UFO FanFic - Chapter 1

[Alitorious]

Daniel Morlone rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. After hours of reviewing and looking over notes and papers about lasers, how they work, what they're used for, different styles of lasers, modifications of them, alternate uses for lasers, and et cetera. Basically the only relevant thing he figured out was that he missed out on getting a laser pointer for christmas again. He was still pretty much stuck on the problem of finding a way to amplify the laser emissions.

 

Well, he figured he wasn't going to get any more progress done today. After a quick glance around the room (to make sure his roommate wasn't there), he loaded up counterstrike. He noticed that there was a LAN game going on, so he joined up on that one. After all, he doubted that it was possible to play over the internet with the advanced firewalls on. The server wasn't very crowded, only about 6 or 7 users on.

 

When he finally joined the game, Daniel changed his name from Player to Psawhn. After all, no one else knew what his gaming name was. Looking on the scoreboard, he could recognize a couple names, such as Worm or Slice (looking up the callsigns earlier seemed to pay off). Some person had a unique name of "Cold Apple Pie." Then Daniel noticed that the teams were filled up. That was strange, because the server reported having less than 10 players.

 

Working on a hunch, he typed in *Hi bots.* To which more than a dozen *Hi*s replied. A couple seconds later, Cold Apple Pie said *Holy crap!* That got a small chuckle out of Daniel.

 

The game progressed like it normally did for Daniel - gaining about one or two kills for every three deaths. One time, though, he was unlucky enough to be the last remaining member of his team. Noticing some foreign footsteps, he wished for a better speaker system. Then he could probably pinpoint where that movement was coming from. Actually, since it was movement, why didn't the game emulate it disturbing things around it? Not just fluids like air, but other things like space-time, or gravity ripples. Who knows, maybe solid objects moving creates other disturbances we don't know about yet, but.... oh, crap!

 

The last terrorist just popped out of a hallway and drilled Psawhn the Counter-Terrorist with at least a dozen holes with an AK-47. Psawhn hardly noticed the other person stick his head out of the door in front of him until it was too late, because he was so lost in his thoughts. Unfortunately, it took losing another round before he realized what he was thinking about - a movement detection device. And not some crazy wishful thinking of a game developer, this was possibly a theoretically possible real device!

 

Knocking over an empty coffee mug, he scrambled for a piece of paper and a pen. Almost illegibly, he scribbled down something like **MOTION SENSOR** - detect disturbances?..." he nibbled on the end of his pen for a moment, trying to remember some of the ideas he had a minute ago. gravitics?... space-time?... fluids?... *find answer*.

 

Daniel was about to go back to the game (though he got killed again writing down the notes) when the server kicked Psawhn for inactivity.

 

"Oh well," he mused to himself. "Maybe I'll just go try out the recreation room."

[Snikers]

Keller strangled the urge to emit a string of profanities as the pinball dropped directly between the flippers for what appeared to be the trillionth time. In her childhood she had learned that it didn't help much to use her parents' means of dealing with problems. Kicking the pinball machine was another thing she cunningly avoided.

Instead she turned to face Vampire, who was already leaning over her machine. "My, my," he said, but good-naturedly. "Guess I win again." He looked up into her eyes. "Care for best...seven out of thirteen?"

Keller was replying that wild horses couldn't hold her back but it was drowned out in a cheer. Keller looked over her shoulder and suddenly noticed a large crowd around the pool table. "Actually, I think..." Keller began to say, but Vampire had already ducked away to watch.

Keller did her best to see over people's heads and got as far as she could without actually elbowing people out of her way. Eventually she could see Tammy and Rick standing with pool cues, obviously the ones playing the game.

Ki-Tat materialized next to her. "Say, pretty interesting game, huh?"

Keller was a surprised but didn't let it show. "Quite."

"Who do you think is going to win?"

"Oh - definitely Tammy. Look at her - I don't know if she's missed one yet."

"Me too - but there's a guy over there that thinks otherwise. Care to make a wager with me?"

"Nah - I'm not the betting type of person."

"Suit yourself." Ki-Tat disappeared just as suddenly as he appeared, which Keller took as a note because she was watching him out of her peripheral vision. She watched the game and grinned as Tammy sunk another ball.

After the match, and Tammy's victory, Ki-Tat made another, albeit predictable, appearance at her side. "Should have made the be-et," he said, his voice dragging on the last word. He grinned triumphantly.

"I don't gamble - just one of my idiosyncrasies." Keller replied nonchalantly. "But thanks for the offer..." Keller turned away and ran smack into another woman. She stumbled back a step. "Sorry..." She noticed the woman had a tattoo on her arm. Her piercing green eyes were startling, especially since they were looking at her rather coldly.

Keller extended her hand. "Hey! Christel Keller, pleasure to meet..." The woman suddenly stared directly into Keller's eyes. Suddenly Keller was stopped dead in mid-sentence as the coldness of the woman's glare struck a nerve somewhere in Keller's psyche. She froze, aware she was strongly unwanted and herself edgy to end the conversation - such as it were.

The dark-haired woman shook Keller's hand crisply and briefly. "Poison." She simply said.

Keller looked directly at Poison, blinked once, and dropped her hand. "Yes - well - that's that then." Poison made for her game and Keller looked for something else to busy herself with. Ki-Tat, meanwhile, looked on in bemusement, not having the slightest idea of what was going on.

[Zager]

"Call up the Calgary New Age biolab and have them to clone some more of the cells I need," Zager said into a telephone. "I've faxed the information they'll need. Of course it's an outside company, where else would I get them from? They genetically created the electricity producing cells that work inside the bioelectric cell. Good, get it done. Oh, and hurry up with getting those plans and rights for organic wiring, since I won't get anything accomplished until I have it."

 

He was doing some calculations on a sheet of paper as he talked, he never trusted computers, most of his work was done on paper. Of course, he had done that for most of his life, since he'd been a scientist long before computers were ever miniturized to the point where they were useful.

 

"Good, see to it," he said, then hung up.

 

"Finally," he muttered, a bit of good news. The plans and would be secured within three days, and he could then move along with his research. Any advancement would impossible until then.

[Alitorious]

Inside the rec room, Dana was resting on a chair, watching two people playing pool. The woman - Tamara, was it? - was obviously going to win, even though Dana couldn't see the surface of the table at all. As much as she would have loved to see what was going on, her aching muscles wouldn't let her.

 

The Rocket Launcher tank worked better than she thought it would (even without a custom chassis), but the team ran into a hitch with the cannon tank. First, some goofball didn't properly align the shell storage with the cannon unit, and therefore the tank couldn't load ammunition if it's turret wasn't anywhere except straight ahead. Aside from that, everything worked out fairly well untill one of the tracks wouldn't move. Upon closer inspection, it turns out that both the motor, the drive train, and the track were wrecked by a combination of fatigue, sand, and sheer bad luck. The whole team had to haul the thing back into the lab. Dana was pretty sure that the modifications they added to both models should prevent that from happening again. Photon told the commander that the tanks are ready for duty tomorrow if he's desperate, but at least a couple more days of testing are wanted to fix out minor kinks and to polish it up.

 

Looking back to the game, a familiar profile caught her eye - he was talking to an albino. She still couldn't place him untill he turned from the other girl.

"Oh no, not him," she mused aloud. Unfortunately, he heard this (which should have been impossible considering the noise) and came over to her with a grin.

"Well since Keller's obviously too chicken for a bet, who do you wager will win?"

"Tamara, obviously. But I'm not betting, that'd be too mean to rob you of money." She got another grin for a reply.

"Well, suit yourself," he countered. "Maybe I'll find someone else who's less picky of their money,"

After the game was won, Ki-Tat returned to say something to the albino again - Keller, it was? She watched as she bumped into another woman. After they eventually left the tense moment, the bemused Ki-Tat rememberd to come to taunt Dana again.

"Same thing as the other miss - ha! You missed out on a bit of money." Fortunately for Dana, she thought of the perfect way to get rid of him.

"Say, did you clear your personell access record yet?"

