X-Com fanfic: Gabriel's Sword
Posted: 2002-12-21 12:30pm
The idea struck me a few days ago. I won't bore you with the description of the thought process, I'll just say it involved lots of heavy metal, a little boredom and a night's game of X-Com.
Some of you may notice that I changed the date, equipment and tactics a bit - please forgive me for that
Anyways, I just hope I won't get totally beaten down for my first attempt at a fanfic. Please post your comments, both positive and negative. So, without further ado, I present to you:
Gabriel's Sword
Part One: Introductions
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Undisclosed location, July 12th 2015, 0300 hours, local time
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"Returning mission. Containment teams stand by" - the loudspeaker announced as soon as Skyranger-One, one of several X-Com's state-of-the-art transports, touched down on it's assigned landing pad.
The cavernous hangar bay amplified the sound of four powerful jet engines, that turned from a low tremor into a high-pitched whine as turbine power died down and the powerful motors slowly drove to a halt. Heavy blast door sheltering the hangar from the outside world were already closed, and as soon as it was safe to approach, people in blue biohazard suits darted towards the craft, carrying medical equipment. The transport's ramp went down, and soldiers from X-Com's Team One started disembarking, walking slowly, tired after another sleepless night. It was already becoming a routine for them, as weird as it may seem.
Containment teams swarmed around the transport, checking it for residual radiation, taking samples of the air for examination, and generally making sure that whatever dangers the alien invaders may have brought to Earth won't leave the Skyranger's cargo bay. Four men came into the hangar with stretchers, and both recovered alien corpses were quickly carried out to the laboratories, to be subjected to proper containment procedures. The hangar would then be thoroughly sprayed with a powerful chemical disinfectant and bathed in ultraviolet light, in order to ensure the elimination of any outwordly microbes or viruses. The soldiers, knowing the routine, left their weapons and gear to be similarly treated, and headed towards the exit leading to quarantine facilities.
"Fuckin' pain in the ass. We already went through this four times!" - Bill Mandela, Team One's sniper leader, was feeling just like everybody else. Four times they have been dispatched to intercept alien spacecraft, four times they went in combat with the "ballheads", as the little gray aliens were nicknamed around the base, four times they were subjected to quarantine, and four times they showed no unusual symptoms. Still, it was proper procedures, and the technical staff of the base never complained about them. Probably because the tech didn't have to spend half a week isolated from everybody each time they did their job right...
Nobody answered. Team One was tired as hell, and everyone just wanted to hit a bed, in quarantine chambers or not, they didn't care. As soon as the squad reached the "hot" area, they quickly dispersed to shower and change into sterile clothes. They would be required to attend debriefing later in the night, and everyone hoped to catch some sleep before that...
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Debriefing room, six hours later
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Debriefing was awkward with quarantine procedures in place. It had to be conducted via video-link between Team One's officers and X-Com command staff. Everyone was plugged in, as usual - General Werner, commander of X-Com, as well as his entire staff, plus heads of all scientific departments. All listened intently as major Locke delivered the after-action report for him and his team. It didn't take long - the mission was fairly simple in technical terms ; the only thing making it unusual was the fact that instead of men with guns, Team One faced...well, aliens with guns.
"Thank you, major, I think we heard all that we need from you." - it was, predictably, Werner who spoke first from the other side of the link- "You should know that when you were sleeping, our radars picked up several more unidentified contacts, however we haven't managed to intercept any of the alien craft, and..."
"Sir?" - Locke interrupted
"Yes?"
"How many contacts?"
"More than twenty"
"Sir, this is more than the number of all the confirmed sightings since the formation of this agency!"
"Yes, we are aware of that. This is why I'm cutting your quarantine to two days. Team Two may not be able to handle all the upcoming missions themselves, so I want you boys to be ready when the next call comes. I will also be meeting with several high dignitaries from the Council, maybe I can persuade them to increase our funding. Something is obviously going on, and we want to be ready for it."
"General, I really don't think that we should curtail containment procedures like that..." - one of the scientists objected. Werner gave him a quick look
"We may not have a choice, doctor Reed. Besides, both teams went through quarantine several times already, and nothing happened."
"I must still recommend the procedures to be upheld. We don't know how an alien virus may look like, or what is it's incubation period, or..."
"Doctor..." - Werner was calm - "After the initial contact at Roswell, the entire Groom Lake air force base was quarantined for six months. Nothing turned up, even though some of the staff came into direct contact with the alien blood and tissue. Plus, you are constantly analyzing the troops blood samples in search for anything unusual. And quarantine procedures are seriously hampering our operational readiness, and THAT'S what X-Com will really need soon enough."
"General, we are not, strictly speaking, a military organization..."
"Our charter is clear, and it states that X-Com's mission is to protect humanity from alien danger. Those beings FIRED at our soldiers repeatedly, and that makes us a military organization. Period."
"Sir, does that mean I may consider myself dismissed?" - Locke asked from his side of the link, clearly bored with the sudden exchange, yet again discussing the peculiarities of X-Com charter. The comment made everyone's attention snap back to the main point of the meeting. But there wasn't much more to say.
"Yes, you're all dismissed." - with those words, the link went black.
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Miami Airport, main terminal, passenger's lounge, 0800 hours, local time
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"You're late." - John Donner wasn't too subtle when it came to saying hello. His airplane was due to leave in half an hour, and his contact's sluggish arrival made him quite nervous. He hated this city with a passion, and wanted nothing more than to get far away from it.
"Sorry. I thought someone was following me." - Donner's man was a dockworker, in his late forties, and since the establishment of the "cooperation" with John, acquired a significant amount of paranoia.
"Relax. Why would anyone follow you? You're just having a little chat with a friend, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's just get it over with."
"As you wish" - Donner nodded - "What did you see?"
"This container came in - actually, a whole bunch of them - that went under guard as soon as it arrived. I'm talking real guard man, like Marines with rifles and stuff. It's the first time I saw anything like this - the grunts don't often use civilian docks, ya know."
"I suppose you saw something more than a bunch of containers, right?"
"Yeah, kinda. One of the containers was faulty, leaking or something. I've seen them move the stuff inside to another one - and, man, I swear - they had aircraft parts in there. I mean - big ones, like entire cockpits and stuff..." - the dockworker looked around nervously, and suddendly got a conscience attack. They all did.
"Hey, you're not a spy or anything, huh?"
Donner let out a well-rehearsed snort
"If you haven't noticed, the Cold War ended thirty-five years ago."
It was a weak line, but this guy wasn't too bright. He was still nervous, but John could see the greed in his eyes, as he pushed his conscience aside and started once again to contemplate the money.
"I talked with some of my buddies at the dock, some of them worked the containers. The guards were supposedly real itchy, man, and gave them funny looks all around. There were missiles inside too, they said, but I haven't seen any of them."
