear turning to terror. "How?"

"The dead can come back to life, if only to haunt the living." The Lion motioned one of his soldiers forward. "Shove something in his mouth, his voice grates on...me..." The Lion paused.

"Valkyrie," he said slowly. "Can you hear the clearing squads, any sounds of them?"

Kaan's eyes flashed with contempt. "Something wrong, murderer?"

"No," she replied, focusing. "I can't hear anyone outside of this room."

The Lion looked at Hosmunt. "Weapon teams one through three? Report?"

No reply.

"Blow the wall," he commanded her, he turned to his men. "Check the corridor, enemy's in the area-"

The side of the room suddenly exploded inward, the first sight was an axe burying its head in a Horseman's skull. The second was a figure stepping through the dust.

The Horsemen reacted instantly and moved back with boosts, while bringing weapons up. The person who'd appeared was…definitely someone Sierra hadn't seen before.

Heavy black armor, reminding her of the SAS operatives she'd seen, though with two axes strapped to his waist as he wielded a warhammer. Most interestingly he didn't wear a full helmet, and instead he had a long thick beard – oh, she suddenly recognized who this was. The assumed Harbinger of Macula.

The one who was supposed to be in Africa.

What was he doing here?

The Lion fired instantly, emptying his rifle in the figure. It clicked dry, he drew his pistol and emptied it. The round deflected harmlessly into the wall, as unphased, the Harbinger twirled his axe. "Apologies for the delay, Mr. President," he said, taking a battle stance as the air distorted around him. "Rescues do take some planning, and I met some friends along the way."

"Delay?" Kaan shouted hysterically. "I did not ally with you to lose my homeland."

"Shh…" the man pointed a finger to him, a thin smile on his face. "If you didn't hear me, you are being rescued. Please, do not resist."

The Lion reloaded his rifle with disturbing calm. "I do not believe you were invited to this battlefield."

"Oh no, I wasn't," the Harbinger replied. "But some friends were, and it's bad manners to leave friends alone. We also borrowed some of your weapons, I hope you don't mind."

"I see," the Lion replied. "Valkyrie," he said slowly, inching toward the bound Hosmunt.

Horsemen cradled their triggers.

Sierra readied herself.

The Harbinger smiled.

Everyone burst into motion, and she fired a missile into the wall that blew open the next room. The Horsemen boosted backwards, firing as they did so. Gunfire from their own emplacements tracked them, cutting down six Horsemen.

The Lion picked up Hosmunt, slipping something into his clothing, and hurled him at another Horseman.

Sierra fired her last trio of missiles, blowing through the building and out into the open. She leapt out, hitting the street and moving forward. Slowing to wheel around and take aim.

The Harbinger landed right behind them, beheading a Horseman and snapping the neck of a second. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Boots. Infantry boots. Sprinting at them. She looked up, and just as the windows of the building sundered. Bipods peeked out, landing on broken windows as dozens of heavy machine guns braced. They opened fire. Automatic gunfire drowned the street.

She braced, spreading herself as the Lion and three Horsemen took cover behind her. The Lion calmly waited, unperturbed. Ceaselessly, rounds pinged off of her, deflecting into every direction in a shower of sparks.

Some of the psionic Horsemen were reacting, erecting shields, hurling back rounds and blasting apart the machine guns.

Through the hail of solid slugs Macula's Harbinger sprinted. Rounds caught still around him. He bounded across the asphalt, gaze locked on the Horseman carrying Hosmunt.

Their own weapons squads returned fire, heavy caliber rounds giving pause to the suppressive fire. Ripping through concrete and armor alike, the machine gunners moved to evade death. The soldiers didn't pause.

They charged, they jumped out of the windows. Taking aim and firing at the weapon crews, as their infantry rushed to close the gap, raiding the buildings the weapon crews used. In moments, their weapons crews had to reprioritize.

Sierra grasped a look at them. Helmets with a white skull painted on them, fetishes hung on their belts. Their armor painted a mid-night black. Their gear was SAS make, but she didn't recognise the unit badges. Likely a special forces unit of some kind - though again she wondered why they were here at all.

No time to ponder that.

She fired her weapons, her own more powerful than the ones the Horsemen used, and while the soldiers leapt out of the way, several of them were hit. She followed up with a barrage of frag grenades that blew one up completely, and wounded another who was pulled back by his comrade. These soldiers were clearly well-trained and sophisticated - they were almost XCOM-like in their control.

Anna fired from above, though her barrage was disrupted as the soldiers quickly adapted, and moved to hit her at all angles. With a shouted warning, one of the jets on her shoulders sparked out, and she crashed to the ground - alive, but they needed to move fast before the soldiers closed in.