[Tammy]

Having finished the interrupted backrub, Tammy returned to her quarters in much better spirits. She hadn't noticed when Poison left, but when she entered their shared quarters, she found that Poison had arrived ahead of her. She was lying on her back staring at the ceiling, seemingly deep in thought about something unpleasant. Tammy debated slipping back out and returning to the rec room before Poison noticed her-she wasn't in the mood for a confrontation at the moment. The decision was taken out of her hands when Poison, without taking her eyes from the ceiling, said "Keep staring-maybe I'll do something interesting."

 

Tammy rolled her eyes and wandered over to her own bed, sinking onto it with an exhausted sigh. Might as well be sociable, she thought. "So...how was your training today?"

 

For a moment, she thought Poison was going to ignore her altogether. When she did speak, it wasn't in response to Tammy's question. "Well, I guess you enjoyed being in the spotlight tonight."

 

Tammy's hand froze where it had been idly toying with a plastic alien from one of her computer games. Whatever she'd expected from Poison tonight, it hadn't been envy. She thought carefully about how to reply. She didn't really mind confrontation, but she was a firm believer in keeping the peace when it was possible, especially with someone she had to live with for a while. "I've always been good at pool," she responded casually.

 

"Looks like we had company while I was out, too," Poison added. "You're just Ms. Popular, aren't you?"

 

"Okay, Poison, what is this about? I've never noticed you exactly trying to make friends, you know. People who want friends don't glare at every person who tries to make conversation and they don't pick fights with people who are trying to help them," said Tammy in exasperation.

 

"I'm no charity case in need of your help" Poison shot back.

 

Tammy took a deep breath and counted to ten...then thought better and counted to fifty. "Let me try this again. Am I to understand that you are angry with me for making friends with people here at the base?"

 

"I don't care if you crawl in bed with them, let alone make friends," Poison said hotly.

 

Tammy's eyes narrowed. "For someone who doesn't care what I do, you are looking awfully upset. If you don't care, why are we having this conversation?" She paused, and when Poison didn't respond, she went on. "Look, Poison, let's start this conversation over. We have to live together, and that means that we are going to have to communicate and at least try to get along. I like you, Poison. Heaven knows, I'm the only one who does after the way you've behaved, but I do." Poison winced a little but said nothing. Tammy continued in a softer tone, "I'd like very much for us to be friends, Cleo."

 

Poison started a bit at the use of her real name. Most people seemed to relish calling her Poison. She turned away from Tammy and sighed. In a nearly inaudible voice, she said, "I've always been alone. I never knew my family, and friends aren't too plentiful on the street. Nobody who lived out there could afford to trust anybody enough to make friends." She paused and shrugged almost angrily. "Why am I telling you this?"

 

"You're telling me this because I'm probably the first person you've known who cared enough to ask and because you can tell that I really want to know," replied Tammy gently. Privately she wondered to herself yet again what it really was about her that made people tell her such private things. She knew that it was a gift, but she had no idea how it worked and had no idea how to use it intentionally. She just had to trust that it would come through for her when she needed it the way it had done tonight. She took a couple of steps toward Poison and placed a hand on her shoulder. The other woman tensed but did not pull away. They stood like that for a moment in which time seemed to stand still, and then Tammy turned Poison to face her. She smiled and said, "I'm exhausted. Let's get some sleep before that blasted alarm goes off"

[Alitorious]

After a few more minutes, Dana decided that her back wore off enough of the ache that she could go around and move again (Though she wouldn't mind a massage from that big guy, she smiled, but he was currently giving Tamara a back rub.). Looking aroundd, she spied a free pinball machine. She noticed it was the same one that Keller was playing on a while ago. Walking over, she took note of the high score - 325,000,000. It was obviously a score coded into the game.

 

Shortly after she started, Daniel came in the door rubbing his sides.

"The strangest thing happened just now. I was walking to the lift, when a chinese fellow burst out of the door, ran into me, then ran off down the hall like his life depended on it." Dana smiled, the gamble that Chung didn't clear his records already had payed off. "The funny thing," Daniel continued, "was that I ran into the same person earlier today coming down to the lab."

 

Dana had to fight hard to stifle her laughter - and it almost cost her a ball. She could tell Daniel was dying to ask her what was so funny, but knew enough not to disturb someone playing pinball.

 

After about a minute, she lost her first ball because it rocketed out of a chute so fast that she didn't have time to correct the paddle, which the ball promptly ricocheted off into the side gutter. Hearing a groan behind her, she looked and saw a couple people watching over her shoulder. Looking back at the score, she was at 70 million. Not good enough. Now she needed to average at least 130 million average for the next two balls to beat the high score.

 

By the time she lost the next ball, she had accumulated 110 million more points. It was at 180 million now, and she needed to get 150 million in one go to get the high score. Mysteriously, this ball was lost in almost the exact same manner as the first ball.

 

A few moments after the last ball was launched, Dana cradled it in the paddle looking for a target. She noticed that the extra ball light had been lit, and that was a target as good as any. Through instinct, good timing, and engineering skills, she launched the ball straight into the switch. Her relief was short lived, however, as the ball promptly fell straight in between the paddles. Looking around her, a small crowd of half a dozen were watching.

 

She turned back to the game, grimacing. She still had a long way to go.

 

This ball was proving to be her best yet. Then the ball started to come down right between the paddles. Not this time, she thought. She pressed the paddle just as she shoved the whole unit hard to one side. The ball barely bounced up and over the gap, but not far enough. Dana shoved the machine to the other side, and this time the paddle struck the ball firmly enough to thrust it straight up a few centimeters. The next hit with the paddle shot the ball squarely into a ramp. The crowd behind her made plenty few remarks and encouragements.

 

Half a minute later, the ball shot through the paddles again, but this time tilting the unit failed to connect with the paddles. She sighed as her muscles' aches were beginning to make themselves known again - a pinball posture was not for one who had an aching back. Still, it was well worth it as the score displayed itself. The crowd behind her, now massed to over a dozen, cheered as 328,017,800 made itself known as owned by DCF.

 

Being tired and sore, Dana tried to make back for the couch, but a voice stopped her.

"Where did you learn to play like that?" It was Keller.

"Oh, over the years, and that. Most of it's just instinct, or things I've applied from engineering knowledge."

"Ok. I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Christel Keller," she extended her hand.

Taking it,"Dana Farber." Seeing Daniel's shadow come up, she added, "Daniel helps me practise a little."

"If by practise you mean me losing nine times out of ten", he smiled.

"Oh, hi. I'm Christel Keller."

"Daniel Morlone." Shaking her hand, he noticed Keller's sixth finger. Unfortunately, Daniel was very poor at concealing surprise. Christel took it back shyly, muttering "Sorry."

"Oh no... uhm.. I should be sorry." Thinking for a second, Daniel said, "Sometimes I wish I could have an extra finger." It was a bad attempt of a joke, but it worked. At least Keller wasn't hiding her hand behind her anymore.

"If you two could excuse me," Dana interupted, "I'm tired and sore, and I want to go back to bed. Especially since that alarm doesn't discriminate between soldiers and scientists."

"Kay. See you, Dane." Then to Christel, as Dana started walking off to the door, "You want to, er, try out one of these?" He was gesturing to one of the console games."

"Sure, I guess."

[The Veteran]

After losing at pool Trigger had already decided not to lose at anything else but now he found him self slumped in an armchair and significantly poorer than he previously had been...

As Rick approached, Trigger seemed to become even downtrodden.

"What's up with you," asked Rick taking a seat opposite the pilot.

"You lost" he replied, forgetting the business in the firing range. "You never lose"

"Yeah well, she was trying so hard..." said Rick looking to the ground.

"What? Oh Rick no! I had twenty bucks riding on you! And you lost deliberately"

"Well she was good... But..." He looked up at Trigger and grinned.

"Dammit Rick"

"Well gambling is wrong anyway..." he said laughing. "Besides you would only of spent it on food anyway."

