UFO FanFic - Chapter 2

[Snikers]

"This is ridiculous," hissed Bernard through chattering teeth. The fog of his breath rose upward when he breathed and into his brown hair, some of it stopping on the way to cloud his glasses. "Just to be sure everyone knows that - this is ridiculous. We all know that, right?"

A lanky, red-haired man of about forty whose name was ulitmately forgettable gave Bernard a sidelong look, fingers interlaced. He was trying to achieve a brief meditative state to escape the cold, but the other man wasn't much helping. Everyone else in the chopper was quiet, probably going over their task in their head, or perhaps trying to reach the same zen as him.

"Jesus H., it's cold. I mean, honestly. Did you hear Captain America in there? You can tell he just loves to think he's going down in the history books. Aliens...please."

Red separated his hands, giving up, and pulled his jacket tighter against himself. His eye caught one of his companions, and in an instant he and she had wordlessly expressed their annoyance to each other. They were diplomats or some variant on the concept, all of them; they knew how to communicate in any number of ways.

"Obviously some military project Captain America wasn't cleared to know about. Aliens...could this even be swallowed by anyone over the age of twelve?"

"My grandson is twelve," said another woman in the helicopter, "and I'd put a lot more stock in his opinion than in yours." She looked about in her mid-fifties but hadn't lost a speck of herself to age. An aura of personal strength seemed to emanate from her, the type that allows one to walk into a room and suddenly be in control of the discussion. She was just barely short enough to stand in the helicopter without hunching over and was staring out the window, hands behind her as if at military ease. Her head turned until her face was at profile, looking at Bernard. White eyelashes flicked over inky black eyes as she blinked and continued. "In fact, I think I'd put a lot more stock in anyone's opinion than yours."

Bernard was immediately flustered, but kept talking. "Puh...oh, please. You can't tell me you actually believe there's aliens out there, do you?"

The woman with the white eyelashes turned back to the window. "I suppose I can't say. It isn't impossible."

"What? Are you serious? I..." Bernard snorted in contempt. Red tried to will the man to shut up and failed. "You don't believe all those idiotic rumours, do you? There's no aliens, no Illuminati, no - "

"So you say. What attacked that city in China, then?"

"Terrorists! They even said that on the news. That's something else - where did anyone get the connection to aliens? Bad enough so many people lost their lives..."

"Terrorists. Which terrorists, then? Who?"

"I don't know" Bernard had nothing left but contempt for this woman. "What, do you think they're just going to admit they did it?"

The woman with the white eyelashes turned sharply, pivoting ninety degrees. She kept her eyes locked on Bernard's. Red's eyes flicked to his companion and saw his own expression of dread mirrored in her. Something about the woman, her sheer force of personality, was just slightly intimidating. She had a power within her. "Oh, boy," he muttered.

"Do you know what a terrorist is, Bernard? No, obviously not. Your statement has proven that. Terrorists do not kill out of spite, or malice, or because they hate goodness, despite what you've obviously picked up from Hollywood. They kill - or kill power, or blast train tracks, or anything sufficiently attention-grabbing - in order to attract attention. They do it so that they are noticed, so that they support their cause and to bully those in power to comply with their wishes. That is the technical definition of a terrorist. To kill hundreds and then keep silent makes no sense. And no military would make a sneak attack on a purely civilian sector."

"Uh - " Red wondered in annoyance just how Bernard had gotten into the position he had. He obviously had no grasp of diplomacy and was still trying to force his point. "Fine, then - if these are aliens that blew up a chunk of China, what does that mean for us? They'll just shoot us down"

"I do not think so."

"Well why the hell not?"

"We are unarmed, and here to talk. We aren't threatening them."

Bernard looked exasperated. "Well, they sure as hell weren't threatened by all the Chinese civilians! Why would they kill them if they won't kill us?"

The helicopter was landing. The woman with the white eyelashes turned back to the window for a second as the aircraft hit snow, and when she turned back she was smiling for the first time since she had boarded the helicopter. "Because you said it yourself, Bernard, though you obviously didn't realize the truth. They're terrorists - they wanted our attention." The door opened and light suddenly cut into the chopper's insides like a knife slashing through the air. Her deep black eyes glinted in the illumination. "And now, they have it."

The diplomats and variants were motioned to move out of the helicopter. Red fell into rank with the woman he had exchanged glances with. "Sent on this trip with an idiot and a lunatic," he muttered. "Whose daughter did I sleep with?"

[storm turmoil]

Genega stalked anxiously around the tactical command centre. The loss of contact was begining to bug him. He knew, intellectually, that radio silence was necessary in this kind of situation, and that asking his troops to report constantly could endanger them, but it didn't make the silence any easier to deal with.

 

And all the time, he was glancing among the myriad monitors, as though watching for a sign he didn't want to see.

 

Since his head injury, many of the base personnel had started to picture him as being increasingly paranoid.

 

The truth is, Genega couldn't be paranoid now. When everyone really is out to get you, paranoia becomes an obsolete term.

 

He watched one monitor as another new arrival took his first steps onto the base, exiting the access lift with barely a glance around. He furrowed his brow. Most new arrivals had at least some curiosity.

 

Then He noticed the Shock of red hair, the grey eyes behind the tinted glasses, and realised this particular arrival had no reason to be curious: He'd spent almost his entire adult life, since his late teens, inside X-Inv, and later X-Com facilities. Usually in the containment facility prototypes, or failing that, the brig.

 

An interesting individual, he had, unlike most other recruits, who X-Inv had headhunted, flushed out X-inv agents by pretending to be an altered abductee. Only later analysis had proved otherwise, but by that time, he already knew too much.

 

On the other hand, his knack for fake alien technology had been convincing enough even X-inv had been taken in. That could be useful later.

 

Genega sighed heavily. Another mouth to feed.

[The Veteran]

Howitz was dug into the snow outside the UFO when it got colder. Bursts of rifle fire echoed from the inside the craft as the squad went about its duty. Nothing much had changed since the door had last closed but now all of a sudden Howitz found himself squinting a little more as the snow whipped up around him. He looked about him but could see very little due to the miniature blizard behind him.

 

Howitz was very much alone where he was now and the slightest crunch of snow a he repositioned himself was enough to put him off ease. He looked to the closed doorway and knew that Terrick was merely feet away but it was no comfort. He opened a comm channel to Doc in the skyranger to ease his nerves a little.

 

*What's up bomberman?* said Doc cheerfully out of the cold. *Been hearing good things about you, good job Howitz.*

 

"Yeah thanks Doc," he replied uneasily, grateful to break the silence that surrounded him. "My good lucks run out though, I'm cold, bored, tired and alone out here. And the weather doesn't help it much either."

 

*What are you talking about? The weather over here is better by the minute. Even the wind's stopped blowing. According to the instruments it's no worse with you.*

 

Not reassured by this Howitz spun around on his belly and glared into the cloud before him. "It doesn't look that tranquil where I'm sitting. The winds blowing a gale over here."

 

*I'll check again but the wind is dropping everywhere according to my readings. Excuse the pun Howitz but I think you'd better keep frosty out there. Whatever it is kicking up a stink with you, it sure isn't the wind.*

 

Over by Warlord the wind had indeed dropped and impatient as the giant was he was now virtually on top of the craft he was suppose to be watching. It certainly wasn't a Skyranger, he'd decided, but it wasn't alien either. Looked more like a small cargo vessel than a troop transport but the bay doors were open and nothing was loaded.

 

As Warlord edged around the front of the craft to check out thecockpit for occupants he was suddenly revealed by a burst from his comm. *Warlord, are you hearing this?*

 

"Who the hell is that" he squawked, throwing himself into the snow.

 

*It's Slice, I've been covering you with the tank, it's in cover over to your right.*

 

"So what's the problem? Are you trying to get me killed?"

 

*Sorry but I think the ships empty, besides I think there may be bigger problems coming your way. It looks like a tank or something, escorted by someone too, don't know if it's human or alien, can't see through the fog very well. I think you should probably check it out though.*

 

Warlord poked his head around the nose of the craft and sighed. The cockpit was empty thank God. "Ok Slice, thanks for the heads up, but next time can you think about where I am before you holler in my ear?"

 

*Sorry boss, just letting you know! Later* Slice cut the transmission and left Warlord to his own devices. Something was coming his direction but who knows what. Worst of all, Warlord was on his own with a weapon he hadn't trained on. This could be fun he thought...

 

Back with Howitz the snow was clearing but he could see some movement in front of him. He couldn't put a shape to it but something was moving in the fog. "Rick, it's Howitz are you guys cleared up in there?"

 

*We've just cleared out the central room, looks like some new toys for our scientists when we get back. What's the drama Howitz?*

 

"There's something out here, looks big, about fifty, sixty meters away. It kicked up a lot of snow and then nothing."

 

*So what do you think?* said Rick motioning for his men to follow him to the door. *Chopper?*

 

"To be honest my heads not clear enough to think that well ut yeah that would fit what I've seen so far."

 

Rick stepped out of the UFO and crouched by Howitz. "That it over there?"

 

"Yeah I can make out some movement but not much."

 

"It's a chopper, personnel transport," chimed Terrick from the doorway. "Looks like the pilot still inside but I see three bipeds coming out of it, look unarmed and unarmoured. Reckon they've come to collect their ship?" Terrick tucked his binoculars away, a vital tool he always thought.

 

"Unarmed?" said Rick curiously. "You can't see any more over there? Bodyguards or something?"

 

"If there are any, they must be inside. These guys look more like tourists than soldiers though. Maybe even businessmen."

 

"Give me your pistol," said Rick dropping his rifle from his shoulder and holding it out for Terrick.

 

Terrick took the rifle after some slight hesitation and reluctantly handed over his pistol. He'd get it back, he knew Rick loved his rifle. He'd fought with the same one for years. 'Three new barrels and four new grips', he always said.

 

Rick tucked the pistol into the back of his belt and adjusted his breastplate under his jacket. With a deep breath he made for the new arrivals.

 

Warlord was still hunched over by the back of the skyranger when his target finally emerged. It looked less like a tank than a trolley but it was suspended by no visible means, floating almost a foot of the ground. Behind it he could now make out two creatures, first impressions suggested Sectoids.

 

"So that's what this is huh? Intergalactic trade? Well guess what," he said reaying his pistol. "There's a new bidder in the room. Leaping into an aimed stance Warlord squeezed the trigger hard and braced himself.

 

"Low battery? I've hardly used the damn thing" Warlord threw himself behind the craft again as a stream of plasma nearly severed an ear. "God damn fancy crap, I bet Terrick's istol works. I had to get the 'improved' version didn't I"

 

As the sectoids came into view once again a section of hull melted next to Warlord and he leapt further into cover whilst hitting his pistol wildly into his palm.

 

Slice, still watching from Pine Gap saw the anti-grav trolley still moving slowly towards the transport vehicle but had lost sight of the two escorts. Panning his camera towards the target vessel he saw a stream of laser emerge from behind it, instantly igniting an overhanging branch and dislodging a large amount of greenery and snow.

 

Flashes of green responded to the misfired laser and Slice got an instant lock on the two newly aquired Sectoid targets. The tank fired off one of it's rockets almost immediately and squad two could only watch as a large explosion ricocheted off the side of the craft.

 

"Shit I got one" exclaimed Slice back on base, instantly swarmed by various scientists and random nerds, one of whom felt obliged to point out that he did in fact 'get two'.

 

Warlord's hand was burning and the pistol had been instinctively throw a large distance away from him when the thing had all but exploded in his hand. All that remained of the great warrior was his head atop a pile of snow. A look of despair upon his face.

 

It was Tim day who was first at the explosion and he was more than a little shocked at the devastation before him. "Are you coming to check out this box or should I do it?"

 

Warlord shook himself out and a mountain of snow fell from his shoulders. Then he seemed to think again and settled back down. "Why don't you do it Tim? I'm just going to rest here for a while."

 

"Sure thing big guy," he chuckled as he headed for the trolley.

 

"What a day," said Warlord plunging his burning hand into the snow. He leant back against the craft just in time to see a precarious branch lose it's battle against gravity and win it's battle against him. He looked out through the branches and sighed. "What a day..."

[Bomb Bloke]

The soldiers near the UFO started to spread out, slowly approaching the new craft on the ground. The surrounding area was indeed beginning to become more visible, but the chopper's rotors were still spinning and there was a mist of tossed up snow around it. The other exception was the steam near the alien cart, but it was quickly clearing.

 

Terrick kept close to Rick, while Howitz crept far out to the side, swapping his rifle for his pistol and readying some more grenades. The other team members created a line which spanned out towards the new arrival.

 

------------------------

 

Meanwhile, the chopper crew were tightly strung. They hadn't noticed the corpses on the ground until shortly after they'd deployed onto the ground, and the detonation of the approaching aliens hadn't done much for their nerves either. They watched out into the clearing gloom, and saw something...

 

Approaching them were armed soldiers. They hadn't been expecting this, but although the chopper had no weapon systems, not even any troop-based weapons, there were plenty of guns in the other craft, and their personal strike team were bound to still be in the area...

 

------------------------

 

The one known as 'Captain America', more commonly known as Frank Burns, was now a fair distance away, alone, and couldn't see any members of his team. He'd have dumped them from his squad in an instant if he could see them.

 

They'd arrived long before anyone else on the scene, and settled into position to guard the diplomatic team while they met with the aliens. They hadn't expected the 'diplomats' to turn up in a troop carrier, one which seemed to be much like their own, nor had they expected them to be carrying the sort of weapons they had.