Ted swooped in, arms alight in amethyst fire as he blasted the soldiers with psionic energy. That forced them to move back or into cover, though one was killed when the beam of energy destroyed the head. Sierra also marched forward, while lifting an arm and releasing a jet of flame that forced them to back off.

A brief assessment of the situation around the rest of the area was not optimistic.

The Harbinger grabbed the Horseman, hoisting him up and slamming him on the ground. In one swing that cracked the ground, he shattered the Horseman's skull. He snatched Hosmunt off of his corpse.

One of the soldiers fired a zipline at him, the Harbinger grabbed it as it pulled him out. The rest of the soldiers covering him with skill and experience. The second he was pulled out, the soldiers broke away in a uniform, flawless rush.

Smoke grenades were thrown, the Harbinger unerringly throwing his axes at any heads that peeked out, while riflemen leapt from cover to cover, firing bursts as they guarded the rear. Running away with what would have been reckless speed, if it wasn't so coordinated.

In a flash, it was over.

The Lion kicked at one of the corpses, rolling it over. "The Skeldbroers." He paused, reaching up to the side of his helmet. "Lion copying."

"SAS-Aligned units have been spotted, several priority locations hit. High level politicians, bureaucrats, and military commanders were rescued. Several defensive positions were overrun."

"How many?" the Lion asked, eyes narrowing on the dead soldier.

"Enough to cover a coordinated rearguard action and an evacuation route, we're closing it as fast as we can."

"Our own operation was attacked. Priority target was snatched, I slipped a tracking beacon on the target. Be advised, Macula's Harbinger came as rescue. Seek command authorization, we have a high threat target interception window." He leaned down, checking the unit badge. "Prioritize Lancer squadrons to the SAS units. Sweep them away. Shell their escape route, use chemical warheads."

"Confirmed."

The Lion looked around him. "Sitrep."

There was a sequence of the surviving Horsemen who reported in, while Sierra immediately exited her suit and rushed to where Anna had crashed. Thankfully, she saw that she was alive. Ted was already beside her, and propped her up. "Hey," Sierra said, kneeling beside her. "You alright?"

"Been better," Anna said through gritted teeth, as Ted took her helmet off. "Think I'll need some medical leave."

Sierra saw that her right arm was definitely at an odd angle, and both of her ankles were twisted around. All things considered, facing a psion like that, it had gone well. Sierra hadn't forgotten the last time that had happened…at least Anna wouldn't have her entire body broken like hers had been.

As Ted helped stabilize her, she looked to the bodies of the odd soldiers - and remembered the word the Lion had said. She looked up at the man, who appeared to be looking at the remains almost in contemplation. "You know them?"

"Africa's very own band of nightmares. The Skull Brothers," the Lion replied. "From the age of six, they start fighting, by the age of thirty they're combat veterans. Soldiers of fortune who've made their name fighting for the highest bidders at the steepest price."

"War is their craft, and they've honed it like only those born to it could," he murmured, thinking. "Now they've gotten the attention of a Harbinger, one who's recognised their worth."

Sierra frowned. "Odd that they're working for Betos. They're...very skilled."

"The oddity is the lack of recognition she's given them. She hasn't realized their worth." The Lion considered. "Now she will." His eyes glinted cold. "And they'll take their butcher's bill, with all the glee and finesse of their reputed infamy."

"You recognise them personally?" She asked, seeing the familiarity.

"They've had an operation in the Middle East," the Lion replied. "I welcomed them to my homeland. They didn't seem to enjoy it much. Certainly never returned."

"No doubt," she could imagine the kind of "welcome" the Lion had greeted them with.

Anna was ready to be moved, and knelt down. "We'll get you to medical," Sierra said, picking her up with ease. "It won't be long." Ted probably would have picked her up first, but he didn't have her inherent strength – and a woman in Archangel armor was not exactly light.

Still…even if it wasn't a complete victory, and the Lion was doubtless upset at losing Hosmunt, it was still going to be a decisive victory for them. Ankara had finally fallen, and it seemed that Turkey would almost certainly follow.

This new group would be a problem though, but that was one for another day.

---

Korean Collective Front, Near Seoul – South Korea

8/1/2017 – 3:17 P.M.

Today, Patricia was not on the front lines, but instead performing research.

The front would hold without issue, and the operations were commencing that would begin to cripple the Seoul defenders. The Mori Twins continued to perform small assassination missions on certain officers and officials identified by the Zararch, the Collective trenches were more firmly established, and like a chessboard, pieces were being moved into place.

