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Mango Farm, 200 km south of Darwin
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The lounge room T.V gave out the latest doom and gloom neatly packaged into an hour and labeled 'ABC news' as the family sat around the kitchen, scraps of the news reports could be heard over the conversation.


"...Some still claim it to be unfounded paranoia, but reported U.F.O sighting have increased 15 times in the last 3 months, some claim to have seen military aircraft..."

"...As Indonesia and China strengthen military ties, Australia has become further isolated in the region..."

"...President denies..."

"...With the amendment of private gun ownership in light of Indonesian aggression..."

"...Military grade firearms still remain illegal however..."

The father jerked his head in the direction of the T.V at the last news bulletin.
"Thank god for the Indonesians, hey? If not for their saber rattling, I still wouldn't be allowed to protect you lot"
"Ha, not that you didn't before dad"
"At least dear" his wife cut in "You won't get busted for that bloody shotgun you insist on keeping in the closet, you know, the gun you should have handed in 8 years ago, dear"
The father grinned and went back to his tea.

"...The U.S government maintains that these unexplained deployments are simply snap anti-terrorist training drills..."

* * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The craft descended sharply, the outside of its gray hull radiating heat from atmospheric entry. Its target lay below, pre-selected. A routine mission. Unknown to the occupants, however, its appearance was not undetected, powerful radar housed in the Pine Gap military base easily picked up the craft hundreds of kilometers away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A sound like a helicopter landing, but without the whir or rotor, followed by the thud of a huge object striking the ground shattered the night.

"Stay here"
The farmer dashed from the table.
"Daddy"
"Darrel, come back"
Darrel grabbed the pump action from his closet and pumped a shell into the barrel.
Bright light poured into the front door and windows, almost blinding.
He opened the door, stepped out and raised his weapon.
A saucer, an honest to god flying saucer! As he watched, dumbfounded, a door opened in the side that he hadn't noticed before. A diminutive little creature stepped out. Darrel blinked, he knew what they were, everybody did. Greys, like on the telly, and Roswell, right? The alien eyed him implacably, and then, fast as lighting drew a clunky black pistol on him. Darrel fired out of reaction, and the Grey's elongated head exploded in a shower of gore.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Only when she saw the lights, and heart the two shots, one close after the other, did Darrel's wife finally realizes just how significant a 15 times increase in U.F.O sighting could be, and perhaps there would be a good reason why. When her husband walked slowly back inside, shotgun dangling by one hand, she was relieved, but only for a brief, deceptive moment. Behind Darrel filed in 4 'Grey's' all carrying strange black pistols.

She screamed and started to run down the hall, dragging her two children with her, then her mind was consumed in flame, and her body was torn away from her. She saw, from eyes no longer hers, a glassy stare appear in the eyes of her boys, and recognized the same glare in Darrel eyes. Her legs carried her outside, and the children followed behind her. Over a Grey who's head appeared to have been torn in half by huge hands, into the ship, past a green trail, past another alien, who's shattered arm dripped blood onto the alloy floor. She stood rigid within the ship. Unable to move, willed to remain still. The wounded alien whimpered and held its ruined arm.

* * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * *

The two last Greys to leave the house looked at Darrel, and then at each other. Darrel's hand spasmed, wriggling the shotgun, then lifted the gun up. Up, past the Grey who stood in front of him. Up, under his chin.

The Greys left the house, taking the body of their companion. Their last action was to use a hose to spray the green blood into the lawn, then carefully coil the hose again. The ship lifted off, and as it did, a single blast was heard from with the house. The inferno in Darrel's head stopped burning forever. He was far luckier than his family.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was a neighbor who alerted the police, hearing the strange noises and shooting. The caller, a grizzled Vietnam veteran then took his scoped ranchmaster and sat in the lounge room waiting until he saw a police car roar past. He has half an idea of what those sounds had been, and he wasn't keen to find out the other half.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A.S.I.O and its sister organizations may be Australia's version of the F.B.I, C.I.A, and N.S.A rolled into one, but they had never engaged in operations of the magnitude of their American counterparts. With the Prime minister close to green lighting intelligence gathering and espionage against Indonesia, A.S.I.O was keen to get its newer agents experience, any experience. This resulted in police around Australia getting a little free time on their hands as A.S.I.O agents went off to save them the trouble of investigating crime scenes and chasing up lawbreakers.

A possible murder-suicide was as good a reason as any for the commanders to send Paul Jasper and his 3-man task-group out to some far flung mango farm almost 2 hours drive out of Darwin, with 2 police cars as an official escort. Police weren't quite ready to let inexperienced 'spooks' frolic around crime scenes by themselves just yet.

Paul glanced briefly outside the window to a dull rural landscape, then across to the three agents assigned to him. From what he's heard, they'd only found one body, but it was... messy.

