Hartford was always busy before, since it was the primary defense point on Mars against another Extraterrestrial incursion of Earth. There were always technicians moving between workstations, fighters patrolling the airspace above the cannon and between the two colonies and soldiers on patrol or out for their daily PT routines and training. There were constant expeditions out into the martian wilderness in search of Chrysalid nests on top of that. It had taken about five years after New Star was established to realize that the Ethereals had allowed the Chrysalids to build nests on the red planet, right after a massive swarm nearly overran the then newly built Harford Base while the defense cannon was under construction. But today, as the newest arrivals from Earth arrived in an APC from the starport on the other side of New Star, there was an air of urgency.

Word had come from high command back on Earth that preparations were being made to launch an attack on an Alien stronghold in the next solar system on a planet that the xenobiologists were calling Arthan-3. The ADVENT Initiative had been identified as the primary guard force there, but shortly before the order to prep for invasion came through, a high value transport was identified arriving at the location and Commander Jervald, the legendary mind that had orchestrated XCOM’s masterful defeat of the Aliens in many early engagements, saw a valuable opportunity to remove an Ethereal from play and establish a foothold in other parts of the Galaxy.

Amongst the new arrivals were three XCOM recruits that showed promise during training, Drachen Steinboden, a Duelist who forewent the typical grace of the fighters for a more brute force approach, but none-the-less had scored high enough in his class to catch the group’s eye. Marcia Devries, a rifleman who did exceptionally well in her medical training, XCOM’s recruiter hoped to make her a combat medic when the time comes. And lastly, though certainly not least, the granddaughter of the legendary psi-op Stefan Weisser, Helene Weisser, who was a powerful Psi-Op herself. The three were quickly separated from the rest of the new arrivals by a large MEC trooper and directed to a separate hangar, where a young man with dual plasmic revolvers sat on a crate chewing on a piece of jerky while an older man with a plasma rifle across his back and a Gremlin floating around him as he reviewed a holographic table with the fortress layout.

However, as the three walked in, the Gremlin beeped and the older man turned to face them, a scar crossing his right eye and a robotic eye glowed green. “Ah, the new blood finally arrived. Take a seat over by your squad mate, who will introduce himself or spend the next week on KP before the operation, and then I’ll get on with the mission briefing.” The young man sighed mid-chew and then finished, swallowing before he gave a lazy wave, the light glinting briefly off his storm-grey eyes.

“Corporal Damian Renser, gunslinger. I round out our squad of five.” The older man nodded as the others took their positions and then spoke again.

“And I’m Captain Trent Gardner, advanced infantry specialist. And I welcome you all to Ox Squad, the newest squad to be formed under XCOM’s direct command alongside the UEG regulars. Now that that’s done, here’s the mission. As you’ve likely heard by now, long range recon has found a stronghold on Arthan-3 in the Utila System that was recently visited by a potential HVT. Normally the Commander would pass it up and look for a better launch point for the invasion, but he recognized the shuttle as one belonging to an Ethereal, which we don’t often see this close to the Sol system after their failed invasion ended thirty years ago. So you’re aware, they want you new bloods to see what the Aliens are actually capable of in person, so while normally you’d be a more reserve role, we’ll be in the Vanguard of the attack and responsible for finding the HVT and eliminating or containing them. As such, we’ll be in this Starskimmer Holy Mackeral, waiting for us in bay 8. Questions, concerns, complaints?”

Damian didn’t speak and instead continued chewing on his jerky while he waited for his new squadmates to speak up.

---

Hartford. It never stopped to amaze her or fill her with a strong sense of pride at its image painted against the harsh, red sands of Mars. New Star might be the promise of a place among the stars for Humanity, but it was Hartford that made that promise a reality. The will not only to settle new worlds, but the power to protect them from hostile invaders. Helene took uniform yet brisk steps as she followed behind the MEC, dressed in her most pristine and tailored uniform that bore the insignia of her psi-ops program on the right shoulder. Technicians and soldiers stared at them as the three passed by. Helene never once gave them a second glance. Her left hand reached for her shoulder and she gently rubbed it, fingers tracing the stitch-work of the insignia. Her other hand held the synthetic-fiber duffel bag that contained her combat gear.

Her muscles tensed up as they entered the hangar, eyes immediately focusing on the two individuals that appeared to be waiting there though her attention was redirected to the older man in the room. A soft sigh was released as he spoke with authority, glancing over to the younger man that he indicated. Helene remained standing while Corporal Renser introduced himself, hands behind her back with her right thumb pressing against the palm of her left. Once he had finished, she picked up her duffel bag and sat in the farthest seat from his setting the bag at her feat. Helene eagerly looked back at the older man, now introduced as Captain Gardner. A soldier who looked like he'd seen quite a bit of action. She sat up straight, hands smoothing out her uniform, as she continued to listen with full attention.

Helene kept still as a statue except for the slight movement at the edges of her lips that was stubbornly beyond her control. It was an honor, no, a privilege to be given such an important role in what could be a monumental offensive. This was her chance to continue the legacy of the respected Weisser name. Each member of her family dedicated their lives to serving and protecting Humanity. There was no way she could ever return home if she failed. After the captain had finished, Helene left her seat in one fluid motion and stared at him with determination "Only one, sir. When do we set off?"

