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Xenonauts: Blue Crimson (fan fiction written from gameplay)


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Xenonauts: Blue Crimson

Introduction:

OC: "OC" is the flag standing for out of character, or writing from the real world perspective. This story is based on a game of Xenonauts by Goldplay Interactive, version 1.09 HT, difficulty set to Normal, game reloads only for glitches and crashes. Due to interface problems, the story is being written on a different system. Files are being named after the processor code of the other system, story files "Meron" after the system the game is running on, and the game files "Northwood" after the story editing computer, which is not quite old enough to run the original Enemy Unknown without an emulator. The story's name was decided on a whim based on the colors of the belligerents' blood.

Chapter 1: Briefings

"Launch Director to all flight controllers, remain at your consoles,

," the man's right hand returns to his tie to center it. He then calms his breathing and tries to reduce his heart rate. He's in charge of a Delta launch operation in Hanger AE at Cape Canaveral Air Force Station. His Delta rocket and its spacecraft were just destroyed late in the first stage burn. "Propulsion, what er- What indications did you get just before we lost the signal?"

"LD, from Propulsion," the voice comes back, "We're going over it now, but we had a big pressure spike on the LOX tank in the first stage, a smaller one on the fuel tank, and two temperatures were trending upwards. It wasn't near burst pressure, but definitely above design, and the pressure relief valves were open. We also had a small attitude disturbance."

"What's your first impression?" the Launch Director asks, "Did we have a glitch in the pressurization system on the first stage?"

"No sir," the answer comes back, "We're seeing pressure and temperature spikes all over the vehicle, except the third stage, which is under the fairing, and the spacecraft, which we don't have downlinked. The fairing pressure was increasing as well."

"So," the Launch Director repeats, "What's your first impression as to the cause?"

"It's too early to tell," the Propulsion officer reports tensely, "I really think we should have a deeper look at this da-"

"Please," the Launch Director quietly insists, closing his eyes and hoping that what he saw on the video monitor is some sort of trick on his eyes.

"I'd tell you sir, I really would," the Propulsion officer takes a deep breath, "but I'd rather not air this sort of speculation on a recorded loop. It's probably going to be overtur-"

"Let's hear it," the Launch Director huffs, hoping for something that'll overturn the plainest interpretation of the visual record.

"Uh," the Propulsion officer starts, "it looks a bit like we got shot down by a laser weapon. Like I said-"

"Have you seen the tracking video?" the Launch Director interrupts.

"No, sir," the Propulsion officer laughs, "We're so buried in the numbers over here, it takes us like four or five hours to look at that, even on a normal day. You're about to tell me just how absurd this-"

"Actually, I was hoping you'd say something mundane, really," the Launch Director closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose between them before depressing the microphone switch again, "The video shows a pink beam coming at the rocket from directly above it, hitting just aft of the interstage. It stays about there for two seconds until the explosion. We have four camera angles on it, and this beam is visible in all of them."

After several seconds of silence, the Propulsion officer comes back on, "Really?"

"Yeah," the Launch Director says, "The Air Force gave me a number to call if we ever saw this sort of thing."

--------

The phone just keeps ringing. He answers this call, "X-COM" as though it were his first name and he was trying to get back to sleep.

"Uh, hi," the caller nervously gives his name and affiliation, "We were launching this rocket from Pad 17A down here, and it kinda blew up-"

"'Kay, why are you calling this number?" he asks impatiently.

"'Cus it looks like a laser weapon brought it down, sir." After a moment, he asks, "What else would you like to know?"

"Is there anyone missing, injured, or killed?" asks the X-COM guy.

"Well, no," the caller answers, "it was a space rocket going at like Mach 14 and three hundred thousand feet."

"Well," X-COM sighs, "That's an improvement at least. Thanks for the report." Click.

He picks up the other phone, "Hi, Mr. President, I'm glad I could finally get through. The number of reports went up from fourteen to eighteen while I was on hold."

"Marshal Kisberg, I think it's time to activate the Xenonauts," the President says.

"I don't quite agree, Mr. President," Kisberg replies, wrapping the headset cord around one of his fingers.

"Why not?" the US President asks, sounding slightly annoyed.

"The time to activate the Xenonauts was twenty years ago," Kisberg replies, "Let's hope now isn't too late to save the planet."

"Sorry, sorry, you're right," the President sighs, "I hope so too. NORAD's Charlie will pick you up in twenty minutes."

Kisberg stretches his arm out to read his watch, "I can't get to the airport so fast-"

"Just draw the curtains, Marshal," the President orders, "It'll be double parking in front of your house and might break a window or two. No joke. You might want to call General Wahlmer and Dr. Sneidly while you're waiting."

--------

Scant hours later, Matthew Kisberg lands at NORAD. Wahlmer directs him to the prep room next to the hangar, "We've got the basic facility set up to hand over to Xenonaut Command, four hangars along the northern row, the command center in the middle, workshop east, laboratory west, quarters south, one of our best radar facilities in that corner, and secure storage in the other. " He points at a layout map.

"How long before we can get an interceptor up to make a dent in this fracas?" Kisberg asks impatiently.

"Two minutes from the scramble order," the General reports.

"Really?" the Marshal raises an eyebrow, taking the clipboard and lifting the first page, "F-17 Condors made to Sneidly's specifications, too." He hands the clipboard back, "Finally some good news."

"Uh," the General grimaces, "You might not think so once you see the squad. They're waiting on the ready line just outside the hangar."

They march out, and General Wahlmer braces while Marshal Kisberg's jaw drops slightly in disbelief at the five men and three women coming to attention in baby blue combat fatigues.

Kisberg spins about to face the man in the blue shirt, white lab coat, grey pants, Browning sidearm, and the Hitler mustache under, as opposed to above, his mouth. His hand drops, having pushed up his black rimmed eyeglasses and tucked a lock of his long black hair behind an ear. His frown indicates that he's ready to explain the sad state of the squad, and probably quite aware that Kisberg isn't going to like it.

"Funding plans were just activated last night, Marshal. I kn-"

"I know that part, Ken," Matthew growls, just above a whisper, "We have no specialized equipment, going up in Fighting Falcons made of magnesium so they can survive long enough to squeeze off a crappy missile, a Hercules turboprop transport with a landing rocket system from the Soviet lunar landing program loud enough to wake the dead in the middle of a hurricane, and we're freaking lucky to have a base at all."

"Why the snit, Matt?" the chief scientist raises an eyebrow.

After another brief look at the troops, he turns back to the scientist, "You expect the Xenonauts, elite alien fighting troopers to face fiery death in toddler pyjamas?"

A slight squeak from the General indicates that his own reaction wasn't quite as incredulous, and that his faculties are being stretched just to keep himself from collapsing in laughter.