 

He'd made his team hold their positions, and observed (what they could of) the fighting through the mists. They weren't being payed to kill aliens, not aliens who were firing at non-team members, anyway.

 

Taking out non-team members attacking his team members wasn't in the contract either, but it discouraged business not to. He often wondered whether any of his employers bothered to write him into their will, just in case they didn't get time to pay him. It was the sort of joke he liked to tell, and it explained a lot about the type of man that was Mr Burns.

 

They'd been keeping radio silence up until this point, in an attempt to keep their positions as secure as possible, but the LOS laser communicators were mostly useless in the fog and now was the time to start talking.

 

"We don't wait for them to start shooting. Try and take out the stragglers, they be less likely noticed..."

 

------------------------

 

In the SkyRanger, Doc's com crackled as it automatically picked up the new line and relayed it to him. The system was designed to ease communications with alien craft, but hadn't had much use. They didn't seem to use radio waves, and they werent' friendly enough to talk anyway. The message he heard wasn't friendly either.

 

He scrabbled for his reciever.

[The Veteran]

"What's up Doc?" said Rick into his comm.

 

*I've just intercepted a radio message from somewhere in the area, it's not coming from the chopper or the other craft. It sounds like they have soldiers out here, maybe they've been here for days who knows! The message said to pick off the straglers and I think they mean you guys!*

 

"Ok, ok calm down Doc, noone's getting shot at yet. Do you have any idea where the message came from?"

 

*None at all, they could be anywhere!*

 

"Ok well keep listening and thanks for the heads-up, I'll keep an eye on things out here."

 

*Sure thing, be careful out there, this is getting to be a hell of a strange mission...*

 

Rick had to agree, and alien craft landed in the middle of nowhere, an apparently human cargo transporter also in the middle of nowhere, and now a human chopper in the middle of nowhere too! Add to that a trade of some kind and now some humans who were here the whole time and what have you got? Anything or nothing really, thought Rick. What on earth was going on here...

 

"All channels, we are being watched, repeat we are being watched. Work in twos and keep as many people in sight as possible. It looks like we've walked into a private party and its invite only."

[Snikers]

"Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ! What the hell is going on?" Bernard was freaking out in impotent anger, looking around wildly. "What was that sound?"

"An explosion," said Red. He was staring north, as were several of the other diplomats and variants thereof.

Bernard turned in a circle, arms up in the air. "Oh! It was an explosion. Well, that makes sense." Bernard dropped his arms and turned his gaze upward, as if pleading for guidance from the heavens. "Okay, genius, if it was an explosion, who set off the bomb?"

"Well, this may be beyond even my genius intellect, but if I had to guess, I'd say..." Red reached out and placed a hand on Bernard's shoulder. Bernard turned, an irritated expression on his face, and followed Red's outstretched hand.

Northernly were a vague mass of approaching figures. The blowing snow made it impossible to determine exact details, but with their black clothes against the white snow it was just barely possible to see what they were carrying in their hands - long things that, based on how they were being held, were either saxophones or rifles.

Bernard's eyes grew to huge proportions behind his glasses. "But - but - "

"Ours?" asked someone in the group of dozen-or-so diplomats.

"Unlikely." The woman with white eyelashes stood rock steady in the wind, jacket open despite the cold. Her expression was severe, inky eyes darting about the approaching line, gears obviously turning behind them. "They're approaching cautiously. Our people know where we would be and would probably be running to reach us as fast as possible. These people weren't expecting us."

"But why?! Why - why the blasting?" Contrary to the rest of the group, who were either frightened or in a state of dread, Bernard expressed growing outrage. "What the hell is wrong with them?"

"Obviously, some individuals are taking their own interpretation of an alien attack on China."

"There are no aliens" Bernard nearly screamed, though his voice was broken up by the wind at about twenty feet.

"Gotta ask what they blew up then, Barry," drawled Red. He, like many of the other diplomats, was putting up his hands to keep from being shot by overzealous soldiers.

"But - but - " Bernard threw his hands outward. "That's impossible! They'd be returning hostilities! That would kill our chances of peaceful negotiation"

"It wouldn't kill - but it would throw serious complications into the works, yes." The woman with the white eyelashes tilted her head slightly. She mumbled inaudibly to herself. "One scampering, at least trying to keep unseen behind that snow mound - that makes eight - "

"That's impossible! That's stupid! No one could be so stupid or short-sighted"

She turned towards him. "What colour is the sky in your world, Bernard?"

 

* * * * * * *

 

"Don't wait for them to start shooting," crackled Captain Burns's voice over the team member's radio. He was a seasoned professional and never questioned his orders. His rifle was at his shoulder by the time the message ended. "Try and take out the stragglers, they'll be less likely to be noticed..."

He didn't hesitate.

 

* * * * * * *

 

Howitz had taken far to the side, a bit wider a gap between him and his compatriots than was advised. He had hoped to flank their quarry - though killing other humans would probably be somewhat of a faux pas with his superiors at the base, he had no way of knowing just how aggressive their new guests were and was quite prepared to return fire if fired upon.

What he wasn't prepared for, though, was the sudden burst of gunfire from his right. Howitz stumbled and dove for cover as a trio of bullets zinged past his head, very nearly ending his colourful career at that moment. He pulled one of her grenades and was going to pull the pin, but much more gunfire dissuaded him from standing. Of course, he could throw a grenade from a prone position - not usually a good idea, but he had a gift with this sort of thing - but that was risky even for him and the windy conditions made it very difficult to be sure of a connection. He pushed himself backward with his feet on his back as he tried to find some form of cover so that he could get out of his new enemy's line of fire and think.

Most of the squad paused for a split second to react to the situation, but Ed Dodge's reactions were blindingly fast. Instantly he had his rifle at his shoulder and fired - a pre-emptive strike at the chopper they were advancing on.

[storm turmoil]

Howitz was trapped; the voices were edging closer, and another crack of gunfire meant standing wasn't on the agenda, but the short range meant that even for an expert like Howitz, using a grenade just wasn't an option.

 

" Using a grenade is always an option" Howitz thought to himself. Fight smarter, not harder.

 

Howitz moved to retrieve a grenade from his webbing, primed it and hurled it, tensing himself for the result.

 

A few yards away, cries of incredulity were his answer as the already thick fog was thickened to absolute opacity by the subdued popping detonation of Howitz' Smoke grenade, visibility suddenly reduced to absolutely nothing.

 

Howitz bounded from his position, his course already set in his mind. The dull thud of someone running full tilit into a tree reached his ears; He smiled grimly.

 

********

 

The sudden crack of gunfire acted as a wake up call to the squad; Ed dodge had set the alarm clock, and now it was time to go to work.

 

A sudden pall of smoke off to one side let them know Howitz was busy too, but they had no intention of letting that stop them.

 

Rick reckoned now would be a good time to make use of the laser He'd claimed back from Terrick, and let loose with a volley of the intense golden flares of light, the shots barely aimed, the end result not merely to hit.

 

" If I was some merc on a dodgy job and someone started firing honest-to-god rayguns at me, it'd be brown trousers time and no mistake. let's see if it works the other way round too" Rick thought to himself. He had to admit, if nothing else, at least the laser's blazing beams of gold looked impressive as all hell.

 

********

 

Bernard watched the dazzling, lethal bursts of energy make their radiant way through the fog with a feel of dread, and something else too.

 

The uncertainty He'd been fighting over the existence of aliens was back now, and it wasn't going away. The crack and whine of the rifles fought for hearing with the higher, cleaner tone of the energy weapon, and with Bernard's insistence that aliens didn't exist.

 

And it was winning. The other diplomats had thrown themselves to the floor when the shooting started in earnest, but Bernard hadn't thought to. Hadn't thoght at all, in fact; his attention had been captivated by the light show in front of his eyes, and the unseen counterpoint of rifle fire he could hear but not see.

 

He could still recognise it for what it was though; the opening strains of a symphony Mankind had played out amongst itself all to often, now opened to an audience from beyond the stars.

 

Even He could recognise the first tentative steps in the dance of War, even though He now understood He understood so very little about it.

 

It was a very strange music to Him.

[FullAuto]

Howitz crawled through the snow slowly, shivering as the cold gnawed at his body. The thick overalls couldn't keep out the chill, though the body armour helped.

He wriggled into the lee of a small rise and drew his pistol.

-front sight-

His other hand toyed with a grenade.

Rolling, he gained his feet and surged up the rise, gun levelled, grenade held down low by his hip.

And found himself looking down the wrong end of an assault rifle.

The face behind it grinned. The eyes narrowed.

"There's something you should know." Howitz tossed the grenade.

It hit the snow between them and sank. The merc looked down at the hole in the snow, frowning, then back up at Howitz.

"Grenade." Howitz confirmed.

The merc turned and ran, back towards the smoke. Howitz brought up his pistol and fired twice -front sight front sight- and then hit the deck.

-have to pull the pin first-

He retrievied the grenade and listened for approaching footsteps.

 

Dodge emptied his mag and reloaded, stalking forward all the while, right into the teeth of the storm whipped up by the rotors.

"OUT" He yelled when he found breath.

There was a splash of blood across the cockpit, from the copilot, most likely. Bullet holes starred the perspex, but neither crewman was moving.

Laser strobed out, poking bright fingers through the flurries of snow, scorching the heli.

Dodge ducked, looking back over his shoulder. Rick, looking pleased with himself. He waved Dodge on.

-charming-

More beams stabbed out as he advanced, flashing brightly, cutting holes in the dull curtain of snow.

"GET! OUT" He screamed at the crew.

They couldn't hear him. He felt like slapping himself. They were inside a heli, engines blasting, in the middle of a storm.

Of course they couldn't hear him.

Someone moved up, supporting him. Dodge advanced again, levelling his rifle at the heli.

 

Howitz watched the merc stagger out of the smoke, blood running down his face.

He had no weapon, and was in bad shape.

-capture this one-

Howitz tensed, waiting at the top of the rise as the merc wallowed up it, almost falling several times, slipping and skidding through the snow. He passed right by Howitz, eyes blank.

-ninja style-

Howitz surged up, aiming his pistol. "Ha"

The merc turned and kept coming. He charged into Howitz, shouldering the pistol aside. It went off, his finger tensing reflexively, the bullet nicking the merc's arm.

"Stop" Howitz planted his feet, wrapping his arm around the wounded soldier.

The merc bulled on, shoving him back, towards the slope. Howitz clubbed him with the butt of his gun, making solid contact with the merc's skull.

The soldier dropped to his knees. Howitz got behind him, wrapped an arm round his neck and hauled him to his feet. He couldn't get a hold, his hand was full of grenade, but he could maintain the headlock easily enough.

"Don't struggle." He viced his arm in tighter for emphasis. "You're coming with me."

Two more men came out of the smoke. Howitz aimed his gun, sighting down the barrel, carefully lining up the front sight with the leading man.

"Don't move" He yelled.

They moved, splitting up, firing as they dived for cover.

Howitz fired, squeezing off tight double taps as he backed away, dragging his prisoner along. He felt the man jerk several times, then go limp.

-they shot him-

"I told you not to move." Howitz hissed.

He popped the pin, then flicked the arming handle free, jammed the grenade into the corpse's belt and kicked the body away from him, sending it spilling downslope.

Howitz dived for cover.

[Bomb Bloke]

He hit the snow and felt himself start to sink, heard the blast, heard the screams... He rolled onto his back, pulled the clip from his gun, and jammed a fresh one in. He was vaguelly aware that his comm was crackling on his shoulder, but his ears were ringing and he didn't think he was out of danger yet -

 

He rolled onto his feet, and hunched down, ran towards the yelling man. He was covered in shrapnel, and holding the bloody mess that was his side. Superficial wounds, he thought, and clubbed the wounded man with his pistol. As he slumped down, Howitz pulled a pack of medical supplies from his belt. The smoke cover was still thick, and a live hostage would be worth the risk...

 

The other two were mostly mush.

 

--------------------

 

The team advancing on the chopper stopped, and taking kneeling positions, tried to cover both the heli' and the explosions. Rick grabbed his comm. "Howitz, what's happening?"

 

This message ignored, he pulled his tracking tablet out of his belt and checked it. The team showed up as a bright range of dots, a vague outline of the area, and - thankfully - the demolition man still showed up as operational. He tried the comm again, this time getting a response.

 

"I've got two unknowns dead, one injured. He's out cold, so I'm slapping some bandages on him so's he doesn't bleed out - I wouldn't mind some support if we've got it."

 

--------------------

 

Terrick slowly swept the terrain with his binoculors, rifle moving as one with his gaze. He felt prone, sitting out in the open with hostiles somewhere in the area, and by the uneasy glances of the rest of the crew, no one was happy about it.

 

The glasses swept back - what was that? It looked like a clump of bracken, black against the snow, but inside it was...

 

His instincts became aware of the details before his mind, and he found his legs pushing off against the snow towards his team leader. Sniper. He collided with Rick, slamming him down into the snow, and then there was a crack - he choked on his breath: bullet! - and then they were through the ice, confusion running through both mens minds as the frigid water seeped into thier suits.

[Snikers]

Several days ago...