"Paul, we're here, man"

The black van followed the police car into a long driveway rows and rows of unripe mangos either side.
Finally, they got to the house; another police car was parked outside, a single officer on the car radio. The front door was open, and Paul could already see red blasted walls and ceiling. They pulled up behind the police cars and got out. The two officers exited their cars and wandered over to the officer first on the scene. One of them glanced over his shoulder.

"Well Sherlock, it's all yours"

Paul and the taskgroup walked past the police to the front door, the police muttered softly amount's themselves, and Paul picked up the word 'spooks' several times. He approached the front door. The entrance hall was painted red. A body in jeans and a black T-shirt lay on the group, minus a head. Big blowflies floated lazily in and out of the door, and dropped a little away from the body was a pump action shotgun smeared crimson.

"A lovely little shop of horrors, ain't it Paul?"
"Yeah, thanks Tim, this is the kinda shit you dig, isn't it?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It looked standard, it wasn't uncommon in murder-suicides for the victims to be hidden somewhere far away before the murderer turned his weapon on himself. Three things bothered Paul. One was the flattened ring of scorched grass outside the house, which the police obligingly moved their parked cars from with much muttering and dark glances. The circle was about 12 meters diameter. Once Paul got a decent look at it, he realized that the circle was also a slight depression, and the ground was compacted underneath. The police stopped acting slightly hostile after Paul pointed this out, and looked worried.

The second thing was that the neighbor reported two shots following a noise like a chopper landing, then once more during a noise like a chopper taking off about 2 minutes later. There were no spent cartridges and no obvious signs of anyone being shot, apart from poor old Darrel. Lastly Darrel and his family were model citizens and avid churchgoers. It smelt like abduction to Paul, though he was loathe to jump to conclusions to who or what had done the abducting.

"Paul, look at this"

Tim was crouched on the grass right next to the circle. Paul came over, and Tim lifted up something in his hand. A small, flattened piece of lead. As they started to look, they found more, placing them into an evidence bag.

"Paul, say the farmer wasn't shooting at whatever made the circle, but shooting at something coming out of it?"
"Blood, but I can't see or smell any..."

Paul glanced at the hose and tap.

"Nobody touch the garden hose"

Paul went to the black van. There was equipment for a basic forensic investigation, but he needed the professionals, he reached for the van's radio.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A black van came in the distance; Paul glanced up from the circle and examined it. Two small for the forensic team. Paul wasn't worried; usually more agents or police rolled up to significant crime scenes simply to justify their existence. When the car pulled up behind the police cars, two men in suits emerged and walked briskly to Paul. The two agents gave off the classic 'spook' image straight from the movies. Expensive black suits, flesh-tone earpeices, black sunglasses, close cropped hair, and lastly, the bulge of a barely concealed pistol in a shoulder holster.

"Agent Jasper, you and your task-group are now relieved from your assignment here, by order of the Australian government, you are to hand over all evidence and return to your post in Darwin"

One of the suits flashed some kind of official looking paper under Paul's nose. It looked like the real thing, with the government logo on it. And the government had certainly booted A.S.I.O agents off scenes before, indeed it was becoming quite common. What got Paul were the bad attempts at an Australian accent.

"I want validation before I can stand down"

"Ring your immediate superior, he had been informed"

Paul rang his boss's phone with his mobile. Paul was instructed to stand down, but the voice wasn't his bosses. Seeing as Paul's superior had a secure phoneline direct to his office, this was a bit odd. Too odd for Paul.

Paul whipped his H&K 45 cal out of his holster and leveled it at the closest agent before either had a chance to act. Both agents' jaws dropped and raised their hands. One uttered a "Goddamn" in a very broad American accent. Wondering what in the hell was going on, Paul's task-group drew their sidearms and covered the agents as well. The Police, previously lounging in the background suddenly became very agitated, drawing their pistols as well, but unsure whom to aim at, grouped together behind a patrol car.

"I am placing you under arrest for impersonating a government agent under articles in the Espionage Act, as I am actually a government agent, you have the right to go and get stuffed and very little else. Now, drop your weapons on the ground"

Two Desert Eagle's landed in the dust as well as a few spare clips. The 'agents' had got over their initial shock and were quite angry now. Paul looked at their livid faces, then gestured to the scorched circle in the ground.

"Guess you guys and the boys back at H.Q are gunna have lots to talk about now"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It came to no surprise to Paul, indeed he had expected it. Less than two hours after the 'agents' were subjected to interrogation, a large group of C.I.A agents from Pine Gap and a few Australian army Generals converged on A.S.I.O H.Q in Darwin. They had a chat to the heads of department, and then Paul and his group were called in.

It came as quite a shock, for a huge conspiracy, they talked about it quite openly. Paul realized very quickly that he was being presented with two options, either help the Americans on their little test or go back to A.S.I.O and never tell a soul. Paul sat their with his group as he took it all in.

