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Resistance is Feudal: An XCOM Story
🕑 Added 2024-10-31 21:39:32 +0000 UTCADVENT Public Historical Record:
In July of 2015, the coalition government formally known as ADVENT was first proposed by a small group of human politicians who stepped forth intent on negotiating with the Elders. Despite their effective conquest of Earth’s combined militaries, the Elders allowed for the pact of unification establishing ADVENT’S governance. In the twenty years since, ADVENT has effectively served humanity and created an environment of peace and prosperity.
March 21, 2035:
Gabriela O’Bannon’s windshield wipers failed to keep pace with the deluge as she inched her ADVENT-issued automobile toward the city center. The pretty thirty-year-old smiled through clenched teeth. Twenty years of alien occupation had eradicated diseases like cancer and AIDS but had failed to produce a better wiper blade.
The redhead struggled to see beyond both the torrent of water lashing the windshield and the tangle of her fiery mane, which had been doused in the deluge and presently hung in her face like a wet mop. Triggering a button on the steering wheel with her thumb, a floating digital display flashed before her. 10:05 AM. She was late.
By 10:07 traffic had stopped completely. The only movement was an ADVENT patrol—a caped officer and two flanking troopers—strolling through the rain on the highway’s shoulder behind her. Even at their leisurely pace, they’d probably make it into the city faster.
Gabriela rolled down her window and extended her ID card as they drew even with her vehicle. “What seems to be the problem, officer?”
The caped officer stopped at her window as his lackeys continued past. He gave the card a cursory glance, then said, “XCOM swine are targeting the city center.” He didn’t seem to notice that the face pictured was slightly different than the one in front of him.
“Do you think it’ll be much longer?” Gabriela asked, pulling the card away before it could be inspected closely. “I have an urgent appointment at Chryodome.”
“No way to tell, ma’am. However, that may be the dissidents’ target. If so, I’m afraid you may be canceled.”
The guard’s ‘ma’am’ comment had her feeling canceled already.
“This would make three straight. I really need my treatment. It’s a matter of life and death.”
Gabriela tried to sound convincing. She didn’t like to lie to a peacekeeper, especially since she was losing confidence in the one thing that had always gotten her off the hook—
Her beauty.
“I understand, ma’am,” the officer continued. “Wait here for a few moments. Reinforcements are arriving. Berserkers.”
Gabriela smiled appreciatively. “Thank you, officer.”
Her smile disappeared as she rolled her window back up. Her last two appointments at the inner-city therapy station had been canceled due to dissident activity and now it looked destined to be a third. XCOM destroyed a clinic in New Providence earlier in the year and, since that time, had only gotten bolder in their attacks. She didn’t understand why XCOM targeted gene therapy stations in the first place. A garish alien monument, maybe, but a medical center that performed miracles in minutes? Madness. And if XCOM hadn’t already demolished it, the Berserkers almost certainly would.
Nevertheless, she did as she was told. What choice did she have? She was in dire need of a session. She may have fibbed about its necessity for her survival, but her wardrobe’s days were certainly numbered without it.
Gabriela adjusted the pinch of the harness around her waist. The roll of blubber that bubbled over it had been there before but had never extended so far. Fortunately, the swell of her chest blocked it from view. That had never been bigger either. Outside of her uniform’s space-aged stretch, she’d noticed a disturbing downward trend in its trajectory; however, stuffed into her ever-tightening top her puppies still looked as pert and perky as ever.
As the caped officer returned, Gabriela gave the zipper on her uniform a tug, revealing a touch more cleavage. She had to be careful—she was a deep breath away from violating Advent’s strict public decency laws, and coercion was considered a capital offense. She was walking a very fine line.
Fortunately, the officer seemed appreciative of her fine lines. Although she couldn’t see his eyes through his tinted visor, she knew where he was looking as she rolled her window back down.
“Good news, officer?”
“I’m afraid not. We received the all-clear, but there’s too much damage. I’ve been instructed to turn citizens around.”
“What about the clinic?”
“I’ve been told it’s intact. Apparently, we were victorious.”
They always say that, Gabriela thought, but she didn’t argue. “Can I wait here until things clear?” Returning home meant starting over with a new appointment. Who knew how long that would take…and how many more pounds she’d accumulate in the meantime.
“I’m sorry,” the officer said. “The roads are too treacherous.”
“Please,” Gabriela pouted. “Maybe you could escort me?”
The officer stole another glance at Gabriela’s cleavage. “I need to report to the battle site for clean-up. Pull to the shoulder while I clear traffic and then you can follow us in.”
