Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
Readers of my previous stories (all of which are linked in my sig) know that I have thus far posted fictional serials based on a variety of published D&D settings and modules. This story is different. It is based on a Neverwinter Nights (NWN) campaign that I ran during a big chunk of 2008. I have been running campaigns at the matchmaking site NeverwinterConnections.com since NWN was released in 2002, and currently I am running three games there that meet weekly.
NWN has a dynamic custom content community, which includes the D20 Modern Project, a group that has created a total conversion of the game for the modern setting. The X-COM campaign uses this system and builds on it. The module and this story are based on the classic 1993 game by Microprose Software. The module was originally created by a NeverwinterConnections player named Mulu, which I took and expanded for this campaign. For those who are interested, the module is posted at the Neverwinter Vault. I am currently running the same group through a sequel that I created, roughly based on the 1995 game, X-COM 2: Terror from the Deep.
This game was played by my Monday night campaign group, over the course of roughly 30 weekly two-hour sessions. I recorded all in-game player conversation logs during the campaign, and got permission from my players to incorporate their characters and dialogues into this story. Because the flow of comments in an online game are often disjoined, I’m revising them as I go and adding descriptions to create a more unified narrative. However, a majority of the dialogue in the story comes directly from my players. They are an awesome group of roleplayers and the story is dedicated to them.
Here are the characters and their players. The characters started at third level at the start of the campaign. A few of the players didn’t join until later in the campaign; we’ll get to them a bit later. I also trimmed out a few player characters who only attended for a few sessions before dropping out.
Vasily Kasprjak, Tough Hero/Daredevil, played by Smart Alec
Catalina De Farrago, Fast Hero/Infiltrator, played by vanya mia
Jane Swift, Fast Hero/Gunslinger/Sniper, played by Jenniza
Buzz Olloff, Fast/Smart Hero, played by TheBaldMan
Dr. James Allen, Dedicated Hero/Field Medic, played by chiz
If you want to follow the original game thread and its over 1000 posts, visit Neverwinter Connections. In addition to forum roleplaying posts between sessions (encouraged with bonus XP), I ran a “base building” game on the forum to simulate the strategic element of X-COM. Players chose which research and manufacturing priorities they wanted the organization to pursue, which affected the gear they had in the game. I’ve included a guide to this part of the game in the download at the Vault linked above.
Vasily Kasprjak dozed in the cavernous interior of the C-130 transport aircraft. The monstrous plane rattled and shook, its engines filling the interior compartment with a constant roar, but Vasily was not especially troubled by the din; he’d flown in old Tupolev bombers that had felt like they were trying to shake themselves apart.
Nor was he troubled by the men in khaki who sat across from him, who’d watched his every move since they’d embarked in St. Petersburg sixteen hours ago. They hadn’t exchanged more than a dozen words with him, and their hands never seemed to stray far from their sidearms, but the Americans just couldn’t seem to manage the level of cool malevolence that he was used to from agents of the FSB. That and he knew that if the Americans were willing to go through the trouble of flying this huge plane to Russia to pick him up—and the cost of two aerial refuelings to boot—then it was unlikely that they intended him harm. In truth, he’d probably become much safer when he’d stepped onto the American plane.
They had told him it was a glorious opportunity to serve the Motherland, a chance for new challenges, new responsibilities. Grim jargon, all of it. It meant, We're going to throw away the key.
He knew it had been coming, in the days following what was officially being labeled “The Kalinovskaya Incident.” People had died, some of them true patriots. Attention had been drawn to an operation that was supposed to go unnoticed. Objective Achieved, he'd made sure of it, but at a cost some in the organization had felt was too high. He had wondered what was to become of him. A desk job? Forced retirement? A teaching post at one of the Training Academies?
No. It was far, far worse than that. They were sending him to America.
The enforced solitude of the trip had given him a chance to make peace with the reality of his exile. He still had no idea just what this new international organization that he’d been assigned to was all about, but secrets were nothing new to him. You didn’t get far as a soldier in the Federalnaya sluzhba bezopasnosti of the Russian Federation without knowing how to accept orders without knowing their purpose. Of course, you also tended to go farther in the Federal Security Service when you didn’t report superiors for accepting bribes. Had it been an accident that his backup had been four minutes late arriving at Kalinovskaya?
A slight shift in pitch in the engines warned him before the aircraft started its descent. Wherever he was going, he’d find out what he was getting into soon enough. He kept his face as impassive and as dignified as he could. You may be the lowest of the low, they told every recruit, but it doesn't matter how high you climb - in the eyes of the World, You are Russia!
So now, as always, that's what he'd be.
* * * * *
“De Farrago, we have an assignment for you.”
The information had surprised her. She had struggled to hold down that and the elation, and display in the emotionless manner they were expected to maintain. She had responded with thanks, careful to use an even tone, while taking the rather slim dossier that now resided in her case. A liaison role would have been normal to begin with, and to put her in the field so soon was against policy. Now sitting and swaying easily with any bumps as the APC rolled along, warm and rather uncomfortable in the formal suit, Catalina ran her eyes over the people she travelled with. Her eyes wandered from the big soldier, to the rather hard-eyed woman, to the balding and bearded fellow, speculating idly on who they might be. So far there had been little conversation, and beyond accents she had no real information to go on.
“I cannot deny, this is soon for you to be in the field so actively, but your talents fit the desired profile sufficiently well to satisfy the official request, and frankly…” here the normally impassive face of the commander had wavered, “the information we have been supplied is a little… unusual. Were it not for the trusted relationship with our cousins across the pond…” He’d tailed off and coughed lightly. “For this reason, a full briefing is being withheld, you need to go into this with an open mind.” She’d listened, now concealing puzzlement, through the rest of the briefing concerning travel, contacts, reporting structures, plus the standard information on personnel arrangements and matters of protocol. It didn’t tell her a great deal, and nothing Catalina had learned so far had improved the situation. The flight across the Atlantic on a RAF BAe 125 had given her time to review the briefing folder, but that had only led to more questions. The plane had deposited her at Creech Air Force Base—she remembered that the Yanks controlled their drone aircraft from there, part of the ongoing War on Terror—and she’d found herself in an armored carrier without even a pause to adjust her makeup. The briefing documents were somewhat vague on her final destination, and the vehicle lacked windows to yield clues. From the way that the vehicle kept jostling her, it was somewhere that lacked proper roads.