"Yeah well... I like food," said Trigger defiantly. "Honestly... Next time at least warn me ok"

"And remove the element of chance? No way, I could never do that to a friend"

Trigger sighed and shook his head. "Well I'm going to go check on things in the hangars. I just hope Gia's left my plane in a better condition than that Lightning"

"Don't worry about it," said Rick as Trigger stood. "I'm sure it'll be fine... After all, you weren't there to help her this time"

"Hey a little respect here! Not too soon I'm going to be saving your ungrateful arse everyday"

Both men laughed. "Yeah maybe, but what good is that going to do if we let the little freaks walk away from the crashsite huh?"

"Ok you've got me" laughed Trigger. "Now why don't you go and... I don't know, polish up your pool or something. I'm out of here."

"Speak for yourself, at least I had to try to lose! I didn't see you doing so well"

Trigger laughed to himself as he left the recroom and headed for the hangar level. At the bottom of the personnel shaft he waited for the lift to appear but when the doors finally slid open he didn't bother getting in.

Instead he greeted the familiar face inside.

"Hey," she replied simply. "Has everyone given up training or something? I thought you were supposed to be in the range?"

"Yeah I was, about an hour ago" he laughed.

"Really? Why does noone ever tel me these things?" Gia asked to noone in particular.

"I don't know, maybe they do and you just don't listen."

She gave him a hard glare and they began walking back to the Rec room.

"So what have you learnt today then?" asked Trigger.

"It's not quite a Lightning is it," replied Gia.

"No it's not. But it handles exactly the same way. The only difference is that it's far more manouverable than one. And of course three times as fast."

"Well if it's so simple then how come the inside of the cockpit looks like a space shuttle?" she asked with a chuckle.

"Well that would probably have something to do with the fact that that's what it was going to be..." replied Trigger. Gia looked inquisitively at the pilot and silently urged him to continue. "It was funded by Nasa as part of a military space program. Obviously they had no intention of sending the Lightning, or the Hurricane, into space but it's construction was specifically intended for upper atmospheric travel. It's the highest flyer the world over and that's a fact. That's exactly why XCom wanted it and why we have them now..."

"Oh," replied Gia uncertainly.

"But forget about that," said Trigger as they reached a door on their left. "If you enter this room you have got to leave your work outside..."

The doors slid open and a crudely constructed paper airplane floated awkwardly into the hallway.

"Welcome to the rec room..."

[Zager]

"Mon ami," Gaston Duchante said, sitting down across from Rick. "My name is Gaston Duchante, I am in the second squad. I saw you at the firing range. Tres bien, I must say."

"Pardon?" Rick said, looking at Gaston.

"Tres bien, that is French, the only civilized language in the world. It means very good. You are, perhaps, a better shot than I am."

"Oh, thanks."

"Take a look at this," Gaston continued, pulling a largish pistol of his holster and placing it on the tale. "A Calico M950, my personnel sidearm. Ever hear of it?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Not many people have, it's not a common pistol.

Only in the United States would they call this a pistol instead of a submachine gun, eh? It's got fifty rounds of nine millimter ammunition, using a helical feed system. I've custom modified mine to support automatic fire."

"Impressive, must take a while to reload the magazines, though," Rick commented.

"It uses special feeder, much faster that way. My prefered type of ammunition is the glasser round. It'll punch through anything that isn't an inch of steel. Given that we have no idea about the armor capabilities of our foe, I figure, the more power the better."

"Good idea, 5.56mm rounds might not be enough."

"Very true, which is why I am disapointed that our commanders did not invest in the Barett M95 fifty caliber sniper rifles. I still cannot believe that we will be going out without qualified sniper converage, those fools."

"I don't understand it either," Rick said, shaking his head. "Must be some screwup or something."

"Out of curiosity, Rick," Gaston asked, changing the subject as he reholstered his pistol. "Why did you lie to that man?"

"I don't get what you're saying."

"You lied about how you lost that pool match," Gaston continued. "I was watching, and you lost, how do you say, fair and square. You did not try to lose, you were beaten."

"You," Rick started to say, but Gaston cut him off.

"I've got a problem with your attitude, I overheard you in the firing range as well. There were four women in my squad back in the French Marine Corps who would slit your throat from ear to ear without batting an eye if you were to voice your opinions of women fighting in their presence. Grow up and enter the twentieth century, man, women are just as suited in a combat organization as men are. This attitude of yours could get you or another member of your squad killed. I think I've said enough, if you'll excuse me." Gaston stood up and walked over to the pool tables, to engage in some gambling of his own.

[Tammy]

A few minutes after their rather eye-opening conversation, Tammy and Poison were in their respective beds with the lights off, trying to sleep. After a moment, Tammy realized that Cleo was speaking to her, almost too softly to be heard.

 

"You can't imagine what it's like, Tammy," she began. "I'll bet you've always drawn people to you like a magnet. You've never been alone-not really."

 

For the space of a breath, Tammy wasn't sure which would keep her talking, silence or a reply, but then Poison continued without encouragement. "I never knew my father. None of the people back...there...had fathers. Some of them had mothers, but mine disappeared when I was seven. I never knew what happened to her. That was when I started scavenging in dumpsters and sneaking into kitchens to steal food. There was never enough; I guess that's why I'm so short."

 

This time, Tammy felt she had to speak. "Cleo," she said as softly as Poison was speaking, "I hope you realize that it's something to be proud of to have survived something like that and find yourself where you are now."

 

Poison made a derisive noise and went on. "When I got old enough, I realized I had two choices. I could get better at stealing or go with the only other profession available to somebody like me. I saw what those girls went through and how their eyes were so vacant and haunted. I decided then and there that I would do anything but that. That's when I hooked up with my first gang. I was too little to be of much use, they thought, until I crawled into a house through the dog door and came back with fifty bucks in cash."

 

Tammy waited patiently this time. She had a feeling that Poison had almost forgotten she was there. Sure enough, after a moment, the stream of information began to flow again. In almost a monotone, Poison described the dangers and deprivations of life on the street. She talked about the few times she'd developed attachments to anyone and how disastrously they'd ended-in death or betrayal.

 

When the strangers had approached her and asked her if she could shoot like that all the time, she'd been very suspicious. She'd just killed three men and wasn't in the mood for questions, she added. Still, they'd waved cash under her nose and offered to buy her dinner while they talked. She figured they couldn't be any more dangerous than the guys she'd just taken down, so she went along. They explained that they'd been investigating rumors of some strange activities that they refused to explain further and offered her a chance at a job if she could pass their tests. When she'd shown them that she could shoot well and throw accurately and that she was pretty sharp mentally, they offered her a job. She'd never thought that gang warfare and throwing rocks at windows and security cameras would land her a legitimate job and had laughed at the irony of joining the honest workforce using skills she'd gained at the expense of so many honest citizens. Ironic or not, it meant a full belly every day and a real roof over a real bed. She'd snapped up their offer, but she'd never let them believe it, of course. Instead, she'd made as many sarcastic remarks as she dared-no point throwing away a golden opportunity that wasn't likely to come again.

 

Just when Tammy thought that Poison had drifted off to sleep, she heard an unexpected question. "What's your story?"

 

Tammy chuckled softly. "Thought you knew all about me?" she chided. Then she went on. "Cleo, honey, a lot of my story is classified, but I can tell you that it hasn't all been fun and games. Has it occurred to you how often medics have to watch people die because their medical abilities aren't enough to save them? I'll tell you about them sometime. For now, let me just say that I've given my life to serving in various military operations, and that's not very conducive to lasting attachments either. I've loved and lost more people than you can imagine...," she trailed off. "I'll tell you some stories sometime, I promise, but for now, I think we should sleep."

 

With that, Tammy closed her eyes, but sleep was a long time coming as scene after scene replayed itself in agonizing detail behind her closed eyelids.

[Loonie]

"Good to have you aboard. We needed a last minute replacement and we can consider ourselves lucky to have you on board."

 

Martin Terrick had been transfered to Pine Gap just after recieving his corporation's orders. No, not orders, he corrected himself. Their extortion note! He knew that the corporation must have had a very good reason and probably illegal to bribe Martin's way into the Japanese army, but despite this he believed that he was prepared for anything they could request of him. He was wrong!