Drachen's eyes were closed on the ride in the APC to Hartford and his hands were clasped behind his back. Leaning back like he was he almost looked asleep and his face wasn't that mask of anger with cold metallic colored eyes. When the vehicle came to a stop his eyes snapped open and up he got, exiting the vehicle with other recruits. But he stuck with two others, he had memorized their names and faces since they were to be a unit. An MEC directed the three away from the other recruits and to a separate hangar.

Weisser seemed very...proper while they moved. Her eyes didn't leave their sitting objectives. Devries...he didn't really get a read on her yet. Drachen however looked around, an air of caution around him as if he were an animal in a new territory. His hands didn't stay idle, tightening the straps on the fingerless gauntlets or adjusting his belt. It was a mental checklist to make sure he hadn't left anything behind really but most others would see it as a nervous tick.

Once the triplets got to their destination he took note that the jerky chewer was youthful while their commanding officer was an aging soldier. The younger of the two had twin pistols, namely revolvers of a plasma variety. The elder had a plasma rifle and a gremlin, why did they move onto plasma? A question for another time. Still he stood over with the others, staying on his feet rather than sitting down. Their mission would be starting soon, no point in sitting down now.

The mission briefing was short and to the point. They were to go to another system, kill or contain an Ethereal, and hopefully not die. "I have one, sir. Any idea how many contacts there will be?" He questioned, his voice was unsurprisingly deep and rumbled a lot like distant thunder. The others could catch a hint of a German accent but it wasn't even remotely heavy.

In the hangar, Marcia Devries stood with her fellow soldiers and grinned.

So we're called Ox Squad, huh? I wonder why we're named after an animal? In particular, that animal?
At least circumstances around her have changed. She had waited endlessly during the personnel transport and it had been so boring! Now, the situation was finally heating up.

She looked around her. There were so many tall people. Even the other girl was tall. Everyone looked so... well... buff, at least compared to herself -- which wasn't really a bad thing to Marcia. For instance, she thought the big baldy guy was kinda hot. She thought the smaller one who was chewing on beef jerky was delicious. And the tall girl? -- was well... a girl.

She suddenly recalled her last boyfriend -- if you could call him that. Anything was better than Dillion. Dillion had been somewhat of a playboy and a gambler. Nevertheless, she missed Dillion and the life that he gave her. There had been passion in that one-sided romance, at least for her -- but it had been one-sided. All Dillion wanted in life was to live the exotic life of a professional card player and bone girls, often two times a week. Marcia had been his wingmate despite her love for him. Eventually, she grew tired of being only a plaything.

Now, her life was different. Now, she embraced another passion. It was far superior to the last one. This passion was none other than her line of work. She passionately believed that it was humankind's destiny to expand to the stars and overcome any barrier or any obstacle that got in the way. And because she believed that, she also believed that it was the duty of every soldier to repel alien invaders from mother earth.

That's why she had joined XCOM. She wanted to be of service to her species, and to heal those that fought with her. She wanted to be of help to humankind.

Yet, at times she just wanted to stay in her bed and not have to face her problems. She wanted to snuggle with her cat and never have to confront the world. Sometimes, she wanted to have never grown up and to be in her parent's house back on the colony.

"Hi all," she introduced herself. "I'm Marcia Devries. My question is... well... I'm wondering how we'll get there? The alien stronghold on Arthan-3 in the Utila System, I mean." Um... I sort of slept through the class on interstellar physics. "So will we be put into cryogenic freeze or suspended animation or something? I don't want to go to sleep and then realize that i'm now 30 years older than before. And why are we called Ox Squad?"

The captain listened to each question closely, looking at the speaker accordingly and nodding in acknowledgement to each spoken question. “Good batch of questions, for the most part. We leave in ten, our skimmer will take us to the USS Bronzebeard in orbit and we’ll jump to slip space about ten hours after that. There are two other strongholds being attacked simultaneously with our objective, but ours is the closest, so our jump is last. As for the number of tangos, expect numerous, Private Steinboden. This is an enemy stronghold after all, so they won’t slouch on keeping it manned. Private Devries, you’ll be retaking the course on Earth’s interstellar travel when the mission is over, but I have addressed the first question. Your second question’s answer is quite simple, and that’s that there is no particular rhyme or reason. Another squad is Hawk Squad, you’ve got the Vengeful Sharks, a Spec Ops team of mostly Rippers with a couple of Reapers in support. So, no particular reason, just where our lot fell most likely.”

The captain, having given a quick brief of general details and gotten all the new bloods to talk, walked around the table and hit a button on it, bringing the holographic display up on the fortress that they’d be helping to assault. “And since no one asked, I’ll give you guys something more in depth. This is the stronghold Alpha as we’ve labeled it, though intel says the aliens call it Outpost Warden. Regardless, the official plan that the Commander laid out for us is to insert at the top of the stronghold and work our way down to the main hall while also dealing with any defensive emplacements we can.” The gunslinger spoke up at this point.