Little, subtle effects that would culminate into a critical mass that ADVENT may anticipate, but be unable to stop. They may believe that they could hold out, but she knew they couldn't win a war of attrition – and they knew it as well. However, the war would not be won with attrition on either side, but who won the game of deception, espionage, and surprise.

In effect, who played their cards correctly.

Was the outcome as you expected?

There was a brief silence before the Imperator answered. It was.

A happy ending, all things considered.

As the Imperator had anticipated, the silence from the Temple Ship was something many in the Collective didn't know what to make of. Most assumed that the silence implied dissatisfaction, or disapproval of taking the initiative. All as intended by the Imperator, and they had proceeded as such.

ADVENT, and the Commander, were predictable in some ways, yet in the end it was a gambit. A gambit that she was on the cusp of justifying. Had the Imperator outright supported the negotiations, there would doubtless be skepticism and hesitance on ADVENT's part – quite smartly fearing manipulation.

However, there would be less suspicion with the Battlemaster. They viewed him as an honest actor – even if an enemy. Their focus would not be on what, exactly, the Battlemaster was asking for, but if they would get what they were promised at all. He was a useful vector for them, but one who they inherently considered reliable.

There was no question that the Battlemaster would do everything he could to get the Second Guardian back – efforts that would, paradoxically, be undermined through direct support. ADVENT would see through deception, and the Battlemaster was a poor liar, and hardly a master of deception. No, they would explicitly see the truth – what they wanted to see.

If she was with XCOM, she would genuinely see a route where the Battlemaster could be turned. He was – unknowingly – giving all the indications of someone willing to be a traitor. Of course, this was a fundamental misunderstanding of how the Battlemaster thought, and the mindset he actually possessed.

The Battlemaster would never betray the Collective, no matter what happened. He was too supportive of the idea, and had put too much into it. Furthermore, he was too loyal to break in such a way to side with the enemy. Thus, for this reason, he was useful for guiding ADVENT on the path they wanted.

Now, to establish what, exactly, the endgame of ADVENT was.

With the agreements had been finalized, and the Second Guardian returned, she could quite accurately determine what the underlying goal of ADVENT and XCOM was. The core concessions were territory, ceasefires, and a moratorium on some of the most dangerous units the Collective possessed.

To most people, that would make sense at face value. Self-preservation, tactical advantages, critical infrastructure and land, no doubt that was how the Battlemaster had seen it, as he saw everything through the lens of the tactical battle. He no doubt thought that anything lost could be reclaimed – a likely correct assumption.

However, she could see what the most valuable thing ADVENT had gained from this was – and subsequently, why they were still fighting so hard.

Time.

ADVENT was stalling for time.

The reasons for this could vary, and she remembered initially it had been so they could build technological parity with the Collective, and presumably from there they could start taking the fight to them. ADVENT and XCOM had effectively achieved this, and knowing the Commander, she knew he had definitely not abandoned their plan to defeat the Collective.

So what, exactly, were they stalling for?

The answer, in retrospect, seemed obvious. ADVENT knew they would never defeat the Collective without a fleet of some kind – so it followed that they would build one. The only problem? There'd been no indications of anything of the sort. What they'd thought was a testing ground had turned out to be the very-atmospheric Thunderbird. Impressive, but not something that would be useful in a presumptive space conflict.

So, where would ADVENT build such a fleet? It would have to be somewhere very isolated, somewhere where they could be easily protected, and somewhere that no one, or very few, would think to look. There was only one place where that made sense – especially when combined with the likely location of T'Leth.

The ocean.

While she did not know for sure, plugging in numbers, running simulations, and consulting with her advisors, she had a very solid theory that ADVENT was building a fleet underwater. A review of Zararch intelligence collected on ADVENT logistics revealed a large black hole of resources and personnel who seemed to vanish off the face of the Earth with no explanation.

Corruption? Kidnapping? Hoarding? Or all funneling to a singular location no one knew about?

Knowing ADVENT, it was almost certainly the latter. One unexpected benefit of ADVENT's purge of incompetence and corruption was that it very neatly allowed questions to be answered. When the base Human part was taken out, leaving only efficiency and logic, very often the path was laid clear.

Thank you ADVENT, very cool.

Correlating the resources that ADVENT had demanded in the negotiations seemed to reinforce this. Much of it was heavy materials and certain components. Individually unimportant until you considered the possibility that they were all parts that would be used in spacecraft. Patricia was not surprised whatsoever that ADVENT likely had designs for ships – between Aegis, reverse-engineering, and likely an Andromedon defector or two, it was not any stretch of the imagination to suggest that ADVENT could build space-worthy vessels.