The large numbers of confirmed U.F.O sightings. The secret NATO meetings, then the secret U.N meeting between select nations. A U.N funded force, Extraterrestrial Investigation Unit who's purpose was to study the aliens, and attempt contact. To assess the threat and potential hostility. Paul knew sugar coating when he heard it. Shooting farmers and abducting sounded pretty hostile to him, at the least it was a declaration of war against Australia, if not humanity.

Pine Gap; the largest U.S base in Australia, isolated, far away from the prying eyes of American media, powerful radar already built it, with extensive underground facilities. Perfect location for the X-INV trial. Paul knew that X-INV's purpose was a sham, X-INV was a weapons test, to see if an effective solution could be found. If the base in Pine Gap were able to effectively control the situation in Australia without the need for involving conventional forces, 2 more bases would be constructed. One in America, and another in Europe.

Paul was then presented with the offer, as a ranking agent of A.S.I.O he was perfect for recruitment along with the rest of his group. The offer came with a substantial payrise, of course. For the first time since the meeting began, Carlos addressed the people doing the hard sell. A panel consisting of head A.S.I.O, C.I.A and defense force personnel.
"You want me and my team to fight aliens"

It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"Well, Agent Jasper, that may certainly be a possibility, but as we have lined out in X-INV's mission statement, we will assess if the aliens truly have hostile intent or not before taking drastic action"

'Bullshit' Jasper thought, look at you lot, you look stoked at the chance to run an honest-to-god secret force fighting aliens.

"If the aliens prove to be hostile, the name will have to be changed won't it? To reflect the shift of goals in X-INV's purpose"

The eyes of one C.I.A agent on the panel lit up.

"Yes" he replied "It will be called renamed Extraterrestrial Combat Unit"

"X-COM?"

"Yes, X-COM"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The helicopter flew out of Darwin, bound for Pine Gap. On board was Paul and one of his group members, Tim Day. The others two had rejected the offer. The Panel expressed that if they changed their minds to contact a high level superior. Paul and Tim were seated fairly close together in the spacious, almost empty American transport helicopter. On board were a few other people, mostly the C.I.A agents from the panel.

Two men in army fatigues were seated together, both of Asian appearance, and they looked remarkably like twins. One had introduced himself to Paul as Kitat Chung, a member of the Defense force, and then pointed to the other, saying that he was his brother. Sitting further up was a woman in civilian clothes. She introduced herself as 'Tammy' who was on the helicopter because she was a 'specialist'. Having the look of a soldier, Tim and Paul nodded polity to her, introducing themselves. Strangely, no one really discussed exactly why they were chosen, or what awaited them upon arrival.

For the third time since she had boarded the helicopter, Tammy went carefully through the supplies she'd been asked to bring with her. The men who had contacted her had been very secretive about her mission but had told her what kind of medical supplies to bring. Aware that the other occupants of the 'copter were watching, she carefully kept her body between the supplies and their probing glances. Their interest indicated that they knew no more about where they were headed than she did. She had to assume that they were being kept in the dark for a reason, and so she was careful not to reveal anything to them. She was no stranger to covert operations, but being asked to board a helicopter carrying an odd assortment of medical supplies was still enough to spark her curiosity, mainly because it indicated that there might not be time to supply her fully before her skills were needed.

All was in order, as it had been every time she had checked. She had to admit to herself that she was just filling time to push away the endless thoughts that were racing through her head. Looking at the men who had joined her, it was obvious that this was going to be no ordinary operation. She forced her mind deliberately away from fruitless speculation, and since the men with her didn't look like the type for small talk, she deliberately leaned her head back and closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax. When her eyes were closed, Paul and Tim glanced at each other, then at the one called Ki-tat. It didn't seem that any information was going to be coming their way anytime soon, so they settled themselves to wait until the helicopter landed.