 

"Listen to me, Marvin, you can't do this to yourself. I realize that this is an extreme situation - I don't know what you're going through, I can't even imagine what you're going through - "

"No." Marvin Rice's eyes, twin moons of bloodshot gray over seas of bruise-like purple, stared forward into the wall with a murderous intensity. There was nothing noteworthy on the wall, but Marvin's forehead was resting securely against it and Marvin was too far into his state for his eyes to take on any other expression. "No, you can't."

"...but what I do know is that you're not making it any better. You need to at least put some order into your life. Martin, just come down. You don't even need to do anything - "

"Don't need to do anything? Is that what you think I'm doing?" Marvin swivelled, the phone receiver scratching against the stubble on his cheek. His white shirt (stained thoroughly yellow from sweat in places) was untucked, hanging over his wrinkled pants. Both were in sad condition, as he hadn't changed his clothes in two days. "I'm just - what, Frank? Lazing about on my ass all day? Is that it? Just - sleeping?"

"No, Marvin, just the opposite. I know without a doubt you haven't slept since Monday. I'll bet you've been pacing your living room. Am I right? Marvin, just come down. We have counsellors, someone who can help you through this - "

"Get me through this? Get me through this?" Marvin's voice went from a mutter to a high shout. "You son of a bitch! I'm not budging from my phone until I get the call, do you get it?! You son of a bitch! You son of a goddamn bitch! Don't you get it?! What the hell is wrong with you! My wife and son have been kidnapped, out of my goddamn home, and you want to pretend they're already dead" Marvin slammed the phone down into its cradle hard enough to crack the plastic. He turned in a circle, heels of his hands pressed to his forehead.

"Son of a bitch! They're not gone! They're not - they're not - " Marvin's fingernails dug into his skin as he desperately tried to think of something, come up with some magical reason why his family would still be alive and not killed and buried in someone's basement somewhere. And for the millionth billionth time in the last sixty hours he failed. Marvin tore his hands away from his face, screamed in rage and slammed his fist into the wall. Shooting pain shot up his arm and barely registered in his mind.

The phone rang. Marvin whirled, snatched the receiver and screamed. "WHAT! WHAT DO YOU WANT!"

"Don't yell at me, Mister Rice." The voice had an accent Marvin was too angry to identify, but spoke English smoothly and unhesitantly.

"And WHY not"

"Because you are talking to the proud new owner of Missus and Junior Rice."

Marvin's voice stopped in his throat. He tried to say something, but no sound came out. "That is why," prodded the voice, finally.

"Uh - " Marvin blinked repeatedly as he tried to force his paralyzed voicebox to work. "I - uh -"

"Mm-hmm. I see you're having trouble speaking. Maybe I'll call back..."

"NO! No, wait, wait! Wait wait wait wait wait wait - "

"All right then. Are you ready to talk?"

"I - yes - yes, I mean - what - what do you -"

The voice sighed. "You seem to have trouble talking to me. Let me put you over to someone else."

"Wait" But the voice was gone. Marvin held the receiver close to his face as silence greeted him. Finally there was a clunking sound, like the opposite receiver had hit something.

"Hello?" said Marvin, his voice thin.

"Daddy?" came through the reciever. Marvin's eyes widened in shock.

"Charlie?"

"That's about enough, I think," said the original voice, whose accent Marvin had finally identified as Japanese. "I would have you talk to your darling wife, but she's not a very co-operative hostage. We had to give her a sedative - two, actually; I must commend your wife on her constitution."

"What do you want? I'll give you everything you want, everything I have - "

"Mister Rice - do you mind if I call you Marvin? Well, I suppose it doesn't really matter. Marvin, we are not interested in anything you have. Or yet, anyway."

"What do you want, then?"

"Marvin. You are going to go back to work. At some point in the near future, there will be the opportunity for a mission concerning the transportation of diplomats. You will volunteer. Don't worry about anyone else - we'll make sure you are selected. At some point after that, the diplomats will be making a pickup of some...interesting technology. You will steal some of this technology and bring it to a location I will give you in the future."

"I will. I will. Anything you want."

"Stop babbling, Marvin. I should just let you know that we have very little patience for fools. As a matter of fact..." There was a moment of silence, and then a blast came through the receiver. Marvin was military, and identified it as a gunshot.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! What did you do?"

The sound of Charlie's scream could be heard through the receiver, a background to the Japanese man. "Nothing - yet. But do not fail in your mission. Because if you do something stupid, or step out of line, and get killed - I will fire this very gun into the back of your wife and child's head. That is if you die. If you allow yourself to be captured, or simply abort, do you know what I will do?"

Marvin didn't think he wanted to know, but he had to co-operate. "W...what?"

He told him. It took the better part of five minutes, probably due to the excessive detail and the many steps that would take place before his wife and son died.

"Oh, by the by - I know that the police are tapping your phone. I wouldn't worry. They've run into some...technical problems." The voice sounded slightly pleased. "Now, I don't have to tell you that this should stay between the two of us?"

"I...." Marvin felt quite sick. His hand was screaming with pain, definitely broken, but he still pressed it against the wall to hold himself up. He would fall if he took it away. "I won't tell anyone. I - I promise."

"Very good. I'll be talking to you, Marvin."

There was a click, and the line went dead.

 

--------------------

 

Present Day

 

"Move, you son of a bitch! MOVE" Marvin Rice, helicopter pilot, screamed at the controls in front of him. Blood dribbled down the side of his face, where it had splashed from his late co-pilot. Bullets had ripped through the clear plastic that allowed them such a luxurious view of the outside world and torn through his chest. Marvin had never even known his name.

Armour-piercing bullets punched through the plastic and zinged overtop of his head. Marvin had a sidearm, but knew there was no way he could hit someone as far away as the lunatic shooting at him. Marvin was frustrated - he knew that if he ducked down, he'd probably be safe, but you couldn't raise a chopper like that - way to easy to hit something -

Hit something?

He was in the middle of a snowfield.

 

-----------------------

 

Dodge fired a burst along the chopper again, but it didn't seem to have an effect. "Charming," hissed the soldier, as someone appeared beside him. He saw it was Jack Donovan, or Ripper, out of the corner of his eye.

"I can't bring down a chopper with a G36" yelled Dodge. They were getting closer now and the screaming of the helicopter's engines made any communication below a shout impossible. Ripper had a grim expression on his face and was clutching his rifle tightly. "Where's Rick with that damn laser? I bet he'd be able to do something"

"He stopped shooting" shouted Ripper, fighting the wind kicked up by the rotors. "Fog, remember! And the chopper's kicking up snow! He's not making anything but a light show"

"Charming." Dodge gritted his teeth and fired again, bullets ripping across the front of the helicopter. Just a second later it lurched several feet into the air.

 

-----------------

 

"HEEEY" Red was screaming at the top of his lungs in a desperate attempt to be heard. He was trying to get a word into the cockpit. Only about seven or eight of the dozen diplomats were on board, and he looked like he was trying to make his escape.

"GET IN YOUR SEAT"

Another diplomat jumped on board, the end of what looked like a running leap into the chopper. Red was dimly aware that it was the woman he was wordlessly communicating with on the ride over.

"THERE ARE STILL PEOPLE OUT THERE! WE HAVE TO --"

At that point the helicopter lurched into the air, throwing Red off his feet. He was standing, pointing his finger at the pilot in an accusatory fashion, and then he was on his side on the smooth metal chopper floor. He slid towards the open door - the pilot hadn't bothered to close it, no time - and flew out. He was flying for a split second, with flashes of rifle fire way too close, and then his reaching grasping clawing grabbing hands, flailing about blindly somewhere behind his head, found purchase. His left palm smacked against the landing ski. He was immediately swung around and his left hand - his bad hand - was nearly yanked off, but somewhere inside himself a power he didn't know he had kept himself holding on.

He dangled by his left fingertips like that for a period that felt like forever but was probably less than a second, and then swung himself and clutched at the ski with his right hand. His stomach dropped into his feet as the helicopter made another staggered leap upwards, swinging him like a rag doll and almost pulling free his grip. He looked up and saw two diplomats, one of which being the woman that had leapt aboard, bracing themselves against the sides of the door and holding out hands, leaning forward as far as they could without putting themselves at risk. Without thinking - because that was the only way he could possibly have the courage to do it - Red took a hand off the ski and thrust it into their grips.

A lurch on the part of the helicopter helped them haul him into the body of the helicopter. The three were left sprawled on the floor as the pilot fought to undo his earlier, panicked controls and bring the craft under some semblance of order. With a look of fury on his face, Red picked himself up.

He left them behind, he nearly killed me, gonna tear that asshole a new... Red stormed into the cockpit, grabbed the pilot, and punched him.

 

-----------------

 

"Come back" howled Bernard at the top of his lungs, hands about his mouth. Reflected in his glasses was the chopper, shrinking. "You left us behind"

Suddenly he turned his infuriated gaze in the direction of the soldiers. It was them. They had messed everything up, they were why he was stranded in the middle of a snowy field, hell, they had just started a goddamn war. Why they -

Then something slammed into Bernard's side, hard and fast. He tumbled to the ground, glasses somehow staying on his nose as he fell into the snow with his attacker on top of him. He struggled, tried to turn around so he could get a fist at his attacker -

"You, Bernard, are quite possibly the most senseless man I have ever met." Into his ear hissed the words of the woman with the white eyelashes. "Stay down. These people will kill us."

The simplicity of the words was belied by the power she put behind the words. Bernard tried to get out from under her grapple. "Well, then we'd better run, shouldn't - "

The woman with the white eyelashes put a hand on the back of his skull and pushed downward. "Too late," she hissed, just as a man came into view. Strawberry blond hair topped an athletic physique as he came into view, rifle balanced in his hands. Bright eyes darted back and forth.

"Don't move..." she breathed, but Bernard could figure that out on his own. They were both wearing dark suits and would stand out like sore thumbs in the snow. The helicopter had kicked a lot of it over their clothes, but that wouldn't stand up to more than a cursory glance...

Bernard didn't even breath. The only thing that moved was his eyes, as they slowly rolled upwards at the chopper. And then, as if the blonde soldier had suddenly heard his thoughts, he turned and stared up at it too.

The helicopter was spinning like a top, drifting to the side and out of control.

The soldier was distracted, staring almost 150 degrees away from them. "Go," whispered the woman with the white eyelashes. Both diplomats sprang up from their hiding place barely five metres from the soldier, not waiting to get their footing before they took off.

 

-----------------

 

Red was barely aware of how the chopper suddenly went out of control as he grabbed the pilot. His blow threw the man against the controls, accentuating the loss of control and slamming Red against the wall while the pilot stayed relatively secure in his seat. Just as Red regained his footing the pilot, blood smeared from his nose, threw himself out of the seat to headbutt Red in the stomach.

The blow knocked the wind out of Red but didn't stop him. He grabbed the pilot and threw him against the doorframe, but Red was a diplomat while the pilot was obviously military. The men were thrown out into the general area with the other diplomats, struggling against the centrifugal force as the chopper spun like mad, falling to the floor and wrestling for a second before a knee was delivered to Red's chest and the pilot pulled away, throwing himself backwards.

The rusty-haired diplomat was preparing to throw himself at the other man again but suddenly saw himself looking down a barrel. The pilot had drawn a handgun, the make of which being unknown to Red but probably one of the ones that could kill him with ease, and was pointing it at him (a feat, given the circumstances) with a lumpy right hand. Red held his position for a second, on all fours on the floor fighting the centrifugal forces, as the pilot had himself braced against the doorway to the cockpit.

"Ya muddafudda" howled the pilot, words warped by a broken nose, "sidda fuddown"

Red pulled himself into a seat, strapping himself in, as the pilot somehow dragged himself into the chair and started to gain some modicum of control over the chopper.

 

-------------

 

Tim Day was coming up on the ruined trolley. Most of what he expected to be there was there - a couple of Sectoid corpses, their weapons, a whole lot of ruined technology, maybe a few salvageable bits buried away. He also saw something unexpected - a stocky, balding white man, a jacket over what looked like a suit and tie just staring down at one of the aliens. Timmy raised his weapon.

"Freeze! Hands in the air" The stocky man looked at him, a shocked expression on his face. Wind blew his remaining hair about. "You'd better have a good story to tell me" shouted Timmy.

It took a few seconds as the man's shocked eyes took in the whole scene - Tim Day, the technology, the alien corpses. Then his expression changed - Tim could see relief as well as fear in his face, afraid of him but still happy he'd come along when he did.

"Oh my God! Oh God, Oh God" The man stumbled towards him, hands outstretched. Tim tightened his grip on his gun and the older man paused, then remembered to raise his hands.

"That's far enough." Tim couldn't help but feel a little twinge of pity for the man. He looked so lost and confused - he obviously had no idea what was going on, and had probably slipped into panic as soon as everything started going pear-shaped.

The man stopped. "I have no idea what's happening! Why is there so much shooting - what's happening? Why is there fighting? This was just supposed to be - just supposed to be - " He started coming forward again as he walked, probably too overwhelmed to remember was Tim was telling him.

"I said that's far enough" Tim repeated, forcefully this time. The man looked up at him and stopped dead. "Why don't you just tell me - "

"Okay! Oh, God, please don't shoot me! We're not doing anything to you" The man stayed the same distance from Tim but started to move sideways, moving in a circle around him. That was fine with Tim; he was unarmed, totally powerless so long as he kept his distance, and walking probably gave him a crutch he could use to keep from melting down entirely. Some answers would be nice...

"That's fine. Just relax...why don't you just tell me what's going on here."

