March 5th, 2015, 0900 hours

In-camera session of the United Nations Security Council

"Next slide, please. These are the best images we've been able to gather of the objects, mostly using ground-based telescopes. The vessels have destroyed any space-based assets we have used to observe them, including, tragically, the Hubble Space Telescope." Dr. Valhen's crisp English leaves little room for emotion, but the loss of the Hubble has clearly moved her. "We have attempted to communicate via broad-spectrum and narrow-band radio transmissions, but they have not responded in any way." She motions to the aide at the computer, and the slide advances.

"Since their insertion burn, we have detected thirteen high-altitude, high-speed objects, which have entered the atmosphere and then returned to space. Although we have received no visual data on them, I conjecture them to be spaceplanes of some sort, probably on scouting missions. As you can see on the map, they have primarily been overflying space launch facilities and military installations, except for these two, which appear to have been overflying major population centres." 

"It is clear that these vessels belong to some extraterrestrial intelligence. Another species, most likely, although they may be automated. We cannot know their intentions at this time, but their complete lack of communication and the destruction of our satellites does not indicate a friendly posture."

"Thank you, Doctor Valhen. 

I will not waste time. When this council began, it was not for such a purpose. But now we must go beyond our past arguments and understand that the world changed. We cannot approach such an extraterrestrial force as individuals. We must prepare a unified response, for all the world, to meet force with force and to meet peace with peace. I hope you will join me in recommending a coordinated effort between nations to deal with these beings.

I will now open the floor for discussion."

Normally the speaking order is by draw, but not for something like this. Deals have been made and need to be presented in the right way.

"Thank you, Chairman Levitte. The United States entirely agrees that these extraordinary circumstances require us all to work together. The unprovoked hostility of these aliens needs nothing less than a worldwide rejection. Friendly neighbors do not act this way, and there is no doubt in my mind that they will continue to aggress upon us until they are taught the error of their ways. We cannot sit here and hope that they change whatever they use for their minds without any effort from us. If they show they are willing to communicate, let them talk. But until that moment, we must treat them as our enemies. 

Humanity will rise to this moment. The United States proposes an international organization, reporting ultimately to this committee, to coordinate our military reactions to these invaders."

A nod to her aide sends him around with a packet for each ambassador, though the key ones should already know the contents.

"Mister Chairman, Russia stands against any attempts by aliens to invade our planet. However, although the distinguished representative from the United States speaks of an international organization, the documentation speaks of an organization established through a NATO command structure, with western personnel.

The distinguished representative is correct: this is a threat that requires a worldwide response. Russia supports this. However, Mister Chairman, Russia cannot allow this 'international organization' to be corrupted into a tool for expansionist NATO imperialism."

Pytor is not shouting, but he is speaking forcefully, and with theatrical distaste.

Xiu puts on a disappointed frown.

"Sadly, the distinguished representative of Russia is correct. The use of these troubles as a flimsy vehicle for NATO's naked ambition is all too apparent. The People's Republic of China cannot condone this. Better that we decide our own course than submit to any organization corrupted so."

She's restraining the urge to roll her eyes at that with the ease of long practice.

"Distinguished representatives, our proposal clearly includes personnel from every member country in this council. There are provisions for absorbing additional talented staff from wherever they are found. Certain organizational patterns and resources are drawn from NATO, yes, which is the only multinational military institution with the practice and experience in tying such a wide array of armed forces together. We need immediate action, not six months of debate over the details. This sets up a sound foundation with room to adjust as the situation requires." 

"Mister Chairman, Venezuela will not -- cannot -- support an international military force under American command." Juan Valero speaks firmly. "And although the distinguished representative from the United States seems perfectly willing to absorb talent and resources from other countries, the leadership of the proposed organization is drawn either from the United States or its close allies."

He continues, adopting a more conciliatory tone. "If the United States is actually trying to protect Earth, they must make a show of good faith, for instance by not giving overall command of the organization to their own Colonel Bradford."

"The distinguished representative from Venezuela speaks truthfully. The United States proposes a NATO-based organization, they propose to place their own officer in command, and they propose for this organization to act without any oversight except for this very council. Mister Chairman, this is clearly an attempt to increase American hegemony. If the distinguished representative from the United States wishes for us to consider this proposal, she should not attempt to have the organization commanded by an American officer, with his staff all officers from other imperialist western powers."

