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.

85. Visions of Ruin, Armies of Zeal- Part II

Act V | Cataclysm

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Visions of Ruin, Armies of Zeal - Part II

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Unknown Location

Unknown Time

He wasn't sure where he was, or how long he'd been there. He wasn't even sure if he was anywhere, for that matter. He was unconscious, that much seemed apparent in the brief moments when his mind stirred.

Sometimes he thought he heard voices, snippets of conversation. Other times, he felt sensations; people touching or moving him. Once he sensed something probing at his mind. Always his consciousness would briefly stir, approaching the surface but never quite breaking it.

In one such instance, he had sufficient time to remember who he was before his mind once more descended into the depths of slumber: Grady, James Grady. And when he slumbered, he dreamed.

Or thought he did.

Sometimes it felt like he was reliving a memory, but the details rarely stuck with him for long in his state. Despite this, he felt his mind was growing more active. More details remained with him from his dreams. He stirred more frequently when there was external stimuli. He was not quite awake, but not always entirely asleep either.

He could feel his mind was ordering itself piece by piece, though he could not yet fathom why it was doing so or how he had found himself in such a state.

As he felt himself rising to the surface once more, he noticed his senses becoming sharper. It remained distant, but was steadily gaining clarity. Everything was still dark, but he could faintly feel that he was lying on something soft, and that the temperature was comfortable. Soon he heard voices growing louder and clearer.

"-ain wave activity increasing, he should be coming around shortly." An unfamiliar voice said.

A second voice joined the first. "That's what you said before." It seemed exasperated, as if dissatisfied with what the first voice had said. He felt he did recognize this second voice, though could not yet place a name to it.

Slowly, wearily, he opened his eyes and had to fight back the urge to instantly shut them once more against the blinding light above him. He let out a groan, blinking rapidly to try and clear the spots from his vision and acclimate his eyes.

It wasn't working.

"So, you're finally awake. Your friend here was worried about you," the unfamiliar voice greeted. "Welcome back. I'm Dr. Leon Hart."

"Gah! Can you turn the light down? It's blinding in here." Grady answered, trying to block out the light above him with a hand. He noticed IV's were plugged into his arm, so he'd been here for at least a few days. How long had he been out?

"You heard him," Leon Hart ordered to presumably someone else in the room. "Dim the light above him, then you can leave and let everyone know he's awake. I still need to perform my evaluation, but you'll get him back after that."

Once the light was blessedly dimmed, Grady was able to get a good look at the unfamiliar man who was dressed as an ADVENT Naval Medic. He wore a tired and mildly annoyed expression as he gestured for the other person in the room to leave after carrying out his request. Grady belatedly realized the other person was in fact Anye.

Anye moved to leave after dimming the light directly above Grady, though the rest of the room was still fully lit. Anye gave him a quick nod before he left, a clear 'We'll talk later' implied, though it seemed he was glad he was conscious.

Grady took a brief look at his surroundings to get his bearings. A few things became quickly apparent. He was in a sick bay, very likely still on the Shannon. He knew they were at sea, as he could feel the faint rolling of the ship, though it was quite subtle so they were likely moored in shallower waters or at port.

"Better?" Leon asked once Anye had left.

"Somewhat, it's still bright." Grady answered with a grimace.

"Hmm, strange. Let me check something." The doctor pulled out what looked like a penlight and reached for Grady's face, holding his eye open as he shined the light into it. Had Grady not been weak and unsteady still, he likely would have torn himself away. As it stood, he felt like he was looking directly into the sun.

"Shit turn it off already!" He spat.

The doctor complied and swiftly began scribbling something on his clipboard. "Your pupils are dilated. That's why everything looks so bright. We'll check a little later to see if they constrict or not. Could be a side effect of what you went through. If so, you got off lucky." He glanced up from his notes. "Should go away on its own eventually."

"What…wait, how long have I been out?" Grady asked, trying to clear the residual fog from his mind now that he was actually awake.

"Four days. Any longer, and we would have had to consider a feeding tube. IV's can only do so much." Leon answered, consulting his clipboard. "Now, could you tell me what the last thing you remember is?"

Grady propped himself up on his elbow while rubbing at his eyes with the other arm as he tried to call up his memories. "I remember…we were attacked. I was in the officer's mess, I had to run, get to the hangar deck…wait…"

All of a sudden he could clearly recall it. That Creature, the hideous abomination leeching away at his mind. The XCOM squad, his plan, getting to the hangar deck and the fire. "The creature!" He barked. "Where is it? What happened? Tell me it's dead!"

"Calm down, Admiral," Leon lifted a placating hand. "It seems you remember that much at least. Your plan worked, though as for whether or not it's dead...that's still unclear. We think it managed to briefly open a portal, but there was enough left behind that we're confident it didn't get through entirely."

The doctor was making a few notes as he spoke, occasionally checking the machine readings. "Our best guess right now is maybe about half the body got through at most; probably the top half, assuming the brain is still where you would expect it to be. We're not sure if it's alive, but at minimum it's going to be out of commission for a while. You're safe now, that's what's important."

"What are the casualties?" Grady asked, immediately glad to hear that at least the creature had been driven off, though the rest of it was still lacking the details he wanted. He vaguely recalled his encounter with an ensign in the officers mess, but try as he might, he simply could not remember his name.

"Could have been worse, but it's not great." Leon answered after a moment. "At least a third of the ship's crew was assessed as unfit to serve, and have been rotated out while they receive treatment. We're still trying to figure out the extent of their...injuries, for lack of a better word. ADVENT's surged reinforcements from some of the other fleets, but as you can imagine, it's in a transition phase."

He flipped to a different page. "The Shannon wasn't the only target. There were a few boarding efforts on other ships in the fleet via teleportation, but they seem to have mostly been distractions and damage was limited. They managed to sink a destroyer. It's not likely that ADVENT will expend the effort to try and float it again, and the Shannon will need some time for repairs. But all things considered, we got off light."

Another ship lost, a destroyer at that. It could have been worse, he supposed, and if the water wasn't too deep, they might be able to float it and get it repaired - assuming ADVENT made the investment, which sounded dubious right now. He was fairly sure they were close to shore when it happened, but his memories felt a bit fuzzy for some reason. Then he suddenly fixated on something the doctor had said.

"Wait, what kind of injuries did the crew have?" He asked hesitantly.

The doctor gave a humorless smile, devoid of any reassurance or comfort; one that didn't reach his eyes. "I was getting to that. I've answered enough of your questions, now I'm afraid I need you to answer mine before you can return to duty. We'll start simple, what is your name and rank?"

"Rear Admiral James T. Grady." Grady responded without hesitation, having a bad feeling of what these nebulous injuries were.

"Your full name and rank, please." Leon insisted.

Sighing, Grady complied "Rear Admiral James Theodore Grady." He'd always found his middle name embarrassing, and disliked ever being forced to say it for any reason, necessary or not.

"Good, that checks out," the doctor nodded. "Now, what is your place and date of birth?"

"August 9th, 1961, Norfolk Virginia," Grady recited. "Can you tell me what this is about?"

Making another note, the doctor calmly responded. "As I'm sure you noticed, the creature you fought was a powerful and dangerous psion. Its telepathy was especially strong, and malicious in such a way we haven't seen since Isomnum, or maybe the Warlock."

He met Grady's eyes, voice remaining calm. "We're not sure how or why, but it seems to target, or at minimum affect, the memories of those around it. Now, what are your parents' names? And are they still alive?"

"My father is Wayne Grady, he's still alive. My mother was Helen Grady, maiden name Townsend in case you ask for that too. She died a few years back." Grady answered, mind whirling in concern, and his stomach feeling like it was in a vice.

"Good, good. For the record, that was not on my list, but it is appreciated." Leon nodded, checking something off. "Where did you go to school? And what was your first naval assignment?"

"United States Naval Academy, Annapolis Maryland, graduated in 1985." Grady recalled. "My first tour was on the USS Mount Whitney LCC-20, a Blue Ridge Class Amphibious Command Ship."

Grady was desperate for information while simultaneously dragging up everything he knew about himself and trying to find any gaps. But how would he know if he'd forgotten something? "Do you think I was affected? How bad were the crew hit? Will they live?"

"The severity generally depended on proximity and how much protection they had, as well as the duration of the exposure." Leon answered. "The hangar deck got off light since XCOM and our own psions were on hand by that time to offer protection. The worst cases were people who were near it before XCOM arrived."

The doctor sighed. "No deaths are reported from the creature, amazingly. Seems it didn't manage to get its hands…tentacles…whatever, on anyone directly. Though from the aftermath, it doesn't seem to have intended for anyone to die. The worst-case scenario is not much better."

Leon's voice turned grim. "The most severely affected are basically stuck in a vegetative state. Brain wave activity is well below normal. There are others who are conscious, but they are…blank slates, for lack of a better word. Some don't even remember their own names."

Grady felt some relief that he could remember his name in that moment, as the doctor continued.

"There's not a scratch on them physically, but it will be a miracle if all of them wake up," Leon said. "And from what we're gathering, memory restoration is…impossible. It's not as though they are confused or suppressed. They are gone. The PRIEST Division is heavily involved. I imagine they'll want to speak to you at some point."

He lifted a hand. "Before you get too worried, those with Manchurian Restraints seem to have fared better. You're the only one with Restraints besides XCOM and our psions who spent a prolonged period of time in relatively close proximity to it, hence why I need to conduct an evaluation. Speaking of which, can we continue?" He glanced at the clipboard. "We only have a few more questions, and so far it's looking promising."

Grady let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding on hearing that. He wasn't in the clear yet, but it looked like he got off light in comparison to a lot of others. He'd always had an aversion to telepathy, and this wasn't doing anything to abate it. Alot of soldiers and officers were leery about it, even when used by allies.

For many, it felt like a violation of privacy, and others feared being irreparably changed by it or forced to do things against their will. He was more accepting of allied telepaths than others, but he still held a fear of hostile telepathy, and tried to protect himself and his operations from it as best he could. He'd actually been happy to get the Manchurian Restraints if they would help protect him against that invisible force.

To suddenly be attacked so brazenly and viciously by a powerful and monstrous telepath had been deeply unsettling, and if not for a combination of outrage and revulsion he might have fled. He would need to repay the Collective, or perhaps the SAS, in full for that later - once he was done here and had time to take stock of the aftermath.

"Of course, go ahead." He acquiesced, already considering his next course of action and realizing he needed to catch up on what had transpired during his convalescence.

"What is the name of your wife?" The doctor asked nonchalantly, only half-paying attention to Grady as he seemed to be reviewing the notes he'd already made.

Only to be met with silence. One second. Then two.

The vice grip returned to his stomach; dread building as he searched for something to grasp onto that could be an answer. Leon had returned his attention fully to him, sitting very still, and Grady found that there was only one answer he could give. A single, terrifying answer.

"Who?"

---

Unknown

October 2017 – Unknown

Volk had done several things in his life that had been less than advisable. Some of them had been dangerous, all of them had been against either his better judgement, or the judgement of people smarter than he was.

He'd had a lot of time to think and reflect, and had come to a single, inescapable conclusion.