Not enough, but in theory…

If she was in charge, and knowing the Commander, she wouldn't need an equivalent fleet yet. Just one strong enough to secure the Solar System. A surprise strike, likely first at the Moon, then an invasion of Mars, and a rapid destruction of the Gateway, and the Collective had notably limited space assets here – not enough when combined with Aegis, T'Leth, and his agents.

When put in that perspective…yes, she could quite easily see how this could go. Very clever, Commander, and it might even work. Unfortunately, she'd learned well from him, and the lines of logic were the same for all. A benefit and pitfall of similar mindsets.

Put into this perspective, the battles taking place now were distractions. Campaigns that would take weeks or months didn't matter to ADVENT so long as it bought them time. Armed with this knowledge, the strategy could be refined. T'Leth, like usual, would be the largest obstacle – though one she had fortunately begun planning for quite a long time ago.

You approve?

The Imperator indeed conveyed his approval. Act as my will, Harbinger.

Yes, Imperator.

She set her tablet down and punched in the number in the holodisplay. There were some calls to be made. The first was the Zar'Chon, who immediately inclined his head. "Harbinger, what can I assist with?"

"You've reviewed the material I sent?"

"I have."

"And your assessment?"

"Strong," he brought up a small holodisplay from his hand, likely reviewing the raw data. "The theory is logical, and correlates with the intelligence we've collected. If this is truly what ADVENT is stalling for, we require immediate investigation. I already have teams analyzing the data we're receiving from the shipped materials."

Patricia nodded. "Marked, I presume?"

"Yes, the Voice assured me that the trackers will not be detectable by ADVENT or XCOM."

Patricia crossed her arms. "ADVENT won't just accept them blindly."

"I had several pieces scanned with our own equipment," Ravarian said. "No detection. I sincerely doubt ADVENT's will be superior. If ADVENT intends to use these for a secret fleet under the water, we will know about it very soon."

"Excellent," she said. "The same with the returned captives?"

"Eyes and ears," Ravarian smiled grimly. "Quite impressive what Mosrimor can do when we employ him. It remains to be seen how useful they will be, but I doubt ADVENT or XCOM is aware of this employment of nanotechnology. However, the foodstuffs are most important."

"That strikes me as more difficult to pull off."

"The Voice said there was a risk that the nanites would not take and replicate properly," he said. "But at worst they would simply fail to work, and remain undetected. At best we will soon have eyes and ears through every single defector."

"And ADVENT thinks they've completed a grand bargain," Patricia said, satisfied. "Just where we want them. Keep me apprised of the developments – and one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Transition the Solar System to…" she paused. "No. Not yet, it might tip them off that we know something."

"You were going to suggest that we move a proper fleet into the system?" Ravarian asked.

"Yes, but as I said, it might tip our hand – we should not do that just yet."

"I agree, however, I believe we should work to properly lock down the Observation Station, Mars, and the Moon," Ravarian said. "XCOM has proven quite insistent and reliant on using teleporters to breach our lines. It is best we deny – or at least prepare for that possibility."

"Good idea," she said. "Carry that out."

"Yes, Harbinger," he briefly looked at something off to the side. "I do not know if you were aware, but Turkey has fallen, and our presence has been effectively decimated."

Patricia blinked. "Already? I was informed we would have an established presence for months."

"Yes, you were, and so was I," Ravarian grunted. "However, it appears there were miscalculations made. The Lion again pulled a stunt that should not have worked, but did."

She shook her head. "That's the second time a prediction for the region was shared with me, only to somehow be shattered a few days later. That is not acceptable."

"No, Harbinger, it is not," he said bluntly. "The man is a larger threat than we assumed – from the very beginning when we attempted to use him. And our loss there is…well, it will deeply boost morale, and will be demoralizing for us."

Patricia's lips curled up. "Is this an operational request?"

"If you would consider it," Ravarian said. "Kill the Lion. We have sources that say he is in Ankara, and will likely remain there until the new government is established. I doubt he nor ADVENT would expect a direct attack so soon. Perhaps a reminder that their revolt does not have a happy ending."

She briefly considered it. "I'll make some preparations. Forward me regional Zararch reports."

"Yes, Harbinger."

With that, she ended the call. She found it rather ironic that this Lion was posing this much of a problem. She wondered how the Commander would react if he learned that one of the Caliphate was still around, and now an ally. A rather effective ally, for that matter. Maybe something to leak in the future…Quisilia might be able to do something with that.

First though, another call. A moment later, a direct line to Paradise Station was established, and with the stone-faced form of the Temperance. "Yes, Harbinger." He said in the monotone voice. "What do you require?"