“Thank you so much, officer!”
“You’re welcome.”
Her puppies had done their trick.
Gabriela checked the clock again: 10:22. Hopefully, the dissident activity had scared off enough patients that she wouldn’t lose her spot. She had hoped to celebrate her therapy session with a new outfit and an ADVENT burger, but with the new curfew and her late arrival, she’d probably have to forgo the festivities. Especially since the process was bound to take longer with more of her to therapize.
“Unification parade!” the officer barked at the drivers behind her. “The road is closed!”
ADVENT never overestimated the stupidity of the public. Though 2035 did indeed mark the 20th anniversary of Unification Day, there was no way ADVENT would celebrate such a proud and momentous occasion on a Wednesday afternoon in the middle of a rainstorm. Nevertheless, one by one the vehicles dutifully turned around and drove back the way they came.
Gabriela shook her head at the sheeple. “Treat ‘em like mushrooms,” her father used to say. “Keep ‘em in the dark and feed ‘em bullshit every now and again.” As an alien-appointed Agriculture Officer in the years following unification he would know.
Her father had been a humble farmer before the war. As a child, Gabriela helped him tend crops and care for Bessie, a retired dairy cow that never strayed far from the barn. It was a nice, quiet life…until the weeks leading up to the invasion. The first thing they noticed were ominous lights in the sky. Next came crop circles and missing livestock. Had the authorities taken their reports seriously, they might have been better prepared for what was to come.
That was probably the reason her father harbored such a cynical attitude toward humanity. It hadn’t helped that Gabriela’s mom, discontented with the simple life, had left them for the city and had been killed in the early days of the war.
Gabriela’s moist eyes drifted to a nearby skyscraper. Most human architecture had been destroyed in the invasion, or dismantled after, only to be built back bigger, better, greener and cleaner by the aliens. The building was impossibly tall, ascending into the clouds like the beanstalk from an old fable her father had told her.
While country living had spared Gabriela and her father the horrors of war that her mother undoubtedly experienced, they still spent plenty of nights without power, huddled around the fireplace for warmth. Fortunately, her father was a charismatic and engaging storyteller. It made the long nights bearable and, ultimately, their lives after unification fruitful, despite the decimation of their land and livelihood.
After Gabriela’s father was appointed to his ADVENT position, which basically entailed convincing his fellow farmers to allow the government to appropriate their land, he spent a lot of time in the city and, without Bessie to babysit, would drag Gabriela along. The precocious girl proved a hit with officers and officials…especially once she hit puberty. Along with a handful of other pretty and privileged wives and daughters, she became a regular at ADVENT officer’s clubs and parties. She and her girlfriends were eventually dubbed “Morale Officers.” It wasn’t an official rank, of course, but it came with perks, including elevated security clearance.
Finishing his duties, the caped officer waved for Gabriela to follow as he and his underlings loaded into their cruiser. The wet redhead maneuvered her vehicle past a newly placed “Road Closed” sign and pulled behind them. Though she was lucky to still have a car--permits for public ownership had been revoked for most city folk, but her family’s status, rural residence, and some well-timed flirtation, had earned her an exemption--she couldn’t help but feel envious of the sleek lines of the peacekeeper’s space-aged sedan. Much like its occupant, Gabriela’s 20s-era coupe was now in the 30s and beginning to show its age.
Gabriela followed the peacekeeper’s sedan closely, its yellow-flashing light bar illuminating the low clouds and gathering fog. As they crept through the eerily quiet streets, the lyrics to a banned Christmas carol popped into Gabriela’s head. All is calm…all is bright. She immediately tried to pop them back out. While they were safe in her headspace, she knew there could be trouble if she absent-mindedly vocalized them.
Things were so peaceful that Gabriela began doubting ADVENT’s claims of combat, though she couldn’t think of a reason they’d fabricate it. Deny, deny, deny had been ADVENT’s MO ever since XCOM reemerged from the shadows, but now, perhaps, their strategy was changing. Certainly, the boarded shop windows and battle-scarred buildings near the city’s center made plausible deniability challenging.
Lost in her thoughts and the trancelike strobing of the police vehicle’s light bar against the fog, Gabriela nearly crashed into the body of a Berserker about a block from the clinic. She’d never seen one in person. The grotesque pictures, and stories of the wanton death and destruction it caused, hadn’t prepared her for the hulking monstrosity lying prone before her. Although the creature was flat on its back, its barrel chest rose higher than her vehicle. To see what was beyond the fallen giant, much less reach it, she’d need to travel by foot.
