"Copy, preparing emergency evac, standby for confirmation."
The alarm blares in my ears, a repetition, high-pitched resonance that sounds like a wounded
machine; the smell of nervous sweat, tinged with fear strains my focus. And blood, the taste of
the sectoid's blood enters my senses alongside the grizzly visual reminder of this whole
situation. The sectoid's corpse in the corner, a trail of its blood showing where he was dragged
from, the splatter on the wall behind it.
I can barely register my actions before I am already face to snout with the human who fired. My
eyes lock with his and I immediately sense his fear, while his gaze shifts uneasily between the
other operators.
"What are you thinking?! Now they know we are here, the intel is worthless," I hiss out, pointing
to the console whose screen now displays an emergency error warning in the ethereal scripts.
The human man standing above the body of a sectoid nervously glances around, his face
covered in a blank black mask with a small symbol on the forehead.
"It was… he was going to raise the alarm, I did what I thought would help," his voice comes out
in short bursts as if he struggles for breath.
I stare at him a moment longer, the urge to toss him across the room fleeing my mind as the
alarms change into a more frantic and alert rhythm.
"They're trying to break in, contact on the East entry," Marika, my fellow viper, calls out.
I release the man's chest plate, not realizing when I had grabbed him, then spring to the other
side of the door.
A dampened but unmistakable thump impacts the door a second time, leaving a dent in the
reinforced metal door the size of my chest.
"berserker incoming!" I yell out and switch to lethal rounds.
My weapon trained on the door as the massive beast slammed its fist against the door again.
The edges of the door snap in some places, the door holds but its attachments do not. I take
one more breath into my lungs as I await the incoming storm.
But it does not come. That final attack does not break through, though the sounds of combat are
not dying down either. The tension in the room fills my senses with the collective dread and
adrenaline of every human whose aim is fixed on the door.
With a crash louder than thunder and more dooming an explosion bursts through the door. The
huge metal entryway is torn off its hinges as the berserker must have taken a running start,
practically flying into the room. The hulking body of the modified muton is turned into a target by
everyone's collective fire, but many of the bullets bounce off its tremendously thick hide and
under-skin armor. I shoot for the head, but as soon as even just a few bullets land, the alien is
already on top of Beta squad.
Kara, our specialist technician, looks up in horror as the towering foe snatches a human from
directly next to her in its massive hands. He screams and shouts, but the berserker mercilessly
places the second hand over his head and pulls.
The sound of his spine tearing apart is nothing compared to the noise his insides make as they
spill forth from his neck, falling to the ground in a red mess of organs and blood, as if squeezing
guts and innards and broken ribs from a tube.
I hear the signature clicking of the switches, signifying the ammo changing to lethal rounds all
around. With the door broken, advent troops rush inside, diving for cover and taking blind shots
at us. With the room's layout being cramped enough with us inside, once the majority of them
entered, with the berserker raging in our midst, this was about to turn into a bloodbath.
"Shoot that fucker, Kara, where is our scramble?!" The leader of Beta squad shouts, unleashing
a volley of fire onto the hulking muton. The beast roars and charges forward, intent on smashing
the human to pieces.
I take a moment to glance at the incoming shots of laser weapons, then toss my machine gun to
the floor and spring out. My tail allows me to slither across the floor to keep most of my body
below cover, I rush forward until I reach the berserker's legs.
The exposed muscle and plated armor beneath its skin is tough enough to shrug off most small
weapon fire. But, while they are freakishly strong, their mobility is a limiting factor.
Winding myself up its body, I curl my tail around its waist and pull hard to force its legs together.
The towering mass of its upper body plummets forward. In the second it takes for it to fall, I have
already twisted myself in beneath its arms and around the neck, careful to keep my body away
from its hands.
A regular viper would not have the length to wrap around a berserker, nor the strength to hold it.
But I am not as small or weak as the modified clones.
The alien struggles in its binds, pulling and scrambling, trying to snatch my coils or slam me
against the floor. But all it accomplishes is thrashing violently and leaving a few torn scales on
my midriff.
"Someone shoot it!" I yell out, feeling the strain on my body and the increasing tension of our
deathly bond.
Finally, the automatic fire of a submachine gun from Marika emerges from the curtain of noise
blanketing the room. The berserker tenses one final time before going limp. Immediately, the
amount of strength I used to keep it contained breaks its shoulders before I realize the fight is
over.
As a laser burst flies past my head, my instincts make me duck low and slip off the muton
toward low cover. I curl my tail tightly to fit, but with a flash of light and pain, I realize the end of
my tail is out in the open.
The laser slices clean through the upper side of my flesh, leaving a burned, smoldering,
agonizingly painful gash the width of my first. My orange scales blackened around the groove,
but I am able to repress the yell of pain my lungs wish to expel. I can not let this situation
devolve further.
Suddenly, with pain comes crashing down waves of fear so massive they encompass everything
I see and feel. As if held at bay before, they come pouring in alongside those many, many horrid
scents and sights. Pain thrumming in my skull, I frantically check if any vital organs were hit. The
small light of relief that it only hit muscle is immediately drowned in the waters of agony and
reflexive fear.