"The status of the Child. What is it?"

A pause. "It is nearing completion, Harbinger."

"Good," she nodded. "I expect it will be seeing use soon."

He did not visibly react, but merely stated: "The Sovereign has been located?"

"Not explicitly, but we have a good idea of where he is – and how he will be drawn out." She fixated on the Temperance. "I presume Revelean has been appropriately appraised of the developments to the Child?"

"He has, Harbinger."

"That is all I needed to know," she said. "If you perform well, and T'Leth is killed, then you will be appropriately rewarded. Your Saints may be returned to Paradise Station – consider that incentive to do your work well."

A slight nod. "I will convey this, Harbinger."

She ended the call again – the Battlemaster would be very displeased if that was made, but if they did manage to kill a Sovereign One…well, a few Saints were not exactly impossible, especially with the access Revelean had to Paradise Station. Now there was one more call to make.

The holoform of Regisora materialized. "Harbinger."

"Regisora," Patricia inclined her head. "We expect there will be a direct confrontation with T'Leth in the coming months. We believe we know where he is located – and where we will draw him out."

"Where?"

"ADVENT is likely building a fleet under the water," she said. "We plan to attack this in the future – and anticipate that T'Leth is actively protecting it."

"This was anticipated," Regisora said. "Why are you speaking to me now?"

"Two reasons," Patricia said. "The first is that if Mosrimor has specific suggestions and strategies to utilize, now is the time to provide them. Second is that we know that ADVENT is stalling for time – and we will not be losing more ground. I will be designating a number of bases, cities, and strongholds worldwide that will be hardened with Sovereign technology to prevent their fall to ADVENT – specifically Mosrimor's technology."

She briefly forwarded some more information. "Through the negotiations, ADVENT has reached an agreement to ban the deployment of units from Paradise Station. This will be rectified with stronger deployments of Meat Puppets and other related units – I presume you will be able to handle this surge?"

"It will be done." Regisora said. "Has the Imperator deigned to allow me to take the battlefield?"

"He believes it is time, especially as T'Leth becomes more involved in the war," she said. "We are of one mind that it is time to begin the final stage of the conflict. T'Leth does not appear to be fleeing, and we must respond in kind."

"Good. This time, it will be the Warmaster who shall taste defeat." Regisora bowed her head. "We will await your further contact. I will convene with Mosrimor about this."

The hologram disappeared. Patricia was wary of increasing the role of the Sovereign Puppet, but the fact was that she would be needed when T'Leth likewise retaliated. The Bringer, Mosrimor, they were the tools at their disposal – and truly the only ones who could likely be used to achieve victory.

So long as there were contingencies, and they were aware of the risks, they could be used safely. With the calls done, she took a seat, and allowed herself a moment of relaxation. ADVENT no doubt celebrated their diplomatic victory, but she had a feeling that this celebration would soon be cut short.

---

Nartha's Quarters – Nulorian Outpost

7/14/2017 – 10:20 P.M.

The return to the Nulorian outposts had been a somber one. In the event of an aborted mission, the objective was to split towards multiple outposts to prevent a single decapitation strike, and all backup locations were not the main outpost in case there were tails. It was a long series of hours moving between outposts, waiting for something to happen.

Though as this was not a typical abortion by any stretch of the imagination, there wasn't as much to immediately fear. The Collective right now didn't seem to be pursuing them, and it was only after they'd finally returned to somewhere secure that Nartha had actually seen what had happened.

The entire Aui'Vitakar Chambers were gone. Only a shell and the skeletal bones of the structure remained. Casualties were in the thousands as a result of the aftershocks, shrapnel, and debris. Media was saying that it had been a fission explosive, which he didn't even know if that was a real explosive or just what the Zararch had provided.

The Nulorian were blamed for the attack, of course. He wasn't surprised, but it was still shocking to understand that someone – be it the Zar'Chon or the Speaker – had sanctioned the brazen murder of thousands. There had always been a line that hadn't been crossed. He remembered in his time in the Zararch that false flags weren't often used because the Nulorian were their own worst enemy – what they actually did was more effective than a manufactured narrative.

What had changed?

Was it just a trap? Something to lure Miridian into something that might kill him? If so, it had almost worked. If he hadn't come to the realization, if Miridian hadn't come to his senses…there was that entire sequence with the Chimera soldier that did not sit right with him, and now well after everything, he was still thinking about it.

Too much of it seemed wrong. Off.

They hadn't really had a victory today. Not besides surviving. The few representatives they'd captured were likely going to remain that way for a long time, as the Zararch had effectively locked down every communication stream, sealing the final holes in what had already been a carefully curated system.