The jeep pulled to a stop outside the Canadian army base in the dead of the night. The
headlights went out and a man got out with two stripes on his jacket.
"I probably won't be long." Corporal Morace, a big man, said to the driver of the jeep.,
"Yes sir." The driver, a blond, large man, said.
"Don't have any wild parties while I'm gone." The corporal smiled, and headed for the
doors of the building. The private smiled back, but it fell off his face as soon as Morace
turned away. The corporal was not as funny as he thought he was...
Morace entered the main building and stopped at the front desk. There was a thin, wiry
man behind it, he looked up at Morace without a smile.
"Do you have an appointment?" He asked in a sarcastic, dry, humourless voice.
Morace flashed his ID. "I'm Corporal Morace. Here to pick up Private Keller. Where is
she?"
The man pointed to Morace's right with a lazy, lackluster arm. "Down that hallway. We've
been expecting you...since 16:00 hours." The last bit had a hard tone to it.
Morace pretended he didn't notice. "How can I tell her apart from anyone else?"
The man clicked his tongue and counted off with his fingers. "One, she's an albino. I
hope you know what that means. Two, the hall's empty but for her. Three, you can't
miss her - she's sitting in plain view, in the same hard and uncomfortable chair she's
been in since an hour before when you said you'd been here, that would make it-" the
wiry little man looked at a clock. "...Ten hours she's been sitting there."
Corporal Morace leaned forward. "Is that insubordination, little man?"
"I'm a Sergeant."
"...oh."
Morace's boots echoed as he walked down the hall. He came up on Keller. The sergeant
was right. She really did stand out. As he was coming up on her left side, he noticed she
even had an extra finger on her left hand.
Morace leaned down. He spoke softly into Keller's left ear. "Private?"
She appeared not to hear him. "Private Keller?" He spoke again.
Christel Keller was a bit dazed. One second she was reading her magazine - just a tabloid,
really, she really couldn't believe any of it. The article she was reading was titled "DEAD
FARMER FOUND ON PROPERTY!Family disappeared!" and the magazine's first reaxtion
was that it was aliens - and the next second, the pages were suddenly yanked down,
and behind them was a man's face, yelling "PRIVATE CHRISTEL KELLER"
"Jesus" Keller jumped in her seat, nearly having a heart attack. She was usually asleep
by one in the morning and she was a bit fluttery. Then she leapt to her feet. "Sir! Keller
reporting for duty, sir"
"At ease, private."
She relaxed. "Sorry, uh..."
"Corporal Morace."
"Sorry, Corporal. I was absorbed in my reading."
"So, you know you're being transferred?" Morace asked. Keller nodded.
"Alright. The jeep is outside, and we'll take you to an airport." Keller turned, but Morace
spoke. "You may want to take that with you."
She turned, and saw the magazine sitting in the chair. "This?" She asked, picking it up.
"Oh yes," Morace said with a smile. "It may very well come in handy." He led the way,
down the hall, while Christel Keller followed with a bemuddled frown on her face.

Just another long night flight, the pilot thought.
Captain Sean "Doc" France switched the nav to autopilot and reclined his chair, placing his hands behind his head. Outside, the thin air was frigid in the November night sky, while the monstrous hum of the C-5 Galaxy, the 2nd largest airplane in the world, roared through the pitch black. His co-pilot, Captain Frank "Cheese" Cheeseman, was busy watching the comm and at the same time enjoying a cross-word puzzle. They had taken off from Travis Air Force Base in California several hours ago and were en-route to Hickam AFB in Hawaii for refueling before reaching their final destination, Pine Gap in Australia. The cargo they were carrying was classified, but Doc assumed it was supply. Probably something to do with the Indonesians.
This is about as fun as it gets, he thought again, Truckers of the sky.
A bit of turbulence here or there from a Pacific storm, nothing much more. A few violent shakes made Doc anxious about the "important" cargo in the holds.
"Hey, Cheese, get Adolph on, check if everything's okay back there. Tech Sergeant Norman "Adolph" Hewett, the chief loadmaster and mocked for his prominent mustache, picked up on the other end. "Sergean Hewett, over."
"Need any help back there? That was a bit of a jostle a minute ago, over."
"Well, actually, sir, some of the crates felll over, so could use som..." There was a short pause, as Cheese furrowed his brow. Hewett came back on soon enough, though. "Scratch that, sir, everything's a-ok, over."
Cheese gave a quizzical look to Doc, then responded. "Alright, then. Our ETA's about three more hours. Have fun back here. Cheese out."
Doc wasn't convinced. "Cheese, take the nav, I'm gonna have a little peek back there." He jumped out of the pilot seat.
Doc stumbled in a bit of turbulence but recovered, and continued down the short corridor into the cargo bay. He was a big man, of average height, but above-average mass. He was about as muscular as he was paunchy, about the size of your average football player. He hated football.
He opened the door to the bay and peered in. He saw crates of weapons and munitions, standard payload for these sorts of missions. What caught his attention was the row of passengers on the other side of the bay, sitting in seats that were recently installed. Granted, he was never told exactly what they would be carrying that night, and it wasn't out of the ordinairy to carry passengers, but something just didn't settle right with him. Before he could think of anything, a man in a black suit and reflective sunglasses firmly gripped his shoulder.
"Captain France, I'm going to have to ask you to return to the cockpit."
Doc pushed him away, but his grip was strong. "Who the hell are you? This is my aircr..."
The suit gripped tighter, enunciating "NOW." He let go, as Doc flung away from his arm.
"Your questions will be answered soon, Captain France."
France returned to the cockpit, steeming. He sat down, and thought for a bit.
"Something wrong, Doc?" Cheese asked.
Just another long night flight.