"Mister Chairman, the United Kingdom fully supports this initiative." Sir Matthew Woodward's voice was deliberately calm, the diplomat trying to bring the tension down. "We recognize in principle that we must compromise on a set of leaders which everyone can agree on." The plan didn't have any senior British officers, but the UK would be contributing several scientists and the support of their intelligence apparatus.

"We do state, however, that Colonel Bradford appears to be the man best suited for this job. He is of an appropriate rank to command a force of this scale, he has demonstrated tremendous competence in international exercises, and he is unique in that he has served previously with an air force and has an education in orbital mechanics. Our defenders will be weaker without him."

Moussa's deep voice seems incongruous with how quickly he speaks. "He must not be the only man qualified for the job? Colonel Bradford may give his experience to the team without leading it? Chad also asks that we consider a different commander."

"New Zealand recognizes that it is an absolute requirement that all nations are able to trust this force." By contrast, van Bohemen speaks deliberately, her higher voice clearly enunciating every word. "If all nations cannot agree on this colonel, by all means keep him as a senior officer -- but the commander must be a candidate everyone can trust."

Sir Matthew Woodward speaks next. "Although Colonel Bradford is eminently qualified, we recognize the valid concerns of the distinguished representative from the Russian Federation. We are willing to support a compromise candidate."

Woodward does not give an evil smile, because he is an experienced diplomat. Besides, he'd done all the evil smiling he needed to do in the backroom meeting with Amanda Sterns, where the candidate had been selected. "Major-General Sudlenkov Vasiliy Afanasievich, we believe, has all the necessary qualifications to lead a force of this size and importance." He was also, British intelligence believed, the least likely Russian candidate to allow the Kremlin to influence his decisions. But at the same time, he was a Russian candidate, and everyone could tell that he was hardly a NATO pawn either. Russia could hardly object.

Sterns isn’t smirking either, but she’s pretty sure her bland smile is annoying Churkin even more. 

Pytor Churkin had been given a list of seven names -- mostly Russian generals, but one belonged to an engineer. He had been planning on eventually relenting over Bradford's appointment, if it would let him get those seven names in the lower ranks of the new organization. He hadn't been told about this Vasiliy Afanasievich.

"The Russian Federation can agree to such an arrangement in principle" he hears himself saying, with formal sentence after formal sentence giving him some time to think. The Brits must have picked their candidate for a reason. But Pytor is boxed in: all of his arguments were against a NATO commander, and now they've offered him a Russian one. He can't say no. "I will, of course, need to forward this to the relevant military offices" he concludes. "Russia will formally respond to the proposal later today." Even as he says it, he doubts he'll be able to find an objection. A coordinated move from the US and the UK like this one -- and with Amanda's bland smile she must have been in the loop -- is bound to have been scrupulously well-researched.

After a few more countries voice their support he’ll table the issue pending Russia’s response. 

“Thank you, distinguished representatives, for your understanding and work towards cooperation. Given the urgency of the matter, we will reconvene in the afternoon for a vote.”

March 8th, 2015, 1030 hours

Situation Room, XCOM Headquarters

The newly-appointed Commander of XCOM eases into his chair. The last few days have been a whirlwind of activity. Even now, he can hear the construction crews working to excavate additional rooms. He gives a soft chuckle. It's perhaps the first time he's seen a military -- let alone a government -- work with anything approaching swiftness or efficiency.

The steel-reinforced door swings open, and the command staff walk in: his executive officer, John Bradford, his chief scientist, Doctor Valhen, and his chief engineer, Doctor Shen. He waits for them to sit down.

"Good morning, everyone. Welcome to the XCOM project. It is our purpose to coordinate global response to the aliens. The four people in this room are, in all honesty, the most important people in the world right now." He speaks calmly, as though stating simple facts, and with only a slight Russian accent. "I have news from an hour ago of alien activity in small towns across the world. Casualty counts are still being assembled, but current estimates suggest approximately one hundred killed or abducted. I know that there was some hope of a peaceful meeting with the aliens. Those hopes are dead. We can treat the entire alien force as hostile." His unwavering tone is assured, though he knows as well as anyone else the danger ahead.