There was, in effect, no way to broadcast anything to Vitakar.

There were questions about what to do next. Questions that he wasn't involved in for now, as it was between Miridian and his own advisors. He'd heard that ADVENT or XCOM may be sending a permanent advisor, but that wasn't confirmed, from Shun or anyone else. He also felt he was becoming less relevant here.

This was not the place for him. He was not a terrorist, and constantly butting heads with Miridian and his people was tiring. It would have also gotten him killed today if Miridian hadn't given the order, and that was something that stuck in his mind. If there was one way he didn't want to die, it was following Miridian's orders.

Ironic how he found more camaraderie and meaning in an alien military unit than supposed Vitakara freedom fighters. It was truly a shame that there was no other resistance, just Miridian's killers. He released a sigh at the thought, and beside him Shun stirred. Her body was warm and snuggled against him, though much smaller. Her head rested on his shoulder as an arm was wrapped around her.

"Still awake?" she murmured quietly.

"For now," he said, just as quiet. "I'll fall asleep soon, don't worry."

She yawned. "You're a bad liar."

"My months pretending to be Human beg to differ," he said dryly.

"Yeah, but I didn't know you then."

"Can't argue with that," he said. "But it's alright. We can talk in the morning."

"Mmm," she murmured, eyes half-open. "Or…you can say something now."

"You're not even really awake," he chided gently. "A heart-to-heart talk now?"

"Well, we might not get another chance," she said, shifting against him. "Could end up in another building with a bomb in it."

His lips twitched. "Yeah."

"Is that what's bothering you?"

"Death?"

"Mmm, yeah."

"I don't know about that," Nartha said, absentmindedly moving his hand into hers. "Death is…well, I can live with dying."

She tiredly chuckled against his chest. "Are you sure you want to phrase it like that?"

He sniffed. "You know what I mean. But I don't know if I really want to die…well, in one of Miridian's schemes. At least not like this."

Shun was silent for a few moments, enough to wonder if she'd drifted back to sleep. "You could come back to us."

He looked down at her. "You mean XCOM?"

"Yes, us," she said. "You're not one of these people. Alien or not, you're one of us, even when you pretended you weren't. There's a better place for you than here."

Nartha sighed, looking to the ceiling as a draft blew in. "I want to. But I can't just leave this fight. I don't think I should."

"This fight is more than just Humans or Vitakara," she said. "It's against the entire Ethereal system. Fight on Vitakar or Earth, each is equally important. I'm not saying your people shouldn't be your focus, I'm not going to say that, but I will say that fighting elsewhere isn't betraying them. I know that's what you're afraid of."

"Maybe."

Both of them laid silent for a few minutes. Shun's soft and steady breathing became audible soon after, she was definitely asleep now, and he felt he would soon follow her. The thoughts kept him up a bit longer, and there was likely a decision he would need to make shortly. To himself, if no one else.

Soon enough, he joined Shun in drifting off to a dreamless sleep.

---

Mars Observation Station – Mars Orbit

8/1/2017 – 2:11 P.M.

The negotiations were over, and as far as the Battlemaster saw it, they had been a success. ADVENT had achieved some concessions – largely temporary ceasefires, some territorial concessions, prisoner repatriation, moratorium on Bringarian units, and resources. All of which would be useful for keeping the war going for a while longer while he prepared in the background.

It wouldn't be enough to drastically shift the tide of the war, but it would be enough to strengthen their position slightly. Most important was that the Second Guardian had been returned safely, and for now they were on the Observation Station, as it was the nearest appropriate facility.

True to their word, she did not appear to have been harmed or modified – according to ADVENT she'd spent most of the time sedated and restrained, as they did not want to risk her conscious. It would take a full medical scan to ensure the truth of this, but the Battlemaster did not think ADVENT would have made her a vector for a plot.

Too much risk of backfiring. They were smarter than that.

"You had not fought him before, yes?" she asked as they stood alone in one of the station observation rooms, which had been converted to temporary quarters. Unlike usual, she was out of her armor, helmet included. Her belongings had similarly been returned, but it was clear she was not fully recovered, and it would likely be some time before she would return to the front lines.

Or that was the plan. Presuming she meant Aegis, he answered. "No. But I have planned."

"As I should have," she said, flexing a wrist, something she'd done since being freed; as if getting used to moving again. "I should not have followed these orders to engage him. I could not have won."

"He ordered you to defend the Hiveship?" the Battlemaster asked.

"Yes. I had thought with the support of the Overmind, it would be enough," she said. "It was a brief moment of panic from all, and I simply wanted to…do it. I did not consider it would be him defending the Humans."