This was, by far, the stupidest thing that he'd ever done.

Volk had had plenty of time to think about the many, many ways that this could go wrong assuming they actually got to the Temple Ship in the first place. The first problem was that they were Humans in a place that at best had a few well-known Humans that would be allowed there at all.

The second problem was that he had no idea of what the layout for the ship was. As far as he knew there could be traps and security systems that were found nowhere else. Even if it was conventional security, he had no idea where it would be, and he had a feeling that one of the most elusive and important places in the Collective would spare no expense.

So from the onset, they were almost certainly doomed.

That wasn't even addressing the fact that there were at least a few Ethereals who would be on the ship. If he was lucky, the most powerful ones were doing something else, and wouldn't notice two alien minds suddenly appear. If he was unlucky, then the Imperator would be there, and he'd have to pray he wasn't immolated on the spot.

There was also the problem of actually getting the information that he was doing this for in the first place. Assuming he could find a terminal, which did have information on where to find Mosrimor, it was all going to be in Ethereal Script. Something neither of them could understand, and they didn't have a translator.

It was a true suicide mission. One that they had no good way to prepare for, and even if they had, it was almost impossible to see it succeeding.

The only possible saving grace; the only glimmer of hope, was that Gabriel had prodded him along before eventually forcing him to undertake this mission. It was the only reason that Volk kept some hope that a truly bizarre and impossible thing would occur that made this succeed. What that could be? He had no idea outside of divine intervention.

Here it went.

The transport had finally stopped, and he heard the sounds of the cargo being unloaded. Thanks to some of the visual feeds outside the transport, he'd watched as when they'd originally departed Vitakar, the cargo transport had attached itself to a larger transport ship, which had gone into FTL, and against the odds – the Temple Ship was its ultimate destination.

Thank you, Gabriel.

His luck hadn't run out yet. Now it was time to leave. Carefully.

Both moving as quiet as possible, Volk popped the hatch, and both of them jumped to the ground, getting their first good look at the vaunted Temple Ship for the first time.

While it was grand, massive, and had some distinctive architecture, the actual purpose appeared to be a standard hangar bay. What immediately stood out was that there were no aliens that he could see besides Mutons – and these Mutons weren't like any of the others. They were massive, clad in black armor, and seemed to be overseeing the automation process.

Drones were also conducting the unloading, and the strange Mutons didn't seem inclined to walk the actual hangar floor for now.

It figured that the Temple Ship would have some kind of special Muton template.

Both of them began moving, keeping behind the transports, and keeping an eye for security cameras. Their suits still covered them, so it might buy some uncertainty if anyone happened to glimpse them. Not a lot, but it was something. Elena motioned to a nearby door, which presumably led out of the Hangar and wasn't being watched by the Mutons.

The problem, of course, was that they didn't know where they were going.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much of a choice. It was this door, or a half-dozen others, all of which were more risky. Volk nodded to her, and both of them moved to the door, after seeing the coast clear, and no obvious security measures.

None of the Mutons had noticed them yet, and the door slid open with an unnatural silence and smoothness. They were met with a large corridor, which seemed to have plenty of directions to take.

There was a conundrum facing them – the ideal next step would be to blend into the local area, which meant finding uniforms or gear of some kind. If they were lucky, there would be a closet or armory close at hand. If there weren't, they'd waste a lot of time and take a significant risk for nothing. However, they were fumbling around regardless.

There was no good option.

He signaled to Elena to take it methodically. They'd move room by room and…hope that they found something.

They began moving forward, ducking into corners at times when Muton patrols came past – but outside the thump of heavy boots, it was eerily quiet. There didn't seem to be an actual crew here, which struck Volk as very odd. The Temple Ship was either significantly automated, or the crew was sequestered somewhere else.

The rooms they were able to enter were equally strange – few of them seemed to serve much of a purpose, outside of containing some piece of artwork or a statue that he could only assume was Ethereal. Good art, but he genuinely didn't understand why these took up space, which was at a premium for any ship.

All the same he did find the overall design and architecture to be rather striking. Its large rooms, high ceilings, and open rejection of what he thought would be standard conventions really made it feel more like a temple than any conventional ship, much less a warship.

Perhaps this was why it was difficult to reach, or hidden by the Ethereals. If it really wasn't a warship, then it made sense to keep it out of the public eye. Or maybe he was making too many assumptions. He didn't touch anything, but Elena in particular seemed interested in the various statues, paintings, and murals depicting Ethereals or events he couldn't hope to understand.

Pity they hadn't brought cameras.

It felt like the stress and weight of the past few days was starting to take a toll. Volk found himself standing in the open hallway for full seconds, when he should be moving quickly from one place to another. It was as though his mind was entering a fugue, where he had to force himself to keep going.

What's happening right now?

He felt he should be alarmed. He wasn't. Elena was acting the same way. Maybe they were just tired, and needed to find a hole somewhere to rest.

They finished clearing another room with nothing useful in it, and turned to leave. Volk was honestly close to suggesting they take a short rest, when the door suddenly slid open of its own accord.

This time, there was someone on the other side.

Terror shot through him. Elena froze. Volk couldn't resist a panicked curse when he saw the orange robed alien facing them. Before any of them could make a sound there was a vise grip around his entire body lifting him off the ground and inflicting a total paralysis on him. Even if Volk had wanted to, his mind and body were moving too sluggishly.

If he had been told to do something, he would have.

He was only barely able to make the connection that the source of this alien feeling wasn't natural at all. It had been induced by the Ethereal who had been near them for…

He didn't know how long.

The Overmind stepped into the room, the door closed behind him, and the eyes of amber bored into him. His mind was instantly beset by pressure that closed in on his mind; there was a sharp pain as if knives were stabbing into it as the Overmind spoke; a voice that was raspy, alien, and total.

Humans.

You should not be here.

There was something in the Overmind's voice. A legitimate confusion that they were here at all. Something that Volk found entirely understandable. If he was in the Overmind's position, he also would have been confused why two Humans were here, or what they possibly hoped to accomplish.

Why are you here?

The Overmind didn't seem interested in his actual answer. Instead the knives in his mind dug deeper; worming deeper into him. It was impossible to stop; he didn't think even a trained psion would be able to resist this. Not that he had the ability to do so whatsoever.

On the edge of his hearing he heard a sound, a throat clearing.

"Please limit the damage," he heard Gabriel say. "I understand your confusion, but he has some work left to do for me first. I would rather he remain…capable."

The knives immediately retreated, and the vise around him collapsed. Volk fell to the ground, able to move again. The fog that had clouded his mind also seemed to be gone. Volk looked first at Elena, seeing that she was also recovering and back on her feet. His eyes turned to the Overmind, who was staring at the arrival of the newest visitor.

Gabriel appeared quite pleased with the entire situation, a wide smile on his face.

"Well, don't be shy," Gabriel turned to Volk. "Take off that helmet. I wouldn't want an old friend to be skeptical of the purpose you fulfill for me."

Old friend?

Volk quickly complied, removing the headpiece of the uniform, and allowing the mark to be fully visible. The Overmind stared at it for a few seconds. Volk suddenly realized that this was why Gabriel had insisted on the Temple Ship. It wasn't because of anything he could do – it was because he had someone who would provide the information.

He knew one of the Ethereals. Another pawn? Or something else?

The Ethereal turned back to Gabriel.

Why do you interfere, Shapeshifter? Your price was paid long ago.

"Ah, I apologize for the misunderstanding," Gabriel lifted a finger. "This has nothing to do with you. Your price was indeed paid in full," the smile on Gabriel's face was unsettling. "This is wholly unrelated. That you happen to be present right now is merely a coincidence – but a fortunate one!"

It most certainly was not a coincidence. Gabriel's words were dripping with a mocking lint; of false surprise and pleasure. He was doing almost nothing to hide it. Volk knew it, and the Overmind also did.

"Now then," Gabriel said cheerfully, placing his fingertips together and resting his hands by his waist. "Let's discuss this current predicament. Perhaps, old friend, you may be able to assist in what we are looking for."

The Overmind looked between both of them, finally settling back on Gabriel.

Speak your piece, Shapeshifter. I will listen.

---

Geneva Situation Room, Geneva – Switzerland

Late October 2017 – Afternoon

The investigation into Operation Scipio was over. The perpetrators had been identified, consequences had been levied, and now came what was the arguably harder part of the entire affair.

What came next.

The African Campaign couldn't remain in limbo forever, which it effectively had been for the past few months while Oversight conducted their investigation. Time enough for the SAS to fortify their own positions, and develop their own militaries. No one was under the illusion that dislodging them was going to be easier now.

The pause of Scipio had objectively allowed the SAS to regroup, reconstruct, and position themselves advantageously against a much more fragile ADVENT, which was now without a significant part of its leadership.

The situation had not developed to their advantage, though in this case it was a consequence of their own actions. As necessary as the investigation had been, it had hurt them militarily against a major enemy.

The course-correction to reposition ADVENT for a more successful campaign, as well as handle the political fallout from the entire ordeal, was going to be extensive. Whatever succeeded Scipio would be a military campaign, but one that would draw upon every other part of ADVENT to bring it success.

The task was daunting, and everyone was acutely aware how easily this task could fail.

Deciding the fallout of Scipio and the future campaign was a necessary conversation. The obvious people were present, particularly Kidon and Powell, but Saudia had also invited the person who'd led the Scipio investigation. Watkins had been closely involved, but it had been spearheaded by one Janko Vasiljević, a Serbian Yugoslav with an unsurprising background in military law.

He struck her as a largely mild-mannered man, with little physically distinguishing him. He spoke very good English, and had a tendency to continually adjust his glasses when he referred to the many notes he carried with him.

They stood around a holotable identifying the current frontlines, ADVENT points of interest, SAS positions, and political status of neighboring African countries. The Situation Room in Geneva was dimmed to keep focus on the holotable. Of course, this didn't present the entire picture – only the situation on the ground.

Saudia looked at Kidon. "We can start from the top. What is our current situation?"

"Well," Kidon pursed his lips. "Every Legion that was involved in Scipio is currently under the control of Acting officers, and we are still assessing what gaps we have. More than a few specialists were caught up in the investigation, and there isn't a single Legion at full strength."

He glanced at Vasiljević. "I'm sure he can elaborate."

"If you want, of course," Vasiljević answered. "However, I assume each of us read the report that denoted this. I can certainly defend Oversight's recommendations – something the Courts agree with us on – but I do not know if rehashing is relevant right now."

"It isn't," Saudia shook her head. "How long will it take to reconstitute?"

"To identify the gaps, identify replacements, and initiate transfers?" Kidon thought. "At least two weeks. Realistically, a month. And it's going to take longer for the Legions to adapt to new members and leadership. Even when we identify high-ranking replacements, our situation is not going to be improved immediately."

"And that is just accounting for the military standpoint," Powell said. "Which is to say nothing of the political and morale consequences of this."

Kidon nodded sourly. "Aye. I understand why Christiaens didn't fight it, but a freeze was not a decision I think was correct in retrospect, as the battlefield is a changing environment, and we had the SAS in retreat. In the time this happened, it's possible we could have destroyed them entirely."