 

The executives of that corporation had managed to read him like and open book. He didn't care about anything too much, not his welfare, not his possesions, or anything material in that sense. He didn't care about anything, EXCEPT his family, which has done so much for him. As soon as the executives realized that, they must've known that it would be the easiest card to play in order to make sure that Martin would do their bidding. Now he had to steal technology from this X-Com organization and transmit it back to the greedy corporate scientists.

 

It wouldn't matter in the short run. Not at all. A handful of new discoveries, several original patents,... nothing too important. The problem would be long term however. What if this information leak goes so far that whole countries will uncover the technology and begin manufacturing their own weapons. Martin could immediately see what would happen next. Their leaders would grow overconfident and abandon the X-Com project, foolishly believing that they have all the information and resources they could possibly need for whatever threat was out there. But Martin's father had taught him very well indeed, that a single soldier who masters a spear can defeat ten people, who do not know how to use a pistol. That saying had in fact been the cornerstone, from which Martin became such an efficient solo operative. To know your abilities, your weapons, your surroundings and your enemy to the maximum and to correctly and quickly act upon that infromation in order to achieve your mission. "That must be why so many soldiers get rejected by special ops."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

Noticing he was in mid-conversation with general Genega, he quickly snapped back to reality and stiffended his body.

 

"Nothing sir, sorry. What are your orders?"

 

The General was a bit surprised at the recruit's eagerness to begin his work so quickly. Every person that came here questioned why he was here or why should he do this. This one didn't seem to care at all. Or maybe he already knew somehow...

 

"Right. As you are running quite late on training, you will need to catch up very quickly, so your daily activities will involve 50% less downtime until you catch up with the rest of us. On this table is your keycard with your photo. I am sure I don't need to tell you how to properly use it since I've been told that you have already visited several such facilities during your service. Other than that we should get started immediately. Cpl. Seiko, who will be joining us shortly, will be your drill instructor as he is currently not tied down and you will also practice along with several of your squad members which have failed some basic procedures. The Corporal will also give you a quick tour of the base first and after you have settled yourself in your quarters, you will begin training immediately. For any further questions go to our Personnel Administrator Ms. Graham or for general information on the war consult the UFOpaedia. Dismissed"

 

After the last word, Seiko opened the door of the office and began explaining the general layout of the base to the recruit. Martin didn't fancy the word "war" that came out of the General's mouth the slightest bit, since it indicated that the recent UFO activity is indeed very threatening. As he continued through the tour, he took special note of the info he was given about the laboratories. He just hoped that he wouldn't have to use that info soon.

 

As he went past the recreation room, he noticed the rest of the X-Com squads relaxing. Amongst them he noticed Jasper, who had just walked in from another entrance, and his suit. "Best keep away from that one." he thought. "Best keep away from any of them as much as I can. I wish I could make new friends here, but not if they can learn about my mission."

[Tammy]

Morning came entirely too soon for Tammy and Poison. Each was thankful that the other was not one of those people who is chipper and cheerful first thing in the morning as they went through their morning routines without speaking or indeed fully opening their eyes. By the time they were headed down the corridor for breakfast, they were fit for human contact and managed some polite conversation as they walked. No mention was made of their conversation from the night before, though Tammy knew that her eyes gave away her lack of sleep. She only hoped that she wouldn't have to deal with anything difficult until after breakfast. This thought was accompanied by her sudden ricochet off of another agent and into the wall. Silently cursing herself for being so off-guard, she turned to see who had crashed into her. Rick had dropped the papers he'd been examining and was busily picking them up and muttering under his breath.

 

"Good morning," Tammy said wryly.

 

Rick seemed not to have realized who was standing there until she spoke. He looked up at her and cleared his throat. "Good...good morning, Tammy," he replied.

 

"You know, Rick, we should shoot some pool again tonight if you have time. That was really fun. You're quite good, I must say, and it's not often I find someone who's really a challenge. I've been playing since I was old enough to hold a pool cue of the floor," Tammy shrugged in a slightly self-conscious way.

 

Rick's conscience suddenly got the better of him. "There's something I should tell you before you hear it from someone else," he began with his eyes averted. Tammy's raised eyebrows and expression of polite interest were not helping at all. "I...you see, TJ and I.... I kind of told him that I let you win last night," he finally managed to get out. Tammy's eyebrows raised a bit further, but she said nothing. "You see, he was making such a big deal out of it, and I don't know...it just happened before I thought about what I was saying. I guess that wasn't very fair after you were such a good sport about losing at the firing range. I still think you should stick to your doctoring and leave the shooting to the men, but you really did win fair and square at pool," he added. He stuck his hand out stiffly, shook Tammy's briefly and strode away. He'd gone about a dozen steps when he turned back. "I'll take you up on that rematch," he nodded and continued on his way.

[Loonie]

It was 4 o'clock in the morning when Martin suddenly heard a high pitched beep constantly repeating itself. At first he thought it to be an alarm clock, but he knew that it was way to early for the troops to begin their choirs. Only then did he realize that the beep came from underneath his pillow.

 

"Not already..." he muttered in terror. It is impossible that the corporations' intelligence agents could have been so good, that they had already found out about one of X-Coms' projects. He wished that it would all turn out to be a nightmare, but the beeping persistently continued as he decided to take a small black device from underneath the cushion. Upon opening it he spoke in fearful anticipation: "Agent reporting in."

 

"Agent, your status has now changed from "dormant" to "active", effective immediately. Our sources report that the facility, at which you are stationed, has developed a new battle platform capable of carrying weapons, that previously could not have been carried by infantry pesonnel. You are to ascertain the extent to which this technology is developed and the capabilities that the prototypes of this technology currently possess. Our agents have also managed to hide several items that you might find useful in your locker, before you arrived. Use them to your best advantage. If there is no response from you by the end of this week, we shall assume that you are not fulfilling your orders and will act appropriately. Central out."

 

As he put the tiny device back under the soft confines of the cushion, an angry, yet sleepy, voice erupted from below as Green began muttering: "Can you turn your knick-knacks off for the freaking night? I'm trying to sleep here." "No problem." said Martin with a sad voice. "I wish I could have turned it off before, but alas life does not grant you that many options." Green didn't feel like discussing anything at 4 am and decided to utter a single word instead: "Whatever..."

 

 

***********

 

"Well I'm off to grab myself a sandwich. Keep an eye out for things around here will you?"

 

"Yes ms. Graham."

 

The assistant began assorting various documents and papers whilst the Personnel Administrator went off to find a suitable meal. Fifty-four more documents had to be filed into the cabinets correctly along with fourteen peices of mail to be shipped out and three letters to be fowarded to the General. "What a bore! If the intelligence division wasn't so paranoid of E-Mail interception I might be able to grab a bite to eat as well. The fact that the mail is transported at a much faster rate than ordinary mail is even worse. So many more letters to be copied and filed...ugh" The job was really starting to get to her and she felt as if it was making her more sleepy by the second. And she kept thinking that way until she finally decided to rest her head on the desk and slowly fell asleep.

 

"This gas really is marvelous." thought Martin as he entered the room and quickly approached a file cabinet. The fact that X-Com did not use E-Mail to transfer data and information around had indeed prevented the corporation from providing Martin with a detailed map of Pine Gap. Although there were general maps displayed at the major rooms around Pine Gap, there wasn't a single detailed map that revealed information about access codes, security measures and technical details. However since they had used ordinary mail, Martin knew that the administration department had to have sent such a map to the General, since it was nowadays standard procedure for the commander of a military facility to possess a detailed map of the facility. And since it is also standard procedure for the administration to keep a copy of each important letter stored, it was obvious that the map could not only be obtained in the much more secure office of general Genega, but also in the administration rooms' file cabinets.

 

Martin snapped back to reality as he began to search through the letters. And after a single minute of searching, he saw his desired file and quickly took a picture of each page using a tiny device, which would at first glance appear to be anything but a camera. When he had finished his task, he neatly put the letter back in the spot where it had always been and after closing the file cabinet he made his way out of the room whilst silently closing the door of the room so as not to disturb the still sleeping assistant. "Now to make my way to the mess hall and make a good excuse or they'll start to suspect me soon enough."

