Nazca

        As the convoy approached the two kilometer mark from the alien compound, Colonel Estevez ordered the driver to stop the jeep and watched as the T-54s accelerated forward. He signaled his radio man to call the artillery group and commence the barrage.
        Ten seconds later the 105s fired, M1 High Explosive rounds sailing into the sky at the Howitzer’s maximum rate of six per minute. It would take some time before the shells reached the alien camp.
        The detonation caught him reaching for a map, so strong that he felt the concussion and blast brush his skin. He looked sharply up and saw a tank explode violently, diesel and munitions following suit adding to the blast. A second tank, to the left this time, came to a screeching halt as an Anti-Matter Torpedo slammed into its engine compartment, the negative and positive particles reacting destructively against each other.
        Colonel Estevez cringed as a pair of UFOs blasted overhead, firing their Ground Cannons at the advancing infantry vehicles, great geysers of dirt erupting in front of the trucks.. Bolt upon bolt of blue light smashed into the earth, catching a couple of trucks full on, exploding as they were hit.

        Two kilometers away, the first of the High Explosive rounds landed in the alien compound, thirty shells cratering the lush valley. The alien structure was hit twice, with no apparent damage. The UFO was also hit but shields held.
        The Sectoid Commander had been monitoring the advance of the column for some time now. It hardly mattered. The mineral deposit had been speed mined and being relatively small, was practically exhausted. He needed two more days to finish his job and leave the area. This column wouldn’t pose a problem but he didn’t fool himself. Once the Terrans mounted a serious attack, his light defenses would be overrun.
        However, the ranged torpedoes needed to be silenced immediately. He gave the fighters new orders.
        In reality the Commander, convinced of the Terran’s cowardice and indecision, hadn’t expect the attack so soon. No matter, a small surprise awaited them. He smiled grimly and issued the necessary orders. Behind the compound, a dark, stocky armored transport fired its engines and engaged the take-off sequence. Inside, its deadly cargo awoke.

        A second group of UFOs roared over the mountains to the east at close to ground level. The gunner of the leftmost tank swiveled his DShKM anti-aircraft gun and wildly pressed the trigger, sending a hail of 7.62mm slugs at the advancing vessels. The magnesium tracers drew a perfect line against the first of the fighters but exploded ineffectively against the shields. Another tank opened up and just as quickly was destroyed.
        Colonel Estevez blanched as he witnessed the carnage. Seven of his advancing column had been transformed into burning wrecks. Dios mio, he thought. Half of my force. His only possibility, his only option was to get his infantry into the alien compound.
        Defeat crept into his eyes as he saw a pair of hated UFOs swing low from the sea and line up on the advancing trucks. The UFOs came in slow, taking their time to sight the targets. Then, the lead UFO bucked violently once, twice, three times and exploded.

        "Tally-ho," yelled the lead of Fighter Squadron VF-131 - Wildcats. He reefed his F/A-18C into a tight turn, activating his countermeasures, flares and aluminum chaff peppering the evening air. His wingman, glued to his tail blasted a few dozen yards above Estevez, who cringed ducking his head against the thunder of the General Electric engines. A second group of Hornets sent a volley of AIM-9 Sidewinders at the remaining UFO, breaking its shields and smashing it against the ground engulfed in a fireball to rival the sun.
        Colonel Estevez stood in the jeep. The Americans! Against all odds there was a chance his troops would make to the alien camp.
        A second group of four Hornets blasted in from the west. At less than four miles, the UFOs clearly visible through their all-round bubble canopies, they fired a total of eight AIM-7 Sparrows. The missiles dropped from their pylons and commenced a deadly race.
        The UFOs banked violently trying to avoid the Sparrows but moved too late. The first alien fighter caught three missiles in the aft section and crashed brutally against a green field, leaving a deep scorch mark as testimony of its death. The second UFO avoided all but one of the targeted Sparrows and turned into the fight, shields low from the missile hit. But the Hornets were ready for