“But we both know you got a second set of orders from the Commander that weren’t so official, which are?” The captain, chuckling softly, nodded.

“He did and that was that the unofficial plan is to move as we see fit and focus on getting to the enemy leadership and contain or neutralize. Orbital support is being tasked to remove anti-air and anti-infantry emplacements on the outside of the outpost. Seems simple enough right?” Damian nodded and took another bite of his jerky as the image shifted to a layout of the Bronzebeard. “Now, as for our accommodations on the Bronzebeard, XCOM units are considered a branch of special forces, so we’ll have our own armory, barracks and mess hall for our small unit, though it is encouraged that we mix and mingle with the UEG regulars at meal times and during PT.” Snapping his fingers, Captain reached behind him and withdrew three XCOM patches and approached each of the new bloods.

“These are your XCOM patches, signifying that you are members of the unit within the UEG and that if you say your mission is of dire importance, then the regs had better listen to you. However,” the change in the captain’s tone caused the new bloods to jump, “don’t abuse that power. You ever hear of the boy who cried wolf? That’s what’ll happen to your authority.”

Returning to his position at the table, the holographic projection turns off and the Captain starts to walk off. “I’ll be back in five to gather you four for the trip up to the Bronzebeard, but until then, get to know each other. You’ll be working closely for the foreseeable future.” And with that, he and his Gremlin were gone. After a moment of silence, the Irish accent in Damian’s voice won out as he jumped down to converse with his new squad mates.

“Alright then, where’s everyone from? Hobbies, likes, dislikes?”

"I'm from South New Star. When I was small, my family immigrated to Mars from France and I love watching holonovels -- especially romance films! I love playing virtual reality games using my neuro-enhancer helmet. I like strategy games and RPGs and first person shooters! And I looove virtual reality dating sims! Not only that, I've logged over 2000 hours in marine combat simulator X. I can totally take out the final boss in The Empire of the Crescent Moon in less than five minutes."

Marcia just wondered if she blabbed too much about herself. I hope they don't think I'm an airhead. I hope they still think I can add my weight in any serious combat situation.

"I love people with courage, and I hate cowards, even though I'm sorta a coward myself."

Drachen had his arms folded across his chest as he listened to the Captain. He nodded affirmatives where they fit as the man answered the few questions they had. The team name was just chosen at random, they were assaulting a fortress so the number of enemies would be unknown, they left in ten minutes, and apparently they were assaulting multiple fortresses. Why was the UEG dividing their focus? Or were the other fortresses just to distract from the actual objective of killing or detaining this Ethereal?

The Captain brought up a holo-display of the fort they'd be going to and the names of it. Alpha via human, Warden via Alien. Which got him to tilt his head slightly. "Warden...? Is it supposed to be guarding something...?" He questioned aloud. Maybe they were trying to keep humanity penned in the Sol System? It wasn't likely humanity knew how far spread the aliens were. Shortly after letting them see the display the older officer handed out the XCOM patches with a warning not to abuse the power that came with them.

Who knew a simple patch, even on a Private, would hold such weight. Which was odd. But he didn't run things, he just followed orders.

Shit, now they were told to socialize, get to know each other. Was this some sort of video game? He shook his head when the Captain left
and turned his metallic gaze to the other three. Marcia Devries started them off with a slew of information. Games and reading were her thing, and apparently she was good at them. While also preferring the brave over the coward types. Helene Weisser, a fellow German, preferred more physical things like hiking and camping. She enjoyed doers, not talkers.

Sighing he let his arms drop and slip into his pockets. "I'm from Germany on Earth. In my spare time I like working with metal, making things by hand like in the ancient times." He stated, with his build it was very believable. "I dislike laziness, I like being active." He continued on before looking at the dual wielder expectantly.

Damian listened to each person and then proceeded to match the Duelist’s gaze evenly after everyone had finished. He didn’t immediately speak after they’d finished either, instead approaching the holotable and pulling out a modern USB drive. While it would seem that with all the technological advances made, mobile storage would have changed after so many improvements, scientists found that the size of a USB was excellent for easy transport, even decades later.

As he plugged it in and started browsing through the files, he finally spoke, his Irish accent finally coming into full swing. “Well, a pleasure to know all of you better. Now before I give all of you more information about me, let me sum up what I’ve just learned. Private Devries, you joined the UEG military out of either a sense of moral obligation or because you enjoyed the training sims in high school. Likely the latter based on your excellent ability to defeat the Crescent Moon Empire’s emperor so quickly. You, Private Steinboden, likely joined the UEG to find access to metals that you’re not allowed to handle on Earth and see what it was we actually faced in the war. Perhaps also because you like smashing things with your ax.” The video he had been looking for was now queued, but he didn’t play it yet, instead turning to put a flat gaze on Helene.