 

As he began to quickly walk away from the administration office, he started to remember the various tiny details that he had left behind as he exited the room. He should have remembered to wear a scarf or some other peice of cloth around his mouth, since the latest investigators had special detectors that could actually discern breath residue from different people. But that error could easily be fixed. All he would have to do is to enter the administration room for some everyday reason whilst being observed by several witnesses and his mistake would quickly be corrected.

 

Upon entering the mess hall he decided to grab himself a good portion of food and sit himself down at a lone spot, some distance away from the other soldiers. But as he started to sit down, he saw Tammy approaching him as she had just arrived herself and had grabbed a bite to eat as well.

 

"Great. Now I'm going to get encuragment from someone who thinks I'm an introvert and don't socialize much. Medics seem to be a bit too emphatic at times, but then again lets try to turn this into an advantage and pretend to be just what she would think I am."

 

Tammy finally reached the table and asked politely: "Mind if I sit down?"

 

"Yes, erm...please do." replied Martin with a shy voice. "Guess I'm still pretty good at this." he thought to himself as they began to converse.

[Spaceman42]

Theodore looked over the Lightning for what seemed like the hundredth time. He didn't see any flaws... but then, he wouldn't, would he? The crash of the experimental Lightning hadn't been his fault - he hadn't been in charge of groundcrew then; the man responsible for groundcrew had been sacked - but since the crash, he'd been a perfectionist, examining every nook and cranny of all the ships in the base.

 

Nobody wanted another crash like that.

 

The groundcrew leader had gotten the worst of the flak, but the rest of the groundcrew were still ostracized by most of the personnel on the base. The engineers were a bit more understanding - but the pilots... Theodore looked at the clipboard in his hand, then squinted through the opened maintenance panel. The coolant pipe was a little out of alignment from the spec... He grabbed a wrench and twisted it into place. Grunting in satisfaction, he closed the panel, wiped his hands on his coveralls, and checked off another box on his clipboard. The Lightning was checked out, as far as he was concerned. Now it was all left to the pilots...

 

He remembered the day of the crash. It wasn't that long ago... He had been assigned, with a couple other techs, to reconstruct as much as he could of the ship and figure out what had gone wrong. He had picked up a shattered coolant tube which had a reddish stain on it. It took him a few seconds before he realized that it was blood... Nobody wanted another crash, especially not one due to faulty equipment. Eventually, with the help of the engineers, they'd found the flaw, and had begun work on revising the plans for the Lightning. Theodore hadn't heard anything about her for a while - too busy with his work, and ostracised by the rest of the personnel onbase. He only wished there was something he could have done before...

 

He'd wanted to be an astronaut, when he was a kid. He supposed most of the people here had, too. He'd joined the RCAF in the hopes of getting an assignment as an astronaut - but he hadn't made it. He'd checked out as a pilot - not a great one, though - but eventually wound up working aircrew. It was probably the closest he'd get to that childhood dream - working at X-COM, repairing craft that could reach the outer atmosphere... But he still practiced in the sims, and he kept working hard. Maybe he'd get a chance to "try her out", one of these days... He shook his head and looked down at his clipboard. As he checked over it one more time he felt a faint rumble throughout the hangar. Time to start another inspection...

[Hankosha]

Hankosha got off the ship and looked at the base. His eyes bulged, and he looked to his right and to his left. He took another step forward, missed a step, and landed on his head. He would have to be more careful...

 

After the usual "new recruits" speech, Hankosha looked for his room, and found that he currently had no roomate. Sweet, a room all to himself. He unpacked and started looking for something to do...

 

An alarm went off, Hankosha headed for the briefing room, and looked at the other new recruits, their uniforms creased, their boots polished, and looked at himself the man from the streets, greasy and dirty. After this, he would need a shower.

 

Hankosha looked at the target. A grey funky looking alien. He lined up his shot, and his finger clenched on the trigger, when he saw a shot from behind him hit the alien. He swore. Why did the other people at the base always have to show off their marksmanship?

 

He started up the targets again. He pulled the rifle, lined up his shot, and snapped off the three shots. The target fell tothe ground, and the other targets went down just as quick. The shots were in bursts, and they did the job. He put the 'rifle' back, and headed out of the simulation room. He went to his room and turned in...

 

A loud noise rudely awakened Hankosha from his sleep - an alarm. He headed for the breifing room, hoping that something exciting had happened...

[JellyfishGreen]

05:40am:

Trigger's interceptor closed on the mysteriously changing radar contact. *You may have managed to outrun Gia,* he thought, *but now it's my turn.* He thumbed the ready switch for his air-to-air Stingray missiles. "Requesting clearance to engage, control." "Clearance granted, Trigger, proceed - wha?" "Control?" "Trigger, target has reversed direction. Target is closing on you" "Right-" Trigger's eyes snapped to his radar which showed the new vector. *Ok, ok, he's agressive, we can handle this. Just come within missile range, sucker!* Acintic and painful green light washed over the cockpit and he felt an explosion in his airframe. At once he knew from the instruments and the handling that one of his engines was gone, along with most of that wing. *I'm still out of weapons range - he's outranging me!* Trigger worked on breaking off the contact - he knew the Hurricane could easily fly on one engine, if he could maintain control. But then a second flash and explosion sent the situation from bad to worse. Power was gone completely and both engines were on fire. He scrambled for the eject handles as the wingless plane began to plummet - nothing happened - the aircraft shook BAM BAM BAM

His head lifted from the pillow. He couldn't see.

BAM BAM BAM

The door - someone was knocking on the door. He shook off the remnants of the dream and felt his way to the door in the dark.

 

05:45am, Sublevel 2, South Barracks: "Excuse me, Mr. Munt, sir," said one of the white-coated technicians, whose security card read "Rick van der Wal". He was shuffling anxiously as if on a coffee overdose. "The engineering team, they have a heavy weapons problem, they want to see you, it's urgent."

"Umm. OK. Give me a minute." He hurriedly got dressed to the sound of his roommate's gentle and uninterrupted snoring.

 

Trigger was met at the lift by a tall woman in a lab coat who walked him into the engineering bay.

"Good morning, Mr. Munt. I'm Dana."

"Hi. Call me TJ." He looked at the contents of the bay - a sprawl of diagnosic equipment, parts hanging off of what looked like a lawnmower with one of his aircraft cannons on it, and tired engineers. He recognized Sanjay slumped over a circuit diagram, his eyes bagged from lack of sleep.

"Ok, TJ. We're trying to trace down a recurring fault with our Bushmaster weapons system," said Dana. "Jenny said you were working on heavy weapons testing on the base last year. Did you work on anything like this? Because we could use your help."

"Oh yeah, did you guys dig this out of the west side storage depot? I probably test-fired this one a few times myself last April."

He spent half an hour asking about the workings and poking at various parts of the hodgepodge that the cannon was nestled in. Finally he fingered a circuit board - and jerked his finger away quickly. "Ow! Thought so."

"What is it?"

"These cannons, they always heat up here when the servos are running. I'd say the circuit board you've built in here is soaking up too much heat."

"That makes more sense than anything I can think of," said Sanjay wearily. "I'll stick a heat reflective shield between them and give it another test."

 

**

 

An hour later in the canteen, Gia wandered over to Christel, who looked up at her approach. "Hey there, roomie. This seat taken?"

"Um, no. But I thought you were, um, going to sit with TJ."

"I thought we were going to meet for breakfast, too. But I don't see him anywhere," she said puzzledly.

"Maybe he's still asleep," chimed in Dujardin.

"No, I checked his room," she replied.

Dujardin smiled and looked knowingly at Christel, but her mind had already wandered. He looked back at Gia. "Perhaps he already ate. Men, they can be so forgetful, yes?"

[Zager]

"Let's get to work," Dr Zager said, as he entered the physics lab, holding a cup of coffee in one hand. "Photon, the biocell is nearly perfected, or it will be once the research I ordered gets in. The biowires will eliminate the problems we have with the bio-mechanical interface. I'm going to be in my office, reviewing all the files we have on the laser development, I've decided that I'll assist with that research while I wait for the biocell information I need to get in. Don't have anybody disturb me for the next three or four hours, unless it's an emergency."