"Thanks, Mitch. You've really helped me with the story. Here's the payment we agreed upon." - John took out an old-fashioned credchip and handed it to his contact. He'd rather pay this way instead of risking a direct transfer. American internal security agencies were usually pretty easy to fool, but you never know...
The dockworker - Mitch - took the chip and immediately stood up, not even bothering to check it. He quickly made his way to the terminal's exit and out to the parking lot. Donner leaned back in the chair, processing the information he just acquired. Airplane parts. Big ones. On a civilian dock, protected by Marines. It didn't make any sense - the US armed forces had their own shipping facilities, they didn't trust civilians to watch their stuff after a series of big terrorist attacks at the beginning of the century - and if you want to make the shipment secret, why this entire show with the Marines? There surely are less conspicuous ways to protect valuable cargo...a corporation, maybe? After all, the dockworker probably wouldn't know the difference between Marines and corporate security troops...no, that didn't add up too. Corporations are even more tight-assed about their equipment and would NEVER let civilians handle it. Donner filed this observation in the back of his mind as he stood up, paid for his meal and left for his gate to board the flight.
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San Francisco, 0800 hours, local time
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Jefferson darted from his house, struggling to put on his leather jacket, lock the door and find keys to his motorcycle, all at once. Part of him hoped that he could still make it to work on time...but the merciless watch said otherwise. It was eight o'clock, and it was much MORE than a thirty-minute drive down to the airport. Crap.
Nevertheless, after finally managing to lock the door, Jeff jumped on his motorcycle, jacked into it's control systems and hit it. The engine started with a conforming hum, that soon turned into a roar as the 'cycle veered forward, accelerating rapidly. Jeff made a risky right turn, zipping right between two cars and onto the main street. There, he cursed again. Normally he would leave a good half an hour earlier and avoid the heavy traffic, but right now the street was packed with commuters, and he had to slow down. All the slim hopes for getting to work on time were disintegrated right there, on the first traffic congestion. Jeff started cussing under his breath, as the traffic slowly lurched forward when the lights turned green. Goddamned Korean alarm clocks. Crap, crap, CRAP!
In a sudden rush of anger, Jeff attempted one more time to force his way between the tightly packed cars, as they momentarily widened the gaps when accelerating from a standstill to their usual slow pace. His motorcycle, controlled directly by his nervous system, darted forward, turned on a dime and fit right between two citycars, that were just starting to move. Jeff's reward was a loud honk, coupled with a warning issued by his vehicle's his anti-collision system. He silenced the Bitchin' Betty with a quick mental command, and veered forward, through a narrow gap between two tightly packed lanes. Nearly tearing his mirrors off, Jeff managed to get into the open, cut off a bus trying to join the traffic, and finally to turn left into a narrow road, rarely used by commuters. Hope suddenly started coming back.
Forty minutes later, Jeff left his motorcycle on the employee's parking lot in front of the United Airlines' terminal. He was just over ten minutes late...oh well, at the worst he'd have to skip the morning's "motivational meeting", a new tradition in corporate businesses of the XXI century.
Jeff raced into the terminal, heading straight for the tower, already calculating if he would manage to break through all the pre-flight bureaucracy in time to get his Boeing off the ground on schedule. He ran around the corner, and much to his surprise, he saw his copilot talking with two men in black suits. And sunglasses. Federal agent stereotypes, and they even had those little, barely visible implanted wires running across their temples, just under their skin. Uh-oh. Was it about all the speeding tickets he still had to pay?
Both men turned, as Jeff's co-pilot pointed towards him. From the front, they almost looked like ordinary businessmen. The higher one took off his glasses and started walking towards the startled pilot with a smile on his face.
"Hello. I believe you are Mr. Jefferson Stremer?" - the guy asked, seeming almost harmless
"Uhh...yeah, I mean...sure. How can I help you?"
"We have a certain proposal for you, that I believe you will find most interesting...shall we?" - the man made a gesture towards one of the restaurants that lined the terminal. Jeff suddenly regained his composure.
"Sorry, but I'm already late, and I have a flight to..."
"Don't worry, Mr. Stremer. Everything's been already taken care of for you. We only want you to sacrifice us a few minutes from your busy schedule."
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Restaurant at the United Airlines terminal, half an hour later
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"No, no. I already told you. I left the Air Force, and I have no intention of coming back. I earn much more as a civilian pilot, the hours are better, and you don't have officers hanging over your neck telling you what to do all day. Plus, there is less stress, and no high Gs. So, once again, NO. And I mean it."
The man was unmoved. Christ, how many times I'll need to explain this to them? - Jeff was becoming slightly irritated with the demeanor of those two.
"Ah, so true, Mr. Stremer. But if you value simple and uneventful life so much, why did you buy yourself a high performance racing motorcycle to commute to work? Surely, a normal car would be sufficient for this."
This startled Jeff a little. True, he bought himself the newest Kawasaki, in order to get some additional 'kick' from everyday life, but that was entirely normal, wasn't it? Every male wanted to drive something fast.
"My lifestyle is none of your business, gentlemen. What I use to get to work shouldn't concern you, either."
The 'Agent' hesitated a little. He hasn't even told me his name! - Jeff suddenly realized.
"Mr. Stremer, we truly regret that you chose to refuse our offer. We can only say that the work we want you to do for our agency would be like nothing you ever did before."
"Yeah, well, United Airlines used the same gig with me. Your point?"
"Have you ever heard of Roswell, Mr. Stremer?"
"Wha...ah, yeah, the UFO stuff. Yeah, I heard of it."
The man smiled. "And have you ever wanted to see if it was true?"
Jeff rolled his eyes: "Listen, man, you want to pull jokes on me, fine, it was cool and all. But I've got real work to do and real passengers to deliver, ok? I wasted enough time with you two." - he stood up from the table, and turned towards the exit.
"Mr. Stremer!" - Jeff paused. This was starting to feel like some goddamned movie.
"Yeah?" - he was clearly irritated. He had a whole fucking airliner of people waiting for him, and he was wasting time with those two clowns.
"You may want to take this. Since you won't believe us, the only thing we may ask from you is to review these materials in your spare time. Nothing more." - the 'Agent' pulled a small recording chip from his pocket. Jeff hesitated a little, but finally his curiosity won, and he took the chip.
The man smiled again. It was starting to creep Jeff out. "We’ll be waiting for you to contact us, Mr. Stremer"
Don't count on it - Jeff didn't say, heading for the exit - UFOs. Aliens. Right...
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Undisclosed location, July 12th 2015, 1100 hours, local time
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The autopsy room was covered in spotless white, and flooded by powerful lights that extinguished all shadows. A wall of reinforced glass separated the operating theatre from the spectator galley, and all personnel entering it were required to wear blue biohazard suits, complete with their own air recirculation modules. The theatre was accessed by means of a large airlock, big enough to comfortably contain four people and a stretcher. The entire laboratory area could be completely isolated from the rest of the base in a matter of seconds, and was constantly kept at a lower than normal air pressure, to deny any biological contaminants the chance to spread into the general living area of the base in case of an accident.