That was the last thing Gabriela wanted to do. Berserkers were often employed in combat as a last resort as their actions could be violent and volatile even when unprovoked. This one appeared to be dead, but if ADVENT had been victorious, as the officer claimed, there might be more out there that still needed corralling.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have a choice. The creature blocked the road, and the trio of ADVENT troopers were already exiting their sedan. With a nervous sigh, Gabriela undid her harness, lifted the butterfly door, and stepped into the rain.
At the feet of the beast was the bludgeoned body of an XCOM soldier. Despite being pummeled to an unrecognizable pulp, there was no doubt about the deceased’s allegiances. The woman (at least Gabriela suspected it was a woman), had wild blue hair, much of it soaked with blood and turned a matted purple, and a midriff-baring top that revealed both a dragon tattoo and a bellybutton ring. XCOM soldiers loved flaunting excess skin, tattoos, and wild hairstyles—all of which had been banned by ADVENT.
Gabriela suddenly felt a twinge of jealousy for the fallen soldier. Not for her fate, but for her freedom.
Giving the monster and its victim a wide berth, Gabriela hurried to join the trio of troopers gathered on the sidewalk. “After you, ma’am,” the red-armored officer said, extending his arm into the fog.
“Is there any danger?” Gabriela asked, her eyes still fixated on the bloody Berserker.
“We’ve been given the all-clear. Besides, if there’s trouble, we’ll protect you.”
The officer’s bluster did little to settle Gabriela’s mind. She took a deep breath, hoping it would relax her, but instead choked on the deceased beast’s putrid smell.
“Are you OK, ma’am?”
“I’m fine.” The rain tempered the odor enough to save Gabriela from vomiting, but she could tell the troopers were enjoying her struggle. Swallowing hard, she straightened and strode into the mist.
The peacekeepers followed several steps behind. Gabriela wasn’t sure who was protecting whom, especially since she was taller than the men and probably outweighed them too. At one time, her Amazonian physique had been as much a part of her morale-boosting allure as her fiery red hair and piercing green eyes. City center girls tended to be dainty and refined, but she was a big, strong, corn-fed country girl.
At least she used to be. Now she was just big.
“Ghoos hintar,” whispered one of the troopers behind her.
“Locktari,” whispered the other.
Then both released a guttural wheeze that gave Gabriela chills.
XCOM derisively referred to grunts like these as “Jabberers”: men who forsook their humanity by conversing in the alien’s tongue. Gabriela knew better, of course.
They WERE aliens.
ADVENT’s party line had always been that its troops were composed entirely of human volunteers. While that may have been the case in the early days of unification, the melting pot of humanity to draw from was shrinking while ADVENT’s supply of wartime soldiers seemed to be ever-growing. In Gabriela’s early days of service as a morale officer, pretty much anyone in uniform would hit on her. More recently, however, she couldn’t get a second glance from the grunts. She initially chalked it up to her fading charms, but even after her last therapy session, which had zapped away thirty pounds and smoothed the lines around her eyes, only a handful of senior officers seemed interested in her company.
“Bhamba et bhamba.”
“Kracsad spectori.”
Then came that horrible wheezy laugh again. It was more disconcerting than whatever might be lurking in the fog.
Gabriela didn’t know what had been said. Attempts to learn or speak the alien’s language were banned for civilians. Occasionally, ‘cheat sheet’ definitions of keywords were surreptitiously distributed in the slums, but posting or possessing such documents was punishable by death. At least Gabriela assumed it was death since the accused were never seen again.
Whatever the pair had been gossiping about surely wasn’t complimentary. Gabriela guessed it was about her ass, which was squeezed in a death grip by her plastic polyvinyl chloride trousers. She tried adjusting her gait to minimize its protuberance, but all it did was result in an unfortunate squeak with every stride that caused a fresh stir amongst the troopers.
“That’s enough, you two.” The officer had finally tired of his underlings’ tittering. Although he hadn’t joined in their merriment, his silence up to this point had spoken volumes. Gabriela couldn’t consider him an ally.
Fortunately, Chryodome emerged through the fog before the statuesque redhead’s squeaky PVCs could result in another round of raspy laughter.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Gabriela said, addressing the trio.
“It was our pleasure, ma’am.” The goofy smile on the officer’s face supported his assertion.
Rather than disperse, the peacekeepers watched Gabriela step to the door and pull its handle--
CLANK!
It wasn’t that surprising Chryodome’s door was locked. The threats of sabotage were genuine. Just last week, it was reported that a bomb had exploded inside one killing seventeen civilians.