“This is not an assignment for which we are going to pull a key agent out of the field. I’ll be frank, De Farrago, there’s a chance someone is trying to make a laughing stock out of the service, and that won’t do. So...” The commander had leaned forward with a severe expression at that point. “…we’re officially removing the limitations of the normal inter-agency exchange arrangement. You have license to learn what you can, however you can, and report back if you can.” He’d leaned back and tented his hands. “Don’t put yourself, or the service, in an unsafe position, but we want to know what’s going on, De Farrago.”
As the mystery surrounding this assignment deepened, Catalina found herself agreeing soundly with that sentiment.
* * * * *
Buzz was always the least-threatening looking "kid" among "grown-ups." Even now, pushing thirty, despite his receding hairline and the red goatee he’d finally managed to grow, much of the effects of puberty seemed to have decided to simply pass him by. The harmless look he had about him had gotten him out of trouble in the past.
He hadn’t been born with many advantages, but he’d developed skills that could have led to success. If it were not for his incorrigible propensity for finding his way around what others thought of as “secure areas,” he would have had a nice normal life; a life outside the rat-filled rooms of his childhood. Now he felt like one of those rats stuck in a glue trap.
In hindsight, he shouldn’t have been surprised when they’d finally come for him. He had told them he had meant no harm, trying to play on those childless features once again, but these guys hadn’t fallen for it. Even when they’d found his stash of removable hard drives he thought he’d get clear, but these guys had been good, good enough to break through even the encryption and other stuff he’d put on there almost as a reflex, security that even government spooks shouldn’t have been able to crack. In hindsight, maybe he’d been a little overconfident, a little careless. Into the back of a white van, why was it always a white van, he’d thought, and he was off out of the slums. And he knew no one would miss him.
He was tested, prodded and probed. His captures learned quickly to keep him away from anything electronic. He’d overheard one guard mutter in frustration, "That damn kid could jack into our network with a paper clip!" Buzz puzzled in silence about the possibilities of that while he fell asleep.
It was in the middle of the night that he was often awoken to "learn some real hacking" he was told. This meant bruises and bumps and blisters for the most part. Buzz was not use to such physical endurance his captors seemed to take masochistic joy in pushing him to his limits. It was weird, instead of just beating him down, after the first few sessions, the exercises actually started to seem like some sort of regimen. The ring around his gut started to fade, and the unhealthy white pallor of his skin faded to merely pale. The days and nights blended together with one burning question, "Who were these people?"
It was in the middle of pondering this question on night, as he lay pretending to be asleep and waiting for them to rouse him off to more training, that he would finally get close to an answer. His captors—he never did find out who they were—roused him, and had thrust him still blinking back sleep into an elevator that had deposited him into a garage. Buzz had smiled weakly when he’d seen what awaited him there: another white van.
* * * * *
Jane didn’t know why she was here. She wasn’t with the CIA any more, though she still worked for them, after a fashion, doing contract work as security for foreign dignitaries. That was all she was going to get, she thought, after what had happened. She hadn’t seen her file since then, but she knew there had to be a big red mark in it, and no doubt an extensive dossier from the psych evals that they’d put her through.
If only some one else on her team had seen what she had. If only there had been radar evidence, or a sat pic, or something else to confirm what she’d experienced. Or maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference.
People didn’t want to hear that you’d seen an alien.
Since coming off active duty, she’d been doing some fund-raising work. She’d gravitated to FOAA—no doubt another red mark in her file. A year ago she’d have laughed at the group, but after what she’d seen, Families of Alien Abductees no longer seemed as “fringe” as it had. Sure, there were lots of cranks that were drawn to orgs like FOAA, but to her surprise, there were others there, serious people like herself, others who’d experienced things like she had.
She wasn’t crazy, she told herself.
The orders recalling her to active duty had come as a surprise. The uniformed men in the black helicopter had taken her to a site somewhere in the Nevada desert, where she was transferred with very little explanations other than that the orders were confirmed by the right people in charge. From a nearly-empty base in the middle of the night she was transferred by a black van to another van and eventually to the armored vehicle that even now carried her across the desert to what she hoped was her final destination.
She looked around at the other passengers. There were five in all, including her. She discounted the man in black armor and dark camo in the front of the compartment, a carbine that Jane recognized as a late-model M4A1 with a SOPMOD kit attached slung under his arm. She knew better than to ask him questions, though she saw that he had a com unit with its telltale wire tucked into his left ear.
The other three passengers, however, seemed just as puzzled as she was by all the secrecy. There was a woman and two men, an odd mix. They’d barely spoken other than some curt greetings on being filed into the APC, but she’d heard enough to identify the woman in the suit as British, the big fellow as a Russian, and the other guy as an American, probably an inner-city kid of lower-class origin. Asking the obvious question of where they were going was as pointless as asking why they were all here. Still, wherever they were going it seemed pretty clear that they were going together, so it might be a good idea to get to know them.
Jane spoke up, "Name's Jane Swift. I guess I'm as clueless as the next as to why we're here. I suppose they wanted us to meet and get to know each other. I used to work for the CIA. Certed as a sniper, though I guess you could say I did a little bit of everything." She paused, and for some reason, found herself adding, “on the side I raised money for Families of Alien Abductees, a non-profit charity.”
The British woman, raised an eyebrow, just slightly, but she extended a hand. Of the four of them, she was the only one who somehow had managed not to appear a bit disheveled from the journey thus far. “Catalina De Farrago. Attaché to the British consulate.” After the slightest pause, she added, “Pleased to meet you.”
Jane shook the woman’s hand—she had a firm grip. She glanced at the red-haired American, and saw a flash of something in his eyes at her comment about FOAA—why had she said that? But when he saw her looking at him, he looked away.
The big man shifted slightly in his seat. “Kasprjak. FSB.”
Jane saw that Catalina recognized the reference, but the red-haired man apparently did not, or at least he betrayed no recognition. Russian Security Services, Jane thought. Interesting.
Now that they were talking, Catalina leaned back in her chair, grimacing slightly as the seat jolted under her. “Does anyone actually know where we are going?”
Vasily inclined his head at the man with the rifle. “Him?”
The soldier seemed to be ignoring their conversation, although Jane would not have put money on that being the case. He touched the earpiece. “Roger that,” he said, responding to whoever was speaking via the com unit. He didn’t quite look at the others, but after a moment he said, “We’ll be arriving shortly.” The pitch of the APC’s motor changed, and they felt themselves descending, the rough jolts of before smoothing out as they moved down some sort of ramp.
“Guess this is where it gets interesting,” Jane said, looking around at her new companions.
The APC came to a halt.
The soldier rose as they all heard the latches on the back door cycling open. “Okay, we’re here,” he said. “Last stop, everybody out.”