Two hours passed without a single word in the cockpit of the Galaxy transport. Doc was still absolutely furious about the way he had been treated in the cargo hol. And of his own plane! It was something that had never happened to him before and something that he had never expected to happen at all.
Doc's co-pilot had also remained silent since Doc returned visibly murderous. He had snatched the controls back from Cheese quite aggressively and had remained silent ever since.
Finally to the secret relief of both men the radio crackled into life and the voice of a third man filtered into the cabin of the Galaxy.
"Captain France, Captain Cheeseman, you are on Pine Gap radar. Please retain current speed and heading, we are sending a craft to escort you the rest of the way."
"Why do we need an escort?" Doc said moodily to noone in particular.
Frank said nothing.
"We're the biggest aircraft in the sky it's not like we need an escort. What in the hell do we have back there to need an escort anyway?"
"Sean," Cheese said finally, "how do they have us on radar already? We're still over the middle of the ocean."
Doc looked like he was thinking hard about something but finding no answers. "I'm not sure Frank. I guess that'll be one of the things they're going to tell us about when we finally get to this place."
Cheese looked back to the front of the cockpit. Sea as far as he could, well see.
"What I don't understand," began Doc, "is that I've flown military supply missions before and I've never needed an escort from this far out. Something about this place must be really different to the bases I've seen and that's for sure."
Cheese was just about to reply when he saw something off the front of the transport. "Sean look, what's that?" He pointed at a tiny black dot just off to the right of their present heading.
"I don't know but it's not showing on the radar. It must just be a bird."
Doc realised immediately that no birds could fly this high and just as Cheese was about to point this out he stopped and they both fell silent.
The dot was growing bigger and quickly! As it got closer the two men just got a glance of the grey blur before it was gone again.
"What the hell was that? It looked like a missile" shouted Cheese.
Suddenly the distinct sound of afterburners caught up with the unidentified object and they pierced the very walls that contained the two men. The noise escalated into a high pitched screech and as the pilots listened in near pain the screech became louder and lower. Seconds later all that remained was a distant rumble but even that was loud enough for Doc to be grateful of his ear protection.
"Captain France" came a shout over the radio.
"Yeah?" Doc shouted back a lot louder than it sounded to him.
"I've come from the Pine Gap military base. I'm your escort."
"Sean he only left there ten minutes ago," said an irate and very loud co-pilot.
"You saw the speed on that thing, I reckon he could've made it in five" replied Doc. "Escort this is Captain France, identify yourself"
"Plenty of time for that later Captain," replied the pilot. "Just mantain your speed and heading and we'll be at Pine Gap in no time"
Just as Doc was about to respond he felt a tap on the shoulder by Cheese. He looked to face him but his head only turned half way. Outlined in the window behind Cheese was a sleek, grey jet-fighter like nothing he had ever seen before in his life. It was basically similar to any other military aircraft but the shape of the plane from nose to tail was as perfect as it could be. The rear two meters of the aircraft showed off the massive afterburners that had provided the craft with such speed and on top of it's wing was a logo. No, a name, Hurricane.
Both men stared fixedly out of the window at their escort while the autopilot took them to Pine Gap.

Cleo "Poison" Andrews was taking a methodical tour of her new location, which she had been told belonged to some secret organization, which would be explained to her later. She knew all about "need to know," though not in the military sense, so she had no problem with that. She did have a problem with being unarmed, which she hadn't been in as long as she could remember. They'd stripped her of all weapons--even the small knife that she didn't think anyone would find--before allowing her on the transport. She felt naked and vulnerable, but she knew a thing or two about unarmed fighting, too, so she wasn't helpless. The official guide who was taking them through the base droned on about med-labs and canteens and such without paying much attention to his audience. Seeing her chance, she gradually faded to the back of the group and then slipped quietly into a side corridor. She knew enough about official tours to know that they never showed you anything interesting. She was about halfway down the corridor when someone else entered it behind her. She sensed his presence immediately and eased back into a doorway. The big redhead lumbered slowly down the corridor, checking each doorway, breaking into a big grin when he spotted her. He reached out one hand to touch her, only to have that hand wrenched into a very uncomfortable position that took him off-balance. Igor "Sandy" Zhandovich was big and strong, but not very bright, and he soon found himself face-down on the floor with his arm twisted behind him and a very attractive woman kneeling on his back. He wasn't quite sure what had happened, and when he tried to replay the incident in his mind, it made his head hurt.

"Why did you follow me?" began his interrogation at the hands of said attractive woman. Now, being Russian, he knew about interrogations, and so he immediately started thinking as intently as he was capable of doing.

The result of this intent thought was an incoherent "Nnnnggghhh," followed by a slightly more coherent, "J-j-just w-wanted to t-talk to you." This response brought one knee into closer contact with one of Sandy's kidneys, so he deemed it to have been a poor choice of words.

"Okay, okay....I've been watching you, wondering what a girl like you is doing in a place like this." (Sandy liked old American movies.)

"I'll tell you what I'm doing, you big lug. I'm disposing of some trash unless it smartens up and apologizes for following me. Oh, and don't ever try this again."