“And then there’s you, Specialist Helene Weisser, granddaughter of the legendary Psi Op Steven Weisser. Your records called you a prodigy, even at a young age, and the Templar program is keeping an eye on you according to rumors. I can give the other two members of our squad a pass, they don’t have the legacy of a hero to look up to and live up to, but you? You’re here with grandiose ideas of just what this fight will be like, the role you’ll fulfill and where you’ll end up. You’re going to be the one that insists on being the first off the skimmer and the first in the door, throwing some psionic power around with the intent to intimidate and kill as many aliens in one fell swoop as you can.” He shakes his head. “You’re a right idiot. Rancor Squad was formed a few weeks ago, just before we started mobilizing, full of new recruits full of potential and heading off on their first chrysalid hunt to get them some combat experience. Typically these aren’t particularly dangerous and most of both the UEG’s and XCOM’s new bloods cut their teeth on them regularly. But Specialist Ria Blackwell had big dreams and plans concerning her new position as an XCOM prospect. Here’s how that ended for them.”

Hitting play on the holo terminal, the video starts up. From the angle of the camera, it’s clear that this was pulled from someone’s body cam. The video starts out with the usual patrol banter as the squad heads into a tunnel just behind another squad, XCOM patches and a Chimera patch on their backs as they move into the cave. “Chimera squad was to be their leash, their handlers. Get the new blood squad in, and get them out in one piece. Specialist Blackwell was Rancor’s temp NCO until their actual CO recovered and she, unfortunately, had other ideas.” The video had continued playing and as Chimera Squad made a left at a fork, a voice came into the private channel of the soldier’s radio, presumably Specialist Blackwell’s, that ordered them right. In minutes, she’d lead them to a small hatchery, if the grotesque scene before them could be called that as gestating bodies littered the ground. The voice came in again as the group took up positions around the nest on higher ground.

“Alright, we’re going to toss incendiary to rile up the bugs and then deploy the Napalm grenades to deal with the main rush. Clean up should be easy after that. Prep,” the camera shifts around as the person it’s on pulls an incendiary out, “and throw.” There’s the sound of numerous metal things hitting the nest before flames ignite it. There’s an inhuman screeching before chrysalids come out of every faucet that the camera can see, way more than the nest size would indicate. The scene that proceeds to play out is horrifying as the squad of new bloods attempts to fall back towards the tunnel they’d come in at. Plasma shots sear into the darkness, tearing apart the bugs as they surge forwards, but not fast enough and the last person in the group, a youthful looking red head, gets grabbed and pulled back, screaming as she’s ripped apart.

Two more get pulled into unseen side tunnels as they run past, their fates no less grizzly as purple psionic power rips into the tunnels, too late to save anyone. The video cuts as Chimera squads flamethrower armed MEC comes into sight, bounds past the last two survivors and unleashes napalm on the horde behind them. The Corporal pulls the USB and turns back. “Former Specialist Ria Blackwell was the great niece of Colonel James “Rusty” Blackwell, an accomplished assault specialist within XCOM who lead the attack on the underground base that truly turned the tide in the Invasion war. If that name isn’t familiar, Specialist Weisser, then you didn’t pay attention to the men your grandfather served with and under. Because of her Uncle’s stories, she got the idea that she could be the next Colonel Blackwell, especially after she manifested the Psionic powers her great-uncle had lacked. Because of them and his name, she assumed she knew better than Chimera Squad. That nest? That nest has never been cleared because of what happened to Rancor. We called it the Feeding Grounds because while it looks small, there are more chrysalids hiding in it than in the other three major nests on Mars combined.”

He looked over each of the new bloods before continuing. “Blackwell is now serving time in prison, charged with willfully disobeying a superior and getting her three squadmates killed in action unnecessarily. And this was routine and standard for training out here. Now we’re going up against the Ethereals and their armies and I can practically see the delusions of grandeur in your head. For the luck of the Irish, get rid of ‘em before it gets ya killed. I want all of you to be able to tell stories like Stefan Weisser got to.” His grim story delivered and point made, the Irishman lightened up. “As for my hobbies, I build firearms, camp and hunt. I also enjoy the odd bit of gene modding where it’s permitted, making and testing new mods in the simulation programs.”

Unknown to the group, the Captain hadn’t actually gone that far, instead stopping to listen to his Corporal and second in command give his warning and make sure he didn’t go overboard about it. The other survivor of the squad, now Sergeant Ethan Sanders, was still attending therapy after what he saw. The body cam didn’t show it, but Sanders had seen what happened to the squadmate that was pulled into the left tunnel and it had him waking up in screams some nights. His promotion to sergeant had been a reward for surviving his former NCO’s arrogance, but he had yet to be given a new squad due to the PTSD. A chirp in his ear had him rounding the corner, acting like he wasn’t aware of what had happened, but after the others had responded. “Alright everyone, time to get to the skimmer. After that, we’ll need to get comfy.”

Marcia stood there, watching the interaction between Corporal Damian and Private Weisser. Her eyes kept darting in between these two. It took a long time to figure out what was going on, but finally, she understood.

She grinned.

Wow, this guy really likes Helene Weisser. Damian just spent 5 minutes lecturing her on her pedigree! Helene Weisser!
I get it. Helene is tall, has a nice body, has great pedigree, and is probably incredibly rich. Some guys really dig that type of stuff.
I don't understand, tho. If he really likes her that much, why doesn't he just say it instead of making up all this macho stuff to scare her?