The Russian was the first to rise, straightening his weathered fatigues. The door opened onto a lighted area, and the others followed him out, ducking under the low overhang of the vehicle’s exit.
They were in a large garage area that was full of activity. The place, likely underground from the steep descent they’d taken in the APC, had metal walls, floor, and ceiling, old metal by the look of it, with bits of rust drifting down from the pipework that was suspended from the ceiling fifteen feet above. In addition to the APC they’d arrived on, there were two large trucks in the bay, which men in the same black uniform as their loquacious escort were busy loading with crates that other men were bringing in via a steady procession of flatbed handcarts. It was evident that the place was in the midst of being emptied, and for a moment the four newcomers just stood there, not sure where they were supposed to go or what they were supposed to do.
After just a few seconds, one of the men in black came over to them. “He’s waiting for you inside,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder to a recessed doorway on the far side of the garage.
“Inside,” Vasily said. Frowning, he headed in that direction, the others following behind. A soldier standing at the door watched their approach, talking quietly into a com unit. He opened the door, which had a round wheel set into it, resembling a compartment door on a warship.
The room beyond had been stripped of most of its contents, and they could see marks on the walls where panels and fixtures had existed before. A folding table with a large computer system atop it stood lonely on the far side of the room. A man in a black suit, white suit, and gray tie was working at the computer, but he quickly stood as the four entered the room.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “I am Garret. Michael Garret. United Nations liaison to this … operation.” He shook each of their hands, addressing them by name. “Sorry for the mess and the bustle. This was just our temporary home as we got organized. We’re about to move to a new facility not far from here that’s been specially adapted for our needs.”
He returned to the table with the computer, gesturing for them to follow, although there were no chairs anywhere in the room save for the one behind the table. Garret did not sit, however. “I understand that you have only just met, but each of you possesses certain skills that are going to be vital to the success of this operation. You have all been released by your parent national organizations to us, to help in getting this new agency off the ground.”
“Ah, sir, if I may ask, what is the name of this agency?” Jane asked.
Garret smiled slightly. “The official name is the Extraterrestrial Combat Unit,” he said, spreading his arms as if to encompass the entirety of the base. “But we’ve shortened it a bit for everyday use.”
/me waxes all nostalgic about the first x-com game...
__________________ D&D, frankly, is the most fun when you get your ass handed to you but you still manage to find away to come out on top of the pile of corpses, looking like a typical Conan novel cover. - joachim
Lazybones, I am sorry to say after following your writing for years, I could not get into the 4e story... I think it was a mechanics thing. This however; this I look forward to reading. This gave me flash backs to playing Top Secret back in the 80's.
I am looking forward to reading this story. It is different from your previous work and I think I'll be enjoying it. I had been a stouch follower of your previous stories. However, for some reason the Doomed Bastards did keep my attention and I have neglected to keep up with the stories that followed.
A bit of Sci-Fi, that'll be good and different. Looking forward for more.
Here are the player characters at the start of the campaign. For some reason I didn't have an original version of Jane Swift; the one here is her at the end of the campaign.
I captured all player chat in a file during play sessions. Ninety-five percent of the dialogue in these posts will be in the players' own words (I did delete a portion of the chats for space, but otherwise I only made edits to improve the flow of the narrative, or to correct errors in a few places).
* * * * *
Session 1 (April 14, 2008)
Chapter 2
The four recruits stared, blinked in surprise. For a moment, Garret’s statement was greeted only with a shocked silence. Garret lifted a hand in reassurance. “I know, I know. Really, it’s more of a research agency, at the moment. Although it may end up being much more.”
He pressed a few buttons on the computer keyboard, then looked up at them. “You’re going to learn some unusual things in the coming weeks, and will be out of contact with your sponsoring organizations for a little while. I ask only that you keep an open mind.”
He started toward the far wall, where another door—this one just an unremarkable slab of sheet steel—stood within a slightly recessed alcove. “We’ll be departing for the main base shortly, but I wanted you to get a chance to know each other first. And in all honesty, we’d like to see what the four of you can do.”
That sounded somewhat ominous. The four of them exchanged a series of weighing looks, then turned back to Garret, who was waiting beside the door.
“There is a gentleman in the next room,” he told them. “His name is Smith. Sergeant Smith. He will be able to direct you from here on. I will speak with you again once we get settled at the new facility. If you’ll excuse me…”
He turned and left, the door to the garage opening again at his approach. The four watched him leave, then turned back as the steel door ahead of them slid aside, rolling on some unseen mechanism that was recessed into the wall. For a moment they just stared, then Vasily, with a grunt, led them into the next room.
The new chamber was similar to the first, with empty sockets and connectors gaping along the walls, and marks on the floor that suggested that this place had once been crowded with heavy machinery. Now there were just two tables laden with several large white lockers, and a tall black man whose iron frame seemed to have been borrowed from an Olympic wrestler. He looked up as they came in.
“Good. I wondered if you were ever going to get here.”
“Yes,” Vasily said, while Catalina added, “As did we, sergeant.”
“Name’s Smith.” He jerked a thumb toward the lockers. “Go ahead. Lockers right there, they’re for you. Take whatever you need.”
“Yes, sergeant Smith, Jane said, walking around the bulk of Vasily toward the tables and the lockers. The Russian watched as she opened the nearest, a wary look in his eyes.
If Smith was discomfited by his hard stare, he didn’t show it. “This here’s a little… well, let’s call it an ‘entrance examination’.”
Jane whistled as she looked into the first locker. Reaching inside, she drew out a big rifle. “M110 semi-auto, chambered for the 7.62x51mm NATO round,” she said. “These are new, U.S. Army’s only had them for about two years, and only in very limited numbers.” She looked at Smith, who only nodded.
The others started looking through the crates. Vasily took out a Heckler & Koch G-36 assault rifle and several magazines, and efficiently loaded the weapon, tucking the extra clips into the pockets of his coat.
“Live ammunition?” Catalina asked, examining a Glock handgun with a practiced eye.
“As live as it gets,” Smith replied.
“What kind of… test… are we talking about?” Buzz asked. He looked inside the locker that Vasily was exploring as though it were full of vipers.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be watching you on the monitors. And the systems are non-lethal. Well, mostly.” He chuckled, as if he’d make a joke, although none of the others were laughing. He turned as another door opened, and another man came in. He was also African-American, but while he was in good shape, he lacked the general sense of danger that seemed to hang around Smith. “Ah,” the sergeant said. “This here’s Doctor White. He’ll be supervising the exercise.”