"I'll be meeting with all of you individually later today, but I think it is a good idea for everyone to have some idea of what everyone else is doing. We need to be well-coordinated if we are to have any hope of final victory."

"I do have some good news. United States military has sent us an experimental transport aircraft, codenamed Skyranger." His begging for command over a ground force on every continent had gone unheeded, but the Skyranger was the next best thing. "I understand it was being developed as a successor to the V-22 Osprey. In its high-speed configuration, it can travel at MACH 4, theoretically delivering its cargo anywhere in the world in up to four hours, although in practice in-flight refuelling adds some extra time. Unfortunately, in high-speed configuration cargo space is limited. I understand we will only be able to deliver eight soldiers into combat."

The Commander turns to his XO. "Mister Bradford, could you please report on the state of our ground forces?"

"Yes sir." Bradford taps twice on his pad, bringing up an org chart on the wall screen.

"As of 0900, out of our assigned three hundred and seventy personnel, exactly twenty seven have arrived on base. Sixteen are support staff and nine are active-duty combatants. Only two of those have fought together before, both coming to us from the French 4 SAS company. Paratroopers, mainly. Reports say the rest of our complement is delayed; it's a devil getting any concrete estimates out of them but I don't expect to see a majority before the week's out. Maybe two-thirds of them over the next two weeks, the rest coming slower or not at all." Another tap grays out most of the chart.

"We did take delivery of two Panhard VBL ATVs, courtesy of the French Army. The rest of our vehicle pool is also delayed, including the construction equipment we need to build out the rest of the base. Apparently the contract has already been dumped through two different companies, I'm still waiting to hear back who I need to light up now.

Our charter grants us 'command privileges'" the phrase is draped with skepticism "over local national ground forces. My staff is in the process of setting up comms with them, and meeting resistance. Support from above on that would help.

Finally, we're in contact with special forces teams from France, the UK, the US, Russia, and India. I can't say how well they'll take any orders, but at least they're willing to talk."

Honestly, getting even that much done in the last 72 hours was a fucking miracle. Thank God he got to bring his own people to jumpstart the admin.

"Thank you, Central. If you give me a list of people who have been giving you trouble, I can make some phone calls or write some strongly worded emails. Can't guarantee anything I'm afraid, but my signature might inspire a little more helpfulness than yours." He considers the set of delays Bradford has listed, casting an appraising eye over the org chart. "With our limited transport capacity, getting more troops won't help us all that much in the immediate term. Your first priority is getting that construction equipment. We need this base operational as soon as possible. Getting the rest of the people and resources doesn't much matter if we don't have anywhere to put them."

He turns to his R&D team. "Doctor Valhen, Doctor Shen, how are your departments coming along?"

Doctors Shen and Valhen both give the other an opportunity to speak, then both begin at the same time. Eventually Dr. Valhen speaks first. "We've been hiring scientists and engineers, mostly from civilian university faculties. I've made a list of the equipment and supplies we need most urgently, and another list of less urgent resources. There's not much we can do before our construction crews finish the laboratory, but we have been analyzing all instances of satellites which were destroyed in orbit." She taps her own pad, sending a list of incidents to the screen.

"We believe that several Chinese satellites were also shot down, but they haven't broken official silence. If you can get us those reports, that will help. But examining the timelines, it appears as though satellites are being detected primarily by their radio emissions. Within a few days, my team should have a design for an observation satellite which communicates with the ground by laser. Along with the stealth coating that I believe Doctor Shen is working on, we should be able to detect and image alien craft without being immediately destroyed."

The Commander nods, a slight smile crossing his face. "That would be very useful. It would be difficult to fight the aliens if we didn't know where they were. I'll make sure to get you the Chinese satellite reports. Doctor Shen, do you have anything to add?"

Shen drums his fingers on his leg while he ticks off points.

"The coating's incredible, when we get it right. Which is one in five tries, right now, banging together scraps in the hangar. Won't get any better until we have a real workshop. Should hire whoever made the sample, it's quality work. Or ask if they can make us more."

A short pause as he looks at the corner.

"Can't say how it'll look to the aliens, don't know what sensors they have up there. Can say it's better than anything else I've seen. Or not seen, in this case.