"Camoflage doesn't work," the scientist answers simply, "but I hope you like the argon-filled magnesium riot shields that actually managed to survive a hit from a pistol recovered by the SAS last week." He indicates the corridor with his clipboard, "You'll have to excuse me, I'm working with nine other guys to make sense of the DSN's crazy radar reports in order to brief you on what's happening."

"NASA's Deep Space Network?" the Marshal wonders, "Aren't they a bit busy with the Voyager, Pioneer, Mariner and Viking spacecraft to be looking for aliens?"

"Nope," Dr. Sneidly answers, "Over the last three months, they've been disappearing one by one, and now they're all gone. The Space Shuttle's been canceled, Salyut 7 evacuated-"

"Wait," Kisberg squeaks, "All the world's space programs are dead?"

"There's only one person on Earth who can authorize a launch into space these days, sir," Dr. Sneidly says frankly.

"Who?" the Marshal wonders.

Ken reaches out and taps Matthew gently on the chest with his clipboard, "I'm looking at him." Then he walks off down the corridor to his lab, scratching his head with the clipboard.

As Matthew takes half a step after Ken to try to quantify how desperate the situation is, General Wahlmer taps him on the shoulder, whispering, "The troops?" As the Marshal turns to face him, it is apparent that the military commander, still dressed in a somewhat sensible green parade uniform, expects his address to the gathered soldiers watching this strange conversation to have some news for the Xenonaut Commander, (X-COM for short.)

"Welcome to the Xenonauts' North America base in Cheyenne Mountain," the General starts bellowing, "Yesterday it was called NORAD. Your mission, generally, is to defend Earth from an alien invasion."

Yup, they're having trouble buying it. Maybe that's why they were given pastel blue combat uniforms.

"How deep does this rabbit hole go?" one of the three women says just loudly enough to be heard by the General.

In three strides, General Wahlmer closes to within three inches of the tall, brown-haired Russian, "I'm sorry, Corporal Alice-?"

"Katerina Sokolova, Sir!" she bellows back, "Awaiting orders, Sir!"

The General steps back and continues the briefing, "I'm sure you've all heard of the incident in and around Iceland on 23 April 1958 where eight nuclear warheads detonated off course, one after crashing on the northern coast while being disarmed. That's the cover story. The final so-called nuke wasn't such a device, but was the power source of an alien cruiser the seven previous nuclear warheads had shot down. Thirty-two fighter aircraft went missing that day, not because of the off-course nukes as reported, but because they were vaporized by this cruiser's weaponry, which we know almost nothing about. Our scientists believe that part of the reason for our successful shoot-down was because the alien crew had trouble controlling the spacecraft in our atmosphere, magnetosphere, and gravity field. The craft we're seeing today are much smaller. The specific idea is to either shoot down or catch on the ground one of these smaller craft, after which you come in. Your job will be to kill or capture the crew and recover alien technology to reverse engineer in our lab and those of our funding nations all over the world." The General takes a step back and introduces, "This is Marshal Matthew Kisberg [the player character], who will now brief you on how these missions will be run."

"Prior to today," the Marshal begins, "most of this was theoretical, but we're now to see if it really works. I will be managing for each of you, a five million dollar monthly training and equipment budget. For this reason, our supplies of normal weapons and ammunition is practically limitless. Your performance has been distilled to six figures: speed, durability, strength, accuracy, reflexes, and stability. The last isn't meant to reflect on you in a derisive way, but is drawn from tests of situational awareness and decision making capacity under extreme stress. Why we care about it is because the aliens have the ability to project hallucinations and cause sudden changes in neurotransmitter levels, inducing all sorts of adverse symptoms. We call the field psionics, and, frankly, I seriously doubt our stability figures will matter much. Now, let's get you kitted out."

He comes to the first, "Sargeant Nils Andersen. Assault Role, Sir!"

The Marshal takes a look at his figures, quietly turns to General Wahlmer and whispers, "John, you suck at this. Nothing personal." The General holds the clipboard while Matthew rolls up the weapon cart and grabs one of the biggest rifles, chambered for .300 Winchester Magnum.

The Norwegian Sargeant smiles. He was a sniper in the HJS, after all.

"Let's work out a standard sniper kit," the Marshal tilts his head nervously, "and hope it does something awful to these alien jerks."

The previous kit included a pistol backup. Matthew immediately ditches that and grunts, "You'll be in trouble without armour and close enough to use that." Addressing the squad as a whole, he explains, "The only way you're going to survive out there is by working as an interlocked team, assault roles up close to deliver grenades and take the fire, snipers delivering damage from a distance to pin them down and eliminate them." Returning to Nils individually, he says, "I'm sure you'll be a great assault trooper: you're fast, tough, and the accuracy spec will serve you well with pistols, too. The assault kit will be too heavy and slow you down. Work on your strength please."

"What do I do to avoid getting hit, sir?" the pensive sniper asks.

The Marshal puts a grey cylindrical grenade into his hand and says, "Hope they can't see through smoke."

OC: Don't take that too literally. His hands are full of the sniper rifle on the equipment screen.

"Everyone gets chitosan wound packs," the Marshal continues, "Some of you will get hit, and we can't have you bleeding out before the battle is over. The aircraft has no room for corpsmen, and you would not have time for them to catch up with you if it did."

Flipping the page, Matthew raises an eyebrow with pleasant surprise. Wahlmer had slotted him as a sniper. Matthew, on the other hand, says, "Kacper Gorski, I was hoping for a guy like you. You can handle the Pig."

"Actually, sir," the Corporal from Poland who faced fire from the Mujahadeen only a few weeks earlier, "I'm used to the RPD."

"Well," the Marshal hefts the less reputable M60 to his shoulder, "This isn't your granddaddy's Pig. John and his friend Olaf over in the workshop put some sense into it with this foregrip, and by attaching the carrying handle to the barrel instead of the receiver. They call it the 'E3', whatever that means." [OC: I'm not sure if Goldhawk gets noticed at E3, but the real M60E3 has the features described, although it came out much later than Xenonauts' setting.]

Kacper also gets three smoke bombs, his strength rating indicates that he can launch them quite some distance, as well as handle the machine gun.

"Corporal Lynn DeJong," the first of the ladies barks, "Assault Role, Sir!"

"Agreed," Matthew replies, handing the clipboard to John, "but the assault role might look a bit different than you're used to." He grabs one of the huge magnesium riot shields from the cart and hands it to her. "The shotgun goes on your back, as this thing won't stop alien plasma for long. Once it takes a hit, drop it and the pistol and switch to the shotgun."

Former Spetsnaz operative Inga Novikova, the second lady, also gets this kit instead of the FAL rifle General Wahlmer had previously issued her. [OC: The game depicts an M16, but the specification is more consistent with a 20 round 7.62mm NATO/.308 Winchester rifle, such as the M14, AR-10, or FN FAL.]