"Instead," he indicated the map. "We're poorly positioned for whatever the SAS will do next. We're not oriented correctly, because Scipio was originally not intended to be an indefinitely sustainable, long-term campaign."

"In the interest of highlighting why Watkins made the call to force Scipio's suspension, I would like to elaborate on the reasoning," Vasiljević said to Saudia.

She nodded. "Go ahead."

"The investigation was not something that could be done while it was ongoing," Vasiljević said. "The entire nature of the investigation was oriented around the conduct. If Scipio had proceeded, that conduct would have almost certainly continued, and hamstrung our work, while adding more to it. Not to mention the additional loss of life."

"Or you could have informed the respective Generals of the concerns, and ordered they course-correct," Kidon said.

Vasiljević raised an eyebrow. "The Generals that are currently in prison or facing execution for their active knowledge, and in some cases, perpetration of the conduct? Oversight had no reason to believe they would act appropriately. If they'd been allowed to continue, I am confident that ADVENT's position would be much worse by the time we finished with them."

"Enough," Saudia lifted a hand. "There is no point in retreading ground that has been covered extensively. The choices can't be taken back now, or changed. This is the situation we are in, and we need to rectify it."

"I concur," Powell stated. "The matter of Scipio has been debated long enough."

Vasiljević pursed his lips, and Kidon also looked like he very much wanted to continue the debate. However, both of them could read the room, and she didn't want to get bogged down in another debate on the subject. Powell was right that Scipio had been debated ad nauseam, and it was time to move to solutions.

"I believe the first matter of business is deciding who will take over the African campaign," she continued. "And from there allow them to develop a new strategy, in conjunction with relevant departments and offices."

Kidon nodded, shifting to a topic he had prepared for. "Frankly speaking, this is not an appealing project. Discounting the legacy of Scipio, there will be many people who will see this as a campaign destined to fail, and leaving whoever follows them to actually be the one who is successful."

"Career-climbing cowards," Powell muttered.

Kidon shot him a dark look. "Uncalled for, Director. These are not unfounded concerns. The situation is bad. Add in the heavy scrutiny, the decimated officer corps, and what we can generously call a sub-par political environment. Whoever takes this is going to have people critiquing them on all sides, and fair or not, this is not especially incentivizing to them."

"Perhaps valid at one point," Vasiljević noted. "However, I am confident that ADVENT will ensure that whoever takes this will have as much support and resources as necessary. Chancellor?"

"Of course," Saudia said. "I don't intend to throw anyone who takes this to the metaphorical wolves, be they the SAS or the media activists."

"All the same, Chancellor, that doesn't change some key facts," Kidon said calmly. "Barring a miracle, once the SAS moves out, we're going to lose territory. The question isn't what we'll lose, it's how much we'll lose. Practically nothing can be done to prevent that, and you may be surprised that Generals may not want to be known as the one who suffered one of the largest defeats in the war."

"They could conduct a retreat before that happens," Vasiljević noted.

"So actively cede what we gained without a fight?" Kidon raised an eyebrow. "I do not know if that would be better."

"Even if we suffer a defeat, that is hardly an unprecedented thing," Saudia said. "ADVENT isn't invincible, nor has a perfect track record in this war. We've lost over half of North America, portions of South America, Oceania is still gone, and Southeast Asia…" she trailed off, the point made.

"Don't misunderstand me," Kidon said. "If ordered, whoever we appoint will do it, but don't expect many volunteers for this task. I'm conveying how this mess is within High Command. It will not affect their willingness or ability to tackle it."

"That would be preferable," Saudia muttered, grimacing. "Otherwise it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Is there no one that is willing to take on Africa?"

"As a matter of fact, there is someone who's expressed interest in assisting the African front," Powell cleared his throat. "Who I'm surprised that the Acting Commander didn't mention."

Kidon schooled his features. "Interesting how you know so much about internal military matters, Director."

"For situations such as this," Powell smiled humorlessly. "Would you like to speak, or should I?"

"I was, in fact, going to mention the single volunteer," Kidon turned his attention back to her. "General Catalina Venegas, Second Mexican Legion."

Vasiljević cocked his head, apparently recognizing the name. "Interesting."

"Do you know her?"

"By reputation, but I'll let Kidon speak to her background," Vasiljević said.

"General Venegas has had an...unusual career, especially considering the context of the pre-ADVENT Mexican Military," Kidon said after a moment. "She gained a reputation as one of the few people in the Mexican brass who wasn't corrupt. Faced down politicians and cartels alike, and wasn't afraid to use the military as a political tool when the equilibrium was disturbed."

"Relevantly speaking," Powell corrected with a cough. "She helped clean up the military to make it a more effective force against the cartels. She was one of America's strongest allies against the cartels, and of course, she played a major role in their ultimate destruction. She's experienced, capable, and uncompromising."

"In the context of the ADVENT Military, you could consider her having a reformist outlook," Kidon said. "I'm sure Powell can attest to the clashes she's had with Americans, but she is…somewhat risk averse. Prioritizing collateral mitigation over operational integrity and success."

"Accurate, but Venegas wasn't really a traditional general, she was a power broker and acted like it," Powell said. "She was thinking politically, and prioritized that. She saw the battle against the cartels as much for hearts and minds as actually dismantling the groups themselves."

"In comparison, I suppose," Vasiljević said dryly. "To Americans focusing on drug interdiction, direct strikes, and assassinations."

"More or less," Powell agreed. "Whenever we proposed something decisive, she usually deferred. There is a long list of things where interests sharply diverged – all the same, I liked her. Rare to find a principled individual among the Mexican military leadership."

"Fitting," Saudia rubbed her chin. "And she's expressed interest?"

"Yes, on a couple occasions," Kidon said. "I believe if it was formally offered, she would volunteer to take the reins on the new African campaign. Though as you can likely assess, there are several caveats."

"Go ahead."

"The first is experience," Kidon said. "General Venegas has never been in command of an operation this large and complex. Willingness aside, she will have a period of adjustment to the role, and that may hinder the decisions made. I suspect that the SAS is waiting for ADVENT to begin acting before they do something, to catch us in a transition period."

"And a second caveat?"

"That she is more likely to take…unorthodox, risky, conservative approaches to the operation," Kidon said slowly. "On paper, she is ideal for something like this. However, as Powell noted, she possesses a degree of autonomy and inflexibility. Not a General, a politician. Any campaign by her may become even more complicated, costly, and risky than we assume – and combined with her inexperience, it may all still fail."

Saudia considered that for a moment. "Investigator Vasiljević, what is your perspective?"

"I'm aware of General Venegas, and she strikes me as a good woman with her heart in the right place," Vasiljević said. "From an Oversight perspective, there is nothing that I can see that is a concern. As far as Kidon's concerns, I would contend that someone who is unorthodox is needed in this instance."

He looked at Powell. "Hearts and minds was how you described her overall approach against the cartels. Considering the brutality of Scipio, I have a feeling someone with those priorities is appropriate. It has further damaged how ADVENT is viewed by other African states. Repairing that damage is a priority."

"Further?" Saudia inquired.

"Incorrect or not, there is a pervasive perspective that ADVENT is a power which echoes previous colonial states," Vasiljević said. "Successful as Operation Deus Vult was, the optics were less than favorable, and it is only thanks to significant investment, elevation - and some policy changes, that the former Arabs states are firm supporters."

He shook his head. "The opinion of the current United States of Arabia is unfortunately not relevant, as Scipio was far closer to home, and cemented their initial fears about ADVENT. It won't be easy to change them."

"I don't disagree, but that is a different effort than the military campaign," Kidon said.

"From my perspective, both efforts should be aligned," Vasiljević retorted. "Both are intertwined issues, and even if whoever is selected does not lead the diplomatic effort, it would be a mistake to treat them as separate missions. One leads to the success of the other."

"Irrespective of the merits or otherwise, the more pertinent point is that there are very few alternatives," Saudia interjected. "Assigning another General who is more 'conventional' is an option, but that may not be better. Kidon, is there anyone currently serving in Africa that we can promote?"

"Technically? Yes, there are many officers," Kidon said. "In reality, considering much of Scipio's command was decimated in the investigation, it is not something I would recommend. Anyone promoted wouldn't have the proper knowledge, or experience. We need a clean slate, be it with General Venegas, or another."

Saudia nodded, making a decision. "I want someone who is willing for this effort. I'll speak with Venegas personally and see what she has to say and how she would approach it. If I think she can handle it, she'll receive the assignment."

"That is prudent enough, Chancellor," Kidon nodded. "I'll arrange the meeting in the next few days."

"Thank you," Saudia said. "That question is answered now. Powell, Vasiljević, do you have anything else to add?"

Powell shook his head. Vasiljević cleared his throat. "Not concerning General Venegas, but to highlight that it would be prudent if there were efforts to…address what happened in Scipio. ADVENT Military policy requires a reevaluation. It is appropriate that there were punishments, but there needs to be a more substantial address of how this happened in the first place."

Saudia looked at Kidon. "Anything on that front, Acting Commander?"

"That is something that will be a long-term effort," Kidon said. "The short answer is yes, the long answer is that this will be a significant effort. I can assure you that it's been a very lively topic of discussion among our military lawyers and police."

He made a face. "A few ideas have been highlighted, but there is no consensus. An outside perspective may allow them to focus and align on a solution. I would be happy to link you with people who are working on it."

"Please do," Vasiljević said. "That is all I have, Chancellor."

Saudia nodded. "Thank you all. Dismissed."

---

The Temple Ship – Unknown Space

October 2017 – Unknown Time

"I'm curious about something," Gabriel said to the Overmind as he idly paced. "How long did it take you to notice them?"

The Overmind briefly glanced at the two Humans. Very little time. Each species has certain mental distinctions – and there are no Humans aboard the Temple Ship at this time. I often reside here. I noticed unfamiliar minds. I investigated.

Volk looked at Gabriel. "You knew we'd be detected."

Gabriel sighed. "Of course I did. Do you sincerely believe you could enter the place where the Imperator resides and remain undetected?" He tsked. "Not that you needed to worry. I wouldn't have suggested this course of action if I wasn't certain you would benefit from it."

Enough.

The Overmind's voice rattled him, making even Elena wince in its intensity.

I am not bound by your pact with this Human, Shapeshifter. Nor will I enter into a new one. I cannot make you depart, but I do not need to assist you. I would suggest you depart. Were it not for my intervention, security would have found them long ago.

Well, apparently they hadn't been as stealthy as he hoped. Not unexpected, in retrospect.

"Let's not be hasty," Gabriel continued undeterred. "Volikov, would you explain the purpose for this adventure?"

Volk cleared his throat. "I am looking for the location of Mosrimor. I need to…meet him."

The Overmind stared at him, and while Volk couldn't really read expressions with the Ethereal's face cloaked in shadow, he was certain that it was one of sheer disbelief.

You wish to converse with the Sovereign One Mosrimor?

He could almost feel the confusion in the Overmind's voice.

Volikov winced. "No, I don't. But I have to."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow when the Overmind's accusatory eyes turned to him. "So quick to judge. I wasn't the one who asked him to do this."

I see. The Overmind turned back to him. Do you – or the one who asked you to do this – have any comprehension of what you ask?"