I look around and see the bloody mess of the berserker, the human it killed, and the sectoid's
scattered brains that started it all. Lasers whizz past my head and tear the low cover of the
terminal I am ducked behind to pieces, forcing me to slither away on the floor. I feel blood
against my belly, sticking with warm viscosity into the gaps.
Fear begins to overwhelm, nearly.
'Calm,' echoes in my mind. 'Focus,' a hand reaches into the storming waters. 'Order,' I grasp it
with all the certainty in the universe.
An inhale of damp, yet stale air enters my lungs. I blink and the dim light vanishes into bright
glows, helping me see the enemies. I peek over my cover and find the Trooper who just shot
me. He brings his rifle over, the sights level with where my head is but I am already trained on
his head.
Squeezing the trigger feels strangely familiar, like grasping a tool that was shaped to my hands
and doing something my body remembers just as my mind.
The explosion of viscera and blood is covered mostly by the dispersing plasma, but the wall is
painted in the orange fluids all the same.
Xcom's squads are trained well, keeping calm under fire and returning fire only when it is clear
or covered by another. With the berserker no longer splitting our attention, the remaining enemy
units crumbled in their structure.
Soon, their left flank falls and I slither to their side. Two troopers fall before the captain manages
to take cover behind a pillar. With only a few of them remaining, the fight clears up within only a
few more exchanges of brightly flashing projectiles.
As the last of them fall, I turn to assess the situation.
"Casualties? What's the status," my eyes flicker between each of them, finding a man clutching
his arm to his stomach.
"One KIA, two wounded but mobile," Beta squad's leader, Star, reports. I detect a hint of
animosity in his tone but that is to be expected, with our cover blown.
"Are we done here, Kara?" I hiss toward the specialist frantically tapping at her tablet.
"Just a second," she murmurs, then suddenly the blaring alarm and flashing lights seize in an
instant. "I cut off the signal but the transmission was already received. Communication activity
indicates they are sending reinforcements from the military checkpoint 5 clicks south."
"What's the ETA of our evac?" I ask.
"8 minutes," she replies, the look she gives me already says what she isn't speaking. She also
understands this information may lead to problems.
'With a dropship, they could be on top of us in 5 minutes, but that would only be lighter troops. If
they get Mechs or Sectopods here, extraction will be bloody.' My thoughts racing, every second
spent deliberating is time wasted. I have to make a choice, right now.
"We're leaving, shut the system down, we'll be back." My order is taken in silence, everyone in
the room has an opinion on it but none dare speak it. Until Star steps forward.
"Listen here, you may be in charge because Fetra wants to test her pet project, but you are not
going to compromise our mission because you're getting cold feet," he points an accusatory
finger at me, taking a step forward. My eyes catch a few of Beta squad's operatives shuffling
nervously. The tension in the room becomes thick and graspable.
"It's my call. If you think I am not suited, you can tell that to Fetra when we get out of here alive.
But if you want to argue now, stay here or follow me, because I'm not staying and neither is my
squad." With an intense tone in my voice, I hope to convince the man, even if it will be trouble
later. With a hand signal, Alpha squad lines up behind and next to me, ready to go back the way
we came.
When the interlocking door slides open before me, I am relieved to see the man and his squad
fall behind. His expression speaks volumes of his discontent, at least as far as I can tell, but he
remains focused.
Quickly, I clear the corners with my fellow viper, Marika, as we continue moving toward our exit.
The steps of soldiers behind me, giving each other callouts, provide a small level of confidence
in this increasingly hectic mission.
Finally, I spot the door we entered through ahead. With renewed determination, I command
Marika to burst through and out into the pale, cloud-shadowed moonlight. She takes the point
and exits, covering the retreat while I turn to fire down the hallway, where another group of
Troopers emerges. Outside, the chaos is strangely quiet, yet no less unnerving. The scents of
fear and adrenaline flood every tasting of the air I instinctually do.
Finally, the last of Beta squads scrambles out the doors and I follow suit with a hasty winding
low to the ground. I slam my hand against the console, triggering the emergency lockdown on
the door.
In the direction facing toward the compound's main gate, I hear shouting in both the alien
Advent speech and humans. The sky occasionally lights up with plasma and lasers, green, blue,
and red-tinged yellow spikes of energy. If they weren't the result of the intent to kill, I would call it
beautiful.
Up above, I see the smoke and descending debris of a rocket recently fired, alongside the
flooding lights of the evac dropship. An Advent transport is in the process of fleeing, having
delivered its payload already.
"Go, go, go," an Xcom operator with their experimental mechanized exoskeletons shouts as he
discharges his heavy rifle into a cloud of smoke. Every laser that wizzes past my squad is met
with more than double in returning fire. Our retreat covered and exit secured, I ensure I am the
last one to board the sky craft.
However, as Kara jumps onto the dangling rope and uses the climbing device on her belt to
promptly zip up into the ship, my sense of danger prickles and leads me to follow the noise of
metal boots shuffling above. I spot the commander up above on the building's roof, but my
weapon would not raise fast enough. Panic fills my veins, seeing him angle his rifle on the
woman.
When suddenly a streak of blue whips through the sky and directly into the commander's chest.
The Trooper convulses then collapses onto the railing unconscious.
Tragedy adverted, I follow to where I saw the paralytic round being fired from and find only the
glare of a scope at the top of a small ridge in the distance. Grateful to the unknown sniper on
our side, I grab the free rope and begin slithering up into the ship. Below me, the fighting turns
to blindly firing into the open to discourage the enemies from attacking our retreat.
