PmWiki | XcomAcademy / EpilogueM

I laugh. "Do your worst. I mean it."

"... What?" Not what she expected. Good. That gives me a few seconds. I pick her up. She shoots me - once - and then the plasma pistol ends up between our chests; she can't shoot me without killing herself. I hold her off the ground. She stares at me. "...what are you doing?"

"Therapeutic hold. Wriggle if that's your thing, I ain't budging. I'm going to wait until I see Kite behind your eyes, because you can't throw any mental hellscape at her that she hasn't already seen and beaten. God have mercy on what's left of your soul, because she won't. And then, I'm going to give her a hug."

More eyeflutter, more purple flecks coming from her face. Then she starts squirming, and I know that they're worried. I turn around, still holding her in my grip, and walk to a corner.

"Now we wait, Miss Trader. Your securistas can get up the stairs, maybe wound me, but they can't really get me without killing you. And if I know Kite, your psyche will get tired before my arms do."

Now she's struggling. I grin. "And now... we wait."

"Get off me! GET OFF ME!" I don't know if she's talking to me, or Kite. Both.

I hold tighter. To Wong, it's an implacable grip. To Kite, I hope, through whatever psionic gauntlet she's going through, it's a hug from a comrade. "Sorry, that's not the safeword."

I can hear heavy steps up the staircase. Security will be here... but not too soon, from the cadence.

Wong froths at the mouth, tries to punch my back to break free, in spastic movements. "WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE!"

"We're XCOM. Watchful. Trustworthy." I try to mean it.

The Trader seems to pass out, right out of a scene from The Exorcist. "Actually, we're a band of borderline crazy people with UFOs. Same as the guys you sided with, really. Except: we' re better. At it. Than you."

Right up to my face, a pair of eyes opens, bleary. Good time for a Hollywood kiss, but we're not in that sort of relationship. I just hug her tigher for a moment, then let go.

I don't know if I can fight the securistas, depends on how many, and what weapons. Maybe they'll listen to me. Maybe they won't. Maybe they'll even take orders from Kite. Enemy unknown, what else is new?

We have a couple of minutes to set up. Kite starts unpacking the SHIV. I get the big gun from under the bed. I get the pager out and send Shen Riley's number, plus the "call for instructions" code.

My phone has been on since I sat on the bed earlier.

"Riley? When Shen calls you, tell him to isolate the Soul Sphere chamber. If anyone or anything comes near it - flood the chamber. With fire, acid, gamma rays, anything he wants. Also, play him the Zero Wing song. Next, take this recording and send the mp3 to Jonny, he'll know what to do with it... Coming home after that. Pack up."

"They're still going to come after the Sphere, you know. Even if Jonny makes the broadcast, who I think they've already got a SEP field against it. And they got a good chunk of the world economy to back that up."

"Yep."

"Got a plan?"

"Yep. Retire. Country farm somewhere secluded."

"....ah. That kind of country farm. Where?"

"There's this one place in Utah we got to stop at. Anyway, cheap land, lots of room, needs some TLC - bring your friends if they want to come."

The Mars Society had been the subject of a few attacks by the sort of very misguided anti-UFO patriots that would've popped up in the Midwest, but the Desert Research Station was still open. An actual UFO landing almost on top of the new green hab constituted enough of a reason to break sim -- that was even in the manual now; despite the war having been over for weeks, sporadic sightings continued; eventually, they'd die down to where they were before the invasion.

A gleaming rectangle of unearthly chrome stood on the sandy plain, a little uneasily due to a somewhat hastily fabricated elongated center section. Men and women in various styles of spacesuits, from NASA to Narnia, were already ransacking the green hab for sprouts. One astronaut in yellow walks over to the MDRS mission commander.

"Doctor Susan Jewell? Nice to meet you, I'm Chloe. Repack your bags. You're officially being abducted. You're going to Mars for real. You'll have to pick or start a subculture, but that's the easy part. Actually, hey, the Hierarchy of Consent -- that's my subculture by the way -- doesn't have a yoga instructor yet! The Headmaster says you're good at that!"

"...wait, what?"

A jumbled explanation later, the patched-up UFO leaves for orbit. A fast-response XCOM unit gets there to find the Hab deserted - they shoot it up a little, then start writing the report that will be used for the press release.