The Battlemaster appraised her. "You did not intend to kill him, did you?"

"Of course not," she said firmly. "We do not kill our own. No matter what he's done, he's done it because he sees it as the best path for our species. He does not deserve to die, and he did not kill me, even though the Humans would have without hesitation."

He began pacing, picking up something in her voice. "What is concerning you? I am not deaf to your tone."

"In one of the few times I was lucid," the Second Guardian said slowly. "Aegis spoke to me. He…explained what he was doing. He explained the Imperator's…change in direction, his shift in focus. You know of the Sovereigns?"

"I have been appraised."

"He said to ask you a question," she rested her hands on her lap. "Was it you who worked to save me, or him? Did he even indicate his support for you?"

A heavy silence descended. "He never acknowledged what I was doing. He did not oppose it, but I was the one who intervened."

"I see." The Second Guardian was silent for a few moments. "I suppose he knew what you would do, and did not see a need to intervene."

"It is no excuse," the Battlemaster shook his head. "Do not be shamed at your disappointment. You are one of us, and deserved his support." A thought came to his head. "Speak plainly – do you think he is right?"

"Aegis?"

"Yes."

Another long silence. "You are responsible for my life. I cannot lie. I do not know if he is fully right, and I still do not agree with his methods, but I am considering it more than I want. It is not something I can shake. I…do not want to consider the Imperator is wrong, or has deliberately led us astray for his ambition, but I do not know what to consider now. I don't know how I can, when he did not fight to ensure my survival. He did not. You did."

So his suspicion had been correct. "And I would do it without hesitation."

"For me, yes," she said slowly. "I wish you had done so with Caelior. I had wondered why he had turned, and now I have an understanding why."

His lips pursed under his helmet. Caelior was, in retrospect, a failure of initiative. Incompetent and childish as the young Ethereal had been, all abandoning him had accomplished was pushing him into the arms of XCOM – and more specifically, Aegis. The situation hadn't been completely the same – XCOM would not have exchanged him, going by Aegis' plans to convert the child to his side, but if he had tried…

Well, Caelior would likely still be a powerful tool, though on his side, instead of a tool for XCOM. They had shaped him well, and Aegis was no doubt pleased with how that had proceeded.

"Yes," he finally said to the Second Guardian. "So do I. Little can be done about it now."

"No, but I do not know what comes next," she said. "And I think you also understand it."

"Quite well," he said, also not forgetting the…involvement he now had with the Aen Elle. Complication on top of complication. "An issue that cannot be resolved in this current situation."

"Perhaps not," she conceded, standing. "It is good you realize it. I fear we have strayed too far from our goal. To prepare for the Synthesized, and destroy them as they once destroyed us."

"The Imperator may have forgotten, but I have not."

"That is good," she bowed her head. "Thank you, Iudexas."

He much preferred hearing his name from her, and not the faceless Entity which had somehow divined it. Her words had made him wonder…allies of his own kind were not something he had considered at this stage – but she seemed to be of a similar mind. It was something worth considering.

Once more, the Imperator in his arrogance had not seen how his actions affected them. He would not make the same mistake, and if the Second Guardian proved a reliable ally, then he would accept her without hesitation. Yet he could not make hasty decisions off the basis of a single conversation.

But it was without a doubt, a step in the right direction.

---

Vitiary Outskirts – Vitakara

8/1/2017 – 7:25 P.M.

Never before had Volk considered that luck was an actual, tangible thing that really existed. Oh, for sure he had always considered himself 'lucky' at times, and it was a universal superstition that most people seemed to believe in, some more seriously than others. But luck was at most a concept for things happening to go your way. It wasn't anything more.

As Volk now found himself on Vitakar, he really wondered if that was actually true.

Luck or miracle, he wasn't exactly sure which to ascribe for his near-fantastical and incredulous journey from Earth to this planet. A planet which really did seem like Earth in a lot of respects. There were no words for the number of coincidences, lucky breaks, and events that had so happened to have fallen in his favor.

From being taken for a Human source for the Zararch (he supposed those were a thing), which had let him return to the observation station, to systems and computers crashing so they weren't able to identify him, and all of the staff were very understanding about it. Then stumbling his way to a Gateway which so happened to be going to Vitakar.

By some miracle he'd managed to be able to talk himself into going along, which he really couldn't attribute to anything but the ridiculous luck in his favor. Coincidence after coincidence, dominos falling in just the right way – of course, it wasn't completely left to chance – he did have to be able to see these opportunities and seize them, but he didn't really delude himself – he was not this good.