Based on Marcia's numerous experiments with programmed male behavior in the virtual reality dating sims, Marcia was reasonably sure this was what was happening. Men say and think a lot of things for love, but one thing is certain, they always say and express what they think in the presence of some female somewhere. I just hope Helene figures this out without interpreting it the wrong way.

Marcia grinned, fully intent on watching everything play out. I hope Helene knows what to do with male attention. I wouldn't worry though. From her looks, I know she gets a lot of it.

Drachen didn't give and affirmative or negative to Damian's assumption on why he joined the military. If he wanted alien alloys he could just send requests in to XCOM along with money instead of risking life and limb to potentially obtain them. He was however curious as to what they were about to be forced to watch. But when he started talking about Helene Weisser he started to get a feeling this wasn't going to be a kind video. It felt like a 'grind down to build up' session.

The video combined with Damian's words felt unnecessary. It showed the ferocity of Chrysalids, and a poor choice of poking the hornets nest. The result was three dead, two alive, one in prison the other pretty much retired with PTSD. His face was unreadable when Damian looked, the man was in a higher position so he could really reprimand him. Glancing to the two women to his left, his thick eyebrow rose up slightly.

Marcia was grinning like a loon and the girls eyes were dating between Damian and Helene. He couldn't really read what she was thinking...but it felt like she was having wrong thoughts. Could psionic wielders read minds? Helen however was clearly unhappy, giving a disdainful look to the Corporal. The Captain quickly shortly after Damian finished speaking. It was time to get going. Helene was the first to get going, scooping up her duffel and walking away.

A slight shift and he had his own duffel hanging by his index finger over his shoulder before he walked along behind Helene. His stride kept purposefully short so he didn't overtake the woman. He'd have attempted conversation, but he felt like she'd probably want to be left alone for the time being. If she looked back he'd give her as friendly a look as his naturally pissed off face could muster, but for now he stayed silent.

Captain Gardner allowed the others to walk by before tapping the Corporal on the shoulder as he walked by, indicating to walk with him just out of earshot of the new bloods while keeping them in sight. “Bit heavy back there, don’t you think?” Corporal Renser shrugged, pulling out a toothpick and putting it between his teeth, chewing it a little before replying, any attempt at hiding his accent gone.

“Perhaps a wee bit, but if it means I’m not rubbin’ me blarney stone every ten minutes that we all make it home, I’d do it again. Let the gal resent me a bit, she wouldn’t be the first and I doubt she’ll be the last. Though, I have some concerns about Private Devries. I think she’s spent a wee too much time in the dating sims.” Trent shook his head and sighed.

“I’ll...have to look into it. But for that first bit, you Irish are a strange lot, you know that?” The only response as they walked up the ramp onto the skimmer was a chuckle from the Corporal as he took his seat near the exit. Meanwhile, the Captain stood before the seat nearest the cockpit and looked over his squad. “Alright, we’re looking at about a ten minute flight to the USS Bronzebeard. From there, the time is yours to spend as you see fit. Well mostly.” As the Holy Mackerel rumbled from take off, the captain stayed standing. “There’s a couple of team exercises planned to get used used to first working as a squad and second as a part of a larger force in preparation for the attack, which will take place near the end of the trip so the drills are fresh in our minds.”

Finally sitting, the Captain secures himself as the ship begins shaking from breaking atmosphere and heading into orbit, where the USS Bronzebeard is waiting for them. “That’s all I have for you for now, so once we’ve gotten you situated, as I said, the time is yours.”

---

The trip to the Bronzebeard certainly proved to be quick, and landing was so smooth, none of the new recruits knew they had reached their hangar until the Mackerel’s loading ramp opened, with the Corporal down first. During combat, his job would be to ensure that their skimmer isn’t rushed during insertion, but right now, he was simply to guide the new bloods to their line-up position. Once everyone was in position, the Captain stood just in front of them at their right with the Corporal standing behind him. Several other squads were lined up similarly, though there was much more variation to them than to Ox Squad, several containing MEC troopers and even the shimmering advanced concealment cloaks of Strikers. There was no sound after everyone lined up, just stretching silence.

After what would have felt like an eternity, three figures walked out of a door on the other end of the hangar, towards the depths of the Super Heavy War-Cruiser. Two were clearly armored up in the Praetorian armor of the personal guards of Military Command while the third bore the military uniform of none other than Brigadier General Joseph Hartman, who had led the purging of the Europa Chrysalid hives from the frontlines no more than six years prior. Standing on a podium that had risen up in the center of the hangar, his glowing red cybernetic eye unflinching. “Ladies and Gentlemen of the XCOM Initiative, my fellow soldiers. Today marks the first time we’ve actively sought conflict with the Alien Hive Mind led by the Ethereals since they first touched down on Earth, over sixty years ago. Their technology and unfamiliar physiology gave them an early edge on the standard militaries of the world, but the UN and its allies had foreseen this possibility and created a task force specifically to counter any extraterrestrial threat, founded in the form of XCOM. Using ambush and guerilla combat tactics, the Commander single handedly turned a losing war into the greatest victory humanity has ever seen against any foe. It was because of XCOM’s R&D that we were eventually able to turn the tools and technology of the aliens against them and even the playing field, first through improved energy dispersion armor and laser weaponry and then through full Ostryx armor and plasma weaponry. Needless to say, XCOM was the foundation of victory for us.