Colin Henderson, a black former US Navy SEAL (although with a speed rating of 41, both John and Matthew wonder how he passed the BUD/S obstacle course.) The General thought a heavy weapons kit would be appropriate, doubtless due to his strength rating of 67. The Marshal considered an assault kit appropriate for his low accuracy rating of 43, but such a slow trooper has little hope of staying near the front of the formation as the battle advances. He's astonished to find himself holding a sniper rifle, his belt jingling with flashbangs and smoke grenades. The Marshal doesn't like frag grenades, his instinct telling him that with the long fuse, a typical alien victim would almost always cut the thrower down before it detonates.

The Swedish Corporal Jonas Bergdahl, once holding the FAL rifle, is briefly considered for a machine gun. The Marshal decides that more shields are needed in the squad, and so he gets an assault kit. He has a very high stability rating of 70, and a face that looks like it has been rearranged over a few beers once or twice. "Let's hope the locals don't mistake him for an alien," the Marshal could overhear among the whispers. With an accuracy rating of 69, Matthew expects he'll be a sniper once armour suits are available.

"Hello, Alice," the Marshal smiles, "Welcome to Wonderland." [OC: I'm not a fan, these AiW references are actually homages to The Matrix and Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home]

Katerina Sokolova is a little sheepish being reminded of her earlier comment during the briefing. She is issued the fourth and final assault kit of the squad.

The Marshal is again pleasantly surprised at the combination of strength, accuracy, reflexes, and stability in the final selectee who is far to slow on his feet to keep up with the assault line. The squad gets its second machine gun, rounding it out at four assault, two snipers, and two heavy gunners. "Corporal Ross Jenkins, formerly US Army Special Forces, fought in the Vietnam War."

"Yes, sir!" he answers sharply.

"I think you entered your birth date incorrectly, Corporal," the Marshal explains, "If this were correct, the Vietnam War ended when you were sixteen." [OC: Actual bug. Game says he's 22.]

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Chapter 2: The First Encounter of the Third Kind

"I want a second base started immediately at Mount Sinai," the Marshal orders.

"Uh, yeah," General Wahlmer responds, "I think the St. Catherine's Monastery might have a problem with that, not to mention the terrain sucks, however-"

"However what?" Marshal Kisberg demands.

"We've been contacted by the Saudi government," he explains, "They'd like our help protecting a site they call Jabal Al-Lawz, essentially their Area 51, only for real."

"Why is that?" Matthew enquires, looking up from the situation map table in the command center of their main base inside Cheyenne Mountain, "I mean, we need this location because it offers coverage of six of our ten funding regions. We're probably screwed without it."

"A few miles won't make a big difference," the General explains, "it's just across that eastern part of the Red Sea, northern part of the Arabian Peninsula."

"Why there?" the Marshal asks.

"Because there's some evidence aliens may have landed there in the past," the General answers, "The top of this mountain, little by our standards over here, has been scorched, but it's not a volcano. It also has an anomalous stream bed flowing from a rock with a crack in it, where there is no rain and no aquifer."

"Are there any alternative explanations?" Matthew asks.

"Yes," John bites his lip, "It matches certain descriptions in the second book of the Bible."

Matthew looks at him with surprise, then stares blankly at the map table, thinking about it for a moment. Then he curls up one edge of his mouth, looks back at John, and asks, "If that's correct, what would that make Jabal Al-Lawz? Really, I mean."

"Well," John thinks for a moment, "the um- ...actual Mount Sinai." [OC: Seriously. You can look it up.]

"In which case, we agree to their terms." Matthew signs the paperwork on the clipboard and hands it to the General, "Have them get started."

That moment, not even two hours after the official activation of the Xenonauts, the contact alarm goes off.

Marshal Kisberg looks up, facing a radar operator's station near the command center's eastern wall, "What is that?"

"A little one, east of Florida," he reports, "Bermuda Triangle, pretty close to where that Delta blew up last week."

"Lovely," the Marshal grumbles, "Scramble Condor One." He also issues orders for expanded living quarters and five new science teams. He hands the paperwork off to an orderly, and then pauses for a moment.

"What's wrong, Matthew?" General Wahlmer asks.

"I spent six hundred million in less than two hours," he explains, then clears his throat.

"Uniform One has messed up the tides in the Bermuda Triangle area," the guy monitoring the news wires reports.

"Ha," Marshal Kisberg laughs, "Nothing conspicuous."

While vectoring the interceptor to bring the alien craft down on land, the relatively urbanized eastern coast of the United States, the wire monitor reports, "Sir, we're getting a report of tidal disruptions in Micronesia. The Australian liason is freaking out. What do I tell him?"

"What I did," Matthew sighs, "They'll just have to put with alien shenanigans until we can get a base operational in the area, probably November. But keep an eye on those reports."

"Condor One ready to engage Uniform One," intones the pilot on the radio channel.

The eight soldiers who have gathered in the command center watch tensely.

Matthew grabs a handheld microphone and orders, "Remember to hold one of your missiles to compensate for evasive maneuvers."

"Yes sir, he dodged the first, but-" the pilot grunts, and the telemetry shows screaming turbines, roll rates, and g-forces.

BANG! "Joey!" Matthew screeches into the microphone, "Are you alright?"

"I'm hit, but it's not bad," the pilot reports, "The second Sidewinder hit, but did almost nothing. I brought him down with the cannon. He went down hard into someone's lettuce field."

"Got it," Wahlmer calls up the map, "Seven hours by Charlie. Troopers, gear up!"

"Belay that," the Marshal instructs, "Breakfast first, wait for the sun to come up. Sargeant Andersen," he sighs, "Try to get their night vision gear while you're over there."

"Yes, sir," the trooper nods. He's aware of local force reports of the aliens being able to hide in the moonlight, capping police snipers without being seen.

With the sun still down, the Charlie drop ship lumbers into the air, scheduled to arrive in the morning, plodding along at just 297 knots. The command center watches helplessly as news reports come in from Africa and New Zealand reporting various mysterious happenings. There are at least two alien craft pillaging at will far beyond the range of both interceptors and radar.

Thirteen hours after the unit's activation, the Charlie dropship announces its presence in the vicinity of the crashed UFO with three incredibly loud hypergolic rockets, the former C-130 settling in a cloud of orange smoke and grey dust and dropping the ramp. The landing was rough, but damaged nothing more than the lettuce crop.

It is Lynn DeJong who first calls regarding the muscular reptile two hundred meters to starboard. He trades fire with Colin Henderson, both of whom miss. Andersen and Bergdahl land hits, but the monser is still standing. Not only that, but there is a second one right beside it. Matthew is concerned about Colin Henderson, exposed at the Charlie's right hand door. Jenkins and Andersen position themselves behind a coil of irrigation hose. The machine gunners are two slow to even reach the craft doors before the aliens start shooting.