Whatever Gabriel was, he was someone Volk absolutely did not think about crossing. If there had been any question of that, this little journey had dispelled that. Whatever he was doing, it would likely be simple to turn that against him. It did make him wonder though…just what was his actual endgame.

It was definitely not what he'd said, and the more he thought about it, the more uncomfortable he was with making this agreement. Unfortunately, too late to change his mind, and he'd just have to hope the entity was benevolent enough to stick to his bargain. If he got something out of it…well, all the better.

He'd been given direct instructions on where to go once he'd landed on Vitakar – somewhere beyond the main city was a forest, and inside the forest were the ruins of a Borelian city – one which had been effectively turned into a memorial site. Or a historical one. Very small, and primitive, which he'd read was estimated to have been from the early Borelians, before they'd moved to the Borelian Wastes.

Interesting, he supposed, and he had a general idea of where to go.

He and Elena didn't really fear being followed or running into the wrong people. It was evening, and they weren't really entering the normal ways. As the sun went down, they crept in slowly to the thick forest. There was no point in being too reckless though, and as night fell and they moved to the site, he wondered what he would find.

He had a feeling. One he couldn't determine.

When they finally arrived, he could see why they were called ruins. Truthfully, he was surprised they'd bothered at all. There were barely more than a few stones arranged in a way that could vaguely be called a foundation for a house, as the original structures had likely rotted away or been destroyed.

"I'd ask that you put your hands up," a clipped voice ordered from the left.

Without lifting his hands, Volk turned. "If you're going to shoot me, good luck. With how this ridiculous trip has gone, there's a better chance of a tree randomly falling on you than me getting hurt."

The man – or alien rather – opposite him seemed amused. The Vitakarian's eyes glowed a cold blue as an alien pistol was held in his much larger hands. Vitakarians really were big – no matter the race. "And why exactly are you so confident, Human?"

Volk indicated his marked face, which likely reflected the moonlight. "Call it divine providence."

"I see," the alien lowered his weapon.

"I'm assuming you're Miridian."

"Yes, and you are the one who is supposed to fulfill my requests." Miridian did not sound pleased about this. "I'm curious – do you know what he is?"

"I have absolutely no idea," Volk shook his head. "Only that unlike you, there is no chance I'm going to cross him. I prefer living, thank you."

"I suspect you'll change your mind later," Miridian said, walking closer. "He does not grant his power without cost."

"No one does," Volk crossed his arms. "Unfortunately, I was not in a good situation. I don't really care if you critique me."

"No, you wouldn't," Miridian nodded. "It seems to be how it starts. Comes in the moment of need, no better bait or incentive."

"And what?" Volk asked. "You really think you can…defy him? You do know what he's capable of?"

"In theory, I also know that this is not what he seems," Miridian said, a thin smile on his face. "Unlike you, I am not overawed by such displays of…manipulation. Whatever he is, he is no deity, otherwise you would not be here, would you?"

Volk legitimately wasn't sure. In theory, Miridian had a point, on the other hand, Volk would not put it past Gabriel to do it because he found it more interesting. "You are taking a risk."

"Yes, and thus far it has paid off, despite some setbacks," Miridian said. "And in the end, I will accomplish what I want. In the unlikely event that you are able to accomplish my tasks, I will still win. If you don't, then I remain untouchable."

Volk sighed. "Can you just say what you want?"

"I could, but I suspect he is going to arrive shortly," Miridian looked around. "He is not one to miss these…deliberations."

Sure enough, Volk heard footsteps, and saw Gabriel entering the ruins, a smile on his face as he approached. Volk grunted. "Speak of the devil."

"So sorry to have kept you waiting," Gabriel greeted, joining the trio. "Miridian. Volikov, I see you have properly met."

"Seems so," Volk said.

"Your arrival was not too taxing, I hope?" Gabriel asked.

Volk eyed him. "Unbelievably smooth."

"Excellent," Gabriel's arms relaxed, as the tips of his fingers rested against each other. "Now then – we have some matters to discuss." He smiled, one which seemed malicious in the moonlight. "Do not rush – I assure you, we have all the time in the world."

---

To be continued in Chapter 71

Angel of Ruin

---

A/N: Happy 2021. Did not start out as optimistically as we all hoped, but hopeful that things will get a bit more normal with a new administration. Hope that everyone enjoys the chapter. I'll also take the time to remind everyone that several spin-offs for the series have continued to be updated particularly Cran's "New Blood", Zillian's "The Chronicle" and "Worth Fighting For" which is a new multi-author effort.

For 2021, the plan is to complete Act IV, as well as any accompanying XCOM Files that come up. Thank you all for reading, as always. Here's to a better year.

- Xabiar