But that victory did not come without its price, as the memorials show. Not to mention, thirty years ago, after the end of the War, Germany and the United States shut their borders to the rest of the world in response to the revelation that the enemy had been using mind control on their people to get results that cost an unnecessary loss of life. Germany has since rejoined the world at large and the United Earth Government in recent years and now we are prepared to launch our first real counter attack in nearly half a century. Among the long-time squads that are here today is a batch of new bloods,” at this point he points to Ox Squad, everyone’s eyes following his indication, “in Ox Squad, who’s job will be to take on and either contain or eliminate the Ethereal waiting for us on Arthan-3. Everyone else is to secure the stronghold and support them. Now, the UEG regulars don’t know that and we’re going to keep it that way. Far as they know, everyone has objectives that line up.” He looked over each and every squad assembled in the hangar before nodding. “For Humanity! Dismissed!”

And with that one word, the hangar became a flurry of activity as the squads gathered up their gear and split off down different doors heading into the War-Cruiser’s interior. Captain Gardner led his squad through a door on the right side of the hangar and down a series of halls that seemed to take them down lower before reaching a door with the head of an Ox painted on it as two other XCOM squads entered doors further away from them on either side, talking and laughing with each other. The path to their barracks and back to the hangar had been easy for the group to memorize and as they walked in, it wouldn’t be surprising if they decided to keep to themselves in their barracks, as it was most definitely one of the most advanced setups any of the newer recruits would have ever seen. “Welcome to Ox Squads barracks here on the Bronzebeard. Like I said, we do have independent facilities here, as you can see, but at least TRY to play nice with the UEG regulars. They’re what make up the bulk of our forces after all. Go ahead and get comfy, dismissed.” The Corporal was already on his way to a small section clearly intended for the squad's SIC and the Captain headed for the only other REAL closed door besides the showers and restrooms and opened it up, revealing an office.

The door closed behind him and Damian was content to set to cleaning his revolvers once his gear was stowed away, which left the others to do what they liked, including checking out the training and PT areas, the mess hall they had and the shooting range. After a few minutes, the Captain came out. “Specialist Weisser, a word before you get too deep into exploration.” He went back into his office and waited until she had come in and the door closed before speaking.

“Alright, Specialist. I know the Corporal gave you quite the roasting, so you have my permission to speak freely on the matter. Nothing you say to me will leave this room and I will not reprimand you for any of it. It wasn’t hard to see how that left you...unhappy and I need your mind clear for the upcoming mission.”

The fireplace was warm and cozy. Marcia stretched her legs on the loveseat, casually gazing at the sparkling fire that brought rays of heat on her body. It felt so comfortable. The loveseat's soft cushions caressed her back as she lay peacefully. If only she had someone to share this moment with.
Before she came here, Marcia had been revoltingly bored. Now, the situation was anything but boring. Her eyes glimpsed at the sparkling yellow flames sending rays of warmth on the expensive carpet.

Behind her, she heard footsteps. She twisted her head and saw a man entering the room. She smiled at him.

"Hello, Marcia," said the man.
Marcia smiled, playing her part of the game. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"
"I know all I command," said the man. "I especially know you, Marcia."
"What is your name?" said Marcia, flirtingly.
"You will call me The Commander." The Commander walked to the fireplace and put his hands in front of his robe. "It is a lovely evening, isn't it? A beautiful woman like you deserve a beautiful night. Do you like the fire?"
"I love it," said Marcia.
The Commander twisted around. His eyes connected with Marcia's. "My family built it long ago, before the war began. One of many places where I call home. It is part of my very soul. It can be yours if you do what I want. If... you follow my command... once more."
"How many men have you commanded, commander?" said Marcia.
The Commander smiled. "Too many. For many years, I've devoted my life to my entire race -- our race. I've held so much burden. I've dedicated so much so that one day humanity's children can breathe Earth's air and know that they are safe. But all this time, there has always been something missing. You see, Marcia, I long for a woman's touch, someone to rekindle the flames of lost passion that I have so long neglected. See, Marcia -- I, too, can be vulnerable."
Marcia looked at him. "Why me??"
"Because I love you. I have always loved you. You have always been in my thoughts ever since I set foot in the DNA modification chamber. I became what I am to protect you, Marcia. I have been waiting for you for too long." The Commander walked closer and began taking off his robe.
Marcia could feel his heat... his presence... which stood between her and the fire. It was as if his presence, his fire, was stronger than anything she felt before. "What do you want?" Marcia smiled.
"You know what I want, my love," stated The Commander.

At this point, Marcia had a decision to make. Would she accept his desire?
The following thoughts occurred in her head, some of which was unconscious:
She thought about him. She knew the following facts. He was a man of integrity, of abundance. He was an alpha male. Not only that, but he kept his word, and he loved her. He desired her and only her. He was someone she could open her heart to, someone she could spend a lifetime with. What's there not to like?
She blinked. She realized she had made that decision a long time ago. There was no decision to make.