Both heads of X-Com's xenobiology department, doctor Michael Reeds and professor Anne Kovalsky, were currently inside the operating theater. A small, gray body was stretched across the examination table, it's black eyes staring into the ceiling lights. Younger scientists were assembled in the spectator galley, despite the fact that several autopsies of the 'gray' were performed in the last few months. It was still something most of them knew from the movies.
Prof. Kovalsky was leading the autopsy.
"The subject is a xenomorph of undisclosed sex, approximately one and a half meter high, of gray complexion. Notable features are large, completely black eyes, large round head, thin arms and legs, and the lack of any outwardly visible reproductory organs. No body, facial or head hair is visible on the subject. Most likely cause of death: several shrapnel wounds to the chest area. I shall now make the first incision..." - dr. Reed was working the tools today, and handed her the scalpel. An incision was quickly made, uncovering the innards of the alien. There wasn't much to look at here - the shrapnel has turned most of the alien's lower bowels into a bloody pulp. Several organs were recovered anyway, all procedures accompanied by careful commentary.
After careful examination of the massacred lower part of the alien body, the time came to open the skull. This specimen was actually the only one that had an intact head. Most of the time X-Com troopers didn't miss their shots, and even with aliens killed by grenades or burns, they fired a few rounds into their foreheads anyway, to make sure the little fuckers stayed dead. This time major Locke seemed to have remembered that several biologists complained about the state the alien corpses were in, and delivered one with a brain that could be properly analyzed.
The skull of the 'gray' was actually tougher than a human one, and took significant time to open. After the hissing noise made by the cable saw stopped, the topmost part of the skull was removed, and both biologists started extracting the brain carefully. Professor Kovalsky began talking again:
"The creature's brain is significantly larger than the human one. I estimate the weight at no less than three kilograms, perhaps more. The tissue is rigid and elastic, interlaced at regular intervals with strange metallic strings of some sort..." - a short pause was made, allowing the brain to be weighed and measured. After that, dr. Reed placed it on a smaller examination table nearby. Both scientists moved there and proceeded to dissect the brain itself. The examination took several more minutes. Suddenly, dr. Reed raised his hand - "Stop!" - prof. Kowalsky stopped her cut immediately
"There. Below the blade." - Reed pointed at something buried deep inside the neural tissue.
"Most curious...we have just uncovered a soft structure enveloping the putamen. It is metallic in appearance, and forms a tight netting. I will now extract the structure fro..."
Professor Kovalsky froze in place as her scalpel touched the mysterious structure. Her fingers loosened, dropping the blade into the creature's brain. Immediately thereafter, she staggered back from the examination table, fear visible in her eyes.
"Anne? What's going on?" - Reed jumped to his colleague, just in time to keep her from tearing the helmet from her suit. She emitted a high-pitched scream, and tried to wrest her hands from Reed's grasp. One of the spectators called for security, but before they could get inside the operating theater, Kovalsky managed to free one hand, grab the surgical scissors laying on the tool tray near the main examination table, and stab Reed repeatedly in the chest.
Before the security troopers overpowered and disarmed her, doctor Reed was unconscious, laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood.
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Undisclosed location, July 12th 2015, 1400 hours, local time
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"She stabbed doctor Reed because of THIS?" - general Werner couldn't quite believe that a dead alien was still somehow enough of a threat to wound one of his premier scientists. The 3d holographic recording of the scene, along with the close-up of the 'structure' uncovered inside the gray's brain during the autopsy didn't convince him of it, either.
"General, I don't know HOW this happened, only that professor Kovalsky touched this thing with the scalpel, and the next second she went postal." - colonel Raman's rehash wasn't exactly something new, but it was all that was known at the moment.
"I want her isolated and restrained. And this shit is to be cryo-frozen and kept out of everybody's way." - Werner was pissed, and it showed
"Sir, if anything, we should investigate this incident...if a DEAD alien brain was somehow enough to turn one of our people mad, what if live aliens can do something like this, too? Would you like seeing our troopers shooting civilians and each other?"
"Fuck it. I don't want any of our people dead because of this, and..."
"With all due respect sir, this is PRECISELY why we should study this phenomenon. If we don't, people may die! Weren't we supposed to prevent just this kind of a situation?"
Werner paused, fazed by the outburst of his chief of operations. It wasn't often that one of the men in this place allowed emotions to interfere with their professional judgement. They weren't supposed to do that.
"All right, Dave...but everyone is to be extra careful with it, okay? Security troops with tasers inside the theater at all times, full surveillance, no sharp tools - operating lasers only."
"Yes sir. Is that all?"
"No. What about our recruitment program? Is it progressing at all, or are your boys wasting money again?"
"We have made contact with several selected members of the US Military...my people think that in a few weeks they can be persuaded to join. It will also give us enough time to conduct background checks, interview their families and neighbors, the usual stuff."
"A few weeks? With the UFO activity increasing, we may just as well need them in a few days, Dave."
"I KNOW that, general. But the Council was explicit - we are to keep this thing secret."
"Yeah, I'll try to talk with them about that."
"It can never hurt to try, eh?"
"Exactly. Dismissed."
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Undisclosed location, July 12th 2015, 1430 hours, local time
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"Ok., the situation is fairly standard, gentlemen. An alien spaceship has landed near a small town, and alien operatives began showing up on the outskirts. Several people have disappeared to this point. Mission: eliminate the alien threat, find out the whereabouts of the missing townsfolk, secure the alien craft, and bring order to chaos. Ready, boys and girls?" - an echoed "yeah!" gave all the answer that was needed. Major Sidney "Chill" Styers nodded and checked her G-15 assault rifle once again, before continuing.
"I'll be going in with EARTH. We'll approach the suspected landing site from the direction of the town, combing the area for alien operatives. Once we reach the UFO, WATER stays outside t provide cover, while EARTH goes inside. Now - we'll have to reach the cockpit before they can take this thing off the ground. That means rapid movement, quick threat disposition. If it's little, gray and has a big head, kill it. If it lives after being hosed with lead, let it eat a grenade. You all know how the game is played."
The Skyranger bumped in turbulence. Display from outside cameras danced on Sidney's smartgoggles, as she studied the landing zone while giving her small briefing.
"Remember to ID your targets. There will probably be civvies on board the craft. That means - no incendiary weapons."
The Skyranger suddenly plummeted down to the ground, it's engines whining heavily. Just above the landing zone, the pilot leveled the flight, switched the engines into hover mode and the large transport stopped about two meters off the ground. The landing gear buckled.
"All right! Let's go!" - Sidney 'shouted' through her neural link as the ramp went down. Even before it touched the ground, all three squads of X-Com's Team Two were already running down, their weapons scanning the area for threats. Smartgoggles with built-in shape recognition subsystems and motion sensors confirmed that no unknown living beings were around. EARTH, or Squad One, raced toward the trees, with WATER slightly behind, fanned out to protect the snipers and provide covering fire should such a need arise. A minute later both squads were out of the open, and the Skyranger blasted off, leaving only some charred grass on the ground in the spot where hot exhaust connected with the surface.