As the dropship closes the hatch upon my entry, we depart immediately. The engine whirrs and
howls as we quickly fly as far away from the compound as possible. I gaze out of the small side
windows, watching as our units are evacuated by smaller flying vessels.
With our attack compromised, we follow the standard procedure of cutting communications and
scattering before returning to base with radar-evading techniques.
While most of the hour-long evasive maneuver went by quietly and only with exchanged glances
and glares, soon, I could not contain the boiling thoughts and words I needed to speak.
Turning toward the man who shot the sectoid, I grab one of the hanging headsets and motion
him to do the same. Star joined in, as well as a few of our comrades who wanted to hear what I
spoke.
"Why did you pull the trigger?" My question is direct and blunt but the man's incredulous stare
and his stiff-lipped expression already let me know we are not on good terms. "What is your
callsign?" I continue, trying to read the tag on his shoulder but he turns away from me before I
can read it.
"Fang," he replies. The static transmission of the radio communication hides some of his tone,
but it does not take a psychic to tell he meant it as an insult, or at least said it with all the venom
he could muster. "I followed procedure, I was simply a little late."
My eyes flare and I feel my posture unfurling to show more of the truly enormous size difference
between us. Especially in this rather confined space with eleven others, including another viper,
the human looks rather tiny. "Procedure?" I ask, the dragging of my vocals extending into a short
hiss. I feel anger wheeling inside but do my best to keep it at bay.
"What's the problem? Here I was just remembering how you almost broke that berserker in half.
Now you're against splattering a few ETs when it was ringing the alarm?" Despite the soldier's
words, Fang can not hide the fact that a bead of sweat runs down his forehead. Shaken but
trying to keep his composure, he turns to his squad leader.
Star, however, looks back up at me, then to his subordinate. Without a word, he stands, walks
over to the sitting man, and looks him in the eye. As everyone watches, he lingers for a few
seconds before suddenly pulling his arm back and delivering a slap across Fang's face so hard
we heard it despite the roaring engine and dampening headsets.
The man slumps, his body falling onto the shoulders of the person next to him. Star shakes his
hand, the blow clearly not going without backlash. He grabs the soldier's vest and lifts him back
to a sitting position, but Fang is unconscious and simply falls over again.
"I apologize. Our Rookie here thought he would get a promotion if he performed to some ideas
of Xcom that no longer exist. I will deal with insubordination when we get there," Star
announced, both to the squad members listening but more directly with me.
Trio, my squad's infiltrator, sits next to me as I lower my posture once more, giving Star a nod. I
turn to the man in his ghillie suit and painted face. A small splint of amusement crosses me
when I consider humans have to paint themselves to blend into their own planet's environment.
"Well, that went tits up," the man says over the radio. Most others seem to have their radios
turned off or tuned to a specific frequency, leaving us in the channel.
"If that's an expression for not well, I agree. I hope you were not endangered by us blowing the
cover," I say.
"Had to shoot my way out, but I managed to evade the berserker. If that thing had found me…"
He trails off but ends with a chuckle.
"One of Beta squad wasn't as lucky." I sigh, turning to see the wound on my tail. The flesh
around the gash looks melted, some of my scales blackened at the edges, while pain thrums in
my head, not helped by the droning whirr of our transport's engine.
Trio nods toward the injury but I pull my tail close and curl it so he does not see, despite the pain
of flexing those damaged muscles. "Want Kara to take a look?" He asks with kindness in his
voice. Yet I cannot help but feel the sense of dignity in my head telling me that it does not
matter.
"No," I reply plainly and turn my head.
He opens his mouth to speak but decides against it and swallows his words. In resigned
acceptance, he looks down at his boots and begins quietly humming to himself. A comforting
undertone, but almost imperceptible from the cacophony of noise.
Instead of occupying my thoughts with aspects of anger, pain, worry, or anxiety, I chose to focus
on something else.
Gazing out of the window, though it was small, provides an escape into the awe-inspiring
cloudscape of earth. Rivers, hundreds of bends and curves, shorelines, and narrow ends where
bushes and trees squeezed arteries of water, yet never slowed the relentless advance down.
Forests of pines, oaks, birch, aglar, and species of trees I do not know the names of, only that
their arrow-shaped leaves looked so vibrantly violet that they stood out to me even at such
heights.
With our speed, crossing a continent would only take a few dozen minutes, so when the
landscape changes from a more overtaken part of nature to the distant blinking lights of a
district city.
"Where is that?" I ask Varre, who is equally gazing out toward the sign of civilization.
"France," he replies through the radio, his voice calm but strangely distant.
Watching the far-out glow slowly vanish on the horizon until I could no longer see it from the
small window provided left a strange longing within. Imagining walking those streets as a
mindless soldier, an occupying force for a tyrant who unconquered us fills me with dread for
those still trapped.
'Today can't happen again. I need to be better.'
About an hour later, we finally get over the liberated territory of the southern edge of what used
to be Russia. The Aircraft of Xcom's mobile base of operations hovered nearly silently just
inside an artificially created cloud. Augmented magnetic propulsion thrusters push some of the
thick mixtures of nitrous oxide away at the four ends of the changing outline it projects, but
otherwise, it would look like a regular cloud, even closeup.
