Rally 'Round the Family
For the people of Elma and the X-Com resistance cell located there, the world seems to have taken a chance to catch its breath for the last several months after the assault team returned from Alaska to disrupt the aliens' plans at HAARP. Winter turned into spring, the locals began tilling as much arable land within the confines of the Great Wall of Elma as they could and crops were planted.
Harlan Ruger and others on the city council started laying the groundwork for a more permanent and official local government. They decided what positions would be needed and their responsibilities, and have prepared for elections in the fall, after the harvest.
As one quiet day leads into the next, the command staff at Bunker November often wonder when the quiet will be broken, and why it is continuing so long. Perhaps the infusion of other factions on the world stage is complicating matters for the Collective; maybe they can't focus all their time picking on X-Com when they also have to fear the depradations of the Red Hand, the Think Tank and God knows who else.
But, as an uneventful Spring turned into what looked to be an equally uneventful Summer, the people of Elma were reminded that the Collective had not forgotten about them, or what X-Com had taken. Fielding new tactics, the Aliens sent a group of infiltrators overland to assault the nearby alien base that X-Com had captured last year. A brutal firefight ensued. The garrison of army reservists fought valiantly, but were unable to completely prevent an alien strike team from entering the base. With the bulk of the base defenders occupied outside attempting to repel the diversion, the main thrust of the attack slipped inside toward their true goal: the capture of vital X-Com personnel.
Deep within, Marie Kjelstad had worked tirelessly for months now, researching and attempting to return the grounded alien spacecraft to its original form so that the entire operation could be moved, ostensibly for the very reason that the Collective knew precisely where this target was located, since they had placed it there themselves. Long ago, Brock had made sure that Marie was never without elite protection, which was why a rotation of Rangers were always on site to defend this High Value Target. On the day in question, Third squad of the Ranger platoon was on duty. Marie had also requested from Fayth the use of one of her "litter" because there was some heavy lifting and excavation to be done in the coming days. Alamo, leader of the Construction Drones, had volunteered while Thunder and Flash stayed behind, maybe a bit jealous that their counterpart was getting out to see new things.
When the attack came, the Rangers inside the base immediately called for back up, but did not know that the fight would be long over before any assistance could arrive. They hunkered down in defensive positions in the corridors and rooms of the former spacecraft; they had long worked out the tactics involved in defending this place, and these thought exercises they had engaged in during their idle moments kept them from being slaughtered outright. It did not help them, however, that their attackers seemed to know every inch of this turf just as well as they did, though, nor that the aliens were led by a Behemoth with something to prove.
John "Whiskey" MacNaughton desperately wanted to be out there, closer to the front lines where he and his SAW could really hammer the alien line, but he was Marie's last line of defense, and Lt. Speirs had forbidden him, or whoever was in his position, from abandoning this particular post. Whiskey's field of fire covered the final approaches to the ship's command center, and Marie. When the first infiltrators--a Muton and a squad of Sectoids--closed in on his position, he opened fire. Several of the Grays crumpled under the barrage, but the Behemoth charged forward, soaking hit after hit, and firing his plasma rifle at Whiskey, cutting him down.
From the side came an anguished human battle cry as Daniel, "Rabbit" Rabinowicz saw his sergeant fall to the alien's fire. He kissed one of the multitude of religious medallions tucked under his armor, and sprinted forward. Coming to the intersection, he saw the Muton stalking toward his downed prey. He opened fire and managed to drop the wounded Muton. He rushed to Whiskey's side to try and drag him to safety. The Ranger was still alive, but was barely conscious, and Rabbit didn't know where the heavy footfalls he was hearing and feeling were coming from. He saw movement down the hall that MacNaughton had been defending, and saw a few Grays scurry into view, closing in. The heavy thuds couldn't possibly be them. Then, a shadow passed overhead. A flash of metal and whirring clicks sounded as a spindly manipulator plucked the M240 from Whiskey's hands. Heavy legs swung by Rabbit as Alamo pulled half a step ahead and grounded the forward portion of his hull against the deckplates, shielding the Rangers. Rabbit could hear the 240 open fire, could hear the mewling screams of the Grays being splattered against the halls. He dragged Whiskey back, back toward the command center, and hopefully to safety. He could see green plasma splashes wrapping around parts of Alamo's chassis as the robot defended him and allowed him to escape.
Then, the world stood still for a moment as a shockwave blasted the hall and everyone in it. Alamo collapsed, and when Rabbit's eyes could focus again, he saw down the hall, through the settling dust that had been knocked out of every cranny, another Behemoth. It tossed some kind of disposable shoulder-fired weapon to the side as it started moving forward.
Rabbit couldn't move! The whole of his continued existence relied on him being able to move! "Juke left," he would tell anyone who would listen. "Works every time." It was practically his motto, and what had always kept him out of the worst of harm's way. But now, he was knocked silly by that blast, and half buried under the bulk of his buddy as the Muton closed in, moving from a jog to a sprint. The giant alien leapt, using the still chassis of Alamo as a springboard, then landed with the heaviest of thuds at Rabbit's outstretched feet. It snarled a toothy grin, and leveled its rifle at him.
"Rangers lead the way," Rabbit hissed, as he drew his sidearm in a flash, and blasted the Muton in the face. The alien merely flinched from the hit, then turned his sneer back, purple blood dripping across its teeth. It lunged forward and buried the blade of a wicked bayonet deep into Rabbit's chest, and the fight finally left him. With the defenders here neutralized, the Muton called forward what was left of his squad and entered the bridge, where Marie was alone and defenseless.
This is the account given to other members of the team by Sergeant MacNaughton, when he regained consciousness after being saved by Fayth Wilson. The aftermath of the attack has been chaotic. The wounded are being triaged in the Bunker's sick bay. Alamo's hull was recovered and returned to the hangar bay. There is evidently still some function there, but only time will tell if he will pull through. The drone's survival doesn't seem to rank nearly as high among base personnel as the humans', though, and Alamo's welfare is put on the back burner by most. One of the scientists, though--Dr. Emily Halter--focuses on veterinary medicine, though, and while she can't patch up wounded men, she has taken an interest in the science behind what makes the drones tick, and she can be seen poking into Alamo's chassis while Thunder and Flash stalk around the bay protectively, somehow issuing forth low, ululating howls that reverberate deeply through the metal and into people's long bones.
Hours after the attack, Feargus Carville is able to report to Fayth the numbers of dead and wounded. Due to the confusion of everything involved, it is also his earliest opportunity to inform her that they have confirmation that Marie was not among the dead, but that it appears she was captured and taken with the Aliens when they exfiltrated. Carville also spreads the word that Lt. Speirs is calling for the Rangers to meet in the lounge for a quick tribute to their fallen comrade, Daniel, and he has offered the invited to all the current and former members of the assault team, as well. As Carville delivers this message, one gets the distinct impression from the vengeful gleam in his Southie eye that this tribute is not merely an opportunity to tip one back in memory of a fallen comrade, but a meeting where some ass-kickers get together and figure out what to do about it in the long run.