"I - I - I don't know! You tell me! What is - there's you and there's them and the - the -" the balding man dropped to his knees with a wet sound. He looked down to see his pants were now covered in green, having landed in the mangled corpse of one of the Sectoids. " - and this! What is this? I don't understand..."

"Just calm down, sir. Everything's under control. Here..." Tim flicked his weapon's safety and put it away. He held up both hands, palms outward. "Okay? You're safe now. I'm not going to hurt you. Now, in a second I'm going to have to take my gun out again - all right? - but only because there's still hostiles in the area. I'm not going to hurt you."

"All right, then..." said the balding men quietly, lowering his hands to the ground.

 

-------------------

 

Marvin's hands shook on the helicopter controls. God, that son of a bitch is gonna kill Alice and Charlie... He had failed. His family was going to die, his wife and son-! It wasn't even his fault, everything would have gone perfectly if just...

He couldn't let this happen. He couldn't let them die! There had to be something he could do! He couldn't let them be gutted by that Japanese sociopath, he couldn't, he couldn't - he had to get some tech. Any alien tech, but that was impossible, the diplomats didn't get ten feet from the chopper, where was he going to get -

Oh.

 

-----------------

 

Tim had his weapon out and was about to flick off the safety when the loud sound of a helicopter met his ears. It sounded like it was practically on top of him. He shot a look back at Warlord - but the troop carrier was still on the ground. "What the - " He turned back to look at the balding man -

- just in time to see him, his confusion gone, shoot an arm forward and snatch something off the ground. Tim was just thinking what's he going to do, throw that or something - when he saw it was a plasma pistol; the one that had originally belonged to the Sectoid the man was kneeling in.

Tim started to raise his weapon, realized the safety was on, and dropped it. He charged the man, but it was deep snow and he was slowed, and he realized he couldn't possibly make it, he could shoot him half a dozen times before he reached him -

And the man pulled the trigger with a simple click and nothing more, because it was an alien pistol and he had no idea how to use it. And realization just dawned in the man's eyes when Tim reached him, grabbing the older man by the collar and driving a blow under the chin.

Tim was trained in hand-to-hand fighting, but the truth of the matter was he simply wasn't very strong and there's no way getting around that. So the man staggered back, but didn't fall, and as a matter of fact managed to get to his feet before swinging the pistol in an attempt to club Tim with its butt.

He wasn't strong, but speed as a matter of fact was Tim Day's area of expertise. He rather skillfully avoided the blow with a step to the side and responded with another punch of his own, then another. Lightning quick if weak punches knocked the balding man back, then Tim grabbed him by the collar and threw him onto his gut on the ground.

"STAY DOWN" Shouted Tim, unconsciously adjusted for the noise of the helicopter which was now quite loud. "HANDS ON THE BACK OF YOUR - "

Which was when something black and huge bled into Tim's field of vision from the right. Tim whirled to see a big, black helicopter lurch by him, way too close to ground level, and suddenly turn about. It barely made it without crashing into the ground; Tim was no pilot, but he could tell that the pilot was one of two things: extremely skilled or extremely desperate.

Tim took a step back, and the helicopter completed its turn - it was facing him, and through the cracked and broken windshield the agent could see the pilot - bloody, crazed-looking, and with a pistol in his right hand. To Tim's shock the pilot lifted the pistol in and fired at him as he shot the chopper forward. Bullets went wild about Tim as he threw himself to the side, barely avoiding being slammed by a charging helicopter.

Extremely desperate it is, then.

Tim's head snapped to the side and he saw his weapon lying in the snow. He didn't exactly know how useful it would be to take on a helicopter with small arms, but he knew it'd do infinitely better than his fists. He turned and dashed for it, not seeing as the balding man threw himself at the helicopter to land half-in, half-out the doors, still holding the alien pistol.

Tim just made it, raised it, and flicked off the safety as he turned to see the chopper - piloted by apparently the luckiest madman in the world - come at him again. He got off a couple of shots to no visible effect before he saw the pilot yank the controls to the side, hard.

The only two, maybe three people on the team that could have avoided what came next. One of them was Ed Dodge, the maybe being Ripper. It is extremely fortunate that the remaining one is Tim Day. Because that bit of abuse on the controls caused the helicopter to turn in an incredibly fast full circle, and Tim Day saw the tail of the plane - made of metal and moving at incredible speed - coming at him. His body reacted years ahead of his conscious mind as he ducked, head going down, waist bending, knees angling, and his head just dipped under the tail as it swung by with a swoosh loud even over the screaming helicopter. He felt it part the air as it passed his skull by less than two centimetres.

Like a wounded cornered animal utterly unpredictable thought Tim as he scrambled back on hands and feet, but the chopper was leaving him. It wasn't out to kill him - it just wanted its man back -

Or maybe the gun he carried?

Tim raised his own gun, realized it was useless - he'd never bring down a chopper like this - and lowered it. If anyone could have seen both his and Warlord's faces, they would have marvelled at their identicality.

 

-------------

 

The diplomat heaved heavily, dragging himself across the floor. His face was a mess of blood, but he was at least safe now. He still held a death grip on the alien pistol.

A shadow fell over him as the chopper slightly dipped. He looked up. It was the pilot. He held a pistol in one hand. It was pointed at him. The other hand was held out as if expecting an offering.

"The artefact."

[The Veteran]

"And people ask me why I don't swim," said Rick shaking from the freezing cold. He pulled at Terrick's motionless body as he attempted to drag him out of the icy water they'd fallen into.

 

"Terrick, hey come on buddy we could use a few good hands out here." Rick gently slapped Terrick's face as most people for some reason do when attempting to resuscitate someone. "Goddammit, first Warlord then you, what is this a holiday camp? Everyone's just lying down all over the place"

 

It suddenly occurred to Rick that he was unarmed and in the middle of a battlefield. He reached for the laser pistol in front of him which had been knocked from his hands and was just moving to take it when it moved about three meters in an instant. Rick looked up and froze as he suddenly saw what Terrick had knocked him down for.

 

Rick rolled down beside Terrick immediately and tore his own rifle from the casualties shoulder. His hands immediately sticking to the icy weapon casing Rick suddenly foresaw his own end. Just about at the same time in fact as he saw the sniper's head explode.

 

"What is this a holiday camp?" bellowed Warlord from behind the team leader.

 

"How happy am I to see you," said Rick in relief. A second longer and we wouldn't have a choice on who takes the squad! What happened to your zappy gun?"

 

"Busted," said Warlord simply, "but I've been making my own fun without it... I don't know how many of these guys are out there but I've had my squad go wide and we've already killed or incapacitated eight of them. One of them had this nifty piece of kit. It's an auto cannon like mine but it looks like anewer model... Anyway what's the sketch? Last thing I knew I got blown up and a tree fell on me. Developments?"

 

"Well for a start we're sitting here chatting while our men are doing us proud... Apart from that, the helicopter just flew off and I've been in the pool so I can't say any more."

 

"Doc," Warlord called into his comm. "Do you have any radio or life form readings? Weapons or technology scans? Anything at all?"

 

*Hey, Yeah all of the above. We have two men apparently out of action, Day and Terrick, Terrick is showing signs of internal bleeding, Day is just taking a time out. Apart from that the chopper's left with about five casualties, some may be saved with quick aid. There have been twelve ambushers dead and that looks to be most if not all of them... I'm still getting some false readings but if I was to take a guess I'd say three unidentified armed humans, the same in greys, and I can see what looks like an unarmed civilian too...*

 

"Whoa, wait a minute. Unarmed civilian? Where?" called Rick.

 

*Don't shoot the messenger, it could be bull, but it looks like maybe one of their diplomats is fleeing, right towards me... They're heading for the Skyranger Rick...*

 

"Are you sure? Can you see him?"

 

*No and he probably can't see me either, the snows kicking up again over by me but a little help wouldn't go amiss if possible. Tactical Command suggests clearing out asap. Gather up our wounded, their wounded and then leave. They're going to wait for clearer weather before any salvage operations but one of our interceptors is to stay as cover.*

 

"Ok get onto TJ, he can stay. Get Gia home, she's cleared to leave." By this point Rick was already sprinting towards the Skyranger, he never had been one for technology and he wasn't convinced Doc was safe from whatever was heading his way. "I'm coming up on the Skyranger Doc, you should see me on your scans."

 

*Of course I can see you on my scans Rick, you're on my side! You're pretty close to whoever this guy is now so keep frosty. These scanners are known to screw up from time to time.*

 

"It wouldn't be the military way if they didn't my good captain! I'm going to radio silence. Watch this space"

 

*We got another sniper and two more grays but Howitz has taken a nasty shot,* chimed Warlord before Rick had a chance to shut his comm off.

 

*Cheap shot more like!* cut in Howitz, *That was my kill and you know it!*

 

*Ok Howitz is fine but his pride is a little bruised. How's your end?8

 

"I'm coming up on that civilian, I hope. Don't talk to me for a while ok, I don't want to get nailed in sight of the evac craft. That's just rubbing it in."

 

*Ok boss, let me know what you find.*

 

Bernard was frustrated, infuriated in fact. What had happened for today to go so badly! Now he was lost in the snow with no chance of evacuation and little chance of survival... And he'd just walked into a rather large gentleman holding a rifle...

 

"Hi," said Rick smiling from ear to ear. "Welcome to America"

[Bomb Bloke]

The fog and smoke across the snow field was beginning to clear. The chopper had left, shadowed by Gai's Hurricane. Howitz flexed his shoulders, and let his pack hit the snow - there didn't seem to be any more hostiles, and if there were, they were most likely intellegent enough to be moving away from the area. The only injury in his squad was Terrick, and Tammy was heading to his location...

 

He slumped down using his pack to lean against, un-zipped the sleeve of his suit, and checked his arm. He'd been grazed by a bullet, but it'd most likely heal in about a week, and he'd have to put with nothing more then a few scabs in the meantime. Not a bad for a day's work, considering his kill count...

 

--------------------

 

Terrick awoke, to a vision of blue. Confused, he swung his body around and tried to stand up, his vision bluring to a field of white before the pain set in and he collapsed again. He felt like someone had shoved some thick wire into his side, thrust it right through, and was trying to lift him up with it.

 

His memory soon returned - he'd gone through the ice. That explained the shivering, but he didn't feel cold. Aside from his wound, he didn't feel much. He felt light headed.

 

His gaze slowly roamed the field. He couldn't see much, his vision fuzzy. He eventually saw the laser pistol in the snow... Reached out for it, stared at it, and slipped it down the neck of his armor. This much seemed to exhaust him, and he collapsed into the snow, again unconcious.

 

--------------------

 

Howitz started up as the familiar roar of SkyRanger engines started. But this wasn't from the direction of his craft, this was from the other one... By now he'd removed the top half of his jumpsuit, being more resistant to cold then heat, and was busy trying to cool off under his armor. He jumped up, grabbed a string of grenades off the side of his pack, and started towards the craft - as did all the other team members in the area.

 

One of the surviving unknowns in the area must have been a pilot. There'd been no one near the thing before. There wasn't much he could do about it, but the adrenaline hadn't worn off yet...

 

Black shapes converged on the roar in the snow.

 

--------------------

 

There were three people in the modified SkyRanger. The pilot sat next to one who had white eyelashes, the other - who she'd picked out herself, though none of her associates knew that - was Captain America. Frank Burns. He sat in the open hold of the 'Ranger, holding a heavy machine gun trained at whatever was due to come into his sights. This wasn't her concern, he was a good soldier, but even she thought he was an idiot. He could do what he liked, he wouldn't be much help in the air, and the only problems as far as she was concerned were in the air.

 

She'd noted that an overhead jet had left after the chopper, and that left one other. She knew the specifications of this jet. She'd put a lot of work into designing it. Well, adapting the engines to fit, anyway.

 

The pilot flipped various switches, and as the main engines powered up, lifted the craft slowly into the air. He heard gunfire from the back of the craft, but his mind overruled it. No time...

 

Maria Shipley watched as he slipped his hands into the special gloves she'd designed. Her proto-type alien craft was built like a transport, but it needed the room for the engine. She'd nearly arranged for an extra supply of fuel for it. Oh well. With any luck, the current supply would keep her alive.

 

The thrusters cut out, but the craft remained in the air and started to move ahead. Started to accelerate. And before she knew it, it blasted away at a speed no craft should move at...

[The Veteran]

"Goddammit" yelled Trigger as his radar seemed to switch itself off. "Doc where the hell did that thing go"

 

*I have no idea, its off the radar, way off! I've never seen anyone move that fast, not even you!*

 

"Tactical Command this is Interceptor One, we've lost the transport craft, it's just gone"

 

*Interceptor one this is Tactical Command, global radar shows the craft moving fast, way too fast for you and still accelerating. Do not pursue, that's an order. You are to hold your position and await the arrival of a cleanup crew. TC out.*

 

Back on base things had been getting hectic, and nowhere more than tactical command. Radio silence had only been broken minutes ago and the command centre was being inundated with casualty reports, hostile movements and all the finer details of the mission so far.

 

There were two pilots both talking at the same time, a squad leader and his second in command both trying to talk to their troops, commanders and each other at the same time and soldiers lost in the weather.

 

With the battle nearly finished on the ground the last loose end seemed to be the helicopter which was apparently carrying this alien pistol. Gia was firm on its tail but could apparently do nothing about it.

 

"For God's sake sir, if this thing get's out into the world at large the war is as good as lost. We can't allow the wrong people to get hold of this technology and you know it. The chopper is crippled, I could drop it into the oceanright now and who would ever know?"