“A pleasure to meet you all.” He walked over to Vasily, holding a small white object. The Russian drew back slightly, his rifle shifting just incrementally, the barrel pointing toward the floor just between them. Smith growled something, but White let out an exasperated breath. “It’s only a wireless bio-sensor, it won’t hurt you.” He held it up, fastened and unfastened its velcro band. “See? We really are pressed for time here, our gear is supposed to be on the next trip to the new base, and I want to make sure the guys there don’t break anything unloading it.”
Vasily’s expression didn’t change, but he allowed White to fasten the white band around his left wrist. He had others for Buzz and the two women; Buzz was already poking at his by the time that White drew back beside Smith.
“There’s an elevator through those doors behind you,” Smith said. “It’ll take you down to the training area. You’ll hear my voice on the com system. Try not to get blood on anything.”
“He is joking, right?” Buzz hissed at Jane, who was strapping a holstered Glock to her right hip.
“We’re hardly dressed for an assault course,” Catalina said, indicating her own suit, which would not have looked out of place on the CEO of a Fortune 500 corporation.
“I not worried,” Vasily said. Indeed, he seemed much more at ease now that he was armed.
“You’ll be getting new duds, where you’re going,” Smith said. “I wouldn’t worry about mussing up that nice outfit.”
“Part of the exercise is to see how you respond to stressful situations,” White said. “I’m sure you will all do fine. We really have done this before.”
“Here,” Jane said, handing a pistol to Buzz, who was having some difficulty sorting through the available selections. “It’s loaded and chambered, just point and shoot.”
Vasily led them to the elevator doors, which opened to greet them. The Russian waited until the others had joined him. “You all … civilian?”
“In a way,” Catalina said.
“I know my way around firearms,” Jane said.
The Russian grunted. “Keep head down,” he said, pushing past Buzz, who’d been examining the elevator control panel. There was only one button, which he stabbed with a finger.
The elevator groaned and lurched into motion. It descended for only about ten seconds, finally stopping and opening to reveal what looked like a decrepit subbasement. Rusted pipes were visible along the walls and ceiling, and a tinge of rust and decay permeated the place.
“Lovely,” Catalina said dryly.
“Straight on ahead, ladies,” Smith’s voice boomed, coming from a speaker attached to the wall of the room ahead. “Watch your step, the cleaning crew doesn’t get down here very often.”
“After you,” Buzz said, smiling weakly.
“This is joke? It feel like… joke,” Vasily said.
“This is the U.S., do they do jokes?” Catalina replied.
“Jokes don’t usually involve live ammunition,” Jane said.
Vasily moved through the open elevator doors into the room beyond. His eyes scanned the surroundings, settling on a plain-looking metal crate situated near a steam pipe near the right wall.
“All right, select a direction, someone,” Catalina said. The lighting here was dim, but it was enough to reveal two exits, a corridor that branched out to the left, and a staircase that descended a quick flight to a door on the far side of the room up ahead. “If they want to play games, let’s play games.”
Jane had followed Vasily’s eyes to the crate. “Something wrong?” she asked.
“Crate. No rust.”
Catalina turned to look at it. “Hmm. He’s right.”
Buzz walked over to it. “No lock,” he said, reaching for the lid.
“No!” Catalina and Jane yelled together, but not before Buzz lifted the lid, and the crate exploded.
I seem to recall X-Com being rather high body-count among my troops--at least until I got the psi-amp and started dominating aliens to do my fighting for me. I look forward to seeing how that develops.
X-com. Now there's a term I haven't heard in years. Makes me want to dig out my old diskettes and see if it'll run on my system. Looking forward to reading this.
__________________ It may only be two cents, but at least it's MY two cents.
I was just wondering when we might expect to see this story hour continued. You have stated that you wanted to finish the Thunderspire one before hand. When might that be?
I was just wondering when we might expect to see this story hour continued. You have stated that you wanted to finish the Thunderspire one before hand. When might that be?
I will post the final update in the Thunderspire thread on Monday. I will resume this one then, and post initially on a M-W-F schedule.
I seem to recall X-Com being rather high body-count among my troops--at least until I got the psi-amp and started dominating aliens to do my fighting for me. I look forward to seeing how that develops.
The d20 Modern modification to Neverwinter Nights is very deadly, with relatively low thresholds for massive-damage saves. I had to make a few adjustments to the base system in my beta run, to keep characters from going down in one shot (very X-COMesque, but not so fun in a role-playing game). I also used a bleeding system that at least gave a fallen ally's companions a chance to stabilize a dying friend. Even so, firefights could be pretty nasty.
* * * * *
Session 1 (April 14, 2008)
Chapter 3
“Hrrrr,” Buzz groaned. He blinked and tried to get up, but everything spun around him.
“Careful,” a voice said. “Give it a minute.”
Buzz thought that was good advice, and after a few seconds, the painful brightness and spinning feeling began to recede. He looked up into the face of a stranger, a fit-looking man in his early thirties, clad in a dark coverall with a small red cross pinned to the lapel. “You a doctor?” he asked.
“Yep,” the other man said. “M.D. in Emergency Medicine from Harvard Medical School. James Allen. Nice to meet you.”
Buzz took the man’s hand, accepting his help as he stood up. They were still in the room from before, his other three companions watching him from a short distance away. He glanced back at the crate, expecting to see it in pieces, but it was lying on its side near where it had been when he’d opened it, black marks visible around the lid. “What happened?” he managed.
“Flashbang,” Jane said. “Looks like you got a full shot of it in the face,” Allen said, making sure that Buzz was steady before he let him go. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Buzz said. His head certainly seemed to want to live up to his name, but at least the ringing was starting to recede more into the background.
Allen put several implements back into the satchel that hung from his shoulder. He started toward the elevator, but Smith’s voice came over the speaker again, interrupting him. “Better stick around, Doctor Allen,” the sergeant said. “They might have need of your services again.”
Vasily watched the exchange with a neutral look. “No more boxes. We open door.”
The Russian led them down the steps. The iron door at the bottom looked like it was about a million years old. Catalina stepped forward, and ran practiced fingers along the jam, careful not to disturb anything. “It’s been maintained recently. Fresh grease on the runners.”
Vasily took the handle and gave it a tug. The door slid open, revealing a short hallway that opened onto a larger room beyond.
Smith’s voice followed them from the speaker. “There’s some friends in the next room, they might not play friendly.”
Vasily looked back at the others. “Stay here,” he said. He turned and made his way down the hallway.
“It would seem that our Russian friend believes he can handle the world on his own,” Catalina commented.