Happily, the surprised aliens decide to shoot at Bergdahl instead of Henderson, doing moderate damage to his shield. One of the beasts has just a pistol. Apparently, they were trying to figure out the haybales when the Charlie's loud landing caught them entirely by surprise.

"Rifle is down, pistol freaked right out," reports Jenkins after he rounds the hose and drops to a knee before hosing both aliens with the Pig. While the one with the pistol thrashes around on the ground, DeJong runs up to put a round in his head. The left side of the craft is secure, while the right hand squad to the north fans out along a road and a field to the north.

Novikova reports, "Snake, rifle right behind the tail."

The position from her helmet sensor comes back via telemetry, the Marshal realizing she'll be in trouble if he starts shooting long range plasma at her from so far away. He grabs the microphone, "Nils, your two-seven-eight, seventy metres over the hedge. Make it a flashbang."

"Success," Novikova reports, bracing for the return fire.

"Sokolova, Gorski head up the right flank, cover her back," the Marshal orders.

"Gorski, follow Novikov," Sokolova comes back, "The farmer's alive by his barn and the way around is blocked by another hedge row. You won't find anything up here."

Henderson relieves Andersen at the tail as the line gets noisy. The live farmer spazzes completely, running back and forth next to an animal trough screaming. Sokolova wonders if this from the psionics they discussed. The alien Novikova was tracking seems strangely content to squat in the middle of the road, staring at the dead civilian it had just killed, allowing Gorski to round the hedge and hose him with the other Pig. The alien stays panicked, but the machine gun fire does almost no damage.

Novikova closes to fifty meters to miss with her pistol while Henderson lobs a second flashbang at him over the hedge, hoping to knock him out.

Matthew realizes the fragmentation grenades discarded from the kit would almost certainly have worked on this one. "Henderson, that's a good idea. Guys, try to knock him out with the flashbangs. We have him surrounded."

Andersen pitches another flashbang over the hedge as DeJong and Bergdahl come up from the south. They spot a fourth alien towering over a terrified farmhand in the next field to the west. Apparently, these kludges can't shoot worth peanuts.

"Bergdahl's crashing," the biomonitor operator reports. The one they're trying to knock out apparently can shoot straight while the fresh contact expends some plasma in the general direction of DeJong without any significant effect.

Gorski ducks around to the northwest because he doesn't have any flashbangs, and spots the craft much further north than Matthew had anticipated. Sokolova, done with the barn, emerges into the fallow field where the UFO had come down and confirms the location.

Over the racket of three flashbangs launched on the third alien spotted, Bergdahl reports that his shield has been completely vaporized and that his chest is burning.

"Get out of range, patch yourself up, and grab your shotgun," Matthew calmly orders him.

The doctor monitoring his vital functions reports, "It's not as bad as I thought at first. I don't think he's in Crimson Heart territory." At that moment, the strip chart needles suddenly freeze.

"Bergdahl is down!" Jenkins reports, "A second hit."

"Doctor?" the General asks.

The flight surgeon shakes his head.

That alien goes down with the next trio of flashbangs. "Jenkins, head up and check him out," Matthew orders.

Suddenly Jenkins' machine gun starts firing.

"Ross Jenkins, we need him alive!" the Marshal screams.

"It was the other one, sir," the Corporal reports breathlessly, "It was coming out of the field. I got him good."

"DeJong here," one of the ladies reports, "Marshal, the one we flashbanged is out cold, but he's alive."

"Good," the Marshal sighs with relief, "Jenkins, make sure that field is clear, then stay with the KO'd one. Everyone else, head for the craft in the northwest quadrant."

"There's one outside the door," Sokolova reports, "Flashbang out." Her pistol could be heard dropping.

After it detonates, the alien spins around and gets off a single lousy shot. It turns to face Gorski's machine gun, which frightens and injures him, allowing Sokolova to come up behind him execution style.

"Crud, I missed," she cries with a combination of dread and embarrassment from right next to the craft door and the huge alien crouched beside it.

OC: For some reason, I need to use manual targeting. There's a rock blocking the left half of the door, and he's standing adjacent to it. I'm not sure what's causing it, but it is definitely a bug.

Before the alien can shoot back, Andersen enters the field from the east and gets him from long range with the sniper rifle. The craft was empty, and, incredibly enough, Jonas Bergdahl wasn't quite dead from the second shot, although it takes them several minutes to get him mobile on the craft's stretcher. The Xenonauts pick the craft clean, recovering six researchable items and 200kg of craft plating that meets Dr. Sneidly's tentative specifications. The CIA offers $27 million for the leftovers.

The pilot of the US Army helicopter which arrived to take control of the scene, wonders at Andersen as the Charlie's engines wind up, the four propellers kicking up debris without moving the dropship an inch from the smashed lettuce it landed in, "How are you going to get that thing out of here?"

"Just get back and cover your ears!" the sniper screams just before he runs up the ramp back into the craft.

The pilot, his troopers, and the two surviving farmers didn't quite get back far enough. The blast of Russian Lunik rockets to help the ugly beast back into the sky leaves their ears ringing, their noses stinging with ammonia, and their bodies covered in scorched lettuce.

Apparently not impressed by the flavour of nitrogen tetroxide, the pilot spits out the tainted lettuce forced into his mouth by this artificial wind and mutters, "Nice."

"Just one thing," his copilot remarks as the noisy transport aircraft turns to the west, "What's with the freakin' blue?"

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  • 2 weeks later...

Chapter 3: Second Time Out

Dr. Chapelle remarks on the inadequacy of the base's tiny infirmary incorporated into the living quarters, with Dr. Sneidly of the research group there to frustrate Matthew with an alliance. The new fifty million dollar medical facility is authorized before the dropship even gets back with the catastrophically injured Bergdahl. Matthew also fits out the spare troopers, Corporals Julian Tschannen, and Rob Evans, with, respectively assault and sniper kits. Tschannen can handle a machine gun, but Matthew wants to replace Bergdahl's shield first, despite Ross Jenkins' pair of kills with the powerful M60E3.

At the end of the first day, Matthew returns early for the beginning of his second shift. General Wahlmer relays the displeasure of the funding regions they were not able to protect, a projected loss of $10 million in regular funding, and 138 dead or missing, including 31 in North America.

Just over an hour into Marshal Kisberg's second duty watch, Dr. Sneidly arrives with the unnerving assessment of DSN and telescope searches conducted so far, which includes the conclusion that the alien craft produce much weaker radar echos than their size would indicate. People looking at the same craft at the same time with Goldstone's DSN radar telescope and the 200 inch Mount Palomar optical observatory disagreed wildly on how large it was, and the tentatively dubbed "Carrier" type went up from six thousand tonnes to over a hundred thousand tonnes, far larger than the one that was downed in Iceland. "We have conclusively identified over three thousand separate craft on orbit around the planet, with several times that amount of additional probable signals."