Valhen's got the stuff I need on her list. Made plans for the shop, got some ideas for what to make next, sent you the notes. 

Just working on the coating right now, and doing interviews." He very obviously prefers one of these over the other.

"I'll extend your compliments on the coating to the gentlemen at Lockheed Martin." With some effort, the Commander keeps any trace of enmity from his voice. We're on the same side, he reminds himself.

"Right, over the next few days we need to get this operation up and running. Dr. Valhen, I'll make sure they start building your labs as soon as they have the construction equipment. Your workshop will be next, Dr. Shen, but until it's done you'll have to make do with the vehicle garage and sharing Valhen's lab." He taps his own pad, switching the screen to a map of the world with UFO contacts superimposed. "Now, I want to hear opinions on the alien fleet. I know there were forty-three large contacts, and many smaller ones. Valhen, Bradford, what can you tell me about their radar signatures? What would our best strategy be for shooting one down in-atmosphere?"

The meeting continues for half an hour, and then the four get back to their work. There's plenty to do.

"New contact, designate U-FO 1. North four-seven degrees five-five-point-two minutes, east one degree three-eight-point-five minutes. Altitude eight-zero-point-one klicks."

The screen-covered globe in the centre of Mission Control lights up with the contact as several radar officers wrestle with the incoming data, trying to get an accurate speed and heading. The ship is over France, but heading northeast, and losing altitude quickly. As it crosses the border into Germany, it's dropped to 18,000 metres and is continuing to descend.

"Never seen one go that low before. Their scouts usually stay around twenty-five klicks up. What do you think, Bradford? Is he landing?"

"Current course and present rate of descent hit Cologne dead on, sir. If it's not landing, it's getting close enough to drop something."

The Commander nods. "It looks like it. Garcia, get in touch with our Bundeswehr liason, I want local forces on alert in the area, and see if you can get us a radio link to some officer on the ground, so we can get some intel. Bradford, scramble a strike team to the Skyranger and prepare to launch on my orders." He frowns. "The U-FO's going upwards of Mach 5. Are there any fighters in the area with a hope of intercepting it?"

"Yes sir," Bradford thumbs his mic "Delta Squad, this is Central, load out immediately. Standard equipment, urban set, briefing en route to Cologne."

He taps again and listens for a moment. "Two Eagle-Cs scrambling out of Ramstein, six minutes out. Can't catch our bogey unless it lets them. I'm sure the French have something launching too but their Air Force still won't link into our network." 

The Commander shakes his head. "Figures. Nothing we can do about that now though."

"U-FO One has changed course and speed, new bearing eight-zero-point-two, new speed three-zero-zero klicks. Altitude is one thousand metres and dropping. Looks like he's coming in for a landing."

"That acceleration... the craft must have been subjected to thirty gees at least! Commander, this craft is most likely automated. A human-like crew would not survive that."

"Noted. Bradford, make sure to tell the crew they may be fighting robots here."

Delta Squad hurries to the waiting Skyranger, where several techs are performing various checks: landing gear, fuel levels, control surfaces. Eva's time in the FES ensures she's used to the idea of setting off on a mission at a moment's notice, but this is extreme even for her. She takes her seat, strapping on the four-point harness. From the deployment orders being issued over loudspeaker to her and the seven other on-duty soldiers sitting in the Skyranger took three minutes and fifty seconds.

Nor is she used to knowing so little about a mission. They haven't trained for this action, and will apparently be briefed in the air.

[EDITED: there are eight people in Delta Squad, not six]

"We have launch clearance." The pilot's voice hisses through the intercom. "Hold onto your asses, kids."

The Skyranger lifts out of its hidden helipad with more strength than grace, the heavy, lumbering craft pushing itself into the air with brute force. After it clears the treetop level, it begins to accelerate, its enormous turboramjets whining as it continues to pick up speed. Three minutes after takeoff, the craft has exceeded MACH 1 and is still accelerating.

Pierre isn't sure why they tapped him for team leader, but team leader he is. Once the Skyranger is in level flight -- still picking up speed, but not jumping into the air anymore -- he reaches out to turn on the small screen installed for briefings. Central Officer Bradford appears on video.