“Like hell,” Jane said, hefting the big rifle, slipping after him.
Vasily stepped warily into the room, which was about three times as long as it was wide, the far side deep in shadow where the light from the two flickering lamps in the ceiling failed to reach. There was some scrap metal scattered about, trash that looked like it had been part of a large heating unit at some point. The Russian turned as Jane entered the room behind him, frowning as the others came forward in her wake.
He opened his mouth to say something, but a deep metallic groan from the far side of the room drew his attention back around. There was movement there; he lifted his rifle, drew off the safety in a practiced motion. Behind him, the others were readying themselves as well.
But Vasily had never seen what came forward out of the darkness before. As the figures entered the light, he could make out metallic outlines, humanoid shapes that were clearly nothing human.
“Robots?” Catalina asked.
“Cool,” Buzz breathed.
Vasily didn’t share the sentiment. He took aim at the nearer target, but before he could fire, he heard a hiss and felt something sting him in the gut. He looked down to see a pair of wires there, just as he felt a surge of electrical energy that blazed through his body like a runaway fire, blasting him off his feet.
Vasily grunted, pulling his shirt back down over the mark left by the taser. The device had been set to relatively low power, to stun rather than render unconscious, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt. Taking up his rifle—which still hadn’t been fired—he ignored the lingering pain as he got up and rejoined the others.
Buzz was still poking around the wreckage of the two—robots? Vasily was growing somewhat impatient. The things had caught him off-guard, but they’d responded to weapons fire as though they’d been human; likely they’d been programmed to simulate damage effects. He recognized the sophistication of it, even as his patience continued to ebb.
“Let us go,” he said, leading them to the next door.
They left the room and entered a crowded hallway, with several thick conduit pipes crossing the passage. There was a sickly sweet stink in the air, just strong enough to be unpleasant.
“Gas,” James said. “We probably don’t want to spend longer down here than we have to.”
The corridor continued, until they could see that the passage ended in another door up ahead. This door, unlike the others they’d used, had a lock set into it next to the handle.
“Door. Is lock?” Vasily asked.
Catalina drew out a small metal nail file. She ran it over her nails, then walked over to the lock. Grimacing at the dirty floor, she crouched next to it, probed at the lock with the file, then drew out a pin from her hair. Using both impromptu tools together, she poked at the lock for about twenty seconds, then stood, and smiled. Vasily leaned in, and grabbed the handle; the door drew open at his tug.
“Hm. Good.”
“Thanks.”
The room beyond the door looked like it had once been a repair bay or somesuch; it was difficult to tell with all of the heavy equipment removed. A few unused power cables dangled from fixtures in the ceiling. Another passage led off to the left through another doorway, this one standing open.
Smith’s voice sounded over another speaker set into the ceiling. “There’s a big bad robot blocking the way up ahead. He’s waiting for your to arrive. Guns might work… or maybe you can find something in that box that can help.”
“There,” Catalina said, indicating the crate lying on the floor under the speaker. She walked over to investigate, keeping her distance.
“You want to deal with the box, Catalina?” Jane asked, coming up to join her.
“I’ve no tools with me, which is making life difficult. This one doesn’t look like a hairpin will work.” She pointed to the locking mechanism on top of the box, which had a small numeric keypad attached and no apparent keyhole.
Jane drew the bolt on her rifle, and pointed the barrel at the lock.
“Hey! No! Box may have explosive…” Vasily yelled, but he was cut off by the sound of the rifle shot. Catalina simply looked at Jane with an open-mouthed look of horror.
“There you go,” Jane said. “Next time I ask, there’s your choices.”
“Would have been a good idea to make it clear to begin with, you trigger happy moron,” Catalina muttered under her breath, as Jane bent to examine the contents of the box. “Hmm. Grenades, explosives.” She handed up a package to Catalina, who took it, after a moment. “Anyone else want grenades?” Jane said, holding one up.
“Surely these aren’t real?” Buzz asked.
“Training gear, but same as real as far as robot concerned,” Vasily said. “You think you can make ambush for robot?” he asked Catalina, who was still examining the explosive device Jane had given her.
“I’m afraid explosives aren’t my specialty,” she said.
“Give it to Igor here,” James said, motioning to Vasily. The Russian sent a hard look at the doctor, but finally said, “Give me explosives. I try set trap.”
They made their way down the other passage, which bent to the left after about fifteen paces. Vasily progressed to the intersection, peered around the bend. “Okay,” he said. “Robot in next room. I set trap, you bring it through here.” He handed his rifle to James, who accepted it after a moment’s pause. While the others went on ahead, he knelt at the corner, focusing upon the device, pulling out a tripwire from the mechanism, looking for a place to anchor it. He wasn’t having much luck when there was a clank and clatter from ahead, followed by the rattle of automatic weapons fire, punctuated by the deep cough of single shots.
Catalina was the first back. “Too late, it’s seen Calamity Jane.”
“Incoming,” Jane said, with Buzz and James right behind her. They bypassed Vasily, careful to avoid the tripwire he’d strung across the corridor. The Russian cursed as he tried to find the trigger to arm the bomb; he wasn’t familiar with this particular type of construction. The loud thump of the robot’s tread drew steadily louder.
“Fifty feet,” Jane said, glancing around the corner.
Vasily felt his fingers slip, but it was too late to do anything but close his eyes as the explosives went off in front of him. The simulated blast was only about as strong as another flashbang, but it blinded him, searing his hands and face with the force of it. He fell back, dazed. He could still hear the others shouting.
And the tread of the training bot, which came ponderously around the corner, right into the midst of the new recruits.
SERVER : [DM] Vasily Kasprjak : Demolitions Check, Roll 1d20: 3 + Modifier: -4 = Total: -1
The bot was twice the size of the man, and its servos whirled loudly under a shell of plate armor that covered most of its body. It was armed with tasers that it fired at point-blank range, striking Catalina and Jane. Both women screamed and fell, Catalina banging her head on the nearby wall, while Jane dropped her rifle and crumpled into a heap. The bot came forward, almost stepping on Vasily’s hand as the Russian tried to recover from the explosion he’d inadvertently set off.
With a whistling noise the bot drew the taser cables back into its torso, turning toward James Allen, who was backpedaling away from it, his eyes wide. It had missed Buzz entirely, who’d fallen back against the far wall, still trying to blink away the flare from Vasily’s bomb. As the bot started forward again, right toward the fallen Russian, something just snapped in him; he rushed forward, and grabbed the access port that sat squarely in the center of the robot’s lower back. A confused welter of wires and gears was visible.