Through the side windows, I see the blue sky vanish for a moment into white fog. A moment
later, the ship halts, pushing me into my seat before it descends into artificially lit hangar bay
lights.
Their pale blue and flashing red is a familiar yet not comforting sight. Men rushing back and
forth, carrying a stretcher for our injured. But as I observe the chaos around me, I see three
covered human shapes. The medical personnel try their best to not make it obvious they are
transporting corpses, but the smell of burnt flesh and hair enters my senses, drawing my gaze
onto their still outlines.
'This is my fault,' I think. A cold sensation washes over my entire body, like a wet morning fog
barely above freezing in the air. The repeating pattern of red and blue seems to dim, the crowd
around me grows distant, my sense of self departs from my body. Cold is replaced by nothing,
an emptiness outside of me creeping into every bit of my mind.
'If I was better, if I acted faster, if I maintained more control, if I commanded actual respect, if
only I wasn't a…'
However, as I am taken in by the sight of what my failure has caused, something else enters my
perception. Like a sunrise in the dawn, melting away my panic with the same unknowing calm
that evaporates misty fog from blades of grass, Luis stands and watches.
With his one eye missing, he opts to keep it closed, but even from the distance across the
hangar, I find myself drawn into the human's green eye. The noises around me begin to emerge
once more from the dampened muddle of sounds, same as the lights and my control over my
mind.
I take one more glance at the bodies vanishing through a doorward, then slither to my human.
"Hey, where are you going?" A woman behind me calls out and I realize a medic had crouched
down beside me to treat the injury on my tail. "I'm not done here," she continues and finishes
placing a self-securing medipatch on my scales. My muscles clench for a moment but I find the
cold stem paste on my raw flesh soothing.
"Thank you," I turn to see the woman already getting up to help the next person.
Luis noticed I had spotted him, so he is already walking toward me. I see a slight limp in his
steps, which he tries to hide with great effort. Then, only when we are already close enough to
see some dirt and the scents of gunpowder and plasma, does it cross my mind.
"Why are you in uniform?" I ask before I try to come up with my own explanation. Surely, he
didn't go on an assignment. And why is he here, waiting for me?
"I am glad you're alright," he says and stops when we are an arm's length away.
"So am I, but please answer my question. What is going on?" The smile on his face seems
genuine, even if it seems difficult for him to show.
He keeps attempting to look me in the eyes, opening his mouth but unable to speak. Until he
finally does, but only once his gaze hits the floor. "You were in trouble. And if I'm not mistaken,
some of the reason you were out there was because you were protecting me. I could sit on that
bed for one more second, knowing…" he trails off, his vision finding the patched-up wound on
my tail.
The information hits me like a muton's fist. 'Fetra told him?' I scramble to find the right words,
feeling shame and guilt wash over me in waves. "I am sorry, I did not want to lie to you. It was
just that Fetra told me… I thought you would worry unnecessarily."
"I came because that woman believed it was necessary. And from what I saw, I am glad I was
there to help you," Luis stays clear-headed, exuding calmness helping me to master my racing
thoughts.
"Things weren't going badly. Then… I messed up, I think. I couldn't keep control of the situation
and my mistake caused multiple deaths. I don't know what to do now," I admit, the words simply
pouring out without regard. It feels good to confess that I am afraid, that I am confused and
need help. Yet none of this, I know deep down, is something I would speak to anyone but Luis.
He takes a breath, considers his words, then steps closer again. At this distance, every inhale
carries his scents, his emotions, the warm breath on the side of my head as he leans in and
whispers.
"I'm sorry you were alone with all of this. It is something you will never forget, that lives lost often
are the results of your actions," he pauses as if pained by the very words he uses to comfort
me. "But if you never made those choices, you would fear the results regardless. Someone else
would have made them for you, perhaps making worse mistakes. Would you be happier if it
wasn't you who is in charge of the direction your life takes?"
The question bounces off my views inside my mind, thinking about it, trying to choose from the
binary set before me. 'Would I be happier if someone else made the choices for me when they
become difficult?'
Luis, unconcerned with my lack of reply, knowing I was thinking instead of speaking, continues.
"Free will is nice when there are no consequences. Or when you are the only one affected. But it
becomes important when it is not easy when the path ahead is not clear and without tragedy.
Because then, you make choices you will have to live with and decide because of your
experiences and values. Only then are you free, when you know your freedom will cause others
to change."
"But how can I ever," I feel warmth welling up on the sides of my eyes. "How could I live with
myself, knowing I was not good enough?"
"By being better than before. Every failure teaches every success comes from knowing more
than previously. You cannot hold onto the past, it's already passed. But you can decide what
future you want," the man spoke, barely above a whisper. His low tone rumbles in my tightly
stung hood and into my ears.
"How do you know?"
I feel the tips of his fingers against my cheeks, his palm gently cupping me from the side. The
warmth radiating off his body flows into mine, as he lightly presses his skin against my scales.
"Because I did not believe I could change. But you proved to me that regardless of how broken
or trapped I feel, if I can make one person who deserves it feel happiness, then I am not the
monster I thought I was." When I dare to look at his face, I find a tear bubbling at the edge of
both his eyes, running down his face in a wet line.