Not seeing any other way of getting off the floor or saving his kidneys, Sandy decided to comply, though if any of the other guys found out about this, he'd probably wish she'd finished him off.

"Listen, uh...I don't believe I got your name...."

"No, you didn't."

"Um....right. Anyway, I'm really sorry, and I won't ever do it again. I promise."

"Mmmhmmm."

"Can.....can I get up now? I'd just as soon nobody see me this way."

Poison sighed and said, "Okay, but no sudden moves, mister, or back on the floor you go."

Not having any doubt that it would happen just that way, Sandy got up slowly and dropped his hands carefully to his sides. Poison examined his face and decided that he looked like one of the good guys. She stuck out her hand and introduced herself....but just as "Poison." No point trusting him too much yet. Sandy slowly and carefully took the hand and shook it briefly, pulling it back before she could change her mind, responding with his own name. She had to smile at that, and she nodded her head at the remainder of the corridor.

"Come on, Sandy, let's go see what they don't want us to see yet."

************************************************************

In another part of the base, a military helicopter had unloaded its human cargo and gone on its way. The occupants had spent so much time studiously ignoring each other that no one seemed willing to break the silence. Being the outgoing type, Tammy decided to be first.

"Okay, guys....anybody know why we're here?" she asked as she looked from one confused expression to another in turn.

Paul squinted into the scorching summer sky. He, Tim and the others stood on a helipad on the outskirts of the base. "Okay, guys....anybody know why we're here?" asked the woman they had met on the flight. Paul was about to give a non-commital grunt when, in the distance, a large circular 'iris' opening in the ground appeared near the runway. A sleek, deadly looking jet swiftly appeared into the desert heat, propelled through the opening on a hydrolic platform.

Everyone watched, open mouthed as the jet took off at a 45 degree angle straight off the platform, then sped away, leaving a deafing sonic booms buffeting the group.

"Holy shit onna stick" remarked one of the suits Tim and Paul had faced on the panel.

"Uh-huh" agreed Tim, watching the sky where the planes had been

The group muttered amoung themselves as a green canvas covered army truck sped up the runway in the distance towards the group.

As Jack Thomas, or Warlord as he was more commonly referred to, walked out of the weight room, he almost ran over a couple coming down the hallway towards him.

"Something I can help you two with?"

The man, a soldier with frighteningly red hair looked embarassed and mumbled something. The woman just looked at him as if she were trying to decide exactly how many pieces she could separate his skull into.

"If you're looking for the tour group, they don't come this way. I suggest-"

"We're not looking for the tour," the woman cut him off, "and if you'll excuse us, we'll be on our way."

Warlord stepped squarely into the hallway, his more than six and a half feet of height and 275 pounds of muscle making a very effective roadblock.

"Perhaps you didn't understand me. The tour group is that way. The area behind me is off-limits, which is why the tour doesn't go there. If you are being assigned to this base, you will see all appropriate facilities at the appropriate time. Now, I would recommend that you join the rest of the group before you get in trouble."

The redhead immediately turned around and headed for the main hallway at almost a run. The woman stuck around a bit longer.

"Something else I can help you with ma'am?"

"Don't call me ma'am unless you want me to rip your tongue out and strangle you with it."

Warlord grinned.

"Until you let me know what you would prefer to be called, I'm going to continue to call you ma'am. If you don't like it, give me an alternative. Ma'am."

"I'm Poison."

"I can see that. But what would you like me to call you?"

Poison looked hard at the man in front of her. She had seen bigger men, but not many. He wore his hair in a close crew cut and had very intense eyes. Eyes that were not all that different from her own. She decided that this soldier was not a good one to push.

Without another word she turned around and headed back for the main hall, leaving a curious soldier watching her go. As she neared the end of the hall she looked back over her shoulder, then disappeared.

Warlord shook his head and headed for the showers.

Tammy and her new associates went their separate ways to drop their things off in their quarters before "the tour." Tammy paused outside the door to her quarters, knowing how important it is to be mentally prepared before entering a room that may be occupied. She opened the door to reveal a dark-haired woman who bore a striking resemblance to herself. The woman gazed back at her, suspicion and curiosity mingling in her eyes. Tammy was very good at reading people and immediately decided that this woman had been through some rough times and come out on top. That was something she could identify with, so-being the rather direct type-she introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Tammy. Any idea what this is all about?"

"Any reason I should tell you if I do?"

"Well, for starters, I'm a medic, and you might need somebody to patch up that thick hide of yours one day."

The two women sized each other up for a few moments and then Poison burst out laughing. It wasn't often she found a man who would stand up to her, let alone another woman. Her thoughts drifted back briefly as she realized that this was the second time in one day that someone had done so. Clearly this organization was on a whole different level from the streets where she'd been living. Hopefully, a lot of things were going to be different now...

Tammy watched the transformation in the other woman with interest. She usually managed to get other people to talk to her, and she hoped that now she'd get some real information. It was clear that the other woman had arrived before her, so she might know something.