"Skyranger-Two, going into orbit pattern." - the pilot reported over the scrambled comm-link. In the back of the cockpit, two weapon operators jacked into their systems and rotated both turrets from their idle stations. Grenade launchers and machine guns cycled, confirming their readiness to computer systems on board. Low-light and thermal imaging systems provided a good view of the forest below.
"Ground team, we have you covered. You are go to proceed with the mission"
On the ground, Sidney checked the area display on her goggles - all friendlies were accounted for. She sent a quick signal to her implanted computer system, ordering her squad without words to move out.
Both squads moved forward slowly, sure that the aliens must have heard their landing. Motion sensors were on, as every squad member scanned his immediate surroundings. The forest was quiet, whine of Skyranger's engines being enough to scare every animal in a mile's radius. But there were other creatures hidden between trees, ones who were not scared by such simple things...and armed with plasma weapons.
"Movement!" - EARTH's forward scout reported over the neural link- "Twenty meters, three contacts!"
His motion sensor automatically reported the contact location the everyone, and their tactical overlays were updated. All contacts were marked yellow, describing them as 'unknown, possibly hostile'.
Before on order could be given, the orbiting Skyranger came under fire. Plasma bolts darted from the ground towards it, and the pilot began maneuvering rapidly. Weapon operators acquired their targets, aided by the involuntary tracer-effect of plasma weapons, and opened fire with their grenade launchers.
The forest erupted. Explosions twenty meters in front of Team Two were not that dangerous, as shrapnel was mostly caught by the trees. At the precise same moment, a plasma streak darted from beyond a tree and hit EART's team leader square into the chest. He fell down, a muffled scream escaping his throat.
"Contact, left!" - someone shouted, without using the neural link. Half of the squad fired blindly, aided by their computer systems that tracked the shot to it's point of origin. Bullets started shredding trees, and a deep, inhuman scream could be heard as several bursts hit the unseen alien The Skyranger flew low over the cover of trees, it's grenade launchers finally ceasing fire. More plasma bolts flew towards X-Com operatives, but now they were prepared. Trained soldiers they were, they quickly found cover and started trading fire with hidden enemies. No words were exchanged, neural links allowing X-Com's troops to operate with frightening effectiveness. Both WATER assaulters darted to the right, under covering fire of general-purpose machine guns employed by Team Two. Soon, incendiary grenades flew into the bushes, killing both aliens, and the violent firefight has ended nearly as soon as it started.
"Status!" - Sidney shouted outside the neural link - normal procedure, as some team members could have their gear damaged and thus show up 'dead' on her display. Two men were down, medics already tending to them.
"All right, everybody. Jones - take the point. We're moving. Skyranger-Two, do you hear me?"
"This is Skyranger-Two, loud and clear. We have the alien starship in sight, they're herding civilians on board. Repeat, they are herding civilians on board the ship."
"Roger that, Skyranger."
The entire exchange took less than two seconds, with the aid of the neural link. A short order was given, and Team Two raced towards the alien starship, in order to prevent the 'grays' from taking off with the prisoners.
As they neared the clearing, the shape of the alien vessel became visible. Four 'grays', weapons in sight, were guarding civilians that were walking on board the craft. It was hard to say if the aliens were agitated, but they were both scanning the forest. It was quiet...no patrols went out in response to the firefight, and the only aliens visible were those four ones. Team Two's snipers moved to positions, setting up their rifles and preparing to take out the guards. EARTH and WATER teams approached the edge of the vegetation and waited.
"Sniper element, ready" - came a report from the leader of Team Two's Sniper element, codenamed LONGSWORD.
"Okay, people. Take down the grays on my mark." - Sidney switched channels with a quick mental command "Skyranger-Two, when we move, go in fast. Land at the western side of the clearing, assume LZ to be hot."
"Roger that, ground team"
"Ready? Mark!" - on "mark", ROE status displays changed from yellow to red, indicating a 'weapons free' environment. At the exact same moment, four long rifles of Team Two's snipers and their observers fired, taking all four aliens down at the same second. The civilians, disoriented, started screaming. Some saw dark silhouettes dart from the edge of the clearing towards the ship, as well as a giant shape descending fast towards the ground, and tried to run. Troopers from EARTH squad ran right past the frightened group, throwing some of them aside, as they entered the alien craft. WATER, using a combination of shouts and rifle butts, started loading the civilians onto the Skyranger, that barely had enough time to reach the ground.
The inside of the alien craft was covered in dull gray plating, seemingly the same all over the ship. Rows of automatic door lined the main corridor, opening as EARTH raced through, in order to get to the cockpit. They could already hear the whine of mysterious UFO engines powering up, and they only had seconds to stop the pilots from taking off.
Friedmann and Stone, EARTH's assaulters, stopped on both sides of the cockpit hatch, careful not to trigger it's opening mechanism. Stone pulled out a grenade from his belt, while Friedmann kneeled, waving his hand in front of the hatch to open it. It did, letting out a loud hiss. Stone threw his grenade inside, counted to two and went in a second after the explosion. The rest of the squad followed, moving in with a precise motion, as during countless exercises they've been through. One pilot was still alive, clutching his gun. Stone let out a short burst, and the plasma blast aimed at him went into the ceiling, as the last living alien in the area slumped to the ground. A few minutes later, the ship was cleared out.
"Nice one, Sidney. But you lost two men." - the first thing she heard after waking up was, as usual, criticism. She pulled out the VR plug from her neural jack.
"And saved a lot of civvies along the way, Primer"
"You could have done much better." - Eddie Primer was X-Com's drillmaster, and a perfectionist at that. He always let his students have it after an exercise, no matter how successful.
"I don't see how. The only things that went wrong were those caused by program scripting, and they couldn't be avoided."
"That's what you think. You and your team should've approached from different sides, where the grays would not be expecting you. You went in directly from the landing zone, and so they had ample warning of your arrival."
"It would have taken too much time. I had civilians to save, Ed."
"Your men are valuable, too. We have a limited supply, you know."
Suddenly, Werner walked into the VR training room. Everybody snapped to attention.
"At ease, kids. I just wanted to say goodbye. I'm flying off to a meeting with the Council." - Werner looked at troopers standing besides their VR stations - "How did the exercise go, Ed?"
"As usual, sir. They could've done better, but they completed the objective."
Werner nodded. "Okay. You guys take care of yourselves when I'm away. Colonel Raman is in command until my return, if you haven't heard it yet. Oh, and Ed - I want you to run Team One through a series of drills as soon as they get out of quarantine. Real ones, live rounds, killhouses, and lots of running."
The order surprised Primer a little, but he just saluted and answered with the usual "Yes sir!". Werner smiled, gave everyone a last look and walked out of the room.