"Delta, you're our first chance to get a look at what the aliens are up to. The Germans say their ship touched down for less than a minute, then scrammed. The site is a warehouse cluster two klicks south of Cologne city center. Don't have to be a genius to think they left something, and I doubt we'll like it. Whatever it was pulled thirty gees on landing, so expect it to be tough. Top priority is recon, second is ruining their day.

There's some german MPs - Feldjäger - arriving on scene in the next ten, you'll be five minutes behind them, and then half a dozen units coming in over the next hour. We're hammering them about IFF, but on an op like this it's still a danger, even if it should be obvious who the enemy is. Stay safe out there and keep comms open." Bradford's image is replaced by several hastily collected images of Feldjäger uniforms and insignia. After a minute it switches to a satellite view of the area - eight warehouses wedged at odd angles between a park and a railway. 

"Rude of them to not land on a nice flat firing ground without any civilians, but that's why we have you."

The Skyranger swings around, killing its velocity. Switching to VTOL mode, it lands on a patch of pavement in the park. The rear ramp begins to lower.

"Out! Out! Out!" At Pierre's orders, Delta Squad begins running down the ramp and taking cover.

Eva is the third to leave the Skyranger. She takes up a firing position behind a car, resting her assault rifle on the hood.

Pierre is the last to leave the Skyranger. "B Section, overwatch. A Section, forward!" He himself is with A section, and dashes to a low concrete barrier as half the squad moves forward. He crouches, sweeping the street in front of him for hostiles. No sign of any civilians -- but also no sign of the Feldjäger. Seeing that all of A section has taken up overwatch positions, he waves his hand forward, signalling B Section to advance.

Eva and the other three members of B Section run forward, taking up positions behind some shipping containers. They've reached the warehouses, now, but their doors are closed.

A flat dirt area in front of the warehouse is broken and torn up in a 50 meter circle, rocks scorched black and tossed around. The immediate vicinity is quiet - they can spot a few people hiding in their cars and peeking through blinds, but no one is jumping to make introductions. 20 feet ahead of A section is a white van with the Feldjäger logo on the side and all its doors open, but no one inside, parked directly between the landing zone and the nearest warehouse door.

A section leapfrogs past B section, sweeping the blackened circle. Pierre sweeps the inside of the van with his rifle. Nobody's inside.

He turns to his team. "We need to breach the warehouse." Pointing here and there, he has both sections take up positions around the building, covering the doors with overlapping fields of fire. 

Eva takes up her position to the left of the door selected for breaching.

"Go! Breach!" Pierre is behind cover a short distance away from the door, able to supervise the operation.

The soldier on the right of the door kicks the door open and rushes into the warehouse. Eva follows.

A small monster, gray skin stretched tight over thin limbs, is crouched on the warehouse floor in front of three frozen Feldjäger. Its head snaps up, showing flat glassy eyes glowing a dull red. 

Then it dives behind a stack of crates while the MPs swivel in eerie unison and open fire.

Eva sees the guns come up and gets behind a steel box just before the bullets start to fly. Her partner isn't as lucky, catching a shot in the shoulder. Eva fires in the direction of the MPs, keeping her head down. She keys her comm.

"We have Feldjäger traitors, at least three!"

Andrew feels the shot in the shoulder. Ow, that stings, he thinks absently, but adrenaline is a wonderful painkiller.

The rules of engagement specified no weapons were to be used until they were shot at. XCOM is now being shot at. With his good arm, Andrew takes a flashbang from his belt and throws it towards the enemy.

"Pettersen, Yang, to me!" Taking two soldiers, Pierre begins running alongside the warehouse to another door, intending to flank the aliens.

One Feldjäger falls to Eva's bullets while the others to find their own cover. Andrew's flashbang makes that much harder - one trips and falls in the open, and his companion barely gets behind a pillar.

"Commander! That UFO turned around, it's coming back down! ETA four minutes to the LZ."

As soon as the flashbang goes off, Jonah rushes into the building, finding some lousy cover behind a waist-high tool cabinet and spraying bullets at the disoriented MPs.

Hoping the enemy is focused on Jonah, Eva gets up and moves deeper into the warehouse, trying to get to a flanking position or to spot and shoot the grey creature.