Unfortunately, a series of skillfully worded questions yielded nothing more useful than the presence of the usual base facilities and two large men, one decidedly more intelligent than the other. Anything of interest that Poison might have seen on her unauthorized detour had been thwarted by the more intelligent of the two men. Obviously, she'd made a poor choice of allies and opponents. She might have street smarts, but strategy was clearly not her strong suit. She seemed to rely on bravado and attitude, with a healthy dose of combat ability. However, she was clearly a smart girl, and Tammy figured she could teach her a thing or two about strategy. After all, whatever else may be going on, it was clear that they were to have a common enemy, and Tammy wanted to be sure that Poison could do her part to hold them off while she did her job.

When Tammy was sure that she wasn't hiding anything useful, she turned to go back out to join "the tour." She glanced back at Poison and said, "Strategy lessons start tonight." With that parting shot, she left a dumbfounded Poison staring after her and set off in search of the tour guide.

Christel Keller hesitated in front of the door. Apparently, this was her quarters. Two
person rooms, she wasn't sure if someone else was in yet.
Tentatively, she knocked on the door.
"No one's in there, yet." Keller turned, and saw a tall man of average musculature and
dark complexion.
"What are you doing out here?" Keller asked, cautiously.
He smiled. "My roommate's putting away all his stuff. He seems to value his privacy...
doesn't want me to see where it all is." He shrugged. "I figure in the same tiny little room
there's little one can do to stave off my finding something, but he was adamant."
Keller extended her left hand, her good hand. "I'm Christel Keller. Who're you?"
The man shook her hand. It was a sharp contrast, the different skin tones. "I'm Bernard
Dujardin - most of my friends call me Gardener." Christel noted the way he glanced
down at her hand - the extra finger. There was always a reaction.
"So, no one's in that room yet?"
"Not yet. Who's your roomate going to be?"
"I dunno. Some pilot. Who's yours?"
"Said his name was Jennings. Seemed almost scared of me."
"Oh. Well. I guess I'll be seeing you around..." Keller gave a little wave and entered her
room, closing the door behind her.
She sat down on one of the beds. It was stiff, hard. But Keller was pretty sure she could
get used to it.
Keller rolled over onto her stomach, her left side facing the door. She often found herself
quite comfortable that way, even wearing a uniform, and made it easy for her to think.
Women in ground combat roles were new and slightly controversial, even for Canada,
which were less old-fashioned on who could be let in their neighbors to the south. If
Keller was correct U.S.A. still didn't allow homosexuals into their military, although she
could be wrong.
But still, being a female soldier had been difficult, to say the least. Most of her commanding
officers had been rather stuck in their ways: women did not belong and that was that. It
was hard to prove her worth, but she persevered. She always just wanted to give something
back to her community and country...
She suddenly noticed a face above her. She had been thinking so hard she hadn't heard
her come in.
Fighting her embarrassment, she extended her hand upwards in greeting. "Hey. I'm Christel Keller..."

*Interceptor One this is Tactical Command. Interceptor Two has just launched to the north. You are to ignore any sightings until you return to base, just watch your radar.*
The radio in the airborne Hurricane's cockpit crackled and was silent.
"Affirmative Command, what are my landing orders?" replied the pilot.
*Your eta is 3 minutes, you are clear to land as soon as you arrive. The main runway has been cleared for the Galaxy.*
"Got it command, I'll see you there." The radio switched off with a click and the voice of the Hurricane pilot arrived now in the cockpit of Sean France's Galaxy transport.
*Captain France, we are approaching Pine Gap. You are cleared for final descent as soon as you are ready.*
"Acknowledged, what about you? Are you coming down with us? I only see the one runway," replied Doc into his own radio.
*There is only one runway, I'll be ok though. When we're both on the ground I'll come and meet you by your transport. See you on the ground.*
With this the radio transmission was cut and the Hurricane rolled onto it's side and pulled sharply away from the galaxy. Doc France and his co-pilot began their final approach and the Hurricane touched down silently some 300 yards away.