I bring a clawed finger up to him and very carefully catch it on the edge of my finger.
Just now, I realize the blaring and shouting, even the flashing lights above, have all vanished. It
is only Luis, me, and a few stragglers and the pilots left behind. I gaze into the eye of the man,
finding the reflection of my face within, alongside the spark of kindness I always felt when he
was close. At that moment, I could not contain the desire any longer.
I envelop this stupid, overly-accepting, kind, warm, and lovable human in a full-body hug. My tail
winds around his body, layer after layer of my thick, scaled appendage of muscle wraps around
his body, same as my arms. I ensure that I am not squeezing him too tightly, but as I feel his
comparatively small arms clasp around my back, I know he embraces me, too.
I flare my hood out while I bury my snout in the side of his neck, the human equally pushes his
face against the softer, smaller scales covering my extended hood. His smell is earthy, yet also
tinted with the sterile chemical scents of his room. Alongside a distinct taste of blood, though it
doesn't quite smell like his own.
After some time, which I lost track of quickly, I feel his shuffling in the spring of viper coils I have
built around him.
"Maybe we should get somewhere less… open," he says, muffled slightly. I meet his eye and
find him looking at the corners of the hangar.
I withdraw my head from the nice and warm clavicle of Luis and gaze around, finding cameras
in the corners of the room where he looks. Slowly, keeping my body close to his but unwinding
and letting him walk on his own, I release the man. Yet he keeps one of his hands around my
stomach and in the curve of my spine. The feeling of him gently holding onto me as his steps
carry him forth is comforting, especially as I feel him using me as support, still trying his best to
hide the limp.
"And they did not give you that special eye?" I say as we walk toward the hangar exit.
"I don't think shoving a camera in my head was within the timeframe. It worked out in the end,
but shooting with only one eye's worth of depth perception was strange. Then again, I haven't
held a rifle in almost two months," he says. Though his words seem nonchalant, the tone in his
voice is agitated.
"Is something wrong?" I ask plainly, hoping that our promise to be more honest with each other
still is fresh in his mind.
Luis glances around, looks over his shoulder, and up at the cameras throughout the intersecting
pathways leading through the sky ranger's guts. I smell nervous scents drifting off him and
without thinking, I put my arm around his shoulders. "I don't trust this, Isra," he starts, low and
hushed. "There is something wrong here, something to do with Fetra and you. Her questions
are getting specific and repetitive, she is looking for a hole in our story, something she thinks we
are lying about or are hiding."
My eyes narrow, watching Luis' rather unnerving implications being written across his features.
"Fetra has helped us every step of the way, Luis. She is the very reason the network above
North America went down. And without her, you would have been–" I cut myself off, realizing
what I just did.
The mans brow furrows and his eye locks onto mine. I expect him to speak, telling me to be
honest with him, perhaps even being angry I held back this vital information.
"I thought you knew," is all I can muster.
"I was not honest with you, either. I don't think we should focus on what we didn't say," the shift
in his demeanor catches me off guard, his words are quiet and soft, carrying not a hint of
negativity. If anything, he seems deflated. "But I want to be. Everything I've ever done was for
myself or for my gain in some way. I don't want to have you suffer the consequences of my
actions."
"What are you saying?" My thoughts are racing, just like that first night in the forest, realizations
and sensations flowing from one into the other with no start and no end.
"Fetra thinks there is something special about how and why you developed your consciousness,
unlike most aliens who were separated. But… what about all the alien soldiers fighting on
Xcom's side? Are they not the same as you, why is she so invested in this if she has a dozen
other vipers to examine." He pauses to gauge my reaction. "Call me paranoid, but my gut has
rarely been wrong about something being not what it seems."
I look down at his stomach, then back up. "If you believe something is wrong, what do you think
they are trying to achieve by hiding it? They could have simply imprisoned us both."
"But you made a deal, right? For freedom, you would fight for them," Luis says, though it sounds
more like a question, making me believe he does not know the full story.
"I made a deal to keep you safe and fight against galactic slavers," I explain quickly. But as I
begin to elaborate, he stops me.
"–Shh, not here. Let's just… wait for that until we're in a different place with fewer ears," he says
while looking forward, pretending that we aren't having a deeply concerning conversation.
Something that does not escape my growing sense of internal irony is that many of the things
Fetra taught me about human interaction and its nuances are now being used to hide from her.
Content in this act of subterfuge, we walk in silence, awaiting a private moment.
Soon, we round the corner into the medical wing. Some of the nurses and doctors rush between
sliding doors while the less wounded soldiers slowly walk back to their bunks, bandages and
medipatches attached.
Luis' room door, however, is wide open.
The light is already on and as we approach slightly confused and look inside, we see a ghost.
Slightly less tanned olive skin, a scar cutting his brow down the middle, brown eyes filled with
recognition. Shorter than I remember, but I only saw him from a distance before now. Without
tactical gear or weapons or a squad of soldiers at his side, Emir looked far less threatening.
If there weren't scorch marks across his face, similar to Luis before his skin regeneration, I
would have thought he got out of that explosion unscathed. Following Luis and I stopping in the
doorward and Emire finding us in his field of view, the silence of our stares breaks with a familiar
female voice, ever-so faintly resonating.