"Christ" - after a long silence, the first one to say anything was Tom Walker, element leader of WATER.
"What?"
"Nothing. He's just never done it before."
Some of you may notice that I changed the date, equipment and tactics a bit - please forgive me for that
Anyways, I just hope I won't get totally beaten down for my first attempt at a fanfic. Please post your comments, both positive and negative. So, without further ado, I present to you:
Gabriel's Sword
Part One: Introductions
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Undisclosed location, July 12th 2015, 0300 hours, local time
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"Returning mission. Containment teams stand by" - the loudspeaker announced as soon as Skyranger-One, one of several X-Com's state-of-the-art transports, touched down on it's assigned landing pad.
The cavernous hangar bay amplified the sound of four powerful jet engines, that turned from a low tremor into a high-pitched whine as turbine power died down and the powerful motors slowly drove to a halt. Heavy blast door sheltering the hangar from the outside world were already closed, and as soon as it was safe to approach, people in blue biohazard suits darted towards the craft, carrying medical equipment. The transport's ramp went down, and soldiers from X-Com's Team One started disembarking, walking slowly, tired after another sleepless night. It was already becoming a routine for them, as weird as it may seem.
Containment teams swarmed around the transport, checking it for residual radiation, taking samples of the air for examination, and generally making sure that whatever dangers the alien invaders may have brought to Earth won't leave the Skyranger's cargo bay. Four men came into the hangar with stretchers, and both recovered alien corpses were quickly carried out to the laboratories, to be subjected to proper containment procedures. The hangar would then be thoroughly sprayed with a powerful chemical disinfectant and bathed in ultraviolet light, in order to ensure the elimination of any outwordly microbes or viruses. The soldiers, knowing the routine, left their weapons and gear to be similarly treated, and headed towards the exit leading to quarantine facilities.
"Fuckin' pain in the ass. We already went through this four times!" - Bill Mandela, Team One's sniper leader, was feeling just like everybody else. Four times they have been dispatched to intercept alien spacecraft, four times they went in combat with the "ballheads", as the little gray aliens were nicknamed around the base, four times they were subjected to quarantine, and four times they showed no unusual symptoms. Still, it was proper procedures, and the technical staff of the base never complained about them. Probably because the tech didn't have to spend half a week isolated from everybody each time they did their job right...
Nobody answered. Team One was tired as hell, and everyone just wanted to hit a bed, in quarantine chambers or not, they didn't care. As soon as the squad reached the "hot" area, they quickly dispersed to shower and change into sterile clothes. They would be required to attend debriefing later in the night, and everyone hoped to catch some sleep before that...
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Debriefing room, six hours later
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Debriefing was awkward with quarantine procedures in place. It had to be conducted via video-link between Team One's officers and X-Com command staff. Everyone was plugged in, as usual - General Werner, commander of X-Com, as well as his entire staff, plus heads of all scientific departments. All listened intently as major Locke delivered the after-action report for him and his team. It didn't take long - the mission was fairly simple in technical terms ; the only thing making it unusual was the fact that instead of men with guns, Team One faced...well, aliens with guns.
"Thank you, major, I think we heard all that we need from you." - it was, predictably, Werner who spoke first from the other side of the link- "You should know that when you were sleeping, our radars picked up several more unidentified contacts, however we haven't managed to intercept any of the alien craft, and..."
"Sir?" - Locke interrupted
"Yes?"
"How many contacts?"
"More than twenty"
"Sir, this is more than the number of all the confirmed sightings since the formation of this agency!"
"Yes, we are aware of that. This is why I'm cutting your quarantine to two days. Team Two may not be able to handle all the upcoming missions themselves, so I want you boys to be ready when the next call comes. I will also be meeting with several high dignitaries from the Council, maybe I can persuade them to increase our funding. Something is obviously going on, and we want to be ready for it."
"General, I really don't think that we should curtail containment procedures like that..." - one of the scientists objected. Werner gave him a quick look
"We may not have a choice, doctor Reed. Besides, both teams went through quarantine several times already, and nothing happened."
"I must still recommend the procedures to be upheld. We don't know how an alien virus may look like, or what is it's incubation period, or..."
"Doctor..." - Werner was calm - "After the initial contact at Roswell, the entire Groom Lake air force base was quarantined for six months. Nothing turned up, even though some of the staff came into direct contact with the alien blood and tissue. Plus, you are constantly analyzing the troops blood samples in search for anything unusual. And quarantine procedures are seriously hampering our operational readiness, and THAT'S what X-Com will really need soon enough."
"General, we are not, strictly speaking, a military organization..."
"Our charter is clear, and it states that X-Com's mission is to protect humanity from alien danger. Those beings FIRED at our soldiers repeatedly, and that makes us a military organization. Period."
"Sir, does that mean I may consider myself dismissed?" - Locke asked from his side of the link, clearly bored with the sudden exchange, yet again discussing the peculiarities of X-Com charter. The comment made everyone's attention snap back to the main point of the meeting. But there wasn't much more to say.
"Yes, you're all dismissed." - with those words, the link went black.
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Miami Airport, main terminal, passenger's lounge, 0800 hours, local time
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"You're late." - John Donner wasn't too subtle when it came to saying hello. His airplane was due to leave in half an hour, and his contact's sluggish arrival made him quite nervous. He hated this city with a passion, and wanted nothing more than to get far away from it.
"Sorry. I thought someone was following me." - Donner's man was a dockworker, in his late forties, and since the establishment of the "cooperation" with John, acquired a significant amount of paranoia.
"Relax. Why would anyone follow you? You're just having a little chat with a friend, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's just get it over with."
"As you wish" - Donner nodded - "What did you see?"
"This container came in - actually, a whole bunch of them - that went under guard as soon as it arrived. I'm talking real guard man, like Marines with rifles and stuff. It's the first time I saw anything like this - the grunts don't often use civilian docks, ya know."
"I suppose you saw something more than a bunch of containers, right?"
"Yeah, kinda. One of the containers was faulty, leaking or something. I've seen them move the stuff inside to another one - and, man, I swear - they had aircraft parts in there. I mean - big ones, like entire cockpits and stuff..." - the dockworker looked around nervously, and suddendly got a conscience attack. They all did.
"Hey, you're not a spy or anything, huh?"
Donner let out a well-rehearsed snort
"If you haven't noticed, the Cold War ended thirty-five years ago."
It was a weak line, but this guy wasn't too bright. He was still nervous, but John could see the greed in his eyes, as he pushed his conscience aside and started once again to contemplate the money.
"I talked with some of my buddies at the dock, some of them worked the containers. The guards were supposedly real itchy, man, and gave them funny looks all around. There were missiles inside too, they said, but I haven't seen any of them."
"Thanks, Mitch. You've really helped me with the story. Here's the payment we agreed upon." - John took out an old-fashioned credchip and handed it to his contact. He'd rather pay this way instead of risking a direct transfer. American internal security agencies were usually pretty easy to fool, but you never know...