When both craft were finally on the ground and unloading of the galaxy transport had begun, the Hurricane pilot made his way across the airstrip to greet the two new pilots.
He approached the aircraft to find both pilot and co-pilot already out of the cockpit and stretching their legs on the tarmac after one of the longest and slowest journeys they'd ever flown.
"Captain France? Captain Cheeseman? My names TJ, the guys around here call me Trigger." said the Hurricane pilot extending a hand to the slightly larger of the two men.
"Pleased to meet you," he said taking Trigger's hand. "I'm Sean and this is Frank. Doc and Cheese if you will."
"Cheese huh?" he enquired extending his hand this time to the co-pilot.
"I've not had much of a chance to earn a callsign so they just decided to call me by my surname."
"Well, part of it," added Doc.
Pleased to meet you. Both of you." said Trigger turning to walk towards his own aircraft. "If you'll follow me please, your aircraft is being unloaded as we speak."
"Do you know what was actually in there?" asked Cheese. "Just, it seems to me that you know a lot more about this than we do."
"I've been here for almost three years now but I'm afraid I can't tell you what I know. Not yet anyway."
"So where are we meant to go now? Don't we just go back home?" asked Doc while they walked.
"Not this time Captain. At least not right away. I don't know why but you're going to be asked to remain at the base for a while. I guess it's all just for security."
Trigger paused just long enough for Doc to say "So you don't know everything after all then?"
"Maybe Captain, maybe not. Maybe I just can't tell you. What I've been asked to tell you though is to wait here with me until one of the suits gets here. That'll be the Commander or the NCO. They're ok I guess but they never do any real work in my eyes... Anyway," Trigger stopped walking and slumped against the side of his Hurricane, "if you don't mind waiting here for them you're welcome to look around the airfield. Just don't go so far that you can see what people ae doing. That's what I tell most people."
"Ok then fine." replied Doc in the voice one would use when caught up in a fairy tale. "Can I take a look at your aircraft?" he asked staring into the perfect curves of the fuselage.
"I don't see why not. Just make sure you don't look inside or under anything with red bits on. That means it'll either kill you, or you'll be killed for looking at it."
Doc saw a smile on the pilot's face but he didn't hear it in his voice. As he began to circle the jet he was sure to avoid any closed panels and red paint.

In the distance a large but unimposing figure had appeared from the base's central access lift. It was the Commander.

"Gia O'Connor."

The raven-haired woman reached out and shook Keller's hand, then resumed lugging her large suitcase into the room and wrestled it onto the bed. She opened the catches and began unpacking an extensive wardrobe.
She turned from hanging up a dress and spotted the tabloid Keller had brought all the way from Canada.

"So, is this some kind of loony bin for people who believe in UFOs?"

She grinned.

"In that case, have I got a story to tell you."

"They told me I had to keep my lip zipped, but now that I'm transferred to this base, I'm supposed to be among people of the same security clearance, so it shouldn't matter, right?"

She pushed some of her clothes to the side and sat down on the bed.
"Well, first off, I'm a test pilot with the USAF. They don't often put women in combat pilot roles, so this was one of the best postings I could get. All the adrenalin and surrounded by hot flyboys."

"I got assigned to the Aurora test at Groom Lake. Already, we're supposed to be up to our neck in UFO's out there, right? As if. But I'm waiting around the base for the test flight when suddenly we get word to move the test time up by 90 minutes, which was more or less immediately. So takeoff goes as normal, the Aurora's a real sweet kick in the pants. Up at 40,000 I get orders to change vector and go to max thrust and close on another plane."

"I think, what? Isn't this supposed to be top secret - why are we showing ourselves off?"

"Then I get a visual. This thing was no plane, and by God it had to be a flying saucer. I could only hope the gun camera was getting some good footage. I was scared through my shorts."

"I managed to follow it, I was barely closing on it, and this was at max thrust. Suddenly it started to glow on the bottom, so I backed off a little, and this pulse burst at me, and next thing you know I'm travelling at Mach speeds with a partially damaged airframe and everyone's yelling at me and the ufie's nowhere in sight. I brought the plane back to base, and landed safely. But I have to tell you, that was the biggest rush of my whole God-loving life. I kid you not."

"How about you? I'm from Washington. What part of the States are you from, and what brings you here?"

The two pilots watched as the commander crossed the runway towards them. He was not a huge man, but his presence gave the impression of one much bigger. He looked at the two pilots for a few seconds with eyes that bore a distinct resemblance to security cameras.

"Captain France. Captain Cheeseman. Welcome to Pine Gap. I see you've already met Trigger. I'm sure he'll be happy to show you around the base later. First, I need you go take your gear to the barracks. Trigger will show you where that is. There is a briefing for all newly assigned personnel in the briefing room in about 20 minutes. I expect to see you there. Any questions?"

"Newly assigned personnel? I was told that I was flying a standard transport run and that I would be leaving in a couple of hours."

"That may have been true when you left. By not following orders and staying in the cockpit you have forced me to add you to my roster. You and Captain Cheeseman are now permanently assigned to this unit. Pine Gap will be your home for the forseeable future gentlemen."

"Just who the hell do you think you are?! You can't just 'add us to your roster.'"

"Forgive me for not introducing myself. I'm General Stan Genega, commanding officer of Pine Gap, Australia. Callsign Knight. And, yes, I can just add you to my roster. It's already been done. You will receive all necessary paperwork after the briefing. Welcome to my world."

With this the commander turned and headed back towards the building he came from. Doc turned towards Trigger.

"What the hell is going on here?"

"I suspect we'll find out in the briefing. Grab your stuff, it starts in about 15 minutes. Welcome to X-Com."