 

Zager emptied his coffee, left the mug on top of a file cabinet, walked into his office and shut and locked the door. He called up the necessary files, and began reading them, refering to other texts as he studied the research.

 

***

 

"Mon amis," Gaston said, entering the cafeteria and sitting down next to Martin and Tammy. "C'est une bon jour, non?"

 

"And what's more," he continued, switching smoothly into english, with a french accent. "The procurement office is superb. I have ordered a large quanity of my special blend of explosives. On a combat mission, I will be capable of destroying anything, or opening virtually any door. C'est magnifique, non?"

[Loonie]

Martin cringed a bit as the enthusiastic Gaston invited himself to take a seat next to Kacur. He didn't really like the grunts that kept rattling on and on about their new toys. Sure it was useful and great, but any soldier that gets too overconfident of his weapon is bound to get excessive expectations out of it and as a result he or she would eventually see the weapon fail to do something that he falsely expected out of it. Since he couldn't be distracted and had to think about the base's layout, Martin simply continued his meal.

 

The base's layout was indeed an interesting one, though he did spot several weakspots right away. He had also been attenitive of several other conversations amongst the troops, which included useful information for his mission, like the fact that Chung had managed to enter the labs once by hacking into the computer somehow and retrieving the neccesary info. Though he knew that these chinese youths were quite good at penetrating security, they were still amateurs compared to Martin who had been specifically trained at it during his time with the corporation and he would therefore have little problem hacking into X-Com's system. Apart from that there was also another useful peice of information which confirmed that the personnel administrator was definately one of those which would allow unauthorized access from time to time to her buddies. That would eventually come in very handy as well.

 

In a way Martin was frightened of these thoughts. He didn't even have to concentrate on the problem as the solutions just kept popping up. The corporation also counted on this when they recruited him. They knew that he was such a natural that he would preform the assignment perhaps even if he had decided not to do it. He decided he had enough of thinking about the base and went back to the conversation at hand with Tammy and Gaston...

[JellyfishGreen]

Briefing room, Sublevel 2, 09:00.

 

The troops filed in. It felt awfully like school. Right down to the white-coated professor standing behind the podium - except he was the same age as most of them.

 

"Hi, I'm Chief Scientist Gomez and I want to show you two of the new pieces of equipment the science and engineering teams have developed."

He held up a large LCD tablet. Beside it on the table were smaller, hand-held versions.

"This is our satellite map display. This is so new we don't have a name for it yet, we just call it the 'map'. It uses a combination of Military GPS and satellite imaging to give you a real-time tactical map. The entire squad can be instantly updated on each other's position, as well as enemy sightings. All of this information is also relayed to the command centre." He pushed a few buttons and the projection screen showed the schematic of Sublevel 2, with a yellow marker where Photon stood at the podium. As he walked down the stage, the dot followed him. "It's tracking me through a GPS transceiver I'm wearing. If I was holding a Map, the system would track me through the Map transceiver as well."

"How do you plot enemy sightings?" asked Green.

"Each soldier will call in enemy positions relative to their own facing. Our command center operators will interpret these calls and update the display by adding enemy positions manually."

 

He next held up a grenade with a ring of sensors on it.

"These grenades are ultrasound-based proximity grenades. Each has a calculator chip that triggers the grenade if it detects a moving ultrasound echo within a two-meter radius. They activate a second after landing. They're designed to help secure an area by sealing off tunnels and corridors." He made sure the pin was still in and put down the grenade gingerly.

 

"The engineering team also has a presentation. Sanjay?"

"Thanks, Photon." Sanjay, Dana, and Worm walked onstage. "We didn't prepare a presentation, so we'll let our friend present himself."

With a rumble of treads, the 1.8 meter long mini-tank rolled up the stairs onto the stage. It stopped and pivoted beside the podium. A voice came through the PA.

"Hello world. I am the Cannon-Type Mark 1 Heavy Weapons Platform. I am armoured with 10mm Titanium plating and armed with an 25mm M242 electrically fed autocannon. I have a five-meter-per-second top speed through high-torque electric motors driven by high-capacity bioelectric storage cells. I have a zero-meter turning radius. I am remotely controlled by a secure satellite link or local digital radio. I have real-time video and audio feeds and an operator-controlled fire system with computer-aided targeting. I look forward to serving with you."

There was applause from the soldiers at this impressive new ally.

A question from the audience. "If it's remotely controlled, who was that speaking?"

"That was Slice, our operator. He's across the hall in the control room right now."

 

Corporal Wales took the podium. "Thanks, Mr. Gomez, Mr. Deet." The HWP trundled offstage. "We're preparing a few notes on the advantages and possible tactics for this new equipment, and will hand those out for you to read on your own time. Between now and lunch, we're finally going to get to the counterterrrorism review exercises we didn't have time for yesterday. I'll roll the first film, this documents a bank hostage situation with three terrorists and how it was handled by GSG-9."

[The Veteran]

After numerous training videos, speeches by almost everyone in the base and the introduction of numerous gadgets, the soldiers from tactical squads one, two and three had now been fed, watered and let loose on the real thing.

Approximately a mile from Pine Gap there was a large civilian complex that had been empty ever since the base became operational. Tactical squads one and three were currently located inside and were battling for control of the complex.

Armed with nothing but paintballs and flashbangs, the soldiers were slowly working their way through level after level of warehouses, workshops and canteens. In parts of the facility the soldiers couldn't help but notice the similarity between these structures and the underground complex at Pine Gap. Though perhaps that was why the site had been chosen for the exercise.

The battle had now been raging for almost fifty minutes and oth teams were down to operating on stealth tactics to survive. What had begun as a violent, somewhat childish brawl had now sobered up into a tense military situation. Only the best soldiers survived unmarked.

Squad one had only four remaining soldiers, Warlord, Tammy, Rick and Tim Day. Ki-tat had remained in the fight for just long enough to learn never to stand up in a combat situation, the other five soldiers falling later on but to even simpler mistakes on their parts.

Squad three held over half of it's squad intact. Six soldiers remained including Tim Day's fellow spook Paul Jasper. He had seemed to take good control of the situation from the start of the exercise and the rest of the squad seemed to be following him closely. The medic, Dietrich was also still in action and had already saved two of her team mates from near critical injuries.

The other soldiers in squad three seemed to hold far less military knowledge than those in squad one but the leadership provided by Jasper seemed to be rubbing off on the soldiers quickly and Goldstein and Ulbricht in particular were becoming quite adept already.

Back at Pine Gap, nearer the base's main complex, Sanjay was busy testing the newly heat proofed weapons platform on some sandbags left over from some early morning teambuilding exercises. Trigger was also present just to be sure they'd nailed the problem with the mechanism in the rocket launcher but he soon disappeared to join Davies in Hangar three where the lightning had been stored. He was hoping to run into Gia too, he still hadn't been able to apologise about missing her in the morning.

Davies had arrived with the base's second Hurricane to replace the prototype Lightning in the late hours of the previous night. Doc was yet to return with the skyranger but if noone else was thankful for that fact then Theodore certainly was. He'd been checking the Hurricane from nose to tail ever since it had arrived and the skyranger arriving now would just relieve him of even more sleep. It wasn't that he had to spend so much time down there with the craft. He was just that dedicated to his job that he only trusted that a job had been done properly if he had done it himself.

Above surface and again further away from the base had been assembled a mock up of a small civilian residence. It was here that squad two was undergoing their exercise for the afternoon under Corporal Seiko. Unlike squads one and three, squad two's targets failed to pose even a potential threat to them as they were in no position to move unassisted, let alone shoulder a weapon.

While squad two was engaged in a simple counter terrorism activity, squads one and three were locked in the final throes of man on man combat in dusty buildings over a mile away. The pilots were readying themselves for an engagement of their own. Having three pilots to two craft is always a cause for conflict. Even when one of them does have a leg cast.

The tarmac that lay in shadow of the north western access lift into pine gap was now covered in a fine layer of sand and brown fibres and the engineering staff were beginning to relax for the first time in days. With a military patent pending on Zager's already patented biocells, laser research was making little progress. Especially after the scientist had required asum of millions to attempt a bizarre theory of self charging cels.