The dockworker - Mitch - took the chip and immediately stood up, not even bothering to check it. He quickly made his way to the terminal's exit and out to the parking lot. Donner leaned back in the chair, processing the information he just acquired. Airplane parts. Big ones. On a civilian dock, protected by Marines. It didn't make any sense - the US armed forces had their own shipping facilities, they didn't trust civilians to watch their stuff after a series of big terrorist attacks at the beginning of the century - and if you want to make the shipment secret, why this entire show with the Marines? There surely are less conspicuous ways to protect valuable cargo...a corporation, maybe? After all, the dockworker probably wouldn't know the difference between Marines and corporate security troops...no, that didn't add up too. Corporations are even more tight-assed about their equipment and would NEVER let civilians handle it. Donner filed this observation in the back of his mind as he stood up, paid for his meal and left for his gate to board the flight.
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San Francisco, 0800 hours, local time
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Jefferson darted from his house, struggling to put on his leather jacket, lock the door and find keys to his motorcycle, all at once. Part of him hoped that he could still make it to work on time...but the merciless watch said otherwise. It was eight o'clock, and it was much MORE than a thirty-minute drive down to the airport. Crap.
Nevertheless, after finally managing to lock the door, Jeff jumped on his motorcycle, jacked into it's control systems and hit it. The engine started with a conforming hum, that soon turned into a roar as the 'cycle veered forward, accelerating rapidly. Jeff made a risky right turn, zipping right between two cars and onto the main street. There, he cursed again. Normally he would leave a good half an hour earlier and avoid the heavy traffic, but right now the street was packed with commuters, and he had to slow down. All the slim hopes for getting to work on time were disintegrated right there, on the first traffic congestion. Jeff started cussing under his breath, as the traffic slowly lurched forward when the lights turned green. Goddamned Korean alarm clocks. Crap, crap, CRAP!
In a sudden rush of anger, Jeff attempted one more time to force his way between the tightly packed cars, as they momentarily widened the gaps when accelerating from a standstill to their usual slow pace. His motorcycle, controlled directly by his nervous system, darted forward, turned on a dime and fit right between two citycars, that were just starting to move. Jeff's reward was a loud honk, coupled with a warning issued by his vehicle's his anti-collision system. He silenced the Bitchin' Betty with a quick mental command, and veered forward, through a narrow gap between two tightly packed lanes. Nearly tearing his mirrors off, Jeff managed to get into the open, cut off a bus trying to join the traffic, and finally to turn left into a narrow road, rarely used by commuters. Hope suddenly started coming back.
Forty minutes later, Jeff left his motorcycle on the employee's parking lot in front of the United Airlines' terminal. He was just over ten minutes late...oh well, at the worst he'd have to skip the morning's "motivational meeting", a new tradition in corporate businesses of the XXI century.
Jeff raced into the terminal, heading straight for the tower, already calculating if he would manage to break through all the pre-flight bureaucracy in time to get his Boeing off the ground on schedule. He ran around the corner, and much to his surprise, he saw his copilot talking with two men in black suits. And sunglasses. Federal agent stereotypes, and they even had those little, barely visible implanted wires running across their temples, just under their skin. Uh-oh. Was it about all the speeding tickets he still had to pay?
Both men turned, as Jeff's co-pilot pointed towards him. From the front, they almost looked like ordinary businessmen. The higher one took off his glasses and started walking towards the startled pilot with a smile on his face.
"Hello. I believe you are Mr. Jefferson Stremer?" - the guy asked, seeming almost harmless
"Uhh...yeah, I mean...sure. How can I help you?"
"We have a certain proposal for you, that I believe you will find most interesting...shall we?" - the man made a gesture towards one of the restaurants that lined the terminal. Jeff suddenly regained his composure.
"Sorry, but I'm already late, and I have a flight to..."
"Don't worry, Mr. Stremer. Everything's been already taken care of for you. We only want you to sacrifice us a few minutes from your busy schedule."
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Restaurant at the United Airlines terminal, half an hour later
----------
"No, no. I already told you. I left the Air Force, and I have no intention of coming back. I earn much more as a civilian pilot, the hours are better, and you don't have officers hanging over your neck telling you what to do all day. Plus, there is less stress, and no high Gs. So, once again, NO. And I mean it."
The man was unmoved. Christ, how many times I'll need to explain this to them? - Jeff was becoming slightly irritated with the demeanor of those two.
"Ah, so true, Mr. Stremer. But if you value simple and uneventful life so much, why did you buy yourself a high performance racing motorcycle to commute to work? Surely, a normal car would be sufficient for this."
This startled Jeff a little. True, he bought himself the newest Kawasaki, in order to get some additional 'kick' from everyday life, but that was entirely normal, wasn't it? Every male wanted to drive something fast.
"My lifestyle is none of your business, gentlemen. What I use to get to work shouldn't concern you, either."
The 'Agent' hesitated a little. He hasn't even told me his name! - Jeff suddenly realized.
"Mr. Stremer, we truly regret that you chose to refuse our offer. We can only say that the work we want you to do for our agency would be like nothing you ever did before."
"Yeah, well, United Airlines used the same gig with me. Your point?"
"Have you ever heard of Roswell, Mr. Stremer?"
"Wha...ah, yeah, the UFO stuff. Yeah, I heard of it."
The man smiled. "And have you ever wanted to see if it was true?"
Jeff rolled his eyes: "Listen, man, you want to pull jokes on me, fine, it was cool and all. But I've got real work to do and real passengers to deliver, ok? I wasted enough time with you two." - he stood up from the table, and turned towards the exit.
"Mr. Stremer!" - Jeff paused. This was starting to feel like some goddamned movie.
"Yeah?" - he was clearly irritated. He had a whole fucking airliner of people waiting for him, and he was wasting time with those two clowns.
"You may want to take this. Since you won't believe us, the only thing we may ask from you is to review these materials in your spare time. Nothing more." - the 'Agent' pulled a small recording chip from his pocket. Jeff hesitated a little, but finally his curiosity won, and he took the chip.
The man smiled again. It was starting to creep Jeff out. "We’ll be waiting for you to contact us, Mr. Stremer"
Don't count on it - Jeff didn't say, heading for the exit - UFOs. Aliens. Right...
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Undisclosed location, July 12th 2015, 1100 hours, local time
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The autopsy room was covered in spotless white, and flooded by powerful lights that extinguished all shadows. A wall of reinforced glass separated the operating theatre from the spectator galley, and all personnel entering it were required to wear blue biohazard suits, complete with their own air recirculation modules. The theatre was accessed by means of a large airlock, big enough to comfortably contain four people and a stretcher. The entire laboratory area could be completely isolated from the rest of the base in a matter of seconds, and was constantly kept at a lower than normal air pressure, to deny any biological contaminants the chance to spread into the general living area of the base in case of an accident.