Volk shook his head. "I don't. He might. But I don't have a choice."

Who asked you for this?

Volk opened his mouth, suddenly thought better of it, and looked at Gabriel. The man smiled widely. "Why do you need my permission? He didn't instruct you to keep his identity to yourself. An oversight he may regret."

There was a rumbling in his mind. The Overmind seemed to deeply dislike the attitude Gabriel was displaying.

"His name is Miridian," Volk said. "I'm sure you know him."

The Overmind was silent for a long time. Suspiciously long. Long enough that Volk was wondering if the Overmind was in communication with someone else. Maybe calling in reinforcements, or determining what to do with him.

What pact did he make with you, Shapeshifter? The Overmind asked, attention turning to Gabriel.

"The details are between us, Overmind," Gabriel said. "He merely wanted…knowledge. A solution, in a sense. One I was able to provide him."

A sound like a growl rumbled in their minds; loud and vibrating. You knew what you gave him.

"Oh, do you believe he doesn't know?" Gabriel's eyes were bright. "No, no, old friend, I'm afraid he knows exactly what he's done, and what his role is. If only we all could be so certain and content in our roles. Rarely do mortals wish to deal with me more than once – yet he thinks he can match wits."

The bright eyes seemed to possess a cruel light. "And I so enjoy such a challenge. Who was I to deny him what he desires most?"

The Overmind turned back to Volk. Why does Miridian seek the Sovereign One? What are you intending to do?

"To gain his assurance that he will not seek to intervene, manipulate, or otherwise control the Vitakarian species," Volk recited.

The Overmind turned back to Gabriel. A deal struck with another. One who understands the context you operate in. Ambitions driven by shrouds and mirrors; by a higher cause.

Gabriel laughed. "Do you think anything he does matters? He thinks he understands me. Those who are so enlightened, who are so much smarter, who are so certain they have closed all loopholes. It presents an enjoyable escapade. Often simplicity is the best policy. A professional arrangement."

I have yet to understand why I am to assist you in fulfilling your pact. What prevents me from severing the lives of these tools employed? Why not destroy your tools for what you have already enabled?

"Absolutely nothing," Gabriel spread his arms. "I am in no rush. If they die, I will simply find others. However, to do this would require…let us say meddling. Human, Collective, there are many, many people who would do anything for victory."

His smile seemed unnaturally plastered on his face; looking more and more like an ill-fitting mask on something inhuman. "The cage has been opened. Sever these strings at your peril, Overmind. Or see where they lead, as I assure you, there is nothing I find more delightful than a god who believes himself above me."

When is a pact not a pact.

"When interests align," Gabriel finished, as if exchanging a code only known to them. "There is no deal made between us. Only an alliance of interests. You do not know what will happen next. Neither do I. There are benefits for each to see it through, would you not agree?"

I would not presume such about you. Your perception is above even the Sovereign Ones.

"One must retain a certain humbleness," Gabriel said with a slight bow of his head. "For when arrogance takes root, the fall from grace will be swift and merciless. Your Imperator learned this lesson. I've witnessed it time and again. Perhaps I even speak from personal experience."

His hands spread out. "Now then. Let us make a decision. What would you do with Volikov and his lovely partner?"

The Overmind turned back to him and the eyes rested upon him for what seemed like too long. I warn you away from this path. There is no benefit to you, and significant risk. Yet you have no choice, and there must be a counterforce at work. I cannot say how Mosrimor will treat you. That is for you to prepare for.

"Leave that to them," Gabriel said. "I have faith in Volikov – after all, he has performed well so far."

I have one more matter I will mention. The Overmind said. One that Mosrimor has recently determined. He believes that T'Leth has been compromised by the Synthesized.

Volk didn't exactly know what that meant, or how. The reaction from Gabriel was immediate. Volk had never heard the entity laugh so loud and so hard; long and loud enough that it made him feel like he was trapped in some bizarre reality; held to the whims of only one individual.

"Oh, I adore the minds of those who reach for heights they can only dream of," Gabriel chortled. "Thank you, old friend. Volikov, I assure you, this piece of knowledge will be more useful. Ah, this little revelation will be most delightful to see play out. Well done, well done."

No one, the Overmind included, seemed to know if Gabriel was addressing anyone in the room, or a completely different individual. Elena was overtly unnerved by how all of this had gone, and was close to him. She wanted to get out of here. Away from Gabriel.

He felt a sudden chill in his mind, and a series of images and knowledge surged in, briefly blinding him. It seemed to last only a few seconds in real-time, but for Volikov it was stretched out much longer. It wasn't just the location of the Sovereign's world that he now knew – the Overmind had also implanted in him knowledge of Ethereal Script.

The Overmind's mind withdrew from his own, and his voice was not as overpowering as it had once been.

You possess what you need, Marked One. I trust you will find your way off the Temple Ship.

The Overmind turned away and left the room without another word. Gabriel watched him depart, a pleased expression on his face. Once the door closed, he sighed in apparent pleasure. Volk considered speaking, hesitated, then decided it likely didn't matter. Gabriel wasn't going to be offended at a question.

"How do you know him?" Volk asked. "You made a deal with him before?"

"In a manner of speaking," Gabriel demurred. "And he did his part to fulfill it. He is wise, in comparison to many of his peers; an individual who understands that the best answer to a proposal that offers everything is to walk away. Many who fulfill their bargains grow in wisdom. Consider it my own little contribution to the universe."

Gabriel made a slightly mocking bow. "Nonetheless, I am appreciative of his assistance in this matter, along with the entertainment he provided. Such was all that was needed."

"You knew he would agree." Volk said.

"Knew? What, do you think I can control the future?" Gabriel's eyes sparkled. "No, Volikov. Not quite. More is beyond my control than you think. I am merely capable of utilizing all of my potential to its fullest extent."

He flicked a wrist. "But these limitations matter less if people believe otherwise. It does not matter if I have a fraction of what people think – the results do the work for me. The deception matters not if people see what they wish to."

"Why would you tell me that?"

"Does it change anything?" Gabriel mused. "You don't know if you should believe me. Perhaps I'm attempting to gain your trust, or present weakness where there is none. You never know, and never could know. I, however, find it far more amusing to simply tell you the truth, because no matter how hard you try, you can never fully believe it."

He was right.

He believed that Gabriel was being truthful.

But if pressed, he never could say it.

Because it could also be a lie.

Elena was glaring at Gabriel with unadulterated hate. Gabriel met her glare with his eyes glinting in response. Volk straightened up, and Gabriel turned back to him. "Now, I trust the Overmind showed you where to go?"

"Yes," Volk said. "What now?"

"First, you honor the master of the house, and depart his home," Gabriel said. "I'm sure you can manage perfectly fine. You got here after all."

Volk's eyes narrowed. "Not what I meant."

"Now that you can read their language, I'm sure you can find a world to settle and plan for what comes next," Gabriel said, ignoring him. "We will speak again – but do not take too long. Good luck, Volikov. I am eager to see where this takes you. Reflect on everything said – the Overmind gave you some important clues."

He waved goodbye with a smile, and the air before Volk seemed to harden as if looking through a mirror, before fading from his sight entirely. Again he was alone, and now he needed to get out of here again. He took a breath, gave Elena a reassuring hug, and composed himself.

At the very least, he hoped that it would be easier to leave.

---

Office of the Commander, the Praesidium – Classified Location

Late October 2017 – Morning

It was a very curious question that they faced. A dilemma of sorts, though the Commander wasn't inclined to use that word to describe it in so negative a term.

He had considered what the Lesser Hive Commander had said to them, and was ultimately of two minds about it.

The first was that the creature was a self-declared tool of the Hive Commanders for the explicit purpose of understanding, and subsequently utilizing aliens to their own advantage. The Commander was very, very skeptical that the long-term plans of the Hive Commanders were compatible with Humanity.

029-1, to his credit, hadn't done much to imply anything differently. This step was being undertaken not because they'd seen the light of the nature of the Collective, but because they saw an opportunity and saw their own position within the Collective as being threatened. Nor did the Commander particularly like the fact this didn't even seem to be secret among the Hive Commanders.

Ironically, if a Lesser Hive Commander was discovered working for them, it would certainly raise suspicions among the Collective, which likely understood them to be a fully unified entity. Of course, it would be relatively simple to obscure 029-1 in combat – unless they encountered a psion of sufficient power who would immediately notice that 029-1 was not Human.

On the other hand…

On the other hand, the Commander had occasionally wondered about what was ultimately going to happen to the Sectoids. 029-1 was correct in that, unlike pretty much every species they'd encountered so far, they were alien beyond simple biological and physical differences. It was a worldview he could hypothetically understand, but not comprehend to the degree that had been embraced by the Hive Commanders.

They were alien. They operated on a radically different morality. They held to an impossible philosophy. They simply did not truly understand any perspective that wasn't their own. The Commander wasn't certain this would change even if the Lesser Hive Commanders could indeed fulfill their purpose.

It was about understanding, not changing.

The Hive Commanders, and the Sectoids, had done things to Humanity that were unforgivable. He still remembered the first time they'd encountered the Sectoid Hive, in the very base that they had now appropriated. It had been some of the most effective propaganda on the barbarity of the alien, comparable only to the horrors of Paradise.

But the Sectoids were just as brutal to their own species as they were to Humanity. The numbers of Humans that had been murdered by Sectoids almost certainly paled in comparison to those who were discarded and replaced in the Hives on Helion-7.

That didn't make them right, but it was an uncomfortable truth that the Sectoids were an enemy that they either had to come to some acceptance about - or wipe all of them out.

He had no illusions about being able to convince any Hive Commander, be a Lesser one or not, the problem with their actions. They would not understand, and it would be a wasted effort. Even if they did comprehend the objection, they would certainly not be remorseful about it.

But that didn't necessarily have to mean that it ended in genocide for one species or another.

029-1 was the first indication that he'd seen that not only could there possibly be some peace with the Sectoids one day – it was something that certain Hive Commanders might be interested in themselves.

Ironically in that case, it might be ADVENT that had to be talked into it. That was a question for later. First they had to answer the question in front of them – what to do with 029-1.

Much of it depended on what path they wanted to go down, and if it was worth the effort at all. If the Hive Commanders decided to terminate the experiment, or 029-1 decided that Humanity didn't measure up, it was simply inviting a spy into their midst. Unlike Nartha, this time the Commander didn't think that 029-1 would be swayed or consider if he was on the right side or not.

Hence, the question they faced.

And that was before getting into how ADVENT would take this – but they didn't need to know right now.

That was why all of the Internal Council had assembled. There had been enough time to get the information they needed and reach a decision. One way or another, the fate of the Lesser Hive Commander would be decided today.

"So," the Commander said, looking around at the assembled. "We need to make a decision on our Sectoid guest. We had an interrogation, we have Yate's assessment, and we've had enough time to make a decision. Does anyone disagree?"

"No, and I don't think we need to state the inherent risk of taking the Sectoid up on his offer," Kong Mercado spoke first. "The question is one that I don't think comes down to what can be gained, but what degree of risk that can or should be accepted."