 

*I say again Interceptor Two, do not engage the enemy craft, all personnel on board are to be considered neutral until it is proven otherwise.*

 

Gia was furious and she suddenly understood where Trigger got his callsign from, it was so tempting to just squeeze a little tighter...

 

"How can you say this is a neutral craft! We've taken casualties trying to stop them escaping"

 

*Have we Gia? Have we really? Is anyone dead? No they are not. From the information we've recieved on this mission the squad has acted in an absolutely appauling manner. Unarmed and defenceless diplomats have been sent to their slaughter! A civilian craft has been virtually destroyed! What had they done to us? These people are not our enemies Gia. No people are our enemies, that is who we're fighting to protect not to persecute! Now you have been given a direct order Gia, not to intercept. Do you understand?*

 

Gia clenched her teeth and gripped the controls as if to strangle them.

 

*Gia! Do you understand!*

 

A switch was flicked and the comm channel died.

 

"Yes sir... I think I do..."

[storm turmoil]

As he slipped between the doors of workshop one, Dave Brown, usually bettter known by the nickname 'Turmoil', had no way of knowing that this would be a very bad thing to do.

 

" How many times do I have to tell you apes, no soldiers in the workshops" Dana farber, suffering from lack of both sleep and caffeine, was on the verge of multiple murder.

 

" Now you just turn those knuckles around, and walk on them out of here"

 

" Erm." He began, a little nervously. " I'm the new engineer."

 

Dana stared. with a build like that, even in an engineers blue boilersuit, it was hard to imagine him as anything but military, even with the glasses.

 

" You're military." A small, treacherous voice whispered in the back of her mind.

 

 

She was pushing too hard, She knew that, but there was too much needed doing too soon, and not enough people to go round: most of engineering was doubling up as scientists on the HWP and laser programs, and the motion tracker program was driving everyone involved round the bend.

 

She breathed out: none of that excused snapping at people for no good reason.

 

Then a runner came flying down the hall, shouldered in past the new arrival, and started babbling incoherently. after Dana yelled at him to slow down, He became a little more comprehensible.

 

" There a site recovery op getting set to go in an hour! Zager and Photon are on the verge of a breakthrough, so they asked if you could head out"

 

Dana began to complain, but was cut off.

 

" Commanders orders! take whatever squaddies are still mobile, and whichever engineers you want, but get out there and bring back the bacon. this op has not gone to plan, and TC wants to know why"

 

Dana sighed a weary sigh, and turned to the new engineer with a decidedly vicious grin on her face.

 

" You heard the man. grab some tools and meet me at the osprey in twenty minutes. and pass it on to any squaddies you see on your way: that'll teach 'em to try and slow my staff down with idle chatter"

 

The newcomer groaned and headed out the door again.

 

Behind him, Dana smiled a little smile of triumph.

 

********

 

After several false starts, Dave finally found the osprey, the tiltrotor craft abuzz with busy groundcrew. lugging a backpack plasma cutter, A pair of welding goggles pushed up on his forehead, and pushing a trolley full of tools, He was accosted by a crewman who took charge of the trolley, and made his way to the rear ramp, where He found the woman who'd given him the order.

 

" So, you made it" She enthused, though she seemed a little put out by his timing: He was three minutes late.

 

" This place isn't like any other facility I've been stationed at." He explained.

 

" In any way. You got a name?" She asked.

 

" Dave brown, but everyone calls me 'Turmoil'" He answered.

 

" Dana Farber, and as you guessed, I'm your new boss. Don't forget it" She warned him, and She looked it, her labcoat exchanged for the same navy blue boiler suit and toolbelt cinched about the waist he wore. Behind her, four tired eyed soldiers tramped up the ramp.

 

The two engineers followed, accompanied by Chris Black the biologist, soemetimes called the vampire for his habit of working very strange hours, the only actual scientist they'd been able to dragoon for the mission. Then again, from the word on the ground, this recovery was mostly engineering's anyway, which could be why The commander had given it to Her, Dana mused.

 

One of the Squaddies threw a wolf whistle at the two engineers "New boyfriend Dana?" He asked, before one of the other troopers, a dark, intense asian woman, one eye covered by a dark patch, a dragon dancing round its matte outline, clocked him round the back of the head, and shunted him forward.

 

"Dave brown, also known as Turmoil. Don't worry about the name though, most of you won't live long enough to need to remember it." Dana spat out, and the troopers shuddered involuntarily. Mostly because they all thought it was probably true.

 

as they all took their places on the benches down the side of the Osprey, one of the rookies glanced at

Turmoil's toolbelt and laughed at the sight of a standard X-com .45 pistol holstered there with the rest of his tools.

 

" What's the matter man, you don't trust us to do our Jobs?" The soldier asked.

 

" It's not that I don't trust you to kill all the aliens, I just don't trust all the aliens to stay dead." He explained, the comment generating a low murmur that was rapidly absorbed by the growing hum of the motors as they spun up to speed. the last of the recovery gear was onboard, and The rear ramp lifted with the slow buzz of massively powerful hydraulics.

 

" I hope you don't get airsick" one of the troopers told him with a grim smile " 'cause there ain't no bags on this boat"

[JellyfishGreen]

As the door gunner raked the forest with hot lead fingers, Howitz had moved quick as he could to where the gunner wasn't looking and raised his pistol.

Someone small and swift tackled him then, grabbing at his face, the unexpected impact rolling them both over in the snow.

 

He wrestled with the assailant as best he could, grabbing a lump, which unexpectedly tore away along with a handful of cloth. The assailant sprang off him and floundered its way towards the transport, where the door gunner spotted the movement but didn't fire.

 

Howitz kept himself in the snow to avoid attracting the minigunner's attention, feeling useless but pinned. Shortly thereafter, he heard the transport take off, and the excited reports on the comm channel as it turned into a UFO or something. He checked in with his commander then sat up to get his bearings in the now quiet forest before heading back for the regroup. He turned over the handful of cloth he still clutched and looked curiously at the bronze potato within. It seemed to have been ripped off an equipment belt, and had a plastic ring still attached at one end. It also had a small glass lens, almost where his thumb would naturally sit. He suddenly realized he was holding XCOM's first intact alien grenade.

 

He smiled.

 

-----------------

 

Aboard the transport, Burns and the one fellow merc he'd rescued looked with unease at the lone hooded figure sharing the space with them. Never having believed in aliens, the fear they had felt with the reports of aliens running around in the forest and the flashes of mystery weapons was still in the pit of their stomachs. The alien crouched next to the pilot's bulkhead with grey bony hands clenched and, somewhere under its ripped cloak, clucked its tongue rapidly and angrily. Neither Burns nor the other merc had the least desire to see what sort of grey-skinned face hid that tongue.

 

<Communication-request-earthling-businesswoman-shipley>, buzzed the voice in Maria's psionic-receiver implant. <Designated-communication-officer-193, you're alive!?> she verbalized back. <We are thankful! Do you know what is going on?>

 

<I was on my way to transfer to you the Cbryhhm when I received word that our ship was under attack. Before I could reach them, all was lost. My thoughts were to get the Cbryhhm to safety. But as I neared your rendezvous I found it too was under attack. By the Overmind I do not understand how things have gone so badly. It must be a leak among you humans.>

 

<I believe we were attacked by the force XCOM.> reasoned Shipley as she flew. <Obviously something went wrong with the diversion.>

 

<Please get me back in communication with my commander as soon as possible,> replied 193 tersely. <I still have the Cbryhhm but now there is no chance of using it to eavesdrop on your United Nations building.>

[Bomb Bloke]

"So let me get this straight."

 

"Ok."

 

"You killed four aliens, and three soldiers."

 

"Uh, yep."

 

"And you wrestled an intact explosive device from another alien, after taking a live hostage."

 

"Um, yeh, that too."

 

Rocio Lee looked blankley at Howitz through her one good eye. He was sprawled on his back in the snow. Having cooled off, he'd put the rest of his suit back on, but he was sure he'd picked up a few kilos of snow. He looked back with an apologetic face and shrugged.

 

"You couldn't hit a bus at close range."

 

He cringed at this, and shrugged again. "Well, I only used a few shots, and those were non-fatal. Actually, the only guy I hit was killed by his own side, not me. Used him as a shield."

 

The tone of her voice did not vary. "You killed them all with grenades."

 

"Well, I clubbed one of them with my gun. I let two of them live, you must remember."

 

"You also let one get away."

 

He chuckled as she strode off through the snow. He and squad one had congregated around their own 'Ranger, and the majority of the team were relaxing now that the Osprey had arrived. It wasn't often that he made any kills in a battlefield situation, so it was nothing to complain about given that it was his first mission. Heck, he hadn't even been trying...

 

Terrick had come round after being tended to by Tammy, and had insisted on changing his frigid uniform himself. Both he and Rick had been jabbed with some of the magic stuff they'd stashed in the medkits... It'd stop hypothermia, apparently, but Howitz had more trust in their position near the Osprey engines. It was unbearably hot at close range.

 

He'd heard rumours that command wasn't too happy with the way the mission had been handled. Well, sure, he'd been the first to open fire on the other forces, but even he was inclined to open fire when someone shoved an assault rifle under his nose. He figured he'd get off alright, even if he had fired the first shot. It seemed Dodge going to be in a bit of trouble when he got back to base, however...

 

No one really seemed to know what was going on, but with any luck the two prisoners would be able to shed some light on the situation. The merc he'd knocked out was most likely going to pull through, and the squad leader, Rick, had picked up another man, who for some reason was un-armed. Maybe there had been some sort of diplomatic meeting set up.

 

He snorted out another chuckle to himself. Battlefields weren't the best of places to turn up for small talk...

[FullAuto]

"Dana"

She looked round from studying the UFO.

Tim Day, crouched by a bodybag, with Conner, Donovan and Ibsen in attendance.

"Your new friend seen an alien yet?" Day called out, nudging the lumpy outline.

Dana turned to Turmoil, raising her eyebrows.

He hadn't, she knew, and if he was sensible, he wouldn't want to either.

-like you were-

She shuddered. No one was sensible, at least not anyone who worked at Pine Gap and had enough clearance to get into the morgue. Everyone just had to go along and see the dead aliens for themselves. No matter how many nightmares they got.

All the corpses had been bagged and tagged before the Osprey had arrived, and although they were mostly still in situ, a few had been moved closer to the plane for convenience.

Turmoil nodded, not quite able to hide how eager he was. Sighing, Dana followed him over to the soldiers, shivering in the biting wind. Cold gnawed at her through her overalls. She made a mental note to bring a jacket on the next trip out.

Turmoil was too keyed up to notice. Queasy from the flight, adrenaline still seeping through his system, he walked over to Day and crouched down beside him.

Dana and Rocio Lee were close behind, the latter's face carefully composed. She hadn't been on base long enough to get around to seeing an alien body, though she'd heard rumours.

Day unzipped the bodybag and took hold of the loose corner. "Sure you want to see this?"

Turmoil nodded, leaning forward.

"You sure? It'll haunt you for the rest of your days." Day grinned at the other soldiers.

Turmoil nodded again. "I'm sure."

With a flourish, Day flipped back the top of the bodybag, revealing what was underneath.

There was a jarring sense of dislocation. Everything, familiar up to that point, seemed strange. His own body heat, the figures around him, the snow, the sky, the trees. It all seemed unreal, too much or too little, not right. Turmoil glanced arund, making sure he was still on Earth, and that this lump of dead flesh before him was out of place, that it was the stranger here.

Not him.

It's huge black eyes were dull, it's small mouth lolled open. There was a large wound in it's abdomen, big enough to fit a fist into, and a thick twisted bunch of blue gut hung out, dripping some chunky orange liquid that reminded Storm of melted cheese. The alien lay straight, one long-fingered hand clenched tight, body and legs stained with it's own blood.

Green blood, Turmoil noticed, leaning closer. A thick, vivid green.

"Hey, Ghost, can you smell that?" Day asked.

Turmoil looked up at the soldier, squatting opposite him.

Ghost sniffed, then shook his head. "Nope. Can't smell anything. You?"

Turmoil inhaled deeply through his nose. And retched.

He spun away as the soldiers burst out laughing, gagging, holding back vomit as his stomach spasmed. Cold sweat broke out on his skin as he bent double and took deep heaving breaths. The stink had been a vile cross between rotten eggs and greasy bacon gone cold. Heat rushed to his face and muscles strained as his guts convulsed, unsteady, knotting and unknotting, flushes of hot and cold making him shudder. He rubbed some snow on his face, knocking his glasses askew.

"Mmm, home cooking." Ibsen said behind him, and he retched again, bringing up nothing more than bile.

Footsteps, then a friendly clap on the shoulder from Day. "They always smell like that after a chest wound." He walked on to the 'ranger.

Turmoil stood up straight, a hand on his stomach. "Thanks for that." He replied, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

-God, that smell-

The memory of it almost made him sick again. He looked over his shoulder at the body. Lee, her face showing nothing more than mild distaste, zipped the bodybag up.

The sense of unreality faded, the messy truth covered by nice neat plastic, and the snowfield, and the people, and the sky and the trees and his own sense of self returned to normal. Dana was looking at him, guarded sympathy in her eyes. Ghost, Donovan and Ibsen were still smiling, watching him.

He set his glasses right, feeling the hot flush of nausea fade, helped by the cool wind.