Deep within the base the canteen was being mopped clean and the corridors were silent save for the business of the base's technicians.

As the day reached it's height of being, the shadow vanished and sunlight poured over the base.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky on such a fine day, but unkown to the soldiers training there this day, there was a storm coming...

[Spaceman42]

Theodore walked into the hangar, doing another F.O.D. tour, when he saw it.

 

It looked as though the engine compartment of the Hurricane had exploded all over the floor of Hangar 3, leaving a tangled mess of pipes, parts, and grease. Dherzhin dropped his clipboard in shock, then let out a bloodcurdling yell.

 

"WHAT THE HELL?!?"

 

Two grinning, grease-stained faces appeared from behind the Hurricane. Dherzhin recognized them as Gilbert Huillard and Heather O'Reilley, who had been hired in the wake of his promotion. "What the HELL are you two doing to that AIRCRAFT?"

 

O'Reilley walked toward him, still grinning. "Sir, we and a few of the engineers put our heads together and figured out a way to dissipate the engine heat, which would give the pilots a bit more leeway at the edge of the flight envelope." She seemed satisfied with this statement. Dherzhin, however, was not.

"That may well be - but what in the HELL possessed you to TAKE APART an aircraft that NEEDS to be operational, and to do so WITHOUT telling the head of Groundcrew - namely, ME?"

Gilbert muttered under his breath. "Told you he would not like it."

 

O'Reilly opened her mouth to explain - but Dherzhin cut her off with a sharp look. "You will put EVERYTHING back as it was, and do it NOW - otherwise, I WILL have a few words with the Commander about you. I have enough worries with experimental, not-fully-tested aircraft; I do NOT need worries about WHETHER OR NOT THE CRAFT ARE DISSASSEMBLED WHEN THEY ARE NEEDED! UNDERSTOOD?"

O'Reilley nodded her head, the smile gone from her lips.

"Good. Now have this engine reassembled by the time the troops are back from exercise, or I will personally request you be transferred to "Waste Disposal Engineering"! Dismissed"

 

----------

 

Dherzhin marched into the Canteen, still steaming mad. Yes, he'd been unneccessarily harsh on O'Reilley - but there *had* been a lot of concerns from Up High about Groundcrew's competence - and he had no desire to be sacked over something done without his knowledge... A firm hand grabbed his shoulder, shaking him from his thoughts. "Sir, permission to buy you a drink?" Dherzhin turned to see the somewhat imposing figure of Johann Ibsen, another of the groundcrew personnel.

"Permission granted. It's been a rough day..."

"So I had heard. I had no part in it - though I must say, I am not surprised at O'Reilley's involvement. She probably talked Gilbert into it, he is not really the type to do such things on impulse. Good luck with handling O'Reilley, sir. I have a simulation to monitor. Enjoy the drink..."

[Snikers]

Keller sat in the auditorium, watching as slides of several different terrorist scenarios were put up. She chewed her lower lip, trying to make sure she memorized everything. She wasn't sure that aliens would use the same tactics used by terran terrorists but hey - she wasn't being paid to think.

As a picture went up showing a rather gruesome scene of a terrorist aftermath and the announcer went on to show what would happen if they messed it up. Sandy, next to Keller, made a slight noise at the messy display, but Keller unflinchingly made sure to commit every detail to memory. It was imperative that she knows everything by heart, she told herself. She could not and would not screw something up in combat, and most definitely not get a teammate killed through her stupidity. Ever since childhood she had the utmost respect for the military, being able to make the ultimate sacrifice for those they loved. This was an impression her parents had made clear to her since young age as well. And Keller had sworn to herself as much as anyone else the day she got in that come hell or high water she would do everything in power to make sure she did her duty. She would follow every order, she would make any sacrifice, take anything necessary. And dammit, no matter what so many had said during boot camp, whether she was a woman or not didn't matter - whether nature or nurture had shaped her mentality she had free will and she could be as good a soldier as any man.

In training, shooting paintballs at moving cardboard targets, a gnawing feeling grew in the pit of her stomach. It was unusual. Usually, she felt a sense of satisfaction and serenity from rifle target shooting. If she were asked, she would usually say after a moment of thought that it could be traced back to hunting as a small girl with her mother and father. But usually, she just enjoyed a sort of zen from shooting at a simple target.

But not now. It was like an uneasy feeling, a pit in the stomach. Foreboding. And she didn't know why. Did she forget something? Was she nervous? She never let nervousness and self-doubt plague her before...

Shake it off, kid, she thought to herself. You're a soldier. You don't let things like this control you.

[Alitorious]

Charles Bruheme impatiently watched the tactical overlay screen of the current battle in the civilian complex. There were two colours of blips - yellow and blue. And both colours are currently in two main groups, both sweeping the complex to find the other group. The yellow side, squad one, currently had three scouts out also roaming the map, whereas the blue squad three was still in a tightly knit group.

 

Chuck was still dissapointed in his own performance in squad three. Barely two minutes into the fray, he saw the main enemy group. Unfortunately, he failed to vocally register the position of the other squad before blindly firing his gun madly in their general direction. He "injured" a couple, but didn't "kill" anyone before being taken down by accurate fire.

 

Thinking to himself in the debreifing room (where the rest of all the "killed" people were watching for the final outcome), he figured out that stealth tactics would work much better than brute force methods - no more blindly charging down the others with a massive aggressive offense. The people who cooperated with their squad and waited for orders generally survived longer, and helped the squad out a lot more.

 

Turning his attention back onto the screen, Bruheme saw that one of the lone yellow blips - obviously a scout - came around a corner and spotted a few members of the blue squad. The blip quickly moved back around the corner, and paused there for a few seconds. Soon, the main yellow squad split up and started moving towards blue squad's position.

[Zager]

"Une, deux, trois, now" Gaston shouted, thumbing the button on the detonator. The carefully placed shaped charges exploded, blowing the door off its hinges. He had carefully set them, so that the concussion affect would be similar to that of a flashbang, without the risk of accidentally killing a hostage.

 

The team stormed in through the frame of the door, eliminating each target with a carefully placed shot. Gaston was third in, and, though he didn't take down any targets on his own, provided cover fire that would have been useful in a real firefight

 

*****

 

Meanwhile, in the labs.

Dr Zager had custom drafted the patent contract with the aid of the legal staff in supplies. Since the bioelectrical cell was his own design, made before he actually joined X-COM, standard military patent rules didn't apply, and Zager most certainly would not have accepted them. The biocell was one of his greatest achievements, and he was not going to give up all rights to it.

 

The basics of the contract stipulated that the biocell was a patent belonging to Zager, but he would be unable to exercise any commercial rights with it without first consulting with X-COM command. All rights would revert to Zager upon cessation of the alien war, or could be revereted eralier, by decision of X-COM command. X-COM was prohibited from selling the biocell or any derivative on the commerical market without first consulting Zager. If, at any point, X-COM needed to provide the biocell or any derivative to another military/security and/or police force, a fair price would be determined by both parties, and Zager would be compensated after the cessation of the alien war.

 

After sealing his copy of the contract in a safe, Zager returned to his work.

[JellyfishGreen]

12:00, Canteen.

 

"Gia, call for you." She picked up one of the base telephones and talked briefly. She apologized to her lunch companions. "That's the flight lieutenant. He says Grizzly's plane is refuelled, so I can get in the takeoff and landing practice I wanted if I get down there right away." She strode for the door, just as Trigger opened it. "Gia! I wanted to apologize about breakfast - can I get you some lunch?"

"Sorry, I'm busy right now, I've got to get to Grizzly's plane," she said distractedly, and hurried away.

Trigger watched her enter the lift, then gave up and went to read the day's menu. *She didn't sound pissed off, but then I can never tell with women.*

He picked up a food tray.

*Grizzly?*

 

******

Paintball game, Spider Valley, 14:00

 

It was a bright sunny summer afternoon on New Year's Eve. The soldiers were gathered around a jeep parked on the outskirts of the base, in a 20-acre artillery test range. Each of them cradled a paintgun.