Both heads of X-Com's xenobiology department, doctor Michael Reeds and professor Anne Kovalsky, were currently inside the operating theater. A small, gray body was stretched across the examination table, it's black eyes staring into the ceiling lights. Younger scientists were assembled in the spectator galley, despite the fact that several autopsies of the 'gray' were performed in the last few months. It was still something most of them knew from the movies.
Prof. Kovalsky was leading the autopsy.
"The subject is a xenomorph of undisclosed sex, approximately one and a half meter high, of gray complexion. Notable features are large, completely black eyes, large round head, thin arms and legs, and the lack of any outwardly visible reproductory organs. No body, facial or head hair is visible on the subject. Most likely cause of death: several shrapnel wounds to the chest area. I shall now make the first incision..." - dr. Reed was working the tools today, and handed her the scalpel. An incision was quickly made, uncovering the innards of the alien. There wasn't much to look at here - the shrapnel has turned most of the alien's lower bowels into a bloody pulp. Several organs were recovered anyway, all procedures accompanied by careful commentary.
After careful examination of the massacred lower part of the alien body, the time came to open the skull. This specimen was actually the only one that had an intact head. Most of the time X-Com troopers didn't miss their shots, and even with aliens killed by grenades or burns, they fired a few rounds into their foreheads anyway, to make sure the little fuckers stayed dead. This time major Locke seemed to have remembered that several biologists complained about the state the alien corpses were in, and delivered one with a brain that could be properly analyzed.
The skull of the 'gray' was actually tougher than a human one, and took significant time to open. After the hissing noise made by the cable saw stopped, the topmost part of the skull was removed, and both biologists started extracting the brain carefully. Professor Kovalsky began talking again:
"The creature's brain is significantly larger than the human one. I estimate the weight at no less than three kilograms, perhaps more. The tissue is rigid and elastic, interlaced at regular intervals with strange metallic strings of some sort..." - a short pause was made, allowing the brain to be weighed and measured. After that, dr. Reed placed it on a smaller examination table nearby. Both scientists moved there and proceeded to dissect the brain itself. The examination took several more minutes. Suddenly, dr. Reed raised his hand - "Stop!" - prof. Kowalsky stopped her cut immediately
"There. Below the blade." - Reed pointed at something buried deep inside the neural tissue.
"Most curious...we have just uncovered a soft structure enveloping the putamen. It is metallic in appearance, and forms a tight netting. I will now extract the structure fro..."
Professor Kovalsky froze in place as her scalpel touched the mysterious structure. Her fingers loosened, dropping the blade into the creature's brain. Immediately thereafter, she staggered back from the examination table, fear visible in her eyes.
"Anne? What's going on?" - Reed jumped to his colleague, just in time to keep her from tearing the helmet from her suit. She emitted a high-pitched scream, and tried to wrest her hands from Reed's grasp. One of the spectators called for security, but before they could get inside the operating theater, Kovalsky managed to free one hand, grab the surgical scissors laying on the tool tray near the main examination table, and stab Reed repeatedly in the chest.
Before the security troopers overpowered and disarmed her, doctor Reed was unconscious, laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood.
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Undisclosed location, July 12th 2015, 1400 hours, local time
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"She stabbed doctor Reed because of THIS?" - general Werner couldn't quite believe that a dead alien was still somehow enough of a threat to wound one of his premier scientists. The 3d holographic recording of the scene, along with the close-up of the 'structure' uncovered inside the gray's brain during the autopsy didn't convince him of it, either.
"General, I don't know HOW this happened, only that professor Kovalsky touched this thing with the scalpel, and the next second she went postal." - colonel Raman's rehash wasn't exactly something new, but it was all that was known at the moment.
"I want her isolated and restrained. And this shit is to be cryo-frozen and kept out of everybody's way." - Werner was pissed, and it showed
"Sir, if anything, we should investigate this incident...if a DEAD alien brain was somehow enough to turn one of our people mad, what if live aliens can do something like this, too? Would you like seeing our troopers shooting civilians and each other?"
"Fuck it. I don't want any of our people dead because of this, and..."
"With all due respect sir, this is PRECISELY why we should study this phenomenon. If we don't, people may die! Weren't we supposed to prevent just this kind of a situation?"
Werner paused, fazed by the outburst of his chief of operations. It wasn't often that one of the men in this place allowed emotions to interfere with their professional judgement. They weren't supposed to do that.
"All right, Dave...but everyone is to be extra careful with it, okay? Security troops with tasers inside the theater at all times, full surveillance, no sharp tools - operating lasers only."
"Yes sir. Is that all?"
"No. What about our recruitment program? Is it progressing at all, or are your boys wasting money again?"
"We have made contact with several selected members of the US Military...my people think that in a few weeks they can be persuaded to join. It will also give us enough time to conduct background checks, interview their families and neighbors, the usual stuff."
"A few weeks? With the UFO activity increasing, we may just as well need them in a few days, Dave."
"I KNOW that, general. But the Council was explicit - we are to keep this thing secret."
"Yeah, I'll try to talk with them about that."
"It can never hurt to try, eh?"
"Exactly. Dismissed."
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Undisclosed location, July 12th 2015, 1430 hours, local time
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"Ok., the situation is fairly standard, gentlemen. An alien spaceship has landed near a small town, and alien operatives began showing up on the outskirts. Several people have disappeared to this point. Mission: eliminate the alien threat, find out the whereabouts of the missing townsfolk, secure the alien craft, and bring order to chaos. Ready, boys and girls?" - an echoed "yeah!" gave all the answer that was needed. Major Sidney "Chill" Styers nodded and checked her G-15 assault rifle once again, before continuing.
"I'll be going in with EARTH. We'll approach the suspected landing site from the direction of the town, combing the area for alien operatives. Once we reach the UFO, WATER stays outside t provide cover, while EARTH goes inside. Now - we'll have to reach the cockpit before they can take this thing off the ground. That means rapid movement, quick threat disposition. If it's little, gray and has a big head, kill it. If it lives after being hosed with lead, let it eat a grenade. You all know how the game is played."
The Skyranger bumped in turbulence. Display from outside cameras danced on Sidney's smartgoggles, as she studied the landing zone while giving her small briefing.
"Remember to ID your targets. There will probably be civvies on board the craft. That means - no incendiary weapons."
The Skyranger suddenly plummeted down to the ground, it's engines whining heavily. Just above the landing zone, the pilot leveled the flight, switched the engines into hover mode and the large transport stopped about two meters off the ground. The landing gear buckled.
"All right! Let's go!" - Sidney 'shouted' through her neural link as the ramp went down. Even before it touched the ground, all three squads of X-Com's Team Two were already running down, their weapons scanning the area for threats. Smartgoggles with built-in shape recognition subsystems and motion sensors confirmed that no unknown living beings were around. EARTH, or Squad One, raced toward the trees, with WATER slightly behind, fanned out to protect the snipers and provide covering fire should such a need arise. A minute later both squads were out of the open, and the Skyranger blasted off, leaving only some charred grass on the ground in the spot where hot exhaust connected with the surface.