Arriving at the next door, Pierre has Pettersen take up a firing position by the wall, and then kicks open the door and rushes in, instinctively finding cover and scanning for hostiles. Yang follows him.

"Where are those Eagle-Cs? Any chance we can get air cover over the ops zone?" 

"They're on their way to the ops zone. Already at the extreme range limit of their missiles, and they'll be within optimal range once the U-FO gets close."

"Have the team stay in the warehouse, X-Ray CAS won't be much use for them if our guys are next to theirs."

The Commander pauses briefly. The Skyranger is a sitting duck on the ground. If he orders the Skyranger engines shut down, it might not be targeted -- but it will also be completely unable to escape. If the engines stay hot, it will be an obvious target for the UFO. "Tell Big Sky to take off and fly away at a heading perpendicular to the U-FO's current heading. If they're going to chase him, they'll have to abandon their own people."

Pierre and Yang see two MPs on the ground dying or dead, one pinned down by Jonah's fire, and, rather more importantly, two grey monsters right in front of them taking aim at Eva's back.

It's a beautiful shot. Coming in from the side, Pierre and Yang fire on the monsters. Their small stature reminds Pierre uncomfortably of children, but the glowing green weapons in their oversized hands show them to be dangerous foes.

Only one of them gets a shot off, a searing line of green light blazing from its weapon - and just past Eva's shoulder. Then they both go down in a spray of orange blood.

Eva turns away from the dead monsters, firing a quick burst in the general direction of the MPs.

"U-FO is on radar, climbing for missile launch." The two Eagle-C fighters gain altitude to increase their missiles' range.

The craft is coming down fast and not making any attempt at evasion or stealth. Heat glow builds around it as it falls through the atmosphere back towards Cologne.

Eva catches a glimpse of a purple nimbus building around the first alien as it scurries towards the back of the warehouse. Then it peeks out around a rack of crates and she feels a weight slam down on her thoughts, squeezing her brain inside her skull. All she can see is a brilliant purple light, getting brighter and brighter as it drowns out everything else, and the thunder of gunfire is muted as if heard through thick glass. 

"Fox Three, Second Fox Three." Two AMRAAMs fly out towards the UFO. A few seconds later, two more launch from the other fighter.

Andrew fires at the creature's exposed head, but it ducks into cover.

Eva tries to screw her eyes tight, tries to move, tries to figure out what's going on. Outwardly, she calmly turns her rifle on Andrew, and shoots him three times in the head.

Pierre sees the glow from the grey monster and realizes in an instant what happened to the MPs. He throws a fragmentation grenade behind its crate.

As the grenade explodes, Yang runs in, trying to shoot the creature before it recovers.

Still in cover behind the door, Emma Pettersen shoots an MP who was about to kill Pierre.

Yang finds a shredded pile of grey skin and orange blood, ripped apart by the grenade. The weight on Eva lifts and she sees Andrew fall.

A rapid descent turns into a rapid climb at a rate that would have killed any human. Still, physics cannot be totally defied and the craft slows down enough in the process that three of four missiles manage direct hits. Molten metal sprays across the sky, but the remaining four-fifths of the UFO rise out of range faster than any follow-up missiles.

The warehouse is suddenly still, echoes of the grenade still ringing off corrugated walls.

Eva drops to her knees, and begins uncontrollably sobbing. She isn't consciously aware of what she just did, but her hindbrain knows.

Dubois, Yang, and Pettersen sweep the warehouse, ensuring it's clear of other hostiles. One of the MPs is alive and uninjured, standing in a daze. Pierre shouts at him to drop his gun in terrible but intelligible German.

"U-FO leaving radar range. Awaiting further orders."

His gun slips through his fingers and clatters to the ground but he doesn't otherwise move, just standing in slack horror and staring at the bodies.

Pierre places the unresisting MP under arrest as adrenaline levels wear off. He keys his comm. "Command, this is Delta One Actual. Warehouse is secure."

"Roger that, Delta One. Tend to your wounded and then sweep the nearby buildings." The Commander turns to Garcia. "Any other airborne contacts?"

"None, sir. Luftwaffe fighters and AWACS have launched, and they aren't detecting any either."

"Understood. Keep the Skyranger in a holding pattern until we're sure the skies are quiet -- we don't want to leave it defenceless."