"Ah, I expected you a little earlier, but we made due," Fetra turns and smiles, previously sitting
across from Emir's bedside.
"What the fuck is he doing here?" Luis clenches his teeth, the arm around my waist slipping
away, his muscles coiled and ready.
"I could say the same thing. What are you playing at, witch?" Emir stands from his bed but is
stopped from stepping forward by the cuffs around his wrist and ankle. His voice is equally filled
with hostile tension, though he is more directed at Fetra. However, every time he looks in my
direction, I see a deep scowl on his brow and eyes twisting his face into a visage of disgust and
anger.
Fetra continues to sit, her legs crossed and her hands on her knees, an expression of calm
bemusement smeared on her smooth features. Even I could tell that neither Emir's display of
hostility nor Luis' barely contained anger was phasing the woman.
"I am not playing games with you, gentlemen, nor you, Isra," she nods to me, her voice cold yet
soothing. "Luis, by assisting in an emergency mission with flawless success, you have gained a
promotion from prisoner of war to active soldier. As per our contract, you will continue filling in
whenever required." She turns to Emir and extends a hand. The motion is clear, she is telling
him to sit.
For a moment of silent tension, the captive man glances between me, Luis, and the woman
ordering him. The choice he must make and the one he wants to. All I can think of when I see
him contemplate is every emotion and thought close to the surface, observable, measurable.
Fetra taught me these nuances, how to read intention beyond words and displays. Everything I
see leaves me with only one feeling.
'Fascinating,' it reverberates through me, into me, spiraling into an infinite mosaic painting, a
web of connections as I can read every reason that has shaped Emir like a symphony of music.
It rises as I see his eyes narrow and his pupils shrink, his cheek muscles twitch for an instant
and I know he is thinking about breaking his arm to attack us. But then his gaze shifts, his brow
lifts as he beholds Fetra sitting calmly. He releases a held breath and before I even see his body
move, I know beyond certainty that he will sit.
"And you, Mr. Sankton, are still recovering. In your current situation, you are not of use, but we
still intend to change that," Fetra turns her head and cocks it sideways toward Luis. "As you are
no longer in prescribed bedrest, you will be moving into the bunks with the rest of our soldiers.
We are short on space, so I have taken the liberty of moving you out already."
A smile of fleeting joy crosses my features before I think better of showing such things in front of
a man who hunted me like an animal. And as I look upon Luis, when he steps forward, I see the
boiling sea of anger bubbling just below the surface of his emotions.
"Whatever you want to do with him, keep him away from Isra," he says to Fetra, though his
volume and side gazing glare is aimed straight at Emir.
Instead of replying, the psionic woman nods once and turns away, facing Emir. "Now, where
were we?"
Emir grimaces and debates sending an equally sharp remark yet decides against it. "December
2025 is the last date in which Xcom sent communication to our region."
I put a hand on Luis' shoulder and notice a slight flinch, he turns quickly and his posture lowers
slightly upon seeing the upturned edge of my smile.
"Come on, I'll show you to the bunks," I say with a friendly attitude. While I am not aware which
squad Luis would be assigned to, I also just want to leave this room as quickly as possible.
And despite the tension in the man's body, he lets me lead him out into the hallway. I make sure
to close the doors behind me, though as I do, I catch the glowing purple eyes of Fetra, staring
back at me.
The doors shut and I turn to face Luis.
"Let's go, there's nothing else for us here," I say and slither down the hallway toward the crew
stations.
When I hear the man's footsteps behind me, I am assured today will not be more chaotic.
We arrive finally, at the cafeteria. From here, past the rows of tables with the few sole groups of
soldiers catching an early morning meal or a late night lunch. Beta squad's leader, Star, sits with
two of his subordinates. He looks up from his meal to follow us across the room until we enter
the lounge.
Here, I find both Kara, my squad's viper, Trio, and Varre sit and lay scattered on the soft
blanket-covered couch. Kara has curled herself into a spring, while her head rests on one of her
coils. Varre sits straight and looks at Trio, who gestures broadly and laughs. Seemingly having
just told a hilarious joke, he looks at Luis and me approaching with a wide smile before his
expression hardens.
"At ease," I say, letting him know that he does not need to follow procedure just because I am
here.
Kara perks up from her position and raises her head, spotting Luis. Varre continues looking
neutral and unphased, but I can tell he has taken note.
Trio is the first to speak. "So," he stands and closes the short distance between him and Luis.
My instincts are to get in front of the man, an impulse spurred by reflex. My muscles twitch but I
am able to compel myself to stand still, my conscious thought knowing there is no danger here.
"You're the mercenary who brought us our fearsome leader," the man says in a loud, raspy
voice.
Luis glances at me and then at the man, giving him a content look. "She did most of it herself."
"I thought you were still in the med bay," Kara says from her spot.
"I guess my sick leave is over. You're Isra's squadmates, right?" Luis asks, recognizing the
members from my descriptions.
"Correct," Varre replies without pause.
"We're the Alpha squad," Marika chimes in, her interest reflects her high-toned pitch.
"Huh, here I thought humans would eventually move away from those designation names," Luis
says, chuckling to himself.
"Same here, but it's an acronym," Trio interjects.
"Alien-Led Apparational Hybrid Assualt squad," I say.
