Alarms begin to wail and bodies began to scramble. Bradford instantly appears at my side, "Sir, we have an abduction in... belay that... hold." He cups his hand over his earpiece to cancel out the noise for a moment, then looks back to me, "You've got one hell of a choice to make. We have three incident sites, sir; a coordinated set of attacks across the globe. Problem is, we have one Skyranger transport and the administration to monitor and support only one team at a time. Each country has committed future resources in the form of money or personnel, so you need to weigh the choice carefully based on what we might potentially lose, and the fact that the extra terrestrials will likely accomplish their missions in the other two countries you don't choose. You can bet panic levels will increase in those areas."
Damnit. The short of if is that in one blink of an eye we went from a global watchdog to a petty mercenary. Well, we have bills to pay and resources to foster. "What are the sites, and what are we likely to gain from keeping each happy?"
Bradford snaps to attention, "Sir: Cordoba, Argentina; there's an engineering school there that has pledged graduates of several different fields to support our needs. Johannesburg, South Africa; the University of Johannesburg has committed their graduate students, in exchange for lab time and field research. Marseille, France; the French Prime Minister is already lobbying to financially back our expenses."
It's an easy choice, and I tell him as much. He assumes Marseille; I'm guessing because he's the one with the privilege of hearing me bitch about our lack of resources from a world that demands my full attention. He assumes wrong. I didn't get to where I am by not realizing there's more at stake than just throwing money at a problem. Engineers and scientists are just as tangible a commodity. Right now we have what we need with the money we can spend, that leaves scientists. Maybe we can get them going in the right direction to upgrade our tech, then we keep the engineers busy with it, and THEN we can worry about how to fund it. "Johannesburg, Bradford. We need the pocket protectors and band-aided glasses working on how to solve the problem before we can build the tools to fix it. Scramble the mission team, I want them in the air in five." He raises an eyebrow for what could be no longer than 1/100th of a second (just long enough for a trained eye like mine to notice), and then cups his hand over his microphone this time and starts clearly and concisely providing orders to various departments in the base. I take my chair, and nod to an orderly who returns the nod and heads to the coffee pot. Gonna be a long night.
I review the mission roster on my datapad. Jones and Bradford (A. Bradford, mentally noted) are up again as DeLano and Wright are still recovering. Two new rookies this time, then, Marcantelli and Jones. Damnit. Looking back and forth between their dossiers, I notice that they're related. Mother and daughter. Well, step mother and daughter anyway. This is either going to end up in a drama fest, or a competitive body count contest. Better to know now then, and be ready to pull the plug on that little mix up. I'm a big believer in family respect, but given Jones's... damnit, K. Jones's already outstanding performance, the mother (A. Jones, to note) may have to take a walk. I shake my head a bit, drag MedKit assignment icons to the rookies, and tap the "Approved" button. It's literally only seconds later that I hear the turbines of the Skyranger transport airship whir to life. I close my eyes to take advantage of the brief time I have before they hit their destination to sneak in what is sure to be the only sleep I get for awhile.
I'm awakened by a fresh cup of coffee being set into the cupholder at the end of my chair. "They've landed sir, mission is waiting for greenlight, sir", the orderly informs me. I nod, yawn, and fire up all mental cylinders.
"Fire it up", I yell, and everyone jumps into action. I can see the metropolitan area that they set down in on their mission cams and start assessing terrain and resources. Bradford snips, "weapons free", and the cams start bouncing as their wearers jump into immediate cover and the mission begins. K. Jones and A. Bradford rush ahead and drop into overwatch stance while the rookies bring up the rear and dash ahead into forward cover. Nice and professional.
A. Jones starts giving hand signals indicating aliens spotted, count of two, inside forward building. I barely had time to note the two Sectoids on her shoulder cam before they disappeared from view. No sooner can I mutter "son of a bitch" under my breath than they start crawling out from all around the building. Within seconds, there are five Sectoids quickly moving on them. Bradford gets a shot off before they find their own cover, but misses. Wiry little bastards. Distracted by her shot though, the ET misses Marcantelli moving to flank, and his error nets him one exploding head. A. Jones then leapfrogs around him into cover and squeezes the trigger, ending the life of another one behind the first, before I could even see it on the cam. Out of Bradford's cam, I see K. Jones grin a bit evil and her eyes squint. Body count contest it is. I can't help but smile, this is starting to shape up like an early Christmas. Rookies, indeed.