He reached in and started yanking. Something flashed, burning his hand, and he screamed in pain. He kept on screaming as he drew out the handgun that Jane had given him, held its muzzle up to the opening, and pulled the trigger.
There was a flash, a loud noise. Suddenly the bot stiffened, and slumped over.
“Very cool,” Jane said, as quiet returned to the corridor. She extended a hand and helped Vasily to his feet.
“Neat work,” Catalina added.
When he could see and hear clearly again, Buzz took a closer look at the hole in the giant robot’s back. He saw that his wild shot had penetrated what looked like a control box set right in the guts of the thing’s torso. Tendrils of electricity still flashed around the opening.
“We’re lucky someone wasn’t killed,” James said. “This is getting ridiculous.”
“All right, looks like you kids get to call it a day early,” Sergeant Smith’s voice came from the speaker in the room behind them. “Too bad, we had a pool on how many times you’d each ‘die’. Come on ahead, it’s clear back around to the elevator.”
There were more than a few muttered growls in the direction of the speaker, as the battered recruits gathered together and made their way to the exit.
Or more accurately, Catalina thought, we stink. They hadn’t been offered the opportunity to shower or change their clothes at the staging base, which had continued to come apart around them following the training exercise. All that Sergeant Smith had told them was that they’d have a chance to rest and get cleaned up once they made it to the new base.
Of course, there was no telling when that would happen. They’d been in the vehicle for at least two hours already, the ride just as jouncy as their original trip to the staging base. Most of them looked as miserable as she felt, although the Russian was slumped back in his seat, and appeared to be snoring.
By the time that the vehicle rolled to a stop, she thought that she would have traded her pension for five minutes in a hot shower.
Vasily woke without having to be prodded, and he was the first to the door when the latches popped. The five of them—James Allen had come with them—disembarked onto a barren expanse of rocks and sand. It was about an hour before dawn, and all that they could see was a line of vague shadows that might have been mountains far to the northeast.
“Over here,” Jane said.
They followed her around the vehicle, where they could see a squat metallic structure half-buried in the ground. It didn’t look like much, maybe twelve feet by twenty. A dark slit appeared to be a staircase or ramp that led down into the interior. A man emerged from that opening, clad in a pale khaki uniform and body armor, his face shielded by a visor that extended across the opening in the front of his helmet.
“Hey, rookies,” he said. “They’re expecting you. Go on inside, the lift mechanism’s set for manual activation.”
“There better be answer inside,” Vasily growled. Catalina looked at him; apparently the Russian was becoming grumpy. “It would indeed be nice,” she said in agreement.
“This getting stupid,” he said, heading toward the opening the soldier had emerged from. The others followed. Behind them, the guard spoke quietly into his throat mike. “Security authorization, roger. The newbies are here.”
The building’s interior contained nothing save for an open-sided lift in the center of the space, its corners marked by steel shafts that extended up to the roof. There was a control panel that rose on a strut at one corner of the lift. The five of them stepped onto the platform, and James pressed the lower of the two buttons. The lift activated, descending into a shaft that took them down into the earth.
It took them a good two minutes to reach the bottom. There was a metallic grate there blocking the exit, which drew up into the ceiling as the lift settled.
“Couple of hundred feet,” Jane noted. Catalina nodded, she was glad that the others were paying attention.
The man who was waiting for them behind the grate was dressed in a uniform similar to the one worn by the guard above. He was older, probably pushing fifty, and had a weathered look that bespoke experience hard earned. “Welcome,” he said in greeting. “I’m Mark Hallorand, Base Chief.”
The five made their introductions, although it was pretty obvious that Hallorand knew who they were. “I know you’ve come a long way, and I imagine that you’re a bit tuckered out from your trip. So I’ll show you the barracks, give you a chance to get some rest, a shower.”
“Thanks, that would be appreciated,” James said. Catalina thought it was the answer to a prayer, but she kept an eye on the others. Buzz was looking around, his bright eyes taking in everything, while Vasily still looked like his features had been carved out of solid rock.
Hallorand led them into a hallway that connected to the lift room. There were a pair of armed guards there, who gave the newcomers a thorough looking over as they passed. “When you’re ready, I’ll arrange for a little tour of this facility,” Hallorand was saying. “I’ve gotten word that Director Garret is going to have a briefing for you tonight, but plenty of time before then.” He turned at a steel door. “I know you probably have a lot of questions, but I’m sure the briefing will answer them. I’d just like to say, welcome aboard.”
“Thanks,” Jane said.
Hallorand pressed the control panel to the right of the door, and the heavy steel slab slid open. “I can say that we’re all pretty new to this,” he told them, leading them into the brightly lit room beyond. “This base has only been operational for a few weeks.”
The five recruits blinked as they looked around the room, which had been decorated to function as a nicely apportioned lounge. Several deep padded chairs flanked two doors to their left, while to the right there were two large round tables surrounded by more chairs, a couch, and of all things, a small piano, which looked rather out of place. The far side of the room had another door and a long counter, which supported a few cabinets, a microwave, and a soda dispenser. A portable stereo system had been set up on the end of the counter.
“This is our rec room,” Hallorand explained. “Over here on the left are the briefing room, and the communications center. I’ll show you the commissary after you’ve rested. If you want a snack, there’s a variety of instant meals near the micro.” Catalina felt her stomach grumble at the reminder that she hadn’t eaten since the flight—how long ago had that been? But she stifled her complaining stomach and followed Hallorand to the far door.
That one opened like the first, and led onto another long hallway with doors on both sides. She recognized the universal symbols on the doors to the left, the familiar white-stenciled outlines of a man and a woman, but Hallorand opened the first one on the right. “This is your barracks. New quarters for Alpha Team. That’s you lot.”
Catalina took a look. The quarters were spartan at best, with tiered bunk beds running down the long, narrow room in a row on one side, with plain metal lockers opposite. There was a poster stuck on the wall, depicting a very scantily clad blonde woman posing at an improbable angle.
“Shared?” Catalina asked.
“Sure, why not?” Jane said. “If the guys aren’t embarrassed by bras and stuff.”
Catalina smiled. “Well. At the very least, we will need a fireman calendar to balance… that.”
“But you said the showers work, right?” Buzz interjected.
“Yes,” Hallorand responded. “Men’s and women’s restrooms, with showers, are just across the hall. And there are privacy screens that pull out, divide this room into smaller compartments. Unfortunately we just don’t have the space for individual quarters at this point, things are even more packed for the base crew and technicians, believe me.”
“I just hope no one snores!” Buzz exclaimed.