"You mentioned another woman, your specialist, right?" Luis asks, looking around for Kara but
she isn't here.
"I think she went to sleep, today was not the best for her," Varre let us know.
"Speaking of, Luis is gonna stay with us, or at least tonight. He's being moved to one of the
squads, but I don't know which yet," I say as nonchalantly as possible, trying to play it off as just
another order being passed down.
I feel their gazes linger on me as I lead Luis away and past them, toward the bunk.
"We'll, uhm. Be out here a while," Trio says, an awkward undertone pinning his words in my
head. 'What does he mean?'
"If your squadmate is sleeping off the mission, we should maybe not barge in this late. What
time is it?" He asks as we exit the lounging area, passing a pair of vipers curled into rolls around
a heating element.
"Around seven, I think. We're passing through time zones so often it's best to follow our own
clocks, though," I reply, catching a glimpse of a digital display above. "We're above Norway, I
think."
"I haven't been out of my room much," Luis says, he stops before a video screen that shows a
map of our position. "Is there some sort of outside deck or balcony?"
"I believe so," I say and trace a pathway along the map with a claw. I spot the vegetation deck
and point at it. "It's mostly a greenhouse, but I think they have an outside area."
Luis stares at the map and our destination for a moment then turns and motions me to follow. I
smirk, thinking he must be trying to lead the way, but with how unfamiliar he is, he would surely
get lost. To not have him running off, especially as it is obvious his limp is getting more painful, I
slide my tail forward and wrap myself around his upper chest.
And to my pleasant surprise, he does not flinch or even say anything, simply accepting the help
I offer. Previously, at least from my understanding, Luis refused help of any kind because he felt
I was pitying him. But, as the memory of our conversation beneath the tree root, watching the
glowing night sky, washes over me, I know that he understands.
Despite only observing it once, Luis leads the way through the skycraft's guts without fail until he
arrives at a crossing pathway, only a few more steps away from the greenhouse.
He looks between them a few times, scratches his head, and sighs as he turns to face me.
"Damn, I forgot the last one. Help me out?" He speaks in a low voice, barely enough to not
muddle his words.
"Psshh, I expected us to end up in the hangar again, I'm impressed you made it this far," the
hiss in my laugh equally make my English less decipherable but I know he does not mind. "It's
left," I say and tug on him lightly with my tail. The support I offer allows him to walk at a steady
pace, as I feel him leaning on me whenever he takes his left foot off the ground.
The smell is what guides me more than remembering the layout, as the scents of flowers,
pollen, waters, spores, sweet and hot, spices and honey. Of course, with a greenhouse, Xcom
also grew food.
But as we enter the door, the cold black-grey metal gives way to dim moonlight filtered through
glass windows facing the direction of our flight. Clouds are pushed aside, revealing the cold
cerulean beams above, reflecting over a large body of water stretching into the horizon. I,
however, can see the distant land across the southern sea.
We step inside and are greeted by a warm, humid climate, suited for the growth of large bushes
with fruit, vines climb the walls along other plant pots hanging from the ceiling. I spot peppers,
corn, apples, grapes, turnips, and carrots among the vegetation, though my sense of smell
picked up even more. They mix into a sweetly alluring concoction of sensations, the moist air
carrying them with every inhale.
With fascination in my eyes and excitement in my slither, I follow Luis toward the sound of the
whistling wind. A glass door with a metal handle stands at the front of the large window. Almost
transparent, if not for the collection of dust and small insects smashed against the lunar-glaring
surface. Yet even seeing the small scratches on its surface, the imperfections within the glass
only reflect the light more beautifully.
Luis opens the door and beckons me to enter the balcony fencing, a black steel cable and
thinner coils of rope form a net that would catch anyone losing their footing on the grated floor.
He steps onto the open floor, the door clinking shut behind. The wind rushes and howls, clouds
come flying toward us – or we toward them, rather – and we are enveloped in a temporary
curtain of white. Raindrops hit my scales and I feel the composition of the cloud drag at my body
in a strangely pleasant mixture of sensations.
We burst out of the other end of the cloud like a fish out of water, trailing a little bit before it is
also left behind. Shielded from most of the passing wind going past the wings below, only a
fraction of it arrives here, as we are almost at the top of the ship.
I gaze out across the far below ocean, trying to get a scale of the direction we are traveling in.
But with only blue water and swimming waves, I am unable to measure anything worthwhile as
the moon hangs rather low already and is covered by incoming stormy clouds.
"I sometimes wonder if my planet had oceans this large. Many lakes and rainfall caverns, but
water as far as the eye can see is not something I saw before Earth," I say out loud. When
normally I kept them quiet, out here, with the loud but melodic wind and only Luis to listen, why
would I hide myself?
"I would love to have seen it. With how long you have been on earth, it must be strange to only
now see all of it," he replies and approaches from behind, grabbing the rope at the edge of the
balcony.
"Even if I had seen it, I would not have gained anything. It would not have been me," I say, trying
to conjure more of the scattered, unfocused memories of my time under control. "I can barely
remember it. The longer I was under their influence, the less I can recall. Like trying to look at a
picture that's at the bottom of the ocean from up here," I look down from our vantage, the
crashing waves unrelenting and deep abyssal blue.