His tongue clicked. "We know that 029-1 can benefit us, and has already provided a wealth of intelligence, both on the current state of the Collective, and internally to the Greater Hive Commanders. We know that this gives us a potential route to a peaceful resolution with the Sectoids."

"Cost versus benefit," Zhang summarized with a nod. "I concur that the benefits of 029-1 are significant – so long as we understand what and how we are gaining it. We are gaining at best a foreign asset, not a new ally. We are inviting a true alien into our midst, and assessing that he will not stab us in the back. And we are most certainly not gaining someone who has no agenda."

"I'm glad we're on the same page," the Commander said, seeing no objection from the others in the room. "So the question stands – do we accept this risk?"

"I'm of a somewhat different view," Creed said after a moment. "I don't think the risk falls as much with 029-1 – even in the worst-case scenario, 029-1 can be dealt with if something happens and we exercise some obvious precautions. My question is how to tell the soldiers, and the wider Praesidium staff."

That was a thorny and potentially problematic question that also needed to be addressed, and he ultimately saw no way around this particular issue.

"The soldiers will need to be told," the Commander said. "It's impossible for that not to be the case. They can't be expected to fight alongside a Sectoid in secret. The wider Praesidium staff don't need to know – outside of perhaps security. 029-1's illusions may work on the average person, but it won't work on cameras."

"Agreed," Zhang nodded. "As for the soldiers – they will accept it. We have worked and fought with every alien. A Sectoid is novel, but not something that I foresee causing issues. If they do, then we deal with them. Currently, 029-1's worst crime is belonging to an alien species that has committed significant crimes against Humanity."

Iosif had a frown on his face. "Logically speaking, you're correct, but emotionally, it's not the same. I don't think the sentiment towards a Sectoid and Vitakara is the same, because one species has been seen grinding up infants, and one hasn't. The nuances aren't something that the average soldier particularly cares about."

"A prejudice the Sectoids have no issue cultivating," Jackson added pointedly. "I've heard enough jokes about wiping out the greys. The Sectoids are not viewed the same as the other species, and we do need to take that into account."

"We should, but I lean more towards Zhang's viewpoint," the Commander said. "If it was the wider Praesidium, I agree. The soldiers will accept it, because they have to. And interaction with a Sectoid may blunt the initial negative reaction over time."

"And if one soldier shares something they shouldn't?" Creed pursed his lips.

"We have consequences for leakers," the Commander said. "Considering the threat this poses if it gets out, and what it could undermine, I will make it very clear that anyone who shares something they shouldn't will be lucky if they have a stint in ADVENT's prisons."

"That should get the message across," Creed said. "I'm not as optimistic as Zhang, but I suppose they should stay in line."

"I assume that you are a vote in favor of integrating 029-1, Zhang?" The Commander asked, looking back to him.

"Correct, Commander," Zhang affirmed. "029-1 has already provided us with significant insight. I am also in favor of developing our options throughout the various species of the Collective. We have vectors of influence in every species but the Sectoids – until now. That alone is worth taking advantage of this."

He wrinkled his nose. "There is no good reason not to do this considering our capabilities and resources. No reason but prejudice, no matter the perceived justification. Causing a potential schism, as well as gaining significant insight into the Sectoids, is worth the relatively low price."

"Assuming, of course, that 029-1 is truthful all the time," Iosif noted. "He may be doing that now, but I'd caution against assuming that will continue indefinitely – especially if Humanity fails to measure to his standards. We're assuming 029-1 cannot lie. That is a dangerous assumption."

Zhang frowned. "No, we're not making that assumption. 029-1 is our best insight into the Sectoids – not our only one. Based on Yates' report, I find it difficult to conceptualize 029-1 deliberately lying. It doesn't seem interested or willing to do it. The creature is clever, but it is alien. It doesn't think, feel, or act like we do."

"I agree with that," Iosif said. "So long as we don't take it to an illogical end. 029-1 having a different worldview, morality, or perspective doesn't change that deception is something all species understand, and can employ. The Hive Commanders themselves seem to practice this, even if it's lies by omission."

"Iosif's point is valid," Vahlen interjected. "I believe that 029-1 believes what he said concerning the limitations of projecting Human perspectives onto Sectoid – to a point. There are universal concepts – but how we approach those concepts is where the differences lie. 029-1 has an advantage in this respect – he almost certainly understands Humans more than we understand Sectoids. We should not forget that."

"All the more reason to take advantage of this," Zhang argued. "We are not going to get a better opportunity. Not a willing one, at any rate."

"Commander, what are we going to do?" Jackson asked. "We can debate the risks all day, but at the end of the day, we know them, and this will just continue in circles ad nauseam. More than we already have."

"Correct." The Commander said. "We know where each of us stand, and the risks involved. We vote. Vahlen?"

"I vote we utilize 029-1," she said. "We stand to gain more than we lose."

"Utilization," Zhang said. "For the reasons I've stated."

"Utilization," Iosif said. "Conditioned on that we take appropriate precautions."

"Utilization," Mercado said. "Provided it's done carefully."

"I concur," Jackson said. "I have no strong opposition."

"Abstain," Creed said after a moment. "I don't have a solid reason to oppose, but my stance is that we burn the Sectoids before working with them."

It wasn't a negative, but in this matter he would have preferred a unanimous decision. Though he couldn't entirely blame Creed, considering his own very negative experiences with Sectoids, added to the fact that this was a purely pragmatic decision.

It was good enough for now.

"I concur with the majority," the Commander finished. "Then it's settled – we will incorporate 029-1 into XCOM – with the aforementioned precautions. Though we'll need a designation to use in the field. 029-1 is not going to be appropriate."

"I have one," Zhang said. "I pulled several of our asset names as possibilities, since I thought this might come up. I think it will be appropriate for 029-1."

The Commander raised an eyebrow. "Do share."

Zhang smiled. "Verge."

---

Unknown

Late October 2017 – Evening

Duri groggily opened his eyes in the pitch blackness of the room, his mind lightly throbbing; an ache that pressed on the forefront of his mind. He wasn't sure what had prompted his awakening; it happened occasionally, and normally he could fall back asleep quickly. Everything seemed hazy in his half-conscious state.

There was a shifting beside him in the bed, as Sandara turned over, yawning. Her eyes were still closed, but he knew that she'd also partially awakened. He felt immediately a bit guilty for waking her, but both of them were relatively light sleepers. Military life instilled that tendency in people, and spouses who lived together got used to it, or rather, they didn't.

"[Bad dream?]" She murmured.

He groaned, sinking back into the pillows and the warm body beside him. "[Don't know. Faded already if that was it.]"

"Mmm," she rested her head on his shoulder. "[I think it's a few hours before you have to get up.]"

Duri glanced at the clock, which was oddly blurry. He was still tired, and he wanted to do that. Sleep. Rest. The day would be coming soon enough. He did what she suggested, though the ache in his mind didn't go away, now joined by a strange, disjointed feeling that he couldn't explain.

Sandara noticed, even if she remained in place. "[What's wrong?]"

"[I don't know,]" he murmured, eyes half-open. "[Headache, I think.]"

"[Do you want me to get something for it?]"

That sounded good, actually, but there was something that made him hesitate saying yes. Not fair to make her get up. "[No, it's fine.]"

"[Then stop fidgeting,]" she chided. "[Some of us are also tired.]"

He smiled faintly, and took one hand in his own. It was cool, despite being previously under the blanket. He made an effort to be still so she could rest – not a simple feat with her so close to him. Unfortunately, he wasn't falling back asleep; in fact the opposite. The ache was becoming more noticeable; sharper. His tiredness was sloughing off his mind, bringing something else into focus that ran through him like a lightning bolt.

His family was dead. His wife was dead.

She felt him suddenly tense. "[Duri?]"

Her voice was exactly as he remembered it. It was her face just as he remembered it. Inviting. Kind, wanting him to lay down with her and close his eyes. But his mind was sharper now, and he couldn't go back to sleep. His wife was dead, and this phantom was not her. Was he dreaming then?

He wanted to listen to her.

He really did. Lay down, go to sleep, and wake up and she would be gone. A dream over.

But that wasn't what this was. He remembered that now.

He sat up.

"[Duri,]" she pleaded. "[Please don't.]"

He turned to look at her. "[You're not real.]"

Her face morphed into an expression of panic, of terror. The authenticity sent pangs of guilt and hesitation through his head. "[What's wrong? You're scaring me right now,]"

He winced. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. He blocked out how it sounded; ignored the emotion in her voice, in her body language. He suppressed his feelings of revulsion that his wife could react in that way to him.

It wasn't her. It wasn't her.

"[Duri, stop it!]"

He got out of the bed, trying to recall what was best to react to this; techniques coming back. He ran through scenarios covering telepathic attacks; illusions, sophisticated ones which preyed on existing mental connections. He could feel the psion's needles around his mind now; the tingling, partially itchy feeling of something crawling around in his skull.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD.

"[The girls need us,]" Sandara said. "[You want to see-]"

The mention of his deceased daughters fully snapped him out of the spell the illusion had tried to enthrall him with. It was one thing to use his wife, another to try and use his daughters to get him to give himself up. Emotions sharpened to anger, anger turned inward and outward against the enemy trying to manipulate him.

"[Get! Out!]" He roared at the illusion, anger and pain alike coloring the scream that made her seem to flicker, and dissipate as though she was never there. The invisible psionic wires withdrew from his mind, and he found he could think clearly again. He was in his room at the Phobos Facility.

He was alone. Exhausted, sweaty, with some tears running down his face, but alone.

He remained leaning against the wall for a few minutes, breathing heavily as he processed what had happened. He heard some commotion outside his room, probably people awoken by his shout. There was a knock, and the door opened as two people entered, both women, one of them dressed as a psychologist, and the other probably a psion.

The psion looked very guilty.

"Duri Eun-Jung?" The psychologist asked.

Duri straightened, composing himself. "Yes, ma'am. Another test?"

A sharp nod. "Yes. Apologies for the intimate methods, but the aliens will exploit your weaknesses, and that is the baseline we need to aim for. You did well. Would you like to perform the post-test questionnaire now, or in a few hours when you start the day?"

Duri stared at her, wondering if she was serious, then sighed. "Let's do it now. I won't be going back to sleep."

"Very well, please dress yourself, and I'll be waiting," she said, leaving with the psion.

Shaking his head, Duri did as instructed, trying not to think too much about what he'd woken up too. Hopefully that was one of the last tests he'd endure, and he had a feeling that his time in Phobos was coming to an end.

Right now, he felt it couldn't come soon enough.

---

Office of the Commander, the Praesidium – Classified Location

Late October 2017 – Afternoon

Sierra expected that she was going to receive her next assignment.

It was unlikely that she was being summoned to the Commander's office just for a chat – though that would be nice of him. Unfortunately, the Commander was very busy these days, and didn't tend to have time for one-on-one talks. Or that was what she expected of him. Supposedly the Commander actually would make time for soldiers who asked, but she honestly didn't think she had good enough reasons to take time out of the Commander's day.

It was nice that he did that though. She was fine to keep it professional enough. He was a good superior, and that was good enough for her.

Right now she was personally eager to find out what was next.