Ghost tossed him a bottle of water. Turmoil washed his mouth out and spat.

"First time I smelled it, I barfed like a freshman." Ghost nudged the body. "Clumsy assholes like Donovan here gutshoot and stink up the place. You see any aliens with head wounds, you know they're my work."

"Beating them to death doesn't count, man." Donovan laughed, standing. "Come on."

The soldiers headed for the 'ranger, weapons slung, already passing insults and jokes back and forth. Ibsen threw something small and plastic to Turmoil as he passed him, saying "You'll need it for the trip back."

Turmoil unfolded it. It was a sick bag.

Dana gave Storm a wan smile. "Welcome to X-Com."

[storm turmoil]

"What do we have?" Came the terse question from Tactical command.

 

" well, we have a bunch of suspicious looking suits, a couple of soldiers, some barbequed bug-eyed monsters, and miracle of miracles, a mostly untouched UFO. Thats whats taking so long, by the way. we're stripping it of everything portable, and then we're going to rig it for lifting." Dana answered. While She wasn't technically an officer, when it came to recovery ops, the Scientists and engineers called the Shots.

 

" Intact, you say?"

 

" Thats right. Except for some superficial scorching from when the squad stormed it, it's complete. We'd like to keep it that way, if possible. having a complete one of these to study would be a major boost." She explained.

 

"How long?" Genega asked. She knew what He meant.

 

" Turmoil says an hour to stash everything and get this thing rigged to sling under the Osprey and Ranger. We're just lucky the thing's so light, or we couldn't have have lifted it and we'd have had to cut it up again. After that, back to pine gap in about seven hours, according to Doc."

 

" OK, approved. Just make sure our 'guests' don't go wandering; We need to know what they know." Genega warned, tension evident in his voice. It was clear He wasn't overly happy about the situation, but was grudgingly accepting of the possible gains from an undamaged UFO.

 

" What else, Aretefact-wise" He asked, suddenly brightening.

 

" Sir, I'm going to transfer you to Turmoil, He's been doing the cataloguing." Dana told Him. There was a brief buzz of static as the channel switched.

 

" Turmoil Here" came the voice.

 

" This is Tactical command. Dana said you were cataloguing the alien artefacts?" Genega asked.

 

" That's right. We've got three each of what seem to be alien Pistols and rifles. Also, Some suspicious looking purple Spheres, and a much larger blue sphere that's giving people a headache when they handle it. We put that in the Hazard box, just in case. There are also two much larger items than the pistol and rifle, but we're not sure if they're weapons or something else. Also-" and here He broke off to swap words with one of the troopers nearby.

 

" we also have the wreckage of what I've been told was some kind of mobile hover platform. Apparently two of the aliens were ordering it about, and Slice caught it in the blast radius of a rocket when He Used the tank to take them down. We'll bring it in anyway and see what we can do with it, though to tell the truth, there's not much left. Apparently, it was loaded up with weapons, and we think they may have cooked off in the blast."

 

" Now that may be worth knowing about. Do what you can."

 

" Will do. We also have two containers of those orange crystals, and what seems to be the alien equivalent of webbing vests, as well as an intact, undetonated alien version of a grenade, thanks to one of the troopers quick thinking. Thats in the hazard box too."

 

" Understood. The Ufo?"

 

" We've got the squads setting it up to lift. all the internals seem intact. We seem to have run into what seems to be the alien version of a toolkit, as well. That is, an engineers kit; We think we may be able to adapt some of them for our use: that'd make working with the alien metals a lot easier, though you'd have to talk to Dana about that, She knows more about the Alien Alloys than I do, one of the tools seems to be a hull repair gadget that can sweat replacement hull plates on."

 

" Now that, we do need. Good work. Tactical command out."

 

********

 

" O' chez?" came the voice Rick secretly been dreading.

 

" Y-yes s-s-sir?" Rick managed, fighting the tendancy of his jaw to chatter; The medikit would apparently deal with Hypothermia, but not all the side symptoms.

 

" What the-"

 

" S-s-sorry Sir, I-I-I kind of took A s-s-pill through the i-i-ice." Rick broke off with a loud sneeze.

 

" That aside. you're still in charge, nominally. make sure that those 'guests' of your's don't stick their noses in anywhere they shouldn't. Keep 'em away from the Alien gear, and make sure they don't try to get away. If any of them ask, tell them it's quarantine procedure, and that they're being placed in protective custody. "

 

" Y-y-yess s-s-ir"

 

"Also, put them in with the biggest people you've got. Like Warlord and that Turmoil Character. That ought to curtail any questions. just Get 'em back here. No doubt we'll find out about all this when it hits the fan."

 

Genega sounded like He wanted to curse worse than that. Rick couldn't really blame him.

 

********

 

" Ok, take us up" came the order from the Osprey's rear ramp.

 

The Osprey lifted slowly, and as it did, the Skyranger behind it, tethered to rear of the UFO lifted too, picking up the slack. The osprey lifted the Front of the UFO clear, and the two lift craft made to leave.

 

" Are you sure you can manage this?" Dana asked of the Osprey's pilot, a little concerned at the tandem lift manouvre.

 

" Piece of cake. As long as we keep the throttle open, and Doc keeps the 'Ranger throttled down, we can't lose."

 

"Man, I wish I was in the 'ranger" Dana muttered

 

" Why, you don't trust this bird" The pilot muttered, a little dispirited.

 

" It's not that. It's just if I was in the 'Ranger, I wouldn't have to watch that thing swing" She explained, and the pilot laughed.

 

Over in the Ranger, Warlord and Turmoil were giving their 'guest's the 'strong, silent type' treatment, with the rest of the squad placed directly between them and the 'Rangers share of the UFO items.

 

One of them made to speak but Warlord Glared at him, and suddenly He thought better of it.

 

Turmoil Grinned, and Warlord Smiled back Grimly. The man suddenly went pale.

[Alitorious]

Dana grew tired of watching the grey mass of the UFO dangle between the two craft, and turned back to the damaged laser pistol in her hands. For some reason, it had overheated uncontrollably and unexpectedly in the field, and now it was her job to figure out why. She picked up the radio and contacted the ranger.

"Yo, what's up?" came Doc's voice.

"Can you get O'Chez on the line?"

"Sure thing." On the Skyranger, Doc yelled out,"Rick! Phone for you"

"Yeah, what is it?" Rick said as soon as he was able to.

"Can you take a look at your laser pistol?" Dana's voice came over the radio.

"Uh... I left it with Terrick back at the pond. Just a sec. Yo! Terrick! You mind handing over that raygun?"

Terrick's face turned to one of alarm. "I don't have it," he said simply.

"What?"

"What's going on?" asked Dana over the radio, not having heard Terrick but hearing Rick.

Terrick was looking a little more scared now. "It... it wasn't there when I woke up. Maybe someone else took it... or it could have fallen in the water?"

The medic who had looked after Terrick was listening in. "I was the first one there, and I didn't see anything of the sort," he said with his hands in the air in an I didn't do it! expression.

Oh, damn! thought Rick.

"What's going on?" demanded Dana.

"Uh... I think... I think the raygun's in the drink," Rick admitted.

Rick counted. Seven seconds.

"Excuse me?"

"We were by a frozen pond with thin ice. I didn't think it fell in... I remember having it there. Yeah, then the sniper shot at it."

Dana was too stunned to say anything.

"I thought it was with Martin, but we were still rather close to that pond and..."

"You mean to tell me," Dana said very slowly, "that an experimental weapon, with an unpatented but Nobel Prize worthy invention, is sitting at the bottom of a lake in someone's backyard?"

Worthy of a Nobel? Rick thought? Isn't that taking it a bit too far?

Martin looked like he was feeling sick. "Maybe I accidentally kicked it or something..." He was currently wondering how long it would take for someone to guess that he had stolen it.

Meanwhile, back in the Skyranger, neurons were misfiring in poor Dana's sleep-deprived brain. Of all the... why'd they have to drop it in water? Through a miracle, one of the signals got lost and arrived instead at just the right place.

Water.

She carefully inspected the casing again, paying close attention to the seams of the casing. They were definitely not watertight. Water had to have gotten in somehow and shorted something out. The snow in the air was probably enough to do that.

The other laser, submerged in icy water as it was, probably wouldn't fire again either. The antiphoton generator didn't mix well with water, to put it lightly.

Nobody suspected that it was Terrick, and not the pond, that held the prototype laser pistol.

 

-------

 

Back at Pine Gap, the news that a pistol had (supposedly) been left behind in a pool of water was not taken well.

"Can you turn back and retrieve it?" asked Geneva.

"Negative," responded the Osprey pilot. "We barely have enough fuel to make it back to base as it is. If we turn back now, then we'll have to make a stop somewhere and I think our 'luggage' will draw a bit of attention, eh?"

"Damnit," Geneva mumbled under his breath. Okay, time to try something new. He turned to Pickering, hovering somewhere nearby.

"Take care of that, too."

 

--------

 

Back overseas in America, Marvin was growing very annoyed at that jet that kept following them. He wished he could swat it out of the sky like the fly it was. Every once in a while the jet would grow tired of hovering behind them and do a few circles before following closely behind again. He'd never seen a jet like that fly so slowly. It was almost as if it could hover in the air. He didn't know that it actually could.

Frozen air still came through the broken windshield and swept past him. It stung his eyes and burned his face. Marvin ignored it all and kept heading determinedly towards his destination: The city of Washington.

 

Gia was getting impatient. Here was this crippled and limping animal. To any predator it screamed food! yet she could not do a thing. She had her orders.

She sighed, then decided to give her comms another try. Maybe she could persuade this guy to put it down or something. However, immediately upon being turned on, it squelched out at her ears.

"-peat. Unknown aircraft, this is Captain Donald Ramson out of Bolling Air Force Base. You are heading towards city airspace. Change your course to zero-nine-zero immediately and respond. Over."

What? Nothing's showing up! Oh... The range on her radar display was currently set to just a couple kilometers. That was the best to get the most detail she could out of the ground to relay back to the men on the ground. She switched the radar back to its full range, and sure enough two contacts were bearing down on her. Command should have been watching her back and should have notified her of this much earlier.

She had switched off Command.

"I repeat. Unknown aircraft, respond immediately or we will be forced to open fire." Secretly, Gia wished they would. It would be an excuse to fire back. Wisely, she chose the talking option.

"This is Lieutenant Gia O'Connor. I am a special forces pilot tracking fleeing hostiles. I cannot comply with your directions."

 

In the other plane, an F-16 Falcon, Donald Ramson was not expecting this. He just wanted to get back to base. He was this close to being certified on the new plane, the Raptor. Of course, nothing seemed to make sense today. Earlier they had been scrambled, with Command in almost a state of panic. There were rumours that a freaking U.F.O. crashed into Washington itself. Now one of the contacts he was chasing claimed to be special forces? Ramson hoped that she was just a crazy civilian pilot in a small plane.

Still, he had his orders. At least she was responding. Ramson's wingmate was unsuccessfully trying to reach the other slow-mover.

"Negative, Lieutenant." He didn't believe her. "Change your heading immediately, or we will be forced to open fire." Both as part of procedure, and to give emphasis to his command, Ramson locked on with missiles. He doubted it would do anything, though. A civilian craft couldn't detect it.

 

Back in the Hurricane, Gia's console lit up and started buzzing at her.

"Weapons lock," it advised.

"Dammit." She getting a bit more anxious. Even though at this range she could still defend herself, no pilot liked to be shot at. More on her nerves was the feeling of ineptitude, and she took it out on this intruder. "Captain Ramson, I am flying a military prototype. If you want to shoot at me, then I hope you have your retirement money already set up because your C.O. will court-marshall your ass before you can say 'oops.' Now you can turn around and head home and forget you saw anything."

She could now just see the two fighters. They were a pair of dark points against the bright sky.

 

Who the hell is this lady? Ramson wondered. She certainly seemed to be way too confident for her own good.

"Miss O'Connor, Lieutenant, whoever you are. City airspace is currently a no-fly zone. Change your course immediately, or, I say again, we will be forced to open fire."

Ramson knew there was no way he could shoot. The media will be all over it, and Command would have his ass. But this lady, what on Earth was she...

"Oh my god," he let out. He and his wingmate could now see her jet.

"Bighorn," called his wingmate. He was a bit of a greenhorn. "What kinda plane is that? I ain't ever seen it anywhere."

It definitely wasn't like anything he'd seen before. Maybe she was telling the truth about flying a prototype. It certainly looked like it could take on his small Falcon easily.

Damnit. Ramson just wanted this day to be over. They were practically at the city limits now.

"Just follow my lead," he ordered his wingmate.

"Believe me now, gentelmen?" asked Gia over the comms. "The slow-mover I'm chasing is an... 'enemy of the state.' I must apprehend him before he... Where the hell did he go?"

Ramson checked his radar. The other contact had simply vanished as soon as it reached the city. He rolled his fighter to get a better look. Sure enough, the helicopter was no longer in the air. There definitely was no fire or smoke to signal that it had crashed, either. What the hell?

 

"Gia to base. He's gone! I repeat, the helicopter's completely vanished off my screens! And now I've got two Falcons haggling me."

"Lieutenant, get out of there, now. That's an order." It was Geneva. "Get back to base."

Dammit! Gia pounded on her console. How could he have disappeared like that? If only those damn guys didn't show up, then she could have seen where he went.