We stare out in silence, neither needing to speak more for the time, knowing that being here is
more than enough. The light of Earth's moon hung like a silver disk just above the horizon,
fighting its final moments until the last moment in which it descended beyond my sight in the far,
far distance. From our height, the curving surface of the Earth gave way to land, just as the
lunar plate escaped.
With a bated breath, I know what I will see in the western sky. Orange-red, its light is
all-encompassing. The sun arrives with blaring triumph, banishing shadows and bringing its
burning radiance through the clouds in perfect beams of golden intensity. Through the
greenhouse glass, it shines in rainbow shades as it hits the many refracting edges and
imperfections.
I feel its warmth on my scales, through my muscles and flesh, warming me from within. My hood
unfurls and I turn to face the sun with my entire body. I close my eyes and lean my head back
using my tail to lift myself higher to catch more of the brilliant rays. I feel the raindrops from
before evaporating from my water-repelling scales and leaving behind only the faintest trace of
moisture.
Every breath is filled with pleasantness, a crips undertone hinting at the start of autumn. And as
I let myself back in the glow of sunlight shimmering off my body, I feel Luis' gaze on me. Slowly,
I open one of my eyes and look at the human, who himself seems rather transfixed. At first, I
assume he is also enjoying the morning sun, but I see he is not turned toward the sun. Instead,
he is facing me.
I lower myself to his eye level and ask, "See something?"
"Just the most unique sight I have seen in my life," he replies, not taking his eye off me. I feel
him linger on my face, my hood, and my shoulders. My tactical gear is far less bulky, allowing
me freedom in exposing my scales to this embracing warmth.
"Unique?" I prod.
"Magnificent," he corrects.
I feel heat travel to my hood, causing a slight shiver in my spine and the rib-like bones within the
smooth-scaled extension. I look back at Luis with some embarrassment, only to find something I
forgot how much I liked seeing.
He smiles. Though scratches and small imperfections, scars of all sorts, and of course an empty
eye socket hidden beneath his close lid, the sun reflecting off his rain-kissed skin only
highlighted the beauty in his entirety. His brown hair grew out to his ears, and the scar running
down his neck showed signs that it was healing properly. He looks thinner than when we first
met, having lost weight during his surgery and recovery.
"If I am magnificent as you say, then you are handsome," I say, the flattery going a little to my
head.
I see him catch a lump in his throat as he swallows, clearly taken aback that I could reply in
such a way. Little does he know that, together with Marika, I have learned many things about
humans.
"You should've seen me in my twenties. Now I can barely get out of bed without popping my
back," he laughs halfheartedly to distract from his obvious redness
"I think you aged well for a human. If you were one of my kind, though… you would have a few
grey scales," I say, pointing out a single errand strand of greying hair.
"I'm sure you look lovely for your age, too," he sneers back.
"Is that how you talk to your elders? Shame on you," I hiss back in pretend offense.
"That's how I talk, yes," he steps closer. I feel his breath on my cheeks as he leans in close to
my ear. "I want to show you something."
He pulls back and I look curiously as he pulls his vest open and his shirt down. I see his chest
and beneath some hair, a very clear white spot denoting a scar. Small and almost a perfect
circle.
"A bullet wound?" I ask.
"It missed my heart by 3 centimeters. Sniper from almost a mile away put it in me. That was the
moment I thought I would never have something to live for again. So close to death, I realized it
could be taken away so quickly at any time by anyone. So why bother preserving it?" I hear the
sorrow and pain in his voice as he speaks. I understand the feelings beyond just his wavering
tone or shaking hand.
Like a painting of light, a spiderweb of emotion biomes visible to me, each strand an emotion
Luis is pouring forth. I see the conflict of telling me this fighting against the feeling that he can
trust me, written plainly on his visage. I can practically hear the emotions he feels showing me
such vulnerability. Every word is a confession he has held onto for his whole life. A part of me
wishes to speak, but I think better of it.
For now, I must only listen.
"I gave up on myself because I never dared to step back from that ledge. It is a damn hard step
to take and once I looked down, I thought…" he loses my eye contact and his gaze meets the
horizon. The sun reflects off his eye, gleaming radiantly.
I put a hand on his. He is warm but so am I, we share the sensation of the sun hitting scale and
skin. The soft texture of his hand is contrasted with my natural armor, yet his palm is covered in
calluses. I hesitantly slide my long fingers between his digits, enjoying the feeling of my glassy
smooth scales being enveloped in his. And as we interlock our hands, I feel him squeeze gently.
He looks at me again. "I thought I was not strong enough to take a step back. But you showed
me I was. I only needed a reason," he pauses, an expression I can't quite place on his face.
But when I focus, remembering the talks with Fetra and how to read beyond intention, I see an
orchestra of emotion. A symphony of melodic discord, harmony hidden in chaos, a light within a
theater of shadow.
I stand once again in front of a wave, towering so high I cannot see the sky behind it no matter
how much I turn upward. Every drop within that wave is a thought, combining into a sea of
choices. I see what Luis wants to say, what he does not want to say, why he will say it and why
he will regret it.
But what he says is unknown. No matter how hard I strain, I cannot know what he will say to me.
It all comes down to one glorious moment of choice. The entire wave, in its towering mass and
overwhelming weight, collapses on me. But I am safe, my own mind standing tall as I see Luis'
features soften.
"You are everything I would die for."