As the troopers looked on, Gabriela lifted a panel beside the door. It revealed a cluster of buttons imbued with cryptic symbols, above which watched the intimidating red eye of an infrared camera. Gabriela didn’t know the access code, but she’d frequently used the camera to gain access to after-hours appointments.
Gabriela stood still as the red light bathed her face. After several seconds, the speaker beneath the console buzzed unpleasantly. Nevertheless, Gabriela tried the door again--
CLANK!
Gabriela smiled nervously. The facial recognition camera had never failed before. Maybe it had been damaged in the combat or…her smile faded as she pondered the second option…maybe it was fooled by the fullness of her face?
CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!
“That’s enough, Ma’am,” the officer said, stepping between Gabriela and the door. The troopers’ smiles faded and their looks of amusement turned to suspicion. “I think you’d better come with us.”
Just as the officer grabbed hold of Gabriela’s beefy bicep, the door swung open and a thin man in dark spectacles and a lab coat emerged. A badge on his breast pocket featured the Chryodome logo--which looked a lot like an old-fashioned copyright symbol--and his name: Dr. Thelonious McElvoy.
“Gabriela, my dear, I’m so sorry. Combat was close so we locked the doors.” Then he turned to the soldiers. “Thank you for escorting her. She has an appointment.”
The officer nodded, released Gabriela’s arm, then silently turned and vanished into the fog with his men.
Dr. McElvoy’s gaze turned back to his patient. “And none too soon, I see. Why didn’t you use the camera?”
“I did. I think there’s something wrong with it.”
“Yesss, I’m sure that’s the case.” Dr. McElvoy pressed his bony hand against Gabriela’s spongy back and ushered her inside. “We’ll have a look at it.”
Inside the ethereally lit confines of Chryodome, Gabriela finally began to feel at ease, especially once the doctor instructed her to lie down in her usual chamber. She’d spent significant time there, most of it under Dr. McElvoy’s supervision.
The unassuming doctor wasn’t conventionally attractive, but he had a bookish charm Gabriela found endearing. She’d flirted with him on numerous occasions—usually after numerous cocktails—but he’d always remained professional. Gabriela respected that. What annoyed her was the fact that he never seemed to age. It wasn’t surprising considering his vocation, but annoying just the same.
“Slow day,” she said, noticing that none of the other therapy chambers were occupied.
“Goddamn dissidents,” the doctor said, shaking his head. You’re the only one who made it through.”
Gabriela winced as the doctor secured her arms and legs inside the chamber. He seemed to be strapping her in extra tight, or maybe it was just her added girth. Regardless, she decided to change the subject before more talk of ‘dissident activity’ cut off her circulation.
“Sorry I was late.”
Dr. McElvoy’s scowl transitioned to an unsettling grin. “Think nothing of it, my dear,” he said, squeezing her arm. “You’ve come a long way.”
Although Gabriela suspected Dr. McElvoy’s squeeze was intended to be comforting, how he pinched the fat gathered above her elbow was as disconcerting as his smile.
“Frankly, I’m surprised you made it at all,” he continued as Gabriela’s vitals filled the screen on an adjacent monitor. “Thankfully, you’re just like your father. Dedicated and determined.”
Try desperate, Gabriela thought. But she politely returned the doctor’s smile and said, “Thank you.”
As Dr. McElvoy assessed the onscreen data, Gabriela noticed the skin on the back of his neck was discolored and mottled. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed that before, but then she remembered that she’d been drunk or hung over during most of her prior appointments.
“How is your father anyway?” Dr. McElvoy asked.
“Missing. He has been for several months. Ever since…”
Gabriela’s voice trailed off, partially in sadness and partially because certain subjects, particularly organizations, weren’t to be discussed. Fortunately, Dr. McElvoy gathered her inference.
“Goddamn dissidents,” he said, shaking his head. “So, you’re all alone on that great big farm?”
Gabriela nodded the best she could with her head locked in place. “It hasn’t been bad. There’s plenty to do out there to keep my mind off things.”
So much for not lying to officials. Gabriela felt a duty to her father to watch over the family farm, especially since he’d made its retention a condition of his service, but without fertile land or livestock to tend, there wasn’t much to do besides worry, watch TV, and eat.
Dr. McElvoy’s creepy smile returned. “From the looks of things, I thought you’d been wining and dining with officers.”
“No, I haven’t done that since Dad’s disappearance. I haven’t felt much like partying.”