"Skyranger-Two, going into orbit pattern." - the pilot reported over the scrambled comm-link. In the back of the cockpit, two weapon operators jacked into their systems and rotated both turrets from their idle stations. Grenade launchers and machine guns cycled, confirming their readiness to computer systems on board. Low-light and thermal imaging systems provided a good view of the forest below.
"Ground team, we have you covered. You are go to proceed with the mission"
On the ground, Sidney checked the area display on her goggles - all friendlies were accounted for. She sent a quick signal to her implanted computer system, ordering her squad without words to move out.
Both squads moved forward slowly, sure that the aliens must have heard their landing. Motion sensors were on, as every squad member scanned his immediate surroundings. The forest was quiet, whine of Skyranger's engines being enough to scare every animal in a mile's radius. But there were other creatures hidden between trees, ones who were not scared by such simple things...and armed with plasma weapons.
"Movement!" - EARTH's forward scout reported over the neural link- "Twenty meters, three contacts!"
His motion sensor automatically reported the contact location the everyone, and their tactical overlays were updated. All contacts were marked yellow, describing them as 'unknown, possibly hostile'.
Before on order could be given, the orbiting Skyranger came under fire. Plasma bolts darted from the ground towards it, and the pilot began maneuvering rapidly. Weapon operators acquired their targets, aided by the involuntary tracer-effect of plasma weapons, and opened fire with their grenade launchers.
The forest erupted. Explosions twenty meters in front of Team Two were not that dangerous, as shrapnel was mostly caught by the trees. At the precise same moment, a plasma streak darted from beyond a tree and hit EART's team leader square into the chest. He fell down, a muffled scream escaping his throat.
"Contact, left!" - someone shouted, without using the neural link. Half of the squad fired blindly, aided by their computer systems that tracked the shot to it's point of origin. Bullets started shredding trees, and a deep, inhuman scream could be heard as several bursts hit the unseen alien The Skyranger flew low over the cover of trees, it's grenade launchers finally ceasing fire. More plasma bolts flew towards X-Com operatives, but now they were prepared. Trained soldiers they were, they quickly found cover and started trading fire with hidden enemies. No words were exchanged, neural links allowing X-Com's troops to operate with frightening effectiveness. Both WATER assaulters darted to the right, under covering fire of general-purpose machine guns employed by Team Two. Soon, incendiary grenades flew into the bushes, killing both aliens, and the violent firefight has ended nearly as soon as it started.
"Status!" - Sidney shouted outside the neural link - normal procedure, as some team members could have their gear damaged and thus show up 'dead' on her display. Two men were down, medics already tending to them.
"All right, everybody. Jones - take the point. We're moving. Skyranger-Two, do you hear me?"
"This is Skyranger-Two, loud and clear. We have the alien starship in sight, they're herding civilians on board. Repeat, they are herding civilians on board the ship."
"Roger that, Skyranger."
The entire exchange took less than two seconds, with the aid of the neural link. A short order was given, and Team Two raced towards the alien starship, in order to prevent the 'grays' from taking off with the prisoners.
As they neared the clearing, the shape of the alien vessel became visible. Four 'grays', weapons in sight, were guarding civilians that were walking on board the craft. It was hard to say if the aliens were agitated, but they were both scanning the forest. It was quiet...no patrols went out in response to the firefight, and the only aliens visible were those four ones. Team Two's snipers moved to positions, setting up their rifles and preparing to take out the guards. EARTH and WATER teams approached the edge of the vegetation and waited.
"Sniper element, ready" - came a report from the leader of Team Two's Sniper element, codenamed LONGSWORD.
"Okay, people. Take down the grays on my mark." - Sidney switched channels with a quick mental command "Skyranger-Two, when we move, go in fast. Land at the western side of the clearing, assume LZ to be hot."
"Roger that, ground team"
"Ready? Mark!" - on "mark", ROE status displays changed from yellow to red, indicating a 'weapons free' environment. At the exact same moment, four long rifles of Team Two's snipers and their observers fired, taking all four aliens down at the same second. The civilians, disoriented, started screaming. Some saw dark silhouettes dart from the edge of the clearing towards the ship, as well as a giant shape descending fast towards the ground, and tried to run. Troopers from EARTH squad ran right past the frightened group, throwing some of them aside, as they entered the alien craft. WATER, using a combination of shouts and rifle butts, started loading the civilians onto the Skyranger, that barely had enough time to reach the ground.
The inside of the alien craft was covered in dull gray plating, seemingly the same all over the ship. Rows of automatic door lined the main corridor, opening as EARTH raced through, in order to get to the cockpit. They could already hear the whine of mysterious UFO engines powering up, and they only had seconds to stop the pilots from taking off.
Friedmann and Stone, EARTH's assaulters, stopped on both sides of the cockpit hatch, careful not to trigger it's opening mechanism. Stone pulled out a grenade from his belt, while Friedmann kneeled, waving his hand in front of the hatch to open it. It did, letting out a loud hiss. Stone threw his grenade inside, counted to two and went in a second after the explosion. The rest of the squad followed, moving in with a precise motion, as during countless exercises they've been through. One pilot was still alive, clutching his gun. Stone let out a short burst, and the plasma blast aimed at him went into the ceiling, as the last living alien in the area slumped to the ground. A few minutes later, the ship was cleared out.
"Nice one, Sidney. But you lost two men." - the first thing she heard after waking up was, as usual, criticism. She pulled out the VR plug from her neural jack.
"And saved a lot of civvies along the way, Primer"
"You could have done much better." - Eddie Primer was X-Com's drillmaster, and a perfectionist at that. He always let his students have it after an exercise, no matter how successful.
"I don't see how. The only things that went wrong were those caused by program scripting, and they couldn't be avoided."
"That's what you think. You and your team should've approached from different sides, where the grays would not be expecting you. You went in directly from the landing zone, and so they had ample warning of your arrival."
"It would have taken too much time. I had civilians to save, Ed."
"Your men are valuable, too. We have a limited supply, you know."
Suddenly, Werner walked into the VR training room. Everybody snapped to attention.
"At ease, kids. I just wanted to say goodbye. I'm flying off to a meeting with the Council." - Werner looked at troopers standing besides their VR stations - "How did the exercise go, Ed?"
"As usual, sir. They could've done better, but they completed the objective."
Werner nodded. "Okay. You guys take care of yourselves when I'm away. Colonel Raman is in command until my return, if you haven't heard it yet. Oh, and Ed - I want you to run Team One through a series of drills as soon as they get out of quarantine. Real ones, live rounds, killhouses, and lots of running."
The order surprised Primer a little, but he just saluted and answered with the usual "Yes sir!". Werner smiled, gave everyone a last look and walked out of the room.
"Christ" - after a long silence, the first one to say anything was Tom Walker, element leader of WATER.
"What?"
"Nothing. He's just never done it before."
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