Hot! Marcia smiled. "Take off your robe."
He smiled as well. He took off his robes, revealing a rather... sizeable endowment. Marcia licked her lips.
His body was perfect. He had great abs, a lean body, a nice tan, and his face was so familiar, yet so new.
Marcia reciprocated by quickly unbuttoning her shirt, letting her breasts free for the Commander to see.
The Commander smiled, again. He took her naked breasts as a sign to escalate the encounter. He came close and kissed her. His hands caressed her body, sending waves of pleasure through her.
His endowment rubbed against her crotch, teasing her.
"Take it off," said Marcia.
The Commander obeyed, pulling her panties off so that her wetness could be caressed.
"Lick it," said Marcia.
The Commander knelt, while Marcia spread her legs. His tongue explored her insides until she could no longer hold her anticipation in.
"Put it in me! Put it in me!" exclaimed Marcia.
The Commander started kissing her stomach, then her breasts, then her neck, then finally her mouth. Meanwhile, he entered her.
"Oh!!!" said Marcia. "Ohh! Keep humping!"
For the next minute, all she felt were all those manly muscles in front of her.... humping her in ecstasy.
She came closer... closer... "Ooooh! Oohhhhhhh!"

BATTERY LOW. COMMENCING AUTOSHUTDOWN, said big blaring words hovering in front of her.

The scene ended. Everything disappeared. The fireplace dissolved like a dream. The man vanished and, suddenly, she realized that she was still in her bunk in the marine barracks in the starship USS Bronzebeard.
"Whaaa?" whispered Marcia.
The neural interface headset she was wearing felt heavy on her head. One of the lights were on. "Battery at 1%" the light said. "Do you want to save the file?"
"Damn it!" she said. Next time I should charge the battery to full before I play another dating sim! I was getting to the best part!

While in the shuttle to get to the Bronzebeard, their Captain mentioned time aboard the ship would be theirs within reason. Some exercises would be happening towards the end of the trip so it'd be fresh in their minds. Alright, that made sense. But shouldn't they be doing light exercises to limber and warm up during the trip? Eh he'd keep himself warmed up until it was time to do the mandatory group exercises and drills.

Once the ship landed, the only indication it did was the ramp opening, the group filed out and lined up. Ah shit...speech time. A mental sigh and he stood at attention, despite the rigid posture his limbs were loose but his spine was tight. His eyes occasionally drifted, taking in the make-up of other squads. Their own was very...org=dinary honestly. Not to much in the tech department, the Gremlin of the Captain and mods being their only tech it seemed. Eh meant they were quieter and potentially faster...maybe. Who knew. But someone important was coming since no one was saying anything.

Some history was spoken, the group was partially introduced with their objective, the regulars weren't to know so hush hush, and now it was time to move. Drachen really wasn't one for speeches, he always believed actions spoke louder than words. The speech finished everyone was dismissed. Here the Captain escorted the four from the Hangar, through some halls, and to a door with an Ox head painted on it. Alright, at least they would know which door was theirs now.

With their barracks were a series of more private independent training facilities. But they would still have to go and train with the UEG Regulars, which honestly didn't bother him. Elitists did though, there was bound to be some on this ship, human nature and all that. They were dismiessed, so he plonked his gear on the bed nearest the door. His duffel was emptied onto his bed which held several sets of clothing, pieces of metal, and his armor. The armor was hung up properly in the standing locker, the clothes he tucked into the footlocker and slid under the bed. The pieces of metal were actually his axe, solid cylinders were screwed together with thick couplers over the joints to strengthen the weakest points and also provide proper grips for his hands. The head of the axe itself was unsurprisingly large, modeled after ancient bardiches. Judging by the extra pieces he could lengthen the haft if he chose to depending on spacing. Opening a pocket on the duffel out came a dozen throwing knives within a neatly bundled black bandolier.

His weapons, and extra length, were put in the locker below his armor before it was secured. Even if it wasn't a firearm you did not leave your weapons and gear just laying around. Helene was called into the Captain's officer, which earned a blink from him. It felt like she was getting a lot of attention, but was this good attention this time? It wasn't hit place to know nor ask, they had only just met today.

Fully unpacked he thought for a moment before going to the physical training room. He scanned the room, taking in the equipment before locking onto what he wanted. What was essentially a boxing ring with training dummies. It was doubtful they'd get into hand to hand combat, but it was always good to hone ones reflexes. So he set the dummy to Chryssalid speed levels with a moderate aggressiveness. After a few seconds of getting in the ring and letting the dummy boot up it came at him swinging.

He held his arms behind his back while the dummy swung, leaning out of the way of one strike, ducking beneath another. He had trained for several years like this, working his way up to this current level of speed despite his bulk weighing him down. Part of the trick wasn't to watch the 'hands' it was to watch the shoulders. Chryssalid's didn't exactly have footwork so you had to watch their shoulders to sort of predict where the next blow would come from and weave with it.