The door opened before she could even knock – likely JULIAN noticing her arrival, rather than an automatic sensor. The Commander was already seated, and looked up once the door opened, facing her. "Sierra, welcome. Please, take a seat."

Sierra did so, somewhat delicately so as to avoid damaging the furniture itself. While she was in a Human form, she definitely had much more weight she needed to account for. "It's been a while, Commander. Glad that you haven't forgotten about me," she made sure to smile, in case he didn't get the joke.

Fortunately, he chuckled. "It has, but I have your next assignment. A rotation in fact."

That was a term that she hadn't heard in a while, and it meant that this was going to be somewhere outside the Praesidium. "I didn't realize XCOM had those," she said after a moment. "To one of the fronts, I assume? An XCOM embed with ADVENT?"

"As a general rule, we don't," the Commander clarified. "We have some permanent locations within ADVENT territory, but these kinds of rotations are on a needed basis - or for special assignments. This is one of them, a more unusual request from ADVENT concerning one of their projects."

Sierra cocked her head. That was interesting. "What are the details?"

"Have you heard of the Revenant Project?" He asked.

She shook her head. Not even a general idea came to mind, even in rumor or passing. That was something she'd never heard of before, which implied that whatever it was ADVENT had it locked down so tight only senior XCOM leadership knew. She also had a feeling that she was going to become intimately familiar with it shortly. "No, Commander. What is it?"

"A very experimental program, to put it lightly," the Commander said slowly. "The briefing I received had two main components – the first is utilizing psions who've been injured to an extent that battlefield redeployment is impossible. This is done by them controlling machines remotely from a safe location via psionics."

Sierra turned the mechanics over in her head. "Like an Avatar?"

"In a sense, minus the psionic powers of the vessel," the Commander said. "My understanding is that the machines these psions would control are based around conventional weaponry. That is not certain, and ADVENT is keeping as much information under wraps, even to us. However, there is a reason I think you're suited for it."

"If they're controlling a machine," Sierra said slowly, also making the connection. "In some respects, it's like a MEC. Not Human. They need help getting their 'pilots' acquainted with the process. Hence me. Am I on the right track?"

"Yes," the Commander confirmed. "That was what ADVENT highlighted they needed, and you're one of the most senior MEC pilots we have. I don't anticipate this will be a particularly long rotation, but it is one that could greatly help ADVENT. You'll likely be working with some things ADVENT won't even tell me."

"I'm up for it, sir," Sierra said, excited at the idea, though there was a large caveat that also sprang to mind. "Though I'm not really an officer or instructor."

"This is a small group, six to ten people was what they said," the Commander said. "You can work well with people on an individual level, and that is the most useful trait here right now. An officer isn't much help if they can only theorize what is happening. You've lived it, and you can help them."

She nodded slowly. That was something she could work with. "Point taken, Commander. When do I deploy?"

"One week from today," the Commander said. "Enough time for some preparation and any packing you want to do. I estimate the rotation will be no longer than six months. Realistically it'll be three or four. Six was what ADVENT said – so that's the warning from me that you could be there a while."

Compared to other military rotations which lasted a year or longer, six months was far from the worst she could imagine. "It'll be a nice change of scenery," Sierra said, before pausing, remembering another important question around rotations. "I'm not going to another desert, am I?"

The Commander chuckled. "No."

"Then where?"

The Commander smiled. "You're going to Nepal."

---

Situation Room, Abuja – Nigeria

Early November 2017 – Morning

Months of rearming, reconstruction, and training were about to combine into the catalyst that would break the calcified ADVENT lines and usher in liberation from the destruction they had wrought.

Or at least that was what Betos told herself. It was the official story that would be disseminated by the SAS.

She'd spent many days personally inspecting the numerous SAS divisions, from their equipment, to their weapons, their armor, all of which were derived from the Collective shipments. While there were Human engineers working with Andromedons, Vitakara, and Sectoids, everything had a very distinct feel of something different.

Kaan claimed it was an ideal reflection of their alliance with the Collective. She supposed that in this case he was right, and it was almost certainly something that ADVENT was going to exploit in their own propaganda – not that they weren't going to do that regardless. It didn't matter much at the end of the day, as if they wanted to achieve any kind of success, these steps were necessary.

Evolve or die.

Betos was aware that ADVENT had also developed and evolved as the war had progressed, and her own experience with it was becoming more obsolete as the war went on – but she did still read the reports on their evolving capabilities from the SAS Military Intelligence Service, and the Zararch.

She was confident that – at the very least – the SAS would be able to match ADVENT in technology and weaponry, if not coordination and experience. It was going to be a critical test, and the most important one in the SAS' short history.

She, Kaan, Keeper, and Knaag were gathered around for one of the final briefings that would solidify their strategy and the offensives that would follow. She'd been preparing this for some time, and this was one matter where everyone still listened to her.

Barring the one exception in the form of Knaag.

"ADVENT controls numerous points of interest, and are positioned around us on all sides," she said to the small audience around the holotable. "West Africa, northern Niger, and Equatorial Guinea. The neutral African nations to our south provide us a buffer, but a limited one. The good news for us is that their lines are brittle and undersupplied."

"That, and the fools decided to purge their ranks of officers," a ferocious smile crossed Knaag's face. "Their ranks will be further paralyzed, and their morale plummeting further. An uncharacteristic miscalculation on their part. A fast strike will instill chaos into their ranks, and when enemies scramble, they make mistakes."

Kaan's eyes were fixated on the map. "I see three primary subcampaigns outlined. A small one to conquer Equatorial Guinea, with West Africa, and north-east as the primary objectives that will restore our original territorial integrity."

"Yes," Betos highlighted the general battle plans in more detail. "West Africa is almost certainly ADVENT's weakest link. Their Scipio operation has backfired as they've damaged or ruined existing resources that they could have used to sustain themselves. As it stands, their supply lines are strained, and in West Africa they are bordering the Sahara which further worsens their situation."

"An ideal collection of circumstances," Kaan nodded. "I would recommend we secure our west, before commencing an eastward expansion. Victories right now are important, and I suspect ADVENT will conduct a retreat once we strike anywhere. They must know they are in a poor position."

"I agree," Betos said. "Striking the east may overrun a few divisions, but it would likely give ADVENT enough time to fully pull out of West Africa. They are in a far more difficult position in the West."

"I don't want them to retreat. I want them dead," Kaan stated venomously. "That is what I recommend, Grand Marshal. Organize our armies to strike against West Africa, and with the ADVENT Navy…occupied, we can retake Equatorial Guinea. The east can wait for now. Let them flee in that direction. Do you disagree?"

Betos shook her head. "No."

Knaag looked between the both of them, greatly amused. "That was perhaps the most cordial exchange I've heard between both of you. What an unexpected development."

Kaan's face flashed with irritation as he glanced at Knaag. "Do you disagree?"

Knaag chuckled, unperturbed. "No. I suppose some things are so common sense even the Little Marshal can manage it."

Betos resisted bristling at the jab. "When do you want to commence the operation?"

"No more than one week," Kaan rubbed his chin. "What do you say, Keeper? Any additional advice?"

"The strategy is sound, considering the intelligence we possess, and the current state of both SAS and ADVENT forces," Keeper said. "Commit to the campaigns, but do not overextend if ADVENT breaks faster than expected. ADVENT will punish mistakes made in a haze of victory."

"Agreed," Betos nodded. "One week?"

"Yes," Kaan said. "I want to see how ADVENT handles the leadership transition. Their arrival will be another period of unknowns and uncertainty. Timed correctly, this can be another advantage that we can exploit."

Betos wasn't as certain that it would be as disruptive as Kaan hoped – ADVENT had demonstrated significant resilience to personnel and leadership changes. The situation on the ground was bad for ADVENT, but even if they had purged many officers after Scipio, she suspected they'd be quickly replaced, and in the meantime they would function perfectly fine.

That was the assumption she was operating under. Better to overestimate the enemy than the alternative.

"I will have our forces prepare to strike," Betos stated. "However, the longer we wait, the more likely ADVENT will notice and react accordingly. I would not delay beyond our deadline of one week – especially when ADVENT will almost certainly notice our preparations."

"Of course," Kaan said. "Prepare and commence the operation accordingly. It is time that ADVENT face a long overdue reckoning."

No matter the outcome, Betos knew that this would resume the dormant war for Africa, and subsequently, the fate of the SAS. This time, they couldn't hope to rely on another Scipio to halt ADVENT.

She tried to think of what she was going to do as a liberation, but even if ADVENT had ruined much of what they were striking, she didn't know how much better it was going to be. She wasn't in charge anymore, she'd lost control of the state and it was in Kaan's hands.

But she could only hope she was doing the right thing, and not leading the people under a master by another name.

---

Situation Room, the Praesidium – Classified Location

Early November 2017 – Afternoon

The Commander stood in the Situation Room along with Kong Mercado. They'd only been waiting a few minutes, discussing several unrelated matters to why they were here at all. Though what they were here for was not as certain, as Jackson had requested the meeting, and she wasn't here yet.

Luckily they didn't have to wait long.

"Commander," she said hurriedly, snapping a short salute.

"Jackson, Welcome, the Commander said as Jackson joined them around the holotable. "You said there was an important development?"

"Yes Commander, apologies for the delay," she said. "It concerns the Atlantis Project. ADVENT reached out to provide some updates on where things stand with the program."

"Ah, very good," Kong brightened. "Significant progress, I assume?"

"Production on the fleet is proceeding well," Jackson confirmed. "Enough that they're initiating their formal Naval Officer program, current codename Endgame."

That was a good sign, and an important step. Humanity was going to need a good naval corps, and there was a limited time to get one. Even with the help of the Andromedons, it was going to take years before it was a proper one.

"I see," the Commander said, rubbing his chin. "So it's close."

"Close, but not necessarily as much as we'd like," Kong cautioned. "Any decent officer program will require at least a few months of instruction, even if you employ simulators, psionics, and no shortage of crash courses. All of which I expect ADVENT to employ."

"ADVENT did not provide the details, but I expect that Kong's assessment is accurate," Jackson agreed. "The fleet is not ready to deploy, but it is reaching a completed state. When it does, ADVENT will need officers able to win a battle against the Collective in space."

She pulled out her tablet, tapping it a few times. "Endgame is one of several programs they're running concerning Atlantis and fleet personnel. They're already recruiting crews for the ships, and will be acquainting them with the systems and weapons. I believe that several Clone batches have been specifically diverted to Atlantis for this purpose."

"A smart option," Kong concurred. "The more people who take part in this, the greater the chances the Collective learns of it. I'm curious where they're drawing the officers from. Existing navies?"

"Yes, captains, admirals, on ships and subs alike," Jackson confirmed. "It's not going to be a perfect transition, but it's the best that exists right now. ADVENT didn't share how they were conducting their recruitment process, but it's very likely that many existing admirals and ranking naval officers will be transitioning to the navy of the future. The wet navy, such as it exists, is going to become even more diminished in the near future."

The Commander felt somewhat melancholy at the statement. The navy had never been something he'd been close to, but there were naval officers and seamen who he'd known. It certainly felt like a definitive page on Human warfare was being turned. The twilight of a long and impactful era now coming to an end.