"That's just great, Doctor," the Marshal groans, handing the clipboard back to the scientist, "Get to work on that live one. Try to figure out what they want, please." After the research department head departs, he slowly sits down and rests his head in his hands.

After a thankfully uneventful twelve hours, Dr. Chapelle returns with his report on the autopsies performed on the Sebillian bodies recovered from the battle of Uniform 1. They are essentially bipedal dinosaurs with rifles, and their cold-blooded eyes are adapted for seeing in infrared, meaning that smoke won't hinder their accuracy. Fortunately, except for the one that got incredibly lucky with Bergdahl, they don't have much resolution, and that's why their aim sucks. Chapelle speculates that they can heal so fast that it is significant in battle. In a wound he initially thought was several hours old, he identified one of Ross Jenkins' first burst rounds, which hit the Sebillian only thirty-seven seconds before DeJong finished it off.

Part of the reason the Charlie dropship's capacity is so reduced from its incarnation as the C-130 Hercules is because it carries a pair of huge Quadruplex recording machines, one for video, and one for data. Wahlmer and Chapelle rapidly sort out which Sebillian he was talking about.

"I want you to find out how they do this," the Marshal orders, "although I might have a higher priority if I can get it."

Turning to Wahlberg, he says, "Any luck with the Canadians?"

"It seems incredible now, but yes," the General reports, "They were hiding a CF-105, it's already on its way here."

"Good!" the Marshal cheers, "As soon as it gets here, tell Dr. Sneidly, we have it to help out with his interceptor proposal."

"Uh, sir?" Wahlberg grimly points out, "They managed to get a prototype over to the cruiser in Iceland back in the day. Because it was going just under Mach 2, it got closer than any other plane. Unfortunately, the poor thing was vaporized, leaving just a trace of the flight computer's power supply and one film exposure that was barely clear enough to confirm it was from this plane."

"We'll have to do that magnesium thing, obviously," Matthew sighs, "It should work, since the Arrow has half the wing loading of a normal fighter, including the Foxhound Sneidly originally asked for."

As soon as the living quarters were completed on September 6, the Marshal hired five engineering teams to fill up the workshop in anticipation of the new interceptor, and eleven new soldiers with impressive enough evaluations. "The idea is to get them ready for the second base," he explains to Wahlmer.

Shortly after he had signed that off, Dr. Sneidly walked into the command center.

"How's your captive doing?" Matthew asks.

"Actually rather well," the researcher says, handing his boss the clipboard.

"Ah," the Marshal taps on the report, "Here, I read 'once it had become clear that no more could be gained from questioning the creature, one of my team handed it a pistol and ordered it to kill itself. It promptly complied, splattering its brains across half the containment tank.'"

"Yeah," the scientist scratches his head, "Just after I wrote that, he stood back up and started asking for orders again. It now appears that it missed its own brain and healed up within a few minutes."

"Remarkable, after the mess it made of Bergdahl," Matthew sighs, sitting back down.

"Oh," the scientist continues, "and before you get too excited, reproducing the suicide effect on the battlefield is completely impractical-"

"I'd rather be able to get my injured trooper back in the field as fast as this brute got back up," the Marshal drawls.

"I'll see what I can do, sir." The scientist turns to leave.

"After you're done with the Arrow and Foxhound though," the Marshal finishes, "I suspect those Condors aren't going to cut it for much longer, and it'll do us no good if we can't shoot them down."

The Marshal then thinks of something and grabs the phone, hitting General Wahlmer's extension, "General, how quickly can we get aircraft into Sinai after the hangars are finished?"

"Three days, Matthew," John answers, "The world's military/industrial complex is overhauled for this war, and were ready to go the moment we were activated. It seems entirely too slow right now, huh?"

"Yeah," Matthew groans, "Which is why I'm going to ask you, once the hangars are complete at Sinai-"

"Three days, I already-"

"Let me finish, please," the Marshal growls, "How long would it take us to transfer aircraft from North America to Sinai?"

"Ah," the General realizes, "Sorry for interrupting you. I don't have an exact figure, but ballpark 36 hours for a Charlie, which isn't so good. A Condor should be able to get there in 12 or so. But, we don't have the hangar capacity here at the moment."

"Hangars are cheap," the Marshal says, "If we get started on ours, the aircraft should be arriving here just before Sinai finishes theirs."

"Good idea, sir," the rustling can be heard even over the phone, "I've already started the paperwork."

The General is with the construction crews laying out the hangars in the caverns when the contact alarm goes off.

"Do we need to evacuate?" the foreman asks.

"No," the General grunts, "We've drilled you enough you should know the difference between the contact and evac alarms. Do you have enough executive input to get started?"

"Yes, sir," he answers.

"Then get going," the General hands him back the plans, "My duty shift begins in thirty-six minutes."

Uniform Two, of the same apparent type, killed its orbital velocity over the Yucatan Peninsula, dropped into the atmosphere, and then proceeded north at the type's usual 756 knots, across the Gulf of Mexico towards Texas.

Once the General has returned to the command center, Matthew briefs him, then loosens his tie.

"Sir," the General says at the Marshal's back as he turns for the exit, "I really think you should command the ground mission."

"I agree," Matthew replies, turning to face his second-in-command with half open eyes, "but that won't be starting until dawn at the site. I can get some sleep before then."

Once again, the interception and shootdown is easy, but the craft settled into a small town's industrial outskirts. News reports placed another craft over Pakistan, within the future radar and interception radius of the new base at Mount Sinai, which is not yet ready. The General also fielded a call from a rich guy named Paul Tracy who wanted to loan an island he owned in the Philippines, and wanted to name the Xenonauts stationed there after the US Air Force demonstration squadron, for whatever reason. John Wahlmer didn't think it was worth waking Matthew for, and decided to write him a note, just in case he forgot about it later. [OC: I thought the movie directed by Johnathan Frakes was quite forgetable, and watched it because I was a Trekker, not a TB fan.]

The chock on the Charlie was quite impressed by the landing, which managed to clear some trees and settle into an empty parking lot without even knocking them over. They were not so impressed by the Tercel half on the grass nearby.

"I call it a Ceasan," Dr. Sneidly remarks of the red shirted humanoid Sargeant Andersen described just as the ramp dropped.

"I call it a Talosian," someone remarked, getting a chuckle from every Trekker in the command center, including the Marshal. The head of research was obviously not a Star Trek fan. Gorski answered its pistol shot with a hail of fire from his Pig, and the Xenonauts secured the landing quadrant within a few seconds. Shortly thereafter, the sounds of plasma fire indicated that the immediate area was quite thoroughly infested, as though, once again, the small craft was shot down in its mission area.