 

"Holy shit" exclaimed Ramson's wingmate. Ramson agreed. The prototype just just pulled up. Straight up. It shot off like a rocket, disappearing into the sky in a matter of seconds. It didn't take long for it to disappear from his radar, either.

"Uhh... Ramson to base. I've got a bit of a story for you guys..."

 

-------

 

Marvin laughed triumphantly. His family was going to live.

"What the hell kind of stunt was that?" Red demanded. He was the first one to finish throwing up. Just a short while earlier, Rice had plummetted the helicopter straight into a busy Washington highway. In fact, they were still 'on' the highway, racing along barely a few metres above the ground. To any observer, they would have disappeared in the traffic. Marvin was lucky those other two goons showed up and caused a distraction.

His family was going to live.

 

-------

 

Meanwhile, fifteen thousand kilometres away and almost literally on the other side of the globe, John Pickering, Valerie Deacon, and Paul Jasper were impatiently waiting for their transport to arrive. Surprisingly, Davies was also waiting with them. He had a plane or something to pick up in America.

Pickering cast these thoughts aside, and again reviewed the mission profile in his head.

One - Gather information about the humans who were present at the recovery site.

Two - Attempt recover of the alien Plasma Pistol that was taken by one of the civilians.

Three - Negotiate with the United States government to maintain favour.

Four - Oversee the installation of an X-COM Agents program in North America with the intention of discovering possible human-alien coalitions and alien infiltration. Aside from just wanting to get out of the office, this was the main reason Pickering, the head of intelligence, was leaving.

Five - Recover the abandoned laser pistol. Pickering wondered why it was even given its own spot on the mandate.

John decided to only take two people with him. Valerie was a smart girl who would be a great asset overseas. An introduction to field work would be a good thing for her, too. Jasper's squad was still decimated, so he wouldn't be missed too much. However, Genega still only reluctantly let him go. As a spook already, he knew a lot about field work. Hopefully his combat experience would not be needed.

They would rendevous with the other agents in America. Technically John probably didn't need to go see them, anyways. They were trained professionals, and meeting them in person wouldn't tell them much that couldn't be sent over the phone. However, John quietly omitted that fact when convincing the Commander to let him go.

In the distance, the three agents and pilot could now see the headlights of the incoming plane in the dim light. Their ride was here.

 

--------

 

As soon as Donald Ramson stepped on the tarmac after climbing down from his F-16, one of the groundcrew had a message for him and his wingmate.

"Colonel wants to see you two." He jerked his thumb needlessly in the direction of the command center. The lights were on to ward off the approaching darkness of dusk.

Lieutenant Ryan "Bladder" Sheedy (who recieved the unfortunate callsign due to repeated practical jokes) looked expectantly at his wingmate. Are we in trouble? he seemed to ask.

Captain Donald "Bighorn" Ramson (much more lucky in his callsign) shrugged. "I don't think it could have gone better."

 

"Captain Ramson, Lieutenant Sheedy, please sit," was the first thing the Colonel had said after the usual military exchange of salutes was finished. The face of their commanding officer could often be seen with a warm smile. This was not one of those times. His wrinkles, one of the many drawbacks of age, seemed to be much more apparant than normal.

"First thing first, I want to say, personally, that I could not have expected any more from you two out there. Needless to say your orders did not leave you with much room, and the situation was definitely unique. However..." The Colonel looked over a piece of paper in his hands. Ramson wondered how many times over he had read it.

"I have my orders from high up... to say that this event never happened." Uh, oh, thought Ramson. It was definitely some high-end top-secret military project.

"Both of you did not observe a high-performance military aircraft," the Colonel continued. "As such, you will not mention its existence, or should I say non-existence, to anyone." There was barely a hint of a smile on the commander's face at his little joke.

"Because you two were not distracted by this third party, the report will state that you failed to deter or apprehend or even track a non-compliant civilian, possibly criminal, helicopter entering Washington airspace, which subsequently escaped detection."

Ryan's face hardly contained his shock. This was hardly fair!

"I'm afraid I don't have much choice in the matter, gentelmen," their C.O. admitted. "These things... happen. That's why I have chosen to give you the... appropriate punishment... of flying the midnight shift." The grin in his eyes belied the Colonel's serious face. "Goldsmith and Fehr will just have to cope with turning in early."

At last the older man's face broke into a warm smile. "That's all I can do." He stood up and saluted. Sheedy and Ramson followed suit.

"Dismissed."

 

"How can they do that? Just up and slap our wrists just because we were in the wrong place at the wrong time?" Ryan complained to his senior, who also doubled as a wingmate and good friend.

"It's just because we were in the wrong place at the wrong time," Donald answered back. "We're lucky we got off as light as we did. What's a midnight shift compared to the stockade or losing some stripes?"

The two were resting on their bunks, with the intention of stealing some sleep in the first few hours of the early winter night. The next several minutes saw no more conversation, but neither pilot could find the room for sleep.

"Hey, Bighorn?"

"Yeh?"

"You got that weird feeling too?"

Ramson waited for a few seconds before answering back.

"Yeah. I got it too."

"What's it mean?"

"It's the stink of them guys who can't stand you knowing anything," Donald joked.

"Yeah..." Neither man could shrug off the omen so easily.

They spent the next couple hours talking about other things. Donald's family. His younger daughter was so proud of her latest craft from school. His son was starting to get interested in some of the girls at school.

Ryan's girlfriend. He was asking how you know when she's 'The One.' Karissa was as close to perfect as possible.

It would be their last such conversation.

[FullAuto]

"They don't count."

"They do."

"Dude, they don't count. Live with it."

"Will you two shut up." Dodge, not at his best, rounded on Donovan and Conner. "All the way back in the 'ranger, and you still haven't shut up about it"

"Well." Conner hesitated. "Do they count?"

Dodge wanted to draw his gun, but wasn't sure whether he would shoot himself or the sheepish rookie, and walked off instead.

"What's up with him?" Donovan asked, frowning.

"Maybe they do count, and he's annoyed he didn't get any?"

"Nice try. He's annoyed because they don't count, and he got some."

Most of the squad had dispersed, to clean up or get something to eat quickly before the debrief, but Conner and Donovan hadn't yet made it out of the hangar.

Donovan was seated on the ramp, legs stretched out in front of him, at ease. Conner was pacing at the foot of the ramp, hands tucked into his pockets.

"Howitz said they count." Conner watched Donovan carefully.

"Howitz would, he got like three or four. And it's his first mission. That puts him right up front to win the pot."

Conner stopped pacing, spinning on his heel. "Pot?"

Donovan leaned forward, shrugging. "Yep. Someone's running a book. Most kills takes all."

"Who's running it?" Conner's turn to frown.

"How should I know? Just somebody is, ok? Kick in like, ten every week." Donovan took a sip from his water bottle, pausing reflectively.

"How do you know?" Conner squatted, getting level eye-to-eye with him.

"I just do."

"You're running it, aren't you."

"No, man." He took another sip. "I'm in, though."

"That's why you don't want them to count." Conner said, nodding.

"No, I don't want them to count because we're X-Com. Know what the 'x' stands for?"

Conner gave him the finger.

"Close. It actually stands for extraterrestrial. We're here to fight aliens. We're not H-Com, are we? No."

"It's still a kill though." Conner spotted Ibsen talking to a pair of ground crew. "Yo, Ibsen"

The soldier turned.

"Human kills count, right?" Conner shouted.

"You're a sick man, Conner" The blonde soldier shouted back.

"Thanks" Conner turned back to Donovan. "They count, ok? Don't be bitter."

Donovan ticked each point off on his fingers. "Ibsen says they don't count. I say they don't count. More importantly, whoever's running the book says they don't count. The only people who say they count have an ulterior motive."

"So you do know who's running the book." Conner said, triumphant.

"Can you move your mind past that? They don't count."

Conner shook his head, despairing. "I can't even talk to you, can I? Just because you didn't get any, you want to deprive the rest of us from our rightful scores."

"You are sick, man. Reducing human life to a number, just so-"

"Put the ethics down and come out with your hands up, you're the one running the book."

"Debrief in five" Chez called from the hangar entrance. "Conner, Donovan, Ibsen! Get a move on"

"Ask him." Conner nudged Donovan as they rose and started walking. "Go on."

"I don't need to ask him, because I know they don't count."

"Unless you're the one running the book-"

"Oh, shut up about the book already" Donovan elbowed him in the ribs. "You're like a child. Forget the book, forget your score. They do not count."

"What doesn't count?" Chez asked as they passed him.

"Nothing." Both soldiers chorused, before hurrying on.

"Tape a 'guilty' sign to my ass next time, Conner." Donovan walked even faster.

"So you are running the book." Conner stopped, turning back to Ibsen "Hey, you're in, right?"

Ibsen gave him a friendly shove to get him walking again. "In what?"

"The book. For the most kills."

Ibsen clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Conner. I have said it before, so I will not say it again."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a sick man." Conner threw his hands up. "They still count."

Ibsen just shrugged. "If I was you, I wouldn't ask that in the debrief."

[The Veteran]

Squad One sat nervously in the briefing room awaiting Genega's arrival. Noone was looking forward to what could be said and most were already well aware of their own shortcomings.

 

Rick was pacing, as far as he was concerned it was a complete disaster and he'd always had an awful lot in common with his employer.

 

After an eternity of waiting the door finally opened and Genega entered with less than a mild grin on his face. Rick greeted him but gave the salute amiss. He knew the Commander and if he raised his hand now he was more likely to be knocked out than have the compliment returned.

 

"Squad One ready for your debrief sir," he said with as little emotion as he could muster.

 

"Ok Rick, thankyou. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that I want a private word when this is over?" Genega nearly whispered but everyone knew what was being said nonetheless. Rick nodded an acknowledgement and stood to one side, glancing over his squad sat before him.

 

"Gentlemen, congratulations," began Genega. "In the last six hours I've spoken to no less than fifteen different government officials and stood down exercises on forty-eight seperate military bases in North America and Canada."

 

Now Genega was pacing, Rick really did know him well. The commander rolled a Grandfathers eye over the squad. He knew what it was like to be out there, as a soldier, as a medic, as a leader, even as a pilot, he'd done it all in his time.

 

"I'm not going to dress it up men, this was a disaster, the entire exercise from start to finish was a textbook nightmare... But... We've sustained very few injuries, no fatalaties, and you've fought off two seperate enemies in one sitting."

 

Rick knew what was coming next, just as he knew what was coming last.

 

"It is however unfortunate that so many hostiles were declared in such a short amount of time... From what I can see, there was an awful lot of shooting going on out there and not much of anything else. We're lucky that we've managed to detain some of these 'diplomats', and I use the word loosely. Hopefully they will be able to clear up some important questions for us. The fact remains however, that the human casualties on this mission were nearly double the alien losses! When this war is over, and we will win, these battles are going to come back to haunt us! Every single detail"

 

Genega pointed at Terrick, "What do you think of you're wages right now soldier?"

 

"We- uh... I," Terrick stuttered.

 

"It's good isn't it? You feed yourself, you feed your friends, you feed the whole street on what we pay you... But what about after? Where will the money come from then? How will you pay for the next twenty years of your life once these aliens are all gone? How will you protect your future then? Your family..."

 

Terrick perked up but couldn't quite read Genega's tone.

 

"Once this is all over, the tabloids of the world will read 'prototype lost in fumbled mission', 'terror attack claims city', 'taxes pay for laser pistols'. You guys are going to be on every front page in the world, very possibly for the rest of your lives! Wouldn't you rather be remembered as 'our brave heroes', 'the men who saved the world'?" Genega scanned the room failing to make eye contact once.

 

"We cannot continue in the way we have begun, we all know that. As soldiers, you are expected to follow orders and so the blame does not lie with you... However, next time it will. Squad Leader O'Chez has my trust and respect and despite what I may be saying to him later he will continue to have my trust and respect. You men still need to earn that, but you must understand how much I want to award it to you. You are our hope in a fading future, the world truly does revolve around you"

 

Genega sighed and passed on the military lecture. "Rick I'd like a word with you, your squad is dismissed..."

 

Rick dismissed his troops and prepared himself for the long haul with Genega.

 

"Rick," he began as the door closed behind them. "I can imagine this being a tough mission, am I right?"

 

Rick nodded, "It certainly had space up its sleeve for a trick or two sir..."

 

"You did bad Rick, I'm not going to skirt around the issue... You opened fire on a civilian craft and that is not like you... I hate to say it but I think you set up your squad for the wrong kind of battle today. They respect you, trust you, like I do... But today you betrayed them. Why?"

 

"Rick felt his temples pinch his head as several emotions collided in his brain. "I..." Rick faltered. "I don't know..." He let his head fall and glanced to the floor.

 

"Rick?" Genega frowned thoughtfully. "Sit down... Please."

 

The two men pulled up chairs and sat facing each other with nothing but air and tension between them.

 

"What happened Rick? I know something has, you never usually think before you talk to me..."

 

Rick laughed and suddenly the tension was gone. He quickly regained a straight face but a lot was suddenly off his mind. "I... honestly don't know..." Rick shook his head as he pushed out one word at a time. As he lifted his head, Genega could see something out of place immediately but he couldn't sense what.

 

"Rick, you're not yourself and something tells me you weren't yourself earlier either... Would you say that's accurate?"

 

Rick pondered on this statement for a moment before replying simply, "yes."