But all things had to change and evolve. "I hope that they'll be able to adapt. Space warfare will not be the same as the oceans."

"I expect that ADVENT will take that into account," Jackson said. "However, the point that is relevant for us is that ADVENT wanted to inquire if we had people we wanted to receive this training. We will have our own naval ships one day, and it would be a good idea to designate several officers."

"I concur," Kong agreed. "Commander?"

"I see no reason not to take part in this if ADVENT is offering," the Commander said. "Along with their other programs. Even if the systems will be different, I would like at least some of our people to have an idea of how a space ship works, and the weapon systems it could employ. I'll speak to Iosif and Creed about several people we can send for the Endgame program."

"And I will provide support personnel for the other programs," Kong said, pulling out a notepad and scrawling some things down. "An excellent opportunity for some of our engineers."

"Indeed. Pass along my personal thanks to ADVENT," the Commander said. "We will take their offer, and provide names shortly. How soon is this starting?"

"Within several weeks," Jackson said. "Right now they are directly approaching officers for the program. We have some time, but we shouldn't delay passing the names to them."

"We won't," the Commander assured her. "Thank you for the update, Central. Dismissed."

---

Office of the Chancellor, Geneva – Switzerland

Late October 2017 – Morning

This briefing was less formal and sparsely attended compared to other ones. An unsurprising combination given that Saudia attended these more to be aware of any notable developments. Major operations, successes, or setbacks she'd almost always hear ahead of time, and highlight the following briefing as the period for explanations.

As it stood, none of that applied right now.

Only Kidon and Horne were dialed into the meeting – the other generals leading their respective theatres focusing on efforts. Saudia wasn't slighted, since the war took priority, and she trusted Kidon to relay anything important that they would otherwise have to say.

If he didn't, then there would be a problem. Until that happened, these shorter briefs would be sufficient.

"You can start, General," Kidon motioned at Horne to begin. "Current status of Metacomet?"

"Yes, Commander," Horne answered sharply, saluting her. "Chancellor, Metacomet is proceeding on schedule. We are continuing to steadily advance across the mainland. Several major cities have been reclaimed, and the Collective appears to be executing a controlled retreat."

Saudia nodded, the reports had implied as much, though had resisted using the term before. Horne was the first to voice the facts. "Interesting they aren't attempting to hold their position."

"They're in a poor position, and they likely know it now," Horne said. "It'd be advantageous for us if they fought, but they're making the tactically right decision. We identified the Rocky Mountains along the western edge of the Midwest as where we were likely to run into a wall. That appears to be bearing out."

"Unless we overrun them first." Kidon added, though Horne was already shaking his head.

"Impossible to consider, and I'm not going to raise your hopes, Chancellor," Horne stated. "When the Collective retreats, we can't catch them fast enough. If they're really in a hurry, they'll leave behind useful equipment and tech, and if we're talking just raw speed versus combat speed, they've still got us beat, army to army. Usually we don't get that. Overrunning them isn't feasible. That we're also making a comprehensive march slows us down further. Every town, city, and village we can liberate, we are. We can't take any shortcuts like they can, and are."

"Maintain the course then," Saudia instructed. "Anything else? What are our casualties?"

"Higher than w'd like, but not critical yet," Horne answered. "That segues into a different topic though, one for a bit later. That's all I have for Metacomet, pending any questions, Chancellor?"

She shook her head. "Negative."

"Then I'll give it back to you, Commander," Horne looked at Kidon.

Kidon nodded. "Thank you, General. Status updates for Tryzub and Bayano will be short." He cleared his throat. "Concerning Tryzub, things are stalled," he said grimly. "The Collective has heavily entrenched themselves and are flooding forces into what territory they have. Little change from the last update."

"The operation can't stall forever," she said. "How close are the fusion nukes?"

"If you want to give the word, we can use them," Kidon said. "Though this would be the first field test. Up to you. General Borysenko has acknowledged that progress needs to be made."

"Begin preparations for their deployment," she instructed. "We'll give him some more time to take the cities conventionally. If things don't progress soon, we use them."

Kidon nodded sharply. "Understood, Chancellor."

"Thank you," she said. "And Bayano?"

"Escalating operations as we speak. Reinforcements are being surged, including new batches of Clones," Kidon said. "With the reinforcement surge, I would expect progress to be made rapidly. There is something interesting that we're tracking, that ADVENT Intelligence picked up."

Saudia cocked her head. "Do tell."

"The Collective suffered some kind of attack recently," Kidon said. "Something that wiped out an entire unit, taking out some of their most senior officers, as well as Zararch specialists. They think they ran into us or we ambushed them."

Saudia raised an eyebrow. "And we didn't do this?"

"Not that one," Kidon shook his head. "We're not indicating otherwise, but the implication is that someone else took out that unit."

Saudia rubbed her chin. "Disgruntled soldiers?"

"Almost certainly, I doubt that they died to some Amazonian tribes," Kidon shrugged. "Likely Vitakarians, though this is one of the only instances we've known of this happening. They don't seem interested in defecting, whoever they were. We're keeping an ear to the ground on this, Chancellor. Do you have anything in particular you want us to do?"

"See if we can track them down," Saudia said. "And keep me updated on this matter. If there is dissent in South America, that can only help us, and the operation."

"Will do, Chancellor," Kidon said. "I expect I will have more updates by the next brief. Do you have any questions?"

"Not at this moment," Saudia said. "General Horne said that there was a topic concerning casualties. Let's return to that."

"It's a broader discussion that I wanted to raise," Horne spoke again. "Something that I want to get ahead of before we find ourselves having to make potentially hard choices. I noted our casualty rates are higher than we want. It's not critical yet, but it raises an important question."

Kidon took over from him. "This war has been going on for nearly two years, Chancellor, and we're fortunate to have a steady stream of volunteers. It's allowed us to sustain our numbers, and even grow them in some cases. Theoretically, we should be able to sustain this for a while."

"But…"

"But that's not going to be sufficient for a larger war down the line," Kidon said. "Presuming we want to take the fight to the Collective. Even with the Clones, manpower will quickly become a concern. In short, this is a policy discussion."

"Specifically on our conscription laws," Horne stated. "It's a minor miracle we've been able to sustain ourselves through volunteers. We're one subpar recruiting cycle from having personnel shortages, especially for specialized positions. We're several major defeats away from not having the soldiers to hold our positions."

Saudia frowned, seeing where this was going, and disliking the implications. "What is the recommendation?"

"As I said, we need to posture ourselves for adaptation," Kidon said. "I understand conscription is not a popular thing, but I would much rather us have the option than scramble if we suffer a particularly grievous defeat, or realize we don't have enough soldiers to fight the Collective on a galactic scale."

"I would not recommend conscription, but the mechanisms should be in place," Horne said. "I don't know if this is best accomplished through executive actions or Congress – but something should be done. Right now, conscription isn't an option, legally speaking."

Saudia knew that he was right, and that it was definitely a political issue. However, war was one instance where this discussion was needed. She'd need to consider how best to address the problem – because as Kidon said, it was going to come sooner or later. "I'll speak to my cabinet on how to best address this. Having the option is necessary, even if it sounds like we do not need to worry about that right now."

"Correct. Not an emergency now, but we need to start thinking about it now if we want to make sure it doesn't become one. As it stands, this is good enough for me, Chancellor, thank you," Kidon said. "Horne, do you have anything to close us out?"

"Negative, sir," he saluted. "Thank you for taking this concern seriously. I intend to have more good news next time I report, Chancellor."

"I expect it," Saudia answered, as Kidon also saluted. "Thank you for your report. Dismissed."

The holograms of both men disappeared, as Saudia returned to work, and dialed into yet another meeting in a day that was very busy.

All of them were these days. Such was the job of the Chancellor.

---

ADVENT Central Deployment Base, Brasilia – Brazil

Late October 2017 – Morning

"Deploy and in formation!" Their Officer barked at them.

There wasn't any hesitation from the hundreds of ADVENT soldiers deploying from the transport planes. It was dark and dead-early in the morning, with the runways being lit up by multi-colored lights and the sounds of more planes arriving was a constant. They appeared to have been in the first wave.

All of the soldiers in full armor, Matthew, Jaquon, and Avery marched with their squad, in coordination with the rest of their battalion to where the designated point was. They didn't know where exactly that was, but the Officers knew, and that was who they followed. He didn't think it would be very far.

Matthew had hoped that there would be a little bit of respite before they were thrown into the fire, so to speak, but from the intensity of how they were hitting the tarmac running, it looked like that wasn't going to be the case. He suspected that they weren't going to get their own belongings back until they were actually at their assigned rotations.

The weeks of physical training, along with the instinctual flash-training from their development resulted in them quickly arriving in full synchronous formation within the base – their first and probably only one before they were split up and sent to the front lines. This was it; where he and the rest of them would make their debut. He knew that there were some Clones who had fought in the war already, but he was still among the earlier batches.

There were a lot of people who hadn't met a Clone before, and Matthew was aware that it might not be quite the same reception as how his family had welcomed him. Still, he was still Human, and that had to count for something. He was also a soldier, and manpower was something every officer appreciated.

"At attention!"

The soldiers saluted in unison as the ranking officer of their mission arrived before them. They'd been told that they'd be placed under the command of a Colonel of one of the Brazilian Legions. Both of those facts were affirmed as the Colonel in question arrived by truck, and approached the gathered soldiers.

He was similarly in uniform, and despite the dim light, Matthew could make out the patch of the Brazilian Legion. From his clear Latin heritage, he also appeared to be a Brazilian native.

The Colonel had a buzz cut, and his face was one that Matthew would describe as hard, with a noticeable scar that ran down his right eye, though both seemed…no, the one with the scar was clearly mechanical, with a blue iris that faintly glowed ominously in the darkness. The man's lips were oriented to seem like they were in a continual scowl.

It didn't seem like this man had enjoyed a good life and career. There'd been a few officers he'd encountered like that, and sometimes they were as hard as they seemed, and other times they were more than met the eye.

Matthew suspected this man was closer to the former.

The eyes, one natural, one mechanical, swept over them. Searching, appraising, judging; he seemed to be looking for something specific. Finally, the man paused his pacing near the center of the formation. "Welcome to Brazil," he stated. "I am Colonel Luiz Serrano, First Brazilian Legion. My Legion, now yours."

His eyes moving through the ranks, seeming to pierce their helmets. "I am aware that you are Clones. My understanding is that you were grown in tubes, with knowledge and memories pumped into you. ADVENT assures me that this is enough."

He paused. "I was promised experienced soldiers, not rookies. I expect soldiers who are ready to fight and die for ADVENT. ADVENT assures me you can meet my standards. Consider this the standard to which I will hold you. It is the standard that every Human adheres to, and you will match or exceed this. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

"You will be deployed to your respective assignments immediately," he continued. "Depending on assignment, Corporals and Captains will give you further instructions. You may have been under the impression you are entering into a war, with front lines, convoys, and a clear, organized battlefield. You will find that – in North America and Europe."

One finger pointed upwards, before slowly lowering to point into the distant forests. "You will not find it here. You are stepping into the most violent guerilla conflict on planet Earth, and among the most critical operations of the entire war."