After a flashbang from Tschannen, Andersen got the day's second kill. Henderson managed a terrible shot on the third with his sniper rifle. He was too close to Sokolova to take machine gun fire, but the plucky assault trooper closed the gap and put two rounds into the blue-shirted Ceasan, which had just vaporized the wall of the warehouse between itself and Sokolova trying to get around her shield.

Rounding out the second 'turn' before the aliens were likely to start shooting again Novikova put some smoke down on the left flank between the unseen sound of an alien rifle and the troopers distracted by the number two alien. DeJong ducked between two rail cars to the south, beyond which there was some smoking grass where one of the alien's shots had just landed. The still unseen number four fired two shots across her bow, apparently at an unseen non-X. She dropped her still perfectly good shield and yanked out the shotgun before jumping the coupling. 42m being a bit far for a shotgun, she wounded and suppressed the alien, but was now in deep trouble as he raised his rifle in her direction. Before he could get his shot off, two flashbangs and a smoke bomb came over the rail car from behind DeJong, and Andersen missed with a no-scope from the other end of the western rail car.

It was enough that the alien's panicked discharge against DeJong was thoroughly bad, and the Marshal's sigh of relief could be heard throughout the command center as she reported blasting it into oblivion at point blank range. Despite all this activity on the left flank, it was Sokolova and Jenkins who found the craft on the right flank, in the northwest quadrant. Tschannen covered DeJong while she recovered her shield and pistol, just in case the engine shop in the south still had more hostiles while everyone else closed on the craft. For the next minute the only shots fired were Jenkins trying to open the craft door from the warehouse window using his machine gun.

He succeeded with the second burst, giving Henderson, rounding the north side of the warehouse, a chance to trade fire at some three hundred metres with the alien inside. Henderson scored an unlikely hit, wounding the alien, which luckily missed. Sokolova is suspicious of lucky moments, and rushes the door, shield up, to get a flashbang inside before he can get off another shot. Gorski followed up with a smoke grenade.

"I lost my sight picture," Henderson complains.

"Let's hope he did as well," Gorski replies, "or your family's about to be notified."

He's probably right, as the alien seems to be waiting out the smoke.

"Novikova, if you'll do the honours," the Marshal intones grimly.

Two pistol shots are heard before she replies, "It's done."

Tschannen and DeJong's tense search of the engine shop and rail loading area turned up nil. Negotiations with the various US government departments and contractors netted $34 million for the haul, saving 300kg of alien metal for the Xenonauts. General Wahlmer handed out four promotions.

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Chapter 4: Suppression

Marshal Kisberg arrives in the command center a few minutes before 18:00Z on September 8 to answer the contact alarm. "What have you got for me, Major," he asks the duty officer.

"A marine dead zone off the coast of Vietnam," he answers, standing as the Marshal relieves him, "Confirmed alien by the Australian Navy."

As Matthew takes his seat, he moans, "Dang near our antipode. I hope we get something in range."

At 20:45Z the Major, now at the radar station, reports, "Marshal, contact Uniform Three on radar heading zero-three-zero Manitoba. It's a seven-five-six coming right at us."

"Condor Two," the Marshal says into the intercom mic, "Get that thing out of my sky if you please." Since it's mid-day, he gives the troops their first ever fast scramble, hoping to catch them before the sun goes down.

At 21:35Z, Condor Two reaches Uniform Three and shoots down the third light scout the Xenonauts can claim. Even though it's still Saturday afternoon in the industrial park where the Charlie touched down with its characteristic hypergolic personality, the mission is booked on the ninth because it's just seventy-five seconds past midnight in Greenwich.

OC: The first run was flawless, but lost due to a crash on the debrief screen. The replay was a bit more interesting.

A Ceasan rifleman in an office building to the Charlie's left was brought down by Jenkins and Andersen through the glass of bus shelter and office windows, and the mission was uneventful for the next two minutes, when the number two Ceasan rifleman was spotted just outside an engine shop to the south.

Center assault man Julian Tschannen cracked open the shop's northern door and dropped a smoke grenade in the middle of the shop as left flank assault lady Lynn DeJong went for the building's eastern entrance. [OC: I've reckoned upper right as north for this mission.]

The alien went east around the building, stuck his rifle muzzle through the fence coming off the southeast corner, and hosed DeJong from less than thirty metres away.

"I've lost DeJong!" Dr. Chapelle yelps, he and his comm tech turning to the engineering oscilloscopes.

"Dead?" Matthew stands, looking over his shoulder.

"No data," the comm tech answers.

Matthew sits back down and depresses the microphone switch, "DeJong, can you hear me?"

She doesn't answer. "Command from Jenkins, good sight picture on the hostile," comes back instead.

"Get him!" the Marshal orders.

Jenkins' grainy video from the shoulder camera shows the alien taking multiple hits and falling away, with DeJong apparently cowering under her shield to the right next to the door.

"DeJong!" the Marshal demands.

"She's moving," Jenkins reports, the picture very lousy with interference from the alien weapon and the smoke coming from the grass around her.

"Doctor, how is she?"

"I don't know, sir," Dr. Chapelle reports, "The equipment is malfunctioning." It's been nearly two minutes since they had any data. In the meantime the center unit secured the engine shop's interior while the right flank unit secured another engine shop to the north.

"I'm alright," DeJong reports at last. A few seconds later, data comes back on her vital signs, which are elevated, but strong. She wasn't even hit. [OC: The alien suppressed her one turn, and the return fire from Jenkins suppressed her on the next turn. I was surprised she didn't have a morale event.]

In the meantime, the mission progressed around her, number three being in a machine shop just west of the northern engine shop. Gorski dropped him through the window from surprisingly long range. He and Henderson were the only ones not to converge on the alien light scout. Even DeJong got there along with everyone else. Tschannen slipped in the flashbang, then DeJong and Sokolova rushed in to execute the two Ceasans inside before they opened their huge eyes and uncovered their tiny ears.

After reviewing the third mission, the three brightest minds on the topic, Marshal Matthew Kisberg, General John Wahlmer, and Doctor Gabriel Sneidly [OC: Yes, named in part by Scott Manley] were wondering why the action was coming in bursts. The Xenonauts had very deliberately equipped their troops with miniature cameras and radio helmets to help coordinate them, along with a staff nearly twice as big in number in the control center to maximize their effectiveness in the field. They concluded that the aliens were doing something similar, resulting in astonishingly fast-paced, but apparently "turn-based" combat where one side moved while the other was receiving orders from a command that had a very good view of the battle's "big picture".

"So, where's their command center?" Kisberg asks.