“I’ll try to keep it down,” Catalina replied dryly. She headed to the far end of the room, and stopped at a locker that had her name on it. “Hmm. Well, isn’t this… basic,” she said, pulling out a plain coverall uniform. “Ah, our luggage!” she said, digging deeper into the locker.
“Your personal possessions were forwarded here. We’ll get you fitted out more properly once you get settled in,” Hallorand said. “Remember that this entire base was empty just two weeks ago.” He checked his watch. “I have to attend to a few things, I’ll come back for you around noon, for that tour. You may hear a few unusual noises, nothing to be alarmed about. We’re still building out parts of the base.”
The chief paused at the door. “Grace Thelon, our engineer, will be by with IDs and communicators by the time you’ve rested. Until you get the IDs, best not to wander around too much. Go ahead and use the lounge, if you want.”
“Any computers around?” Buzz asked.
“There’s a few laptops in the rec room, but local access only, I’m afraid. No hookups to the Internet. I’ll see you all at noon.”
Once he had left, and the door had swung shut, Vasily shook his head. “If anyone have idea what this about, please tell.” He was obviously tired, his accent thickening until the others could barely decode it.
“James?” Jane asked. “You were here before we were.”
“Only for a day,” he replied. “There is some threat, something related to the reports of aliens in the press. Other than that, I know about as much as you do.”
“Don’t look at me,” Catalina said, “they refused to brief me properly. ‘Necessary to keep an open mind,’ I was told.”
James looked thoughtful. “Well, either there actually are aliens, or… something stranger yet.” He shrugged. “I’m guessing we’ll find out soon enough.”
“Well, all I know is that I need a shower,” Catalina said, taking her toiletries bag out of her locker. “Excuse me, gents,” she said with a smile, heading for the facilities.
This place is huge, Jane thought, as they returned to the rec room. Hallorand had been as good as his word, taking them all over the complex. It looked as though X-COM had taken over an existing facility, as some of the infrastructure had been pretty dated, but they’d also been shown rooms that looked as though they’d been bored out of the bedrock just minutes before. The laboratories and workshops had been impressive, even though a lot of the components were still sitting around in boxes and crates. The commissary-slash-kitchen had been simple enough but the food had been decent; Hallorand had commented on the importance of having a good cook for the morale of any large organization. He seemed to know his business; after talking to him for a while, she guessed that he’d been an officer in a military logistics command.
She turned the small communicator over in her hand. Grace had called it an “xPhone,” and in fact it did resemble the consumer device that was all the craze now, with a touch screen and a sleek matte finish. But while Grace had only given them a brief summary of its features, she knew that there was more to it than met the eye.
The same could be said for all of this, this entire thing, X-COM, the base, the still-mysterious mission. She was perhaps a bit more open to it than the others, because she’d seen, she knew already, what was coming.
She glanced over at Buzz, who had already managed to get the back off his xPhone, and was poking around at the innards. Catalina was reading a file on her device, sitting on the couch with her feet up; James and Vasily had gone off somewhere, maybe to the firing range that Hallorand had shown them during the tour. She turned on the phone, and opened up the folder she’d only glanced at earlier.
X-COM Operations, she read, and started looking for answers.
It was a little after six when their xPhones chirped, indicating that it was time for the briefing. The conference room just off the lounge was decorated with a long table, its rich faux-grain top contrasting with the recently-installed paneling that covered the walls. Twelve black office chairs were lined up around the table. A laptop computer hooked up to a twenty-four inch monitor stood at one of end of the table, while a large LCD screen dominated one of the walls, with a bank of touch-input screens jutting out in a row beneath it.
The room was already occupied by a half-dozen people. Michael Garret stood at the table next to the computer. He nodded in greeting as the new recruits of Alpha Team filed in. “Ah, good. All settled in?”
“Working on it,” Vasily said, pulling out a chair. The others sat next to him, facing the wall screen.
“I believe you already know Grace, and Stan White, our chief medical officer. Allow me to introduce Doctor Kimberly Wagner, head of our research department.” The woman standing next to the wall screen was tall and blonde, in a white lab coat over a black blouse and trousers, stunningly attractive despite the subtle advance of years evident in her features. “Charmed, I am sure,” she said, a thick German accent tilting her syllables.
Garret continued the introductions, indicating a woman with long brown hair, dressed in jeans and a sweater, sitting near the far end of the table. “Doctor Jean Beauvois, our counselor.”
“Pleased to meet you all,” she said.
Garret indicated a young Asian man standing behind Beauvois. “Down there at the end, Ken Yushi. He’s a pilot, and more specifically, he’ll be your pilot, in Skyranger-1.”
“Skyranger?” Vasily asked.
“Ah, you’ll meet that member of our team a bit later,” Garret said. He turned to the woman seated next to him, the last to be introduced. She was a lean woman, dressed in a smart black suit, her hair cut short. She had a laptop in front of her, which she snapped shut as Garret spoke. “This is Agent Inise Drake.”
“Federal Bureau of Investigations,” Drake said, her words clipped.
“I am certain that all of you are curious about why you are here,” Garret went on.
“I think some of us had registered a passing interest,” Catalina said.
“I only had a chance to speak with you briefly at the staging base,” Garret said. “Let me explain, then, what it is that X-COM is about. Doctor Wagner, if you wouldn't mind providing some context?”
Wagner nodded, and turned to the control panel under the large wall screen. As she touched the controls, graphics started appearing on the screen to accompany her words.
“We have little hard data about our enemy,” she began. “A few months ago, we started picking up unusual readings from our various orbital devices. Space station... some secret arrays as well.” Images of the ISS, a map of satellite orbits, and various depictions of the Earth as seen from space cascaded across the screen. “Very fast, like nothing we had seen before.”
The new recruits leaned forward in their chairs as a grainy, pixelated image appeared on the screen: an oblong disk, with a fat bulge protruding from its center.
“Various air forces attempted to intercept these, for lack of a better word, ‘UFOs’. There were a few encounters. Russian air force, China’s, and American. Let us just say that those encounters did not end well for us.”
The FBI agent’s stare was penetrating as she looked at the new members of Alpha Team. “Your job is to make sure that subsequent outcomes are more favorable.”
“Agent Drake is our liaison with our host government,” Garret said. “We are on American soil, although technically, X-COM is an extraterritorial entity.”
“Yes,” Drake said, “I am here to ensure that the United States government’s investment proves fruitful.”
A few of the team members shared looks. Catalina locked eyes with Drake, a staring match that was only interrupted when Wagner said, “The briefing, I am continuing, yes?”