For the first time he smiled, one that reminded Matthew of a hunting animal. A jaguar, or some other kind of cat. "Muton butchers. Dath'Haram sociopaths. Vitakarian hunters. Andromedon Flame Brigades. This is where the Collective sends their worst, their most feral, and most savage."

The hand lowered to his side. "You will prove you are as useful as ADVENT claims, or you will die. It is as simple as that. Good luck, soldiers. You're going to need it."

His hands clasped behind his back. "Dismissed to assignments! Further orders will be provided upon arrival to your respective checkpoints."

They all snapped into a salute. "Yes sir!"

Just as quickly as he'd arrived, he returned to his truck and left to presumably somewhere else in the base. Moments later they were already moving to a nearby airfield of ADVENT dropships presumably to load and deploy them. "[Not particularly welcoming,]" Avery muttered as they walked, clearly irritated. "[I don't think he likes us.]"

That was the most charitable way to put it. Matthew wasn't extremely adept at reading people, but it seemed pretty obvious that the Colonel resented the fact that he had been sent Clones instead of 'real' soldiers.

He didn't have a good feeling about him, but he tried to remind himself that this was new for everyone.

"[Then we'll just have to prove him wrong and survive,]" Matthew said. "[Once we start, he'll see that there was no reason to react that way.]"

"[Yeah, yeah,]" he heard her yawn. "[At least he'll be stuck here. Never thought I'd be glad we're somewhere further away from civilization.]"

"[Assuming he is actually stuck here,]" Jaquon said. "[He might move around.]"

"[I guess we'll find out sooner or later,]" Matthew said as they boarded the dropship, which would take them to the front lines of the war in South America.

Time for them to step foot into what was apparently the most dangerous place on Earth.

Hopefully it was an exaggeration.

---

National Military Headquarters, Mexico City – Mexico

Late October 2017 – Afternoon

Mexico City was one place that Saudia had never visited before, which could be said of much of Mexico as a whole. It hadn't been her portfolio during EXALT, before or after becoming Director, nor had she had much of a reason to visit during the initial period of ADVENT.

Mexico in general was a country that she knew a fair amount of the internal dynamics and politics for, while not witnessing it personally. Much of it was outdated now, as with the cartels decimated, and a thorough purge of the corrupt politicians, the previous dynamics between state, cartel, and military were gone.

An improvement all around.

Nonetheless, Saudia had decided that this was a good opportunity to visit Mexico. It was convenient because it was where General Venegas was currently operating out of, and Saudia expected that a personal visit would be a good indication of her interest – and that what she had to say was important.

Catalina had been informed of the meeting, and that it concerned an assignment, but no details beyond that. Saudia suspected the woman would be able to put together the context easily enough. It was an expectation of hers, because there were only so many reasons the Chancellor would take a direct interest.

Saudia didn't pay attention to the media on the outskirts of the building. There would certainly be a lot of speculation on why the Chancellor was visiting the largest Mexican military base, and if things went well, they wouldn't have to wait long.

Several Mexican Legion soldiers met her on schedule, and were quick to escort her to where Catalina was waiting. The building was large, but it wasn't a very long walk from the entrance to where Venegas was waiting. Saudia entered her office, and had her first good look at the woman she'd come to meet.

General Catalina Venegas was one of the oldest people Saudia had seen in active service. She was old enough to be a grandmother – and was one according to her dossier. Mid-fifties, built stoutly, a head and a half shorter than Saudia herself, and with fully grey hair.

Her skin was wrinkled and weathered, darkened skin deepened from years of exposure, giving it a rough texture. Her hair was pulled back into a single short braid that was able to rest around her shoulder. She had an attitude of a very dangerous person, and the only thing that softened the image of an otherwise very hard woman were her eyes.

They were sharp, but lacked cynicism that Saudia often saw in similar people.

The eyes sized her up, respectful, but not deferential. Catalina nonetheless saluted as she approached. "Chancellor, welcome." She spoke fluent Spanish and English according to her dossier, and Saudia couldn't hear an accent. It was also clear, if deeper owing to her age.

"General Venegas," Saudia answered, echoing the salute, before shaking her hand. "Appreciate your flexibility on short notice."

Catalina raised an eyebrow. "When the Chancellor wants to speak, you accommodate. Take a seat. Do you want anything?"

"I'm fine," Saudia took a seat. "I appreciate the offer."

Catalina didn't sit opposite her, but beside her, resting one arm on the table with her hand hanging off the side. She didn't take her eyes off her own. "Usually meetings with state officials have a set agenda, which this one notably lacks. We're both here now. Why did you want to speak to me?"

Saudia appraised her. "Why do you think?"

Catalina held her eyes. "I've lost my taste for mind games and politics as I've gotten older, Chancellor. Respectfully, my record speaks for itself, and you wouldn't be here if you wanted me to pass some pointless perception test. I don't think you'd waste my time, Chancellor, so let's move to the real reason."

Saudia almost smiled. "It's interesting to see such bluntness. Even colleagues who know me well tend to be more…"

"Respectful?" Catalina finished dryly. "Most people are intimidated by high offices and figures. I don't have the same inhibitions, you could say. But if you want me to pretend, I can try."

"I'm tempted," Saudia said. "There would be some entertainment value in the attempt."

"Certainly, but I entertain my grandchildren enough, it's beneath the dignity of the Chancellor for me to do the same," Catalina cracked a smile. "Amusing diversion aside, why the meeting, Chancellor?"

Saudia got to the point. "You've expressed interest in taking a leadership position in the African front. Is that something you remain interested in?"

The woman shifted into full business now that they were getting to the point of the meeting. She straightened, and gave a slow nod. "Yes, depending on how much authority I would have to shape and drive the operation."

"You'll be given the authority, tools, and resources to achieve operational success," Saudia answered. "All within reasonable expectation, of course. There are going to be many eyes on this operation for obvious reasons. ADVENT has an interest in your success."

"Mm," Catalina hummed. "You say that now, but we'll see. I don't do things necessarily by the book, and the mess that Scipio left is one that does not have a conventional solution. If it did, you wouldn't be talking to me, and someone more palatable would have volunteered. So if I'm going to do this, it needs to be my way."

"Elaborate on what that means."

"This is not just going to be a military operation," she answered. "That may be how your advisors and yourself are approaching it, but this operation demands a whole-of-government effort unlike anything ADVENT has done before."

She drummed her fingers on the table. "I'm not talking about a few diplomats given to oversee. I'm talking about integrated and coordinated departments within ADVENT on the military, economic, and diplomatic front. And all of them ultimately answer to me. No conflicts of authority and command."

Ah, so she was going to take this approach. Kidon was going to be very skeptical. "Let's say I agree with that approach," she said. "Would it not make more sense to put a different office in charge? Why do you have the inherent right to command such an operation?"

"Because no one else is positioned to win a military, strategic, and propaganda war," she answered. "And very few people have a clear vision on what the endgame is. What do you think should be the endgame of this revised operation, Chancellor?"

Saudia smiled. She was in an interesting interrogative position. She could believe this woman had sat opposite cartel heads before. "Let's take the big picture operational approach, so we're on the same page. I want all of Africa within ADVENT."

Catalina matched her smile. "Good. So do I. Any General is going to say the objective is the destruction of the SAS. I see the potential for much more. This is not an operation to destroy an enemy, it is to liberate a continent. There is no purely military campaign that will achieve this. ADVENT clearly thought they could march into Africa, kill everything in their way, and leave. And that shortsighted thinking – in multiple respects – brought us to where we are now."

Saudia nodded slowly. "Let's continue with the hypothetical. You're in command of this operation, you have all of the institutional support required. What are your initial steps?"

"I am inheriting a situation that was designed for a very different operation, pursuing a very different objective," Catalina said. "What exists now will, frankly, not work." She paused. "I would require rhetorical and propaganda support. My initial decisions will be unpopular."

"Outline them."

"The first will be a retreat into friendly territory, likely in northern Africa," she said. "Most of the territory we previously gained will be ceded to the SAS, and make it their problem for the immediate future. Once my forces are in a better position, I can prepare a new offensive that can properly execute a different strategy."

Definitely not one who feared negative press, even if she was asking for her support. "You believe a retreat is necessary?"

"There may be someone who can successfully pull off something different," Catalina said flatly. "But I am not that person, and I'm not going to be forced into a retreat because I didn't want bad press. Whoever takes the Africa position is going to be a punching bag, in and beyond ADVENT. I know that, and I know that's why most people are reluctant."

"But not you."

"Chancellor, I've dealt with negative press for thirty years," she said. "I've sat across from Cartel leaders, corrupt presidents, and criminal officers. I'm still alive, and many of them are not. I can do the job you want, but in return I need your trust, and ADVENT's resources. All of them."

"This operation will be a major investment," Saudia said. "I appreciate your confidence, and would sincerely hope that you can back it up. The stakes are very high. Failure is not an option."

"It never is," Catalina said. "Beyond the military front? My approach will be simple – conduct a diplomatic blitz across Africa. Integrate command structures, share intelligence, invest materially, give them all of the benefits of joining ADVENT."

"In return for…"

"For their trust," Catalina said, face darkening. "I read the Scipio report. The African states are wary of us, and their skepticism is not misplaced. It doesn't help that ADVENT was founded as a Western and European project, with that kind of skewed perspective. That perception is changing, but I suspect Scipio outweighed any possible gains."

"So the solution is to bribe them."

"Is all statecraft not elaborate bribery in the end?" Catalina asked rhetorically. "We both know how this is going to end. If we destroy the SAS, and push the aliens off Earth, what few nations that remain will be assimilated. I would rather they join us willingly, and be able to meaningfully contribute."

She glanced up. "If your economists complain, or other shortsighted bureaucrats, frame it as an investment into a future ADVENT state. The point is twofold – to show them we are interested in supporting them, and that ADVENT is representative of all Humanity. The Scipio investigation is an excellent starting point. I'm sure I can build off of that."

Saudia liked what was being presented. She and Catalina seemed aligned on the ultimate objectives, and she didn't mind a disproportionate charm offensive. Catalina seemed to have a good idea of what to do – given the resources of the Diplomatic Service, and ADVENT Intelligence…yes, she might be able to pull it off.

If it went as well as she was selling.

Catalina definitely wanted this – she'd put too much thought into it for it to be a simple assignment she was interested in. "Alright," Saudia said. "Consider yourself to be assigned to the role in the future. Before I return to give the news of Kidon, I want to know what else you plan. You've clearly thought about it."

"Fair enough, Chancellor," Catalina said, standing and walking over to pull over a mobile whiteboard. "How much time do you have?"

"Why did you have a whiteboard ready to go?"

Catalina's lips twitched in a faint smile. "If I know mi nietos the same way I knew why you were coming, Chancellor, it was necessary to prepare beforehand if I'm to see them before their bedtime." She picked up a marker. "I like to visualize what I'm doing, and I've found it is easier for everyone to follow along."

"I've got time," Saudia said. "Please, continue."

"Get comfortable, Chancellor," Catalina popped the cap from the marker. "We'll be here for a while."

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To be continued in Chapter 79 - Part III