"I somehow doubt that they rely on populated command centers as we do," Dr. Sneidly suggests, "But it's hard to tell since their radios are so advanced compared to ours. It appears their shannon efficiency is actually more than unity. Either that, or the alien soldiers are far smarter than they appear and somehow work using a hive intelligence. Possibly both."

"Shannon efficiency?" Wahlmer wonders.

"It's named for Dr. Claude Shannon, of-"

"Never mind that," Matthew raises a hand to interrupt Gabriel, "This is a not a lecture on information theory. The question is how do we get a more useful prisoner?"

"I believe the aliens have an equivalent of you two," pointing at the Marshal and General, "to command their ground forces much the same way as you do. An alien officer of some description."

"And how do we identify this 'officer', might I ask?" the General grumbles.

"I'm expecting that a ship containing such an officer would be communicating with the fleet with much longer and less frequent radio signaling," the Doctor replies, "Since he would be commanding his troopers locally, he'd only need to communicate with the fleet every few minutes instead of troopers requiring commands every few seconds as we've seen so far."

The phone rings [OC: almost literally, as the message popped up on the Meron while I was finishing the above paragraph!] and it is grabbed, "Kisberg."

"The personnel you hired just got here, sir," the hangar officer replies.

"Okay," the Marshal answers, "send the engineers to Olaf Rumerov, and I'll meet the troopers on the range after the Charlie gets back."

"Yes, sir." Click.

"So, this 'officer'," the Marshal continues, "I think we can agree that if we're going to attempt to flashbang one into submission, we'd have much better chances with the Ceasans than the Sebillians."

Both indicate their approval, and the meeting ends with the straightening of notes and the upending of coffee dregs.

As the General and Marshal exit the command center and turn right towards the hangar row, the Doctor turns left until Matthew grabs the epaulet of his lab coat. "You're not leaving me stuck answering the baby blue question, Gabriel."

The Charlie is loaded with eight of the eleven new guys, a mix of four assault, three sniper, and one machine gunner. A few frag grenades are issued among the flashbangs to the strongest of the troopers.

At midnight starting the eleventh, the command center at Mount Sinai is finished. The Marshal orders five hundred million dollars worth of facilities to be built immediately, half of which is the radar installation to the south. The living quarters are to the east, workshop to the west, secure storage beside the radar station, and two hangars to the north. Above Dr. Chapelle's objections, Kisberg insists that the medical center can wait until next month.

Dr. Sneidly quietly enters the command center and politely beckons the Marshal to the conference table.

Leaving a Colonel in the command seat, Matthew comes over, "What's up Gabriel?"

"I'm ready to hand off development of the new Foxtrot interceptor to Engineering," he says, unrolling the new aircraft's plans.

It looks like an Arrow but has Russian engines. "It's quite a kitbash," the scientist explains. "The Arrow's tooling was completely destroyed when it was canceled, so we scanned it using a pantograph. As impressive as the PS-13 Iroquois engines were supposed to be, they weren't quite ready when the project was canceled, and their tooling was destroyed. We tracked such an engine down, but reverse engineering the tooling isn't so easy, so we called up the Soviet Mikoyan-Gurevich Bureau for a solution. They forwarded us to the Soloviev Bureau for their new D-30F6 engine, which I might say, bears more than a passing resemblance to the PS-13. The prototype's J75-P3 has no hope of getting this heavy an aircraft off our runway."

"What about weapons?" the Marshal asks.

"We stole the radar and Phoenix missiles from Grumman's F-14 Tomcat pretty much as is," Gabriel explains. "To keep the weight down, the wing structure's a bit on the weak side, so if anyone attempts the sorts of evasive maneuvers they're used to in the Condor, he's going to rip the wings clean off. Fortunately, the missiles have a lot of range, and with the size of the aircraft and extra metal surrounding the vital systems, we figure it can take about 50% more of a pounding from the enemy before losing performance."

"Thanks, Gabriel," Matthew says, "You brought Olaf up to speed, yet?"

"Please," the scientist huffs, "Please brief the grease monkeys for me. I can barely stand them."

"The Sebillian, then," The Marshal orders.

"As punishment?" Gabriel wonders as he stands.

"I'd like to make you think that," Matthew smiles, "But to be honest, that was already the plan."

Unfortunately, the accounts ran dry early in the construction of the inaugural Foxtrot as the Condor and Charlie aircraft were ordered to fill the freshly completed hangars and wait for their transfer to the new base at Mount Sinai. Hopefully, it won't be until October before the aliens start sending down their larger ships.

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Chapter 5: First Blood

The "morning" of September 14, the contact alarm wakes up Marshal Kisberg a few minutes before he normally gets up. The time is 21:40Z. "What is it?" he says into the phone.

"Uniform 4," the duty officer replies, "You better get up here, we have a tiny one south of us, coming straight at the base at 972 knots."

"On my way," he grabs his uniform and heads out the door in his pyjamas. Well, not really pyjamas, he just grabbed a set of combat fatigues, so he looks almost like a trooper ...except that none of the actual troopers are as pudgy.

When he arrives, the duty officer reports, "Uniform 4 is following Condor 1, so I don't think it's a missile."

"Vector Condor 2 for lead intercept instead of pursuit," the Marshal orders, "It is just a bit too fast to catch up to if we wind up tailing it."

The alien fighter turned out to be remarkably agile, dodging both Sidewinders, but the Phoenix-like heavy missiles it fired back with were easily evaded by the Condor, and the cannon was enough to shoot it down. Much as the Condor ripple fires its Sidewinders to catch UFOs while they're stabilizing after an evasive maneuver, the Condor was nearly hit by the second missile after dodging the first. The US liason seemed very impressed by this victory. Apparently, it was a similar craft that shot down the Delta rocket once it left the atmosphere. The Marshal would not like to test any other Earthly craft against this fighter in its home element, and is happy the Condor seems to be a match in this one.

Shortly after midnight, there is a contact report from Iran the new team over at Mount Sinai find particularly grating. It is so close to them a Condor would have been able to pick up the camel-stealing bandits on its radar scarcely after taking off.

Dr. Sneidly delivered his report on the live Sebillian study during the operation, starting with some disbelief at the effectiveness of using flashbangs to knock such a beast all the way to an unconscious state.

"There are two significant medical benefits from this study," the scientist explains, "The first is that drugs the Sebillians always have from their implants to keep stem cells in their bloodstreams also work on humans. This will revolutionize the treatment of leukemia."

"Whoopey ding," the Marshal rolls his eyes.

"The second is the protein cascade that rapidly turns ascorbate and chitosan into solid bone tissue," he says.

"What's that good for?" the Marshal asks, turning to face him again.

"Our medkits," the researcher smiles, "The clots formed by the new bandages I made will now form almost bulletproof armoured scabs on the portion exposed to the air. This effectively doubles the effectiveness of our battlefield medkits, which should increase our troopers' effectiveness."