At Garret’s nod, she pressed another button on the console, and another image appeared, one that looked like the scene from the end of a war movie. “This, we have kept quiet.”
The attention of everyone in the room was drawn to the screen like metal filings to a magnet. Doctor Wager continued, “This has been the worst incursion to date. An entire military base wiped out, in western China. The Chinese have not been especially forthcoming, but we've confirmed that this was the work of our unidentified ‘friends’.”
“Whoa,” Jane said.
“When did this happen?” Vasily asked.
“Seventeen days ago,” Garret said. “Doctor, tell them the rest.”
“There have also been incursions. Landings. At least sixteen worldwide. Some animals, and a few people, have been ... taken.”
“Sixteen that we know of,” Agent Drake interjected. “Some may have gone unreported.”
“That is likely, Agent Drake,” Garret acknowledged. “All we have is some grainy surveillance photos. Their ships are like nothing any human government has ever built. And their occupants…”
He nodded to Wagner, who brought up another picture, a grainy, long-distance shot, depicting a small humanoid figure. It was impossible to make out any details given the poor quality of the picture, but all of them leaned forward, peering at it.
“We are calling them ‘Sectoids’ for now,” Wagner said.
“You’re telling us that the Roswell paranoia that the media’s been going on about of late is true?” Catalina asked.
“There has been a lot of reports in the media, most of it wild fancy,” Garret said. “Thus far, the leading world governments have been reluctant to confirm or deny anything.”
“None of this information leaves this room,” Drake said.
James leaned back in his chair and let out a held breath. “Aliens invading and abducting humans. Wow.”
Wagner pressed a button, and the pictures vanished. “This is the mission of X-COM.” Bullet points appeared on the screen to match her comments, under a logo depicting the name of the organization. “One. Investigate and gather data.”
“Part of our job is to find out what we don’t know,” Garret said.
“Two. Research and analyze.”
“You’ve seen our labs,” Garret said. “We need to collect whatever hard data we can find, and figure out what makes these ‘Sectoids’ tick. That’s why several of you have been invited here. You have certain skills in this area that will be vital to our operation.”
Wagner stabbed at a button. “And finally, three. Intercept. Destroy.”
Catalina quirked a brow. “No ‘take me to your leader’?”
Garret’s expression was grim. “We’re not primarily a military organization. But Earth’s best militaries have proven ineffective against the Sectoids.”
“They don’t appear to be interested in communication,” Drake added. “They have ignored all attempts thus far.”
“We’re not above talking to them,” Garret said. “If we can figure out what they want.” He drew stare down the row of recruits. “You five are more than just our Alpha Field Team. You all have talents beyond firing guns and tromping about in heavy boots. You have seen what we have... but what we don't have, is a government bureaucracy. We're small. Our resources come as donations from the countries that comprise our consortium. We have a limited remit... and a lot of accountability. You will be given access to all of the data we’ve collected thus far, expected to assimilate it, and to participate in the mission profiles and the setting of priorities.”
He paced around the edge of the table, rested his fists on its edge. “X-COM has fewer than 500 operatives worldwide. We’re bringing in people as we speak. Scientists. Engineers. Soldiers. We’re building state-of-the-art research and manufacturing facilities here, and at our other operations centers around the world. The threat is real, and we’re going to do our best to confront it. “
He leaned back, sighed, in that moment looking more human than he had since they’d first met him. “I know it’s a lot to take in. Take the rest of the day to get settled in. Chief Hallorand will take you to Musa Babatola, our quartermaster; he’ll get you set up with uniforms and other gear. Doctor Wagner will send you the briefings via your xPhones, along with information about our current research and manufacturing priorities. If you have any questions, send them to the respective department heads. We’re busy as all hell right now, but we’re going to make this a team effort.”
FROM: Kimberly Wagner, X-COM Research Chief
TO: Alpha Team
RE: Research and Manufacturing Priorities
Team members: per our briefing earlier today, you will be asked periodically to provide input on X-COM mission priorities. Director Garret has expressed confidence that your particular skills will help us to maximize our limited resources in these areas.
I shared two of our current research projects at the briefing, and Chief Engineer Thelon has asked that I apprise you of a third option that she believes can yield long-term dividends.
For research, here are our current open projects:
Laser Weapons: Preliminary reports indicate that current-generation weaponry may be of limited utility against the "Sectoid" menace. We believe that we can develop man-portable weaponry from current advanced laser technology under development at DARPA, the European Scientific Colloquium, and the Advanced Technology Labs at MIT. The development of weapons will take time, but our research team indicates that this work is a necessary prerequisite toward the development of higher-order weaponry.
Motion Sensor Technology: Doctor Sandesh has already developed a proof-of-concept prototype, based on a motion-detection technology used by the British S.A.S. Dr. Sandesh has suggested that this technology, once perfected, may yield useful battlefield applications.
Heavy Weapons Platform: Chief Engineer Thelon has submitted a brief for the development of a HWP based on the U.S. Army's TALON remote platform used in the Iraq War. Our plans involve the development of this technology into a semi-autonomous, compact armored weapons platform, capable of accompanying X-COM operatives into combat situations. The advantages of such a technology should be obvious. Engineer Thelon's brief includes two possible models, one mounting a 20mm semi-automatic, armor piercing cannon, the other a 40mm grenade launcher.
Naturally we will continue to pursue all of these projects as practical, but it is necessary to select priorities for this organization.
Another message regarding manufacturing priorities will be sent shortly. I understand that you are about to commence a field operation, but get back to me when you can with your input.
Quote:
FROM: Kimberly Wagner, X-COM Research Chief
TO: Alpha Team
RE: Research and Manufacturing Priorities (continued)
Here are our manufacturing projects, as submitted by Grace Thelon, X-COM Chief Engineer.
Base Capacity: As you know from your initial tour, the X-COM facility is still under construction. We are continuing to develop the site, and have three areas where we can expand our capacity. These include: a) research capacity; b) manufacturing capacity; c) medical capacity. Improvements in these areas will expand our ability to respond to future developments.
Base Defense: As stated in the mission briefing, we have not fully analyzed the capabilities of the "Sectoid" foe. However, it is clear from the destruction of the Chinese base that they possess an ability to strike with decisive force. While we intend to research defensive technologies in the future, we currently have the ability to install a Medium Extended Air Defense System (MEADS) based on the PAC-3 missile. Implementing this system will involve considerable expense and effort, but it may be worth it for the peace of mind such a system can offer.
Your feedback on these priorities is welcome. More options will be provided as new developments are submitted by our Research Department.
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