"The objective for this exercise, students," barked Cpl. Rheinhauser, standing on the back of the jeep, "is to take and hold a small village located in this valley. The team with the most buildings under their control at the end of 20 minutes wins the game. To control a building, you must be inside it, and not shot. We will play six games, so each squad will play the other two twice."

"We are only observers for this exercise. You will pick your own squad leaders for each game, but be assured teamwork will be key."

 

The first game started slowly, the soldiers picking their way through the unfamilar scrub from their starting points, their grey jumpsuits blending with the dry soil and windbeaten brush of the desert hillsides. Two members of 2nd Squad lay with their backs to the hill, clutching their paintguns, as a third peeked over the ridgeline at the small plywood shacks in the bowl of the valley.

 

"How's it look, Gaston?" asked Wexford.

"There is some movement at their end. Je ne - I don't see any flanking forces. Ah- just spotted Green moving up our left flank."

"What's Green doing?"

"He's playing 'lone wolf'. Looking for weak spots," chipped in Ki-lam.

"What a loony. He won't last long against organized opposition."

"Maybe not. Guess we'll see." Kilam checked his comm set was working, then shifted the weight of his nitrogen tank across his back. It was a pretty impressive full-auto paintgun; the main worry on Kilam's mind was that the heavy-weapons for 1st Squad, Warlord, had been given the same equipment.

"Who'd they replace Rolston with in Squad 1?"

"Terrick. Green's new roommate."

A crackle came over their headsets. Kilam as squad leader paid close attention. "This is Mouse. Right flank force in position."

"OK, reserve force to the ridge! Our main force is headed for Main Street! Remember, Buddy Rule! Now GO! GO" The three moved off, allowing themselves to make a little noise.

 

Ed Dodge and Shuwei Chen were beside a plywood building, ready to ambush the trio coming down the "main street" to the right. Unfortunately for them, Christel and Tipping had already flanked them from their left and had them fully exposed. They opened fire but the first shots missed. Shuwei, responding to her police training, tried to run for cover but took a paintball in the leg only two steps later. Ed, on the other hand, spun quickly and fired off a shot that caught Tipping. Christel fired from cover and took him out. Both soldiers raised their weapons overhead and walked off the field. "Mouse. Two down. Lost Tipping. Proceeding alone."

 

Ki-tat, Warlord, Rick, and Tim came to the beginning of the village. Ki-tat pointed at four buildings which offered good sight lines. The four split up, one to a building, and took them without incident.

 

Christel eased her head around the side of the plywood buildings. Her long, practically white hair was tied behind her in a ponytail and stripes of black zinc oxide protected her skin from the Australian sun. Her black goggles that provoked the comparison with the "three blind mice" were working better in the strong sun than some of the soldiers' fogging facemasks. She spoke into her comm.

"Mouse here. Looks clear. Moving forward." She stepped from cover and into the alley.

 

<thwop> A head appeared in a window cutout and let loose a ball that caught her in the stomach. Her hurried reaction fire smacked only wood under the window.

"OW! GOLDARN SON OF A RUSTED OUT CRAPPER FULLA MOOSESH-"

Rick pumped his fist in the air. "Yes"

<thok> <pop> <splat> Three shots whizzed over his head, one hitting his raised arm. "Aw crap." The referee switched both soldiers' transponders to "inactive", which marked their locations with an 'X' on the satellite map.

Fifty feet away, Green swiveled his head to check for more targets. He found none and wriggled back into the cover of a thicket. "Green. One down, Christel down. I'm on the move." When Warlord and Tim arrived, the thicket was empty except for scuff marks. "What do we do now?" asked Tim. A smoke grenade sailed overhead and exploded in the center of the village. Their eyes met. "Prepare for a flag-rush." replied Warlord.

 

They ran for cover. Bedlam broke loose as the attacking trio yelled and let fly a steady stream of paintballs through the smoke. Punctuation in the form of supporting and reaction fire beat a staccato on the plywood buildings. Terrick was caught in the open and went down. Warlord hosed the main street with his full-auto and caught Kilam, and then Gaston as he emerged from the smoke. But the distraction had done its work as Warlord was caught in the shoulder by Wexford, who then had to beat a hasty retreat to a shack as Tim and Ki-tat returned fire. The remainder of First Squad moved up to surround the building - and were caught out by the reserve team, Poison and Hero, who had moved up under cover of the smoke, and were firing from cover as the air cleared. Support fire from the flank squads poured into the doors and windows, and when the game stopped, Squad 1 only had Jennings cowering in a building where no-one could see him, and Tammy outside the village. The two reserve team members of Squad 2 held one building each.

 

Cpl. Saiko and Cpl. Rheinhauser observed from their jeep in the shade. "Second managed to beat First and Third. That puts them on top, right?"But First beat Third by a wider margin" "Well, I think my Second will outperform First again in the rematch." "Fifty bucks says they won't." They leaned back and angled the tactical map display for a better view.

"How are they looking?" came the unexpectedly close voice of Commander Genega.

"Sir" "Um, better than expected, sir."

"Good. Carry on." The Commander exited as silently as he arrived.

 

Green ran for the same concealing thicket as the previous game, moving from tree to tree with only a brief pause to check for enemy movement. As he broke from cover for the last 10 yards of the dash, a fusillade of paint erupted from his destination and caught him across the arms and chest. "OW! HIT" He slowed and raised his paintgun in the air. He peered into the dim thicket and a grinning Tim looked back at him. "Guess it pays to be that little bit faster sometimes, eh, Canuck?"

 

******

5:00, Hangar 1:

Doc's return was hours after Grizzly in the much slower Skyranger. He throttled back just over the base while Gia's Hurricane descended the Hangar 2 chute, then glided his own craft down into Hangar 1 on the VTOL jets for a weary touchdown. As he walked across the hangar floor, the now-familiar hangar crew passed him heading for the aircraft. Stuck on the notice board in the lift was a prominent flyer. "X-File #1: Top Secret Party! Strange Lights And High Energy Readings! In the Recreation Room after 9pm! Rigellian Ale on Tap! Party Like It's 1999 Because Tomorrow It Will Be"

"Aw geez, all I want is a hot shower and some sleep." Gia walked up behind him. "Oh- hi Gia. Nice landing."

"Thanks. It ought to be, Doc, after three hours practice." She wiped at some dirt on her jaw. "Sleep probably good, but you really ought to go to this party." She pressed the button for the barracks level.

He looked thoughtful.

"Come on," said Gia. "A couple of drinks. It'll be fun. I'd be disappointed if you didn't see my party dress."

"As a favor to you then, milady."

She nearly giggled. "I'd better get a shower myself, I may be a while getting ready." The lift opened and they separated.

[Hankosha]

Hankosha was sitting in the dark sipping his cocoa and craddling his paintball pistol. He had just barely escaped the Fight between the blues and the yellows. He had had to dodge down to this level and hide. He was used to hiding. He hated his teammates, but had no choice about them. This was a kitchen, and he was hiding in the corner.

 

He listened carefully. He heard the sound of the door opening. He aimed his pistol at the door. The man entered. Hankosha lined up his shot, and hit the man squarely in the 'heart'. He headed for another hideout, but heard the sound of running behind him. He dodged down a hallway, and came to a door. He opened it, and hid behind the door. Another yellow rushed through the door, and forgot to look behind him.

 

 

"Two down," Hankosha muttered to himslef, "only about twenty some more to go."

He sighed and headed for the spot.

 

A bunch of paintballs impacted above his head. They had thought he was several inches taller. He whipped out his pistols and started shooting carefully. The few that he had not hit ran down the hallway, presumably for reinforcements.

 

He realized he wasn't the only one left.

 

His com, which he had turned off earlier was blinking, so he turned it on and answered.

 

"Hankosha here."

 

"Thank god. We're pinned on the top floor. They have us cornered. Several of us are left. A few of us took your advice and took a few of them out. We need help."

 

There was a sudden burst of 'gunfire', and the radio went dead.

 

"Dammit," Hankosha swore. He was now one of the few remaining people from the blues. He would have to do this the hard way - sniping.