 

"Yes? We're down to one word answers now? Come on Rick what happened out there? It's only me Rick... But one day it won't be. One day it'll be America, or Russia, or the whole UN bearing down on us... I don't think they'll take kindly to being told X-Com had a 'brain-fart'... Now come on, what's wrong with you?"

 

Rick moved as if to talk but stopped everytime before he said a word... "I can't remember," he finally said.

 

"What?" Genega instantly sat up in his chair and his look turned from concern to instant fear. "Please Rick, don't tell me one of these things is getting at my best man..."

 

"I don't know what else to say... It's like reliving a night out the morning after as everything clears up. I remember where I was, what I was doing, I even remember thinking 'it would be a good idea to shoot now' and 'maybe I should go over there' and all the thoughts that flood a soldiers mind every second of a fight... It's just..."

 

"What?..."

 

"I just remember wondering why I was doing things every so often... Like I knew I should be firing at the helicopter because the guys inside were hostiles... But I didn't realise until later on that they weren't hostile until I'd pulled that trigger... I was in complete control but... It just felt like..."

 

"Someone else was thinking for you..."

 

"Yeah... That's just how it felt..."

[Snikers]

Though he did not know it, Marvin Rice was not chosen to steal the alien pistol randomly. In fact, the decision to kidnap his family was made by a particularly well-paid and tight-lipped man named Frank Burns, with a pool of several dozen pilots to choose from, each of which he was in a position to carefully study and evaluate for the position based on two criteria. The first was that Marvin had shown a strong attachment to his family and a precedent towards putting them above his job and all else. Marvin had some AWOLs on his record as his son had been injured or seriously ill, and the pilot had rushed out of work without taking the time to hunt down a superior officer. This was sought after, as it meant he could be led around on a leash with the threat of his family's deaths over his head.

However, the second requirement was that Marvin was a skilled, smart, and innovative individual who was capable of forming his own plans when needed, and doing so with both quality and speed even under the highest of stresses. The recovery of an alien artefact could only be left in capable hands.

Of course, Marvin Rice was not mulling over this himself. Rather, he was gritting his teeth against the howling wind against his face as he hovered through highway streets, straining to keep the helicopter low enough to be within traffic while making sure the blades didn't clip anything and cause the bird to crash. But he was confident, because he had gotten away from the crazies and he had picked up the alien pistol - he had it stuffed in his belt right now, snuggled securely against his hip - and he would be able to give it to the Japanese man and Alice and Charlie could go free and they'd be happy again - they'd be a big happy safe family and he'd never let them go again -

He was shocked back into reality by an ear-splitting siren. Craning his head around frantically he saw that he was being pursued by at least two police cars, probably more.

Son of a bitch! he thought. Being chased by the homicidal commandos from hell had completely made him forget about the local authorities! And what about when he got back to base - they'd need a full debriefing and they'd find the gun and then...He couldn't go back to base. He wouldn't. Alice and Charlie were on the line. But what could he -

He had an idea.

The chopper swung up, away from the highway and the patrol cars, and landed some ways away.

 

* * *

 

The diplomats did nothing as the helicopter landed roughly in the snow. Red's eyes flashed to the woman he had communicated with earlier and had pulled him into the chopper. He nursed his hand, sore after he had punched the pilot.

"Wonder what happened to Bernard and Shipley," she said, finally.

"Shipley?"

"The intense lady with the white hair."

"Ah." Red said, drawing a cell phone, as the door to the cockpit opened. Every eye in the room flicked to the pilot. With blood dribbling out of his nose down to his lips and sleet bonded to his face, he made an unsettling figure.

"I managed to buy you some time," he said, voice clearer now than just after his nose had been broken, "but they're going to be coming for you. They're going to kill you. I managed to get you close to the city." He pointed to the doors. "If you get out and scatter, you lose yourself in there. Then you can call whoever you need to call and get rescued." His piercing eyes darted from face to face. "This is your only chance. Go."

Even as the other diplomats began to file out of the chopper, but as Red stood he gave the pilot an accusing glare. "I don't believe you," he said, and then the pilot noticed that none of them did - each and every one of them had been trained to lie and detect lies.

"Then we can do this." The pilot drew his sidearm and flicked the safety off with his thumb. It stayed pointed at the ground, but no one doubted it could come up in a split second if he wanted it to. "I'm going to give you thirty seconds to run. After that, I start shooting to kill. Whether or not I can do it depends on how far you've gotten in that time."

That got them moving. As Red pulled on the collar of his jacket the pilot gave him a look to stop.

"Give me the cell phone."

Red was incredulous. "You want my cell?"

The gun came up and pointed at his gut. Red put up both his hands, then slowly crouched and placed the phone on the floor. Then he took off like all the others - he was no fool.

Marvin had no intention of sticking around for a full thirty seconds. He plucked the phone off the floor and dashed away from the helicopter in the opposite direction of the diplomats. There was a street hard to discern from snowy ground level, but he had spotted it from the air. His guts turned to ice as he dialed the number he had been given.

"Frank Cowley." The voice was loud and very American.

"It's Marvin Rice."

"I don't know no Marvin."

"I've got your alien thing. It's a gun."

The voice instantly switched to the smooth Japanese accent he feared. "Ah. You remember where to drop it off?"

"I need help. A car. Something."

There was a pause. "Are you being pursued?"

"I was. I might be soon. Not now. I need a car."

"Where?"

Marvin told him, and then the line went silent. "Please" Shouted Marvin after several seconds. "I have your damn gun! I did what you wanted! I just need a ride! Please! Please"

Marvin's panic was unfounded, as what the man on the other end was doing was arranging for an agent in Washington to pick him up. Truth be told, Marvin had already done far better than their expectations. Finally the Japanese man spoke. "A white van will be passing you in about four minutes. Be ready. Give them the gun. They'll drive off. After one hour your wife and son will be released you can find them at..."

 

* * * *

 

One week later Marvin Rice was out of a job. His going AWOL, leaving the chopper, and general acts of gross irresponsibility had him fired on the spot. He would be fervently searching for some form of employment that could utilise his helicopter-piloting skills. Such jobs were not easy to find. However, he would be searching at the side of his wife and child.

And family's really the important thing, isn't it?

[Bomb Bloke]

Howitz started to remove his battle gear, in the privacy of his own room. He'd moved out of Hankosha's quarters - the mans habit of throwing knives at whoever opened the door had been a bit off putting - and for the time being had a pad to himself.

 

As he started emptying his pockets, he found a small scrap of cloth he'd forgotten about. It'd torn off that Sectoid that had jumped at his head... Funny looking Sectoid, come to think of it, but it couldn't really have been as tall as he thought it had been. The thing had been as light as a feather. He'd been more interested in the grenade at the time, and had just shoved the rag into one of his jacket pockets.

 

It was orange in color, and while the fabric looked thick it weighed nearly nothing. Hmm. He tore a few inches off, jammed it in a drawer, and strode out with the rest towards the bio labs.

 

-----------------

 

In his own room, Terrick was adding to his equipment pile. He'd been wounded before in battle, taken shots and fought on, but his energy was nearly spent now. Sitting through the trip back and the debriefing had been pure torture.

 

The bullet was most likely somewhere in his side, he wasn't sure where, but it hadn't killed him so he'd have to have it checked out later. He'd convinced the medic that he'd passed out due to the shock of the ice cold water, had managed to hide his wound while he changed... But it hurt, hurt bad, and his endurance was waning.

 

But he couldn't afford a trip to the med bay. He had a laser gun, and he had to turn it in. This was his last chance.

 

The door rattled. He froze, and his eyes swiveled. He'd forgotten to lock it...

 

Karl Green, his bunk mate, came through. Terrick stayed stock still. His shirt was off, and he was covered in his make-shift bandage, soaked in blood. The laser pistol lay on his bed...

 

"Hey Terrick."

 

Karl went to sit on the bunk, then saw the gun. "Hey, isn't that that lost laser?" He looked up enquirying at Terrick, with just enough time to see the mans wild eyes before a rifle butt knocked him out cold.

[The Veteran]

*You heard the news yet?*

 

Gia jumped slightly as her comm sparked into life and was very quickly back in the room.

 

"TJ?" she replied uncertainly, "is that you?"

 

*Were you expecting someone else perhaps?* he replied.

 

Gia chuckled, she could feel him smiling from all those miles away. "No, you just surprised me is all... What news am I supposed to have heard?"

 

*That chopper you were chasing has landed in the city limits, local authorities are treating it as a suspected theft! Turns out it was a military chopper, not sure where from. No sign of any pilots or passengers now but apparently it's been shot up pretty bad. Apparently that was our boys, the mission all went a bit Pete Tong by all accounts...*

 

"So it just landed?" said Gia ignoring ninety percent of the message. "How did I lose it if it just landed? That is so annoying... I'm so annoyed"

 

Trigger laughed into his comm, *I know exactly what you mean, it won't be the last time either, trust me on that! What are you up to now anyway? I was hoping you could find some time for me when you got back...*

 

"Aww, you know I would but I'm flying back to that last landing site. You must've heard about the lost laser pistol."

 

*Yeah but I thought Davies was going after that, he left a few hours ago to do something...*

 

"No I don't know about that but TC told me to go and take a look for this pistol so I doubt that's where he's going too..."

 

*Oh... So, when are you going to be back here then?* he asked hopefully.

 

"Not until I find this pistol I guess, I have a feeling it'll take some time, Rick said it could be under the ice so I don't know what I can do about that! Still, I have my orders..."

 

*Ok, well I guess I'd best leave you to it. I'll just go and... sit... or something. You get back soon ok? It's boring here on my own.*

 

"What about Rick and Warlord?"

 

*Rick's been with medics for hours now, I have no idea why, I didn't even think he was wounded... As for Warlord who knows. He's probably bench pressing that UFO of ours somewhere. I'll be ok, I always have my good friend television.*

 

"Ok sweetie, you go and watch your box. I'll see you when I get back. Stay out of trouble ok?"

 

*Come back soon, if I hurt my eyes it'll be your fault!*

 

Gia chuckled her final farewells and shut off the comms just as she made her final approach to the scene of the last battle. The Hurricane hovered effortlessly above the snow and gently placed itself onto the ground. Even from here it was already possible to make out some environmental battle scars. Bloodied snow was not yet quite covered, burnt wood was still smoking, artificial bunkers dotted the battlefield. And there was a hole in the ice about 200 meters away...

[JellyfishGreen]

The Hurricane's engines sighed as the turbines wound down. Gia cracked her cockpit and could hear the pinging as the hot metal cooled. A refuelling truck was visible through the trees and Squad 3 were busy wrestling a fuel line towards her plane.

 

"What's all the stuff doing lying around?" she asked Fitz. "Didn't Doc drop you and the techs off hours ago to do site cleanup?"

 

Fitz shrugged. "We're not to touch anything until Pickering gets here."

 

*****

 

As the Osprey refuelled, maintenance techs conducted a hasty inspection, and the pilot & copilot eased their cramping bodies out of the cockpit while the replacements suited up.

Jasper spoke to the pilot. "Is the ride as rough as all that?"

"Aw, don't talk to me. We had a heckuva time dangling that UFO for two hours."

"Where is it now?" asked the former CSIO agent.

"Aboard a container freighter, lashed down and camoflaged with a tarpaulin to look like another hundred containers. Someone finally figured it was easier to bring the techs to the UFO rather than the other way around."

Pickering reached around from his seat on the plane and knocked on the side of the door. "Whups, I guess it's time to go." Jasper checked his pistol and gear once more and climbed aboard.

 

 

*****

 

The modified transport jet safely stowed in a guarded hangar, Shipley and the hooded alien made their way to her private offices. The Ethereal was looking more sickly than usual. *I can't survive like this for much longer,* it thought at her. *I must use the console to contact my Overmind. And I need to recharge it with some of your Elerium.*

 

Elerium - the power supply for the alien energy weapons and antigravity drives, a radioactive element with properties unexplainable by known physics - maintained in a stable state only by alien technology, every gram of it priceless - a small container of it had been hidden here in her building along with the communications console. Shipley herself was under orders not to let any of it go missing. She had received many requests for a personal favor of a loan, veiled threats even. She went to the computer and typed in a code to open two secret panels. The Ethereal unlocked the Elerium container and took one of the "batteries". As it went about fitting the new power cell to the console, Shipley tried to feel out its mood.

 

"We followed our instructions to the letter. Perhaps you should not have changed your plans or come to our planet so soon. The risk -"

 

*It is fortunate for you I was here. Redirecting the mind of the XCOM leader - only I could have managed that. My Sectoid bretheren would not have had the strength. Continue to pressure the powers supporting these annoying mercenaries - we have more combat-ready races that will serve us for the next phase.*

 

It placed both hands and its forehead against the purple plastic interface pads of the console.

 

Shipley caught the whiff of distaste in the mental imagery projected, as she had before. It was something towards humans as a species, but there was an underlying reason she couldn't quite delineate.

 

The Ethereal spent about an hour in communion with the Overmind. Then with all its knowledge uploaded, the body fell to the floor, dead. Shipley had heard the explanation before. The Overmind considered clones of no value individually and could create an exact copy by downloading the same mind-patterns. Still, it was always disconcerting to see in person. She felt the edges of her own implant absently, then closed the wall panel hiding the console, strode to her telephone and ordered trusted associates to have the body cremated.

 

It came to her later that day. The Ethereal considered humans not just ugly aliens but a mutation of something it considered normal; as if humanity was headed in a direction the Overmind had not...chosen?