The medical doctor beside him, Dr. Chapelle, adds, "It makes removing them for surgery much more difficult. I've ordered a new bone saw."

"The also improve the effectiveness of the word 'effective'," the Marshal smiles, returning the paperwork. He orders that five of the science teams should work on the alien biology project, and ten should tackle the relatively simple alien pistol.

The Charlie lands at the light scout's crash site in Ontario after sunset, the team not wanting to give the aliens the entire night to wait for rescue. The industrial area is well lit by street lights in most places, and the troopers carry flares. The downside is that this is the rookie chock.

The right flank team of Hudson Martin (assault) and Takeshi Endo (sniper) spot the craft and a Ceasan guarding the door less than two minutes after touchdown. They hold up while the balance of the right flank team, fruitlessly searching the northeast quadrant for caution's sake, catches up to them.

Left flank assault man Dieter Weber and his partner, sniper Klaus Lange, spot number two in a lumber yard on the left flank, along with the security guard he had just killed.

Some fire coming from the dark near the alien craft's starboard side hit the wall sniper Alma Lindberg was hiding behind. No one could figure out whether it was aiming at her or Hudson Martin. It was Lindberg's signal that broke up, despite the hard cover.

Some jaws in the command center dropped as Martin's shoulder cam showed number one motionless on the concrete just after the second flashbang went off. These Ceasans were surprisingly fragile.

Two minutes later, after Lange got number two, number four inside the craft is popped by assault man Boris Belinsky after doing significant damage to his shield.

In the meantime, Hudson Martin carefully searches the electrical substation suspected to be the hiding place of number three. When he got up the stairs to check the second floor offices, he closed the door by accident [OC: It's that right-click-to-look stupidity. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's had it happen.]

When Hudson finally got in, he traded fire with the Ceasan rifleman over one of the desks, but could not hit the alien at point blank range. Four rounds of return fire vaporized his shield and killed him, despite a health rating of 65. Dieter Weber got into the room mere seconds too late to save Hudson, but got the alien with two shots from his pistol.

"Dang," the Marshal grumbles to the General as the Charlie lifts off, "He was the best candidate in the second class." He then starts to go over some paperwork.

"Marshal," the General says, "You don't seem to be taking it too hard. Are you okay?"

"About him, yes," Matthew answers, "Humans confirmed dead or captured so far: 362. Of them Xenonauts: one."

The command center was soon busy handling air traffic as both new aircraft to be transferred to Mount Sinai arrived at about the same time as the operational Charlie got back from its mission. The $34 million the remains of Uniform Five were auctioned off for advanced the construction of the first Foxtrot, but there is still a ways to go. At midnight Greenwich time starting September 16, the dropship and interceptor ordered for Mount Sinai departed on schedule as the new base reported ready to receive them. By this time, the alien craft harassing the Middle East had apparently left.

The alarms started going off with Europe and South Atlantic Anomaly news wires (the SAA is where Earth's magnetic field dips unusually low because the magnetic axis isn't quite centered inside Earth's core.) Condor Three was launched to escort Charlie Two the rest of the way to Mount Sinai, where the soldiers to man Charlie Two had already arrived on their US Air Force jet.

"Uniform Six over Hudson's Bay southerly course," the radar operator announces just after midnight starting September 17, "The usual 756 knots."

"Condor One," The Marshal points to the intercept operator.

"Charlie One as well?" he asks, "Sun's still up over here."

"No," Matthew sighs, "I'm concerned the entry phase for this wave isn't finished, and if they drop a fighter on us, we're screwed if it shoots her down."

Shortly before two o'clock, Condor Three, sent to investigate a news wire in the North Sea reported in. The console operator patched Matthew into his report: "...it's just sitting there on the ground in Switzerland."

"And Charlie Two is still in its ferry flight," Matthew grumbles, "Let's hope it stays put, then." The interceptor can't shoot a target on the ground for various reasons.

Before then, Charlie One landed northeast of Uniform Six and the advance went about as routinely as such things go until David Stopple (with a reflex rating of just 40) cracked open the alien craft's door and got a face full of plasma from a Sebillian guard and a pistol armed helmsman, falling under the rising white cloud of his vaporised assault shield. He didn't make it.

"Guiness, patch me into Charlie Two," the Marshal elbows the procedures/communications operator to his left before grabbing the phone handset from his console. He then instructs the other dropship, "Guys be extra careful on this one. We lost David Stopple on the Uniform Six mission. They caught him at the craft door at close range."

"Yes, sir," the troops acknowledge.

"I'm going to be a little more standoffish on this one, guys," the Marshal explains, "Don't let that take you by surprise." The Marshal is relieved at the central console by General Wahlmer, whose regular duty shift is beginning, and heads over to the ground ops primary console.

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  • 1 month later...

More Chapter 5...

The approach to the downed alien craft was not uneventful, with three Caesans outside in the industrial park. The light scout went down in a parking lot, rolling two cars. Despite the caution, Tschannen had a close call with an alien rifleman. After Sokolova cracked open the alien craft, Anthony Webb hilariously missed the one alien inside with every round from his Pig, along with snipers Rob Evans and Colin Henderson before Sokolova slammed the door in his face. (OC: The odds of missing all of these is 10.9%.) After a couple of frantic breaths, she opened the door again and lobotomized him herself.

Before they landed back at Mount Sinai, Uniforms 10 and 11 were picked up on Sinai's new radar over Africa, where they were causing lots of shenanigans, including a bizarre mass hallucination in the middle of the Sahara Desert (the wire report was "FOREST FIRES" and Wahlmer didn't know what else to make of it.)

Condor Three was dispatched after Uniform 11 first, then switched to Uniform 10 when 11 suddenly landed. Charlie Two landed back at Mount Sinai to reload hypergolics before being sent to the scene (the dropship carries only enough rocket propellant to perform one point landing and one zero-length jump per sortie.) Unfortunately, Uniform 10 ran Condor Three to bingo fuel while weaving through Norway's mountains.

General Wahlmer was expecting the approach status report from Charlie Two, the radio was silent.

"Control North, Radar Sinai," a voice squeaks over the General's headset.

"North, go." John suspects bad news is coming.

"Eleven just took off and I've lost contact with Charlie Two, Sir," the radar operator reports grimly.

It's several minutes of tense silence, the sun having just set at the landing site before another voice speaks. Charlie Two was expected to land next to Uniform 11 ten minutes before.

"Crap, we're in the news," the broadcast watchman blurts out, piping a US cable news channel to the main projector.

"-appears to be a military aircraft of unknown design. Once again, breaking news that an aircraft has crashed in Africa, apparently after being fired upon by a small alien craft scouting the Sahara Desert..."

OC: I went on a KSP binge which is why I haven't written in a while. This post is short because losing a dropship kinda induced some writer's block.

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