“I remember how you and your girlfriends used to rush in here after a wild weekend, your bellies bloated with rich foods and wine. Then, after a quick therapy session, you’d be right back at it.”
Gabriela smiled at the memory. “We’d usually grab a beer and an ADVENT burger afterward.”
“But now you’re getting older. Slowing down.”
“I suppose.”
Gabriela wasn’t sure what the doctor was getting at. She wished he’d just begin the process. After soaking in the rain, she longed for its tingly warmth. If it didn’t take too long maybe she could still grab an ADVENT burger on her way out of town. Mentioning them had made her hungry.
Instead of pressing the button, however, the doctor raised his finger as if to make a point--
“We first make our habits, and then our habits make us. Do you know who said that?”
Gabriela struggled to shake her head locked inside the contraption.
“Of course, you don’t. It was John Dryden. England's first Poet Laureate. Great genes. He survived the bubonic plague and lived into his 70s.”
“Why are you telling me this, doctor?” Gabriela asked, impatiently.
“What’s your hurry?” Dr. McElvoy leaned close and whispered, “Anxious to go get fat on daddy’s farm?”
That’s when Gabriela noticed the trace of grey skin running along the doctor’s hairline—
“You’re a Thin Man!” she blurted.
“And you’re a fat woman.”
Gabriela struggled against her bindings. Thin Men were unnervingly human-looking aliens who served as infiltrators during the early days of the invasion. Her father had told her they were long retired, but that obviously wasn’t true.
“I was just making the point that your youthful metabolism can’t be counted on anymore,” Dr. McElvoy said. “Not that it ever would have saved a greedy pig like you. Not without my help. Speaking of which, didn’t you ever feel guilty about abusing life-saving technology for such selfish, cosmetic gains? I once turned away an elderly lady with Alzheimer’s because you and your girlfriends were hogging the machines.”
Dr. McElvoy laughed the same raspy laugh as the soldiers.
“Hogging the machines. I’m getting better with my colloquialisms.”
“If you don’t let me go…”
“What will you do?”
“You’ll be running the clinic in Siberia by the end of the week!” Gabriela had no idea if there was a clinic in Siberia, or if the frigid location bothered aliens at all, but she was pissed and desperate.
“That might be refreshing.” Dr. McElvoy began a complex sequence of buttons on the console. “I expect there’d be fewer sows to service.”
“Please, just let me go and we’ll forget the whole thing.”
“I can’t let you go. You’re fat. When was the last time you saw a fat person waddling around?”
Gabriela’s mind raced. She hadn’t seen anyone more than mildly plump since she was a teenager. She’d assumed obesity had been eradicated by the gene therapy clinics. While that was technically true, the few fat people she’d known weren’t thin now--
They were gone.
“Treat me one last time and I promise I won’t be back,” Gabriela pleaded.
“My dear, I don’t believe that for a second.” Dr. McElvoy tilted the screen of the adjacent monitor toward her. “Besides, I’m not authorized to service you anymore.”
Gabriela glanced at the screen. A few of her vitals were highlighted in red. Age: 30. Weight: 204. Body fat: 34%. Beneath them, three words flashed:
Submit for processing.
“What are you going to do?”
“Something more appropriate for someone of your…bearing. Don’t worry. It’s tasteful.”
Gabriela again pulled at her bindings. They weren’t designed for restraint. They were intended to keep patients from fidgeting during treatment. Gabriela knew she could escape if given time.
She also knew that, a few years ago, she already would have broken free.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Dr. McElvoy asked. “Your father was petrified you’d be recruited by XCOM. With your beauty and physique, he was right to worry. You could have been a powerful tool for the resistance.”
The doctor watched Gabriela squirm in her chamber--
“If he were still alive, he’d probably die of shame.”
Gabriela stopped struggling.
“Yes, your father is dead. I’m sure deep down you realized it. Just like I’m sure deep down you realize dissidents aren’t responsible. He was far too savvy and powerful to be left to his own devices. So are you…”
The doctor poked his bony finger into Gabriela’s belly, leaving an impression that rivaled his words--
“Deep, deep down.”
Gabriela’s green eyes followed the doctor’s finger as it left her stomach and moved to a red button on the console. One that she’d never seen him press before.
Just before he pressed it and Gabriela’s world went dark, he added, “Don’t worry. You’re still in your ‘Prime.’ At least you will be where you’re going—"
THE END
Comments
Maverick and Riptoryx
Appreciate it, Matt! Definitely a departure, but it was fun to write :)
Matt L.
Entertaining story, your ability to produce material beyond the genre's typical form is what makes you best at the game.