My merriment is short lived, however. One alien starts playing some kind of hocus pocus and a stream of energy leaps out of his head (yes, I'm rewatching the video now, while I write this, it was from his head) and reaches another Sectoid. I'll be damned if the one it reached doesn't actually look more determined. I'm not liking how this is shaping up. The three remaining ETs all converge on A. Jones at the same time; three shots, two hits. She goes down. Damnit. But... her vital monitor is still blipping, just a lot slower than it should be. Bradford reads my mind and yells into his mic, "She's still alive! Objective one, recover that soldier and move her to cover!".
Marcantelli leaps (quite literally) next to her and quickly gets her stabilized, while A. Bradford rips the one closest to them in half with a burst of her assault rifle. Two Sectoids in site, both getting ready to move on Marcantelli. K. Jones dashes to the other side of them, aiming for the ET that's sending the brain waves and gets a clean headshot. Much to the surprise of everyone in the room, including myself, the one that was receiving those brain waves drops, too. I can see Dr. Vhalen furious scribbling notes.
One more sectoid appears and tries to flank K. Jones, and fires. Fortunately, the shot goes wide. K. Jones pops right back up out of cover and returns fire, blasting it away.
After sweeping the area and getting A. Jones back to the Skyranger, they give an all clear, and reboard the transport vessel heading home. I grind my teeth through the whole thing. Giving a "dear so and so" speech is always a bitch; I'm not even going to try to guess the size of the ulcer that will give me if I ever have to deliver it to the person that watched her die on the battlefield. They got the job done, and from what I just saw, them being together is a rare asset. I just may need to stack up on some TUMS.
Upon return, the med team was standing by with emergency equipment and the operating room prepped. A. Jones was put on a stretcher and carted off before the Skyranger engines had even begun shut down sequence. The squad, seeing me there to receive them, immediately came to the line and to attention.
I look them all in the eyes for exactly three second apiece. I already had Bradford prepped for their return. I call K. Jones forward. For skill, leadership and a damned sharp eye, she was the first of my troops to earn the rank of Corporal. I have an attendant ready with a new rifle equipped with a holo-targetting system. Not cheap, not production state gear, not ... going to sit and go to waste with her on the squad. True to form, she took back to the line and to attention without so much as a grin or a shake. The determination in her jaw said everything I needed to know. She could be my first true officer, I hope she appreciates the oncoming scrutiny.
I then call A. Bradford forward. She had had her opportunity this time, and took it. I pin the Squaddie rank on her shoulder and her rifle is swapped out for an Assault shotgun. She may not have great aim, but she's got guts and if she can get in close, she's likely to rip them apart.
Marcantelli is last. His reaction time and lack of hesitation to act also put him in the Assault designation. I also pinned a Silver Star on his jacket for putting his life on the line in the saving of another.
A. Jones should be here. I pray I get the chance to have her on the line as well. You'd never know it by looking at her, but I'm sure her daughter's holding the line for the both of them.
I dismiss the soldiers and the crewmen get to work unloading the alien bodies and salvaged weapon parts. Dr. Shen informs me on my way to the com room that if and when needed, they could build a laboratory for the science team use. I mentally file the information, but don't give it too much thought. I'm tired and I almost lost my first troop on this assignment. I've lost men before, but this mission seems to matter more; and so must the soldiers on it.
I'm informed that South Africa already has four scientists en route to the base. I'm also informed that the situation has increased in tension in Europe and South America. Yeah. Can't please them all, just hope I don't piss them off so much they stop sending Christmas Cards before we even make it to our first Christmas with the aliens.
My datapad is blinking that I'm needed in the Situation Room. It's now 4:35 AM. I tell Bradford that they can expect me in about three hours. Commander's greatest prerogative is the ability to designate around naps.
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