As the specialist spoke, the Captain sat with his hands clasped in front of him with his chin resting on them, listening to every word she said and measuring the way she said it. Initially she started off with a fairly monotone voice, protesting the way that the Corporal had targeted her was unnecessary while stating former Specialist Blackwell’s perceived error. Towards the end, she became more passionate, a good sign to Gardner, before she caught herself and resumed monotone, stating that good soldiers follow orders. Well hearing that’s a bit of a disappointment… Standing, the Captain strode over to a bar where he poured himself and the Specialist a glass of whiskey, approaching her and offering one of the two small glasses to her.

“Well, I had been hoping to hear your honest opinion on his discourse, I can understand your concerns for why you were targeted. However, due to former Specialist Ria Blackwell’s actions, command sent down an edict that ALL legacies be informed of what happened and warned through the story what would happen if any others got ideas.” Regardless of whether or not Helene took the drink, he went to the viewport, where Mars, and the section of the planet beginning to return to a green and blue hue similar to Earth’s, were in full view. “Officially, that was supposed to come from me. But the Corporal wanted to keep respect levels for me as the squad captain high, so he took on the responsibility.” Turning back around, Trent sighs. “He didn’t enjoy it, if you think he did, Weisser. He did it to cover the squad’s ass and to keep opinions of me high and, by extension, squad moral high.” He took a swig of the whiskey in his hand before beckoning to the door.

“If you’ve nothing else to say, Specialist, the time is yours until shipboard training begins. I just...remember that good soldier’s also still human. Next time a superior officer says speak your mind, I’d suggest you do it. I won’t always be around after all.” Meanwhile, Damian was still working on his revolver, though he did observe Drachen as he fought the training dummy.

After a few minutes, after watching how he handled a series of jabs from it, he spoke up. “You won’t get any better at hand-to-hand fighting a dummy set to fight like a dummy. Try the Muton or Viper settings. Those might offer you some insight on what we’re going to expect.”

Drachen kept his speed up to match the dummies as it continued to take swings and jabs at him. Damian, their Corporal, spoke up from where he was cleaning and maintaining his revolvers. A mental shrug and he turned his full attention back to the dummy as it released another flurry of blows that he bent and twisted around. His arms were still behind his back and he was just starting to work up a sweat before his superior officer spoke up.

A physical shrug was given to the man this time. "Work on the basics before working on more advanced techniques, Sir. If I can out speed them in hand to hand combat then they'll panic and get sloppy." He said, that was his thinking on the matter. Sure the Chryssalids were a savage species, no real rhyme of reason to their attacks aside from 'kill it', but their movement speed was the greatest or second greatest of the known alien species. Mutton's had the same physiology of a human, their hand strikes or weapon strikes would roughly be the same.

Granted Drachen did have technique, but he just wanted to focus on one thing right now. At the next straight punch he almost casually caught the dummies fist. His other hand came forward and palm-struck the chest which sent the dummy back several feet before it regained its footing. "If you wish to, Corporal, you can up the settings to whatever you wish." He said, pushing a button on one of the posts of the sparring ring to deactivate the training dummy.

Marcia entered the physical training room with a gun.

She was so sick and tired of the previous day's virtual reality sims that she just wanted to bust something. She opened her gun up, took some bullets out of her pocket, and then fed the bullets one by one into the gun's ammo chamber with enthusiastic hands.

Gosh, it's been a while since I've used a R68... but today I'm just gonna unload it on some practice target. There is nothing more satisfying than destroying something with real lead bullets.

She looked around, searching for a good practice target. She saw Corporal Damien and Drachen standing besides one of the practice targets. Nope, not that one. And then she found one of the training dummies that had bright targets painted on it. She inhaled, then walked to a distance of twenty feet, aimed, then pressed the trigger.

BANG!

She missed. One of the bullets struck the wall directly behind the dummy, totally missing the practice target. A scattering of metal-to-metal sparkling impact careened off the walls.

She fired, again.

BANG!

Missed, again. This time, the bullet struck one of the walls in the back, with more sparks.

She fired, again!

BANG!

Missed, again.

Gosh, I can't aim, today. My mind is just too filled up with crap that I can't even think well. And I'm supposed to be a proud owner of a R68? "You're going down, dummy!" She fired, again.

BANG!

This bullet smashed into the dummy's midsection, causing sparks to flare on the dummy's chest. The dummy took the hit like a punchbag and started wavering back and forth.

Yeah! Yeah! "I got em'!" said Marcia, smiling at the two men in the room. "Hey corporal! I finally hit! Yay me! Am I good or what?"

She fired, again.

BANG! BANG!

One hit. One miss.

She grinned. "Hey guys, I know I don't have the best aim -- but if i fire 5 times, I'm sure to hit at least two of them, right? It's all about numbers, right?"

Yeehaw! She kept firing. She emptied the clip in the general direction of the dummy, giving her some satisfaction after having hit the dummy at least three times out of 10. She smiled. Her day was getting better! She was feeling better. It was so satisfying... after a day of rummaging through VR sims and achieving nothing but getting totalled. The smell of gunpowder in the practice room reminded her that she was an active member of XCOM -- that she had power. It was enlightening.

"Yeah! Yeah!" She pressed the trigger. Nothing. She had no more bullets left. "Hey, you guys got some bullets for a standard R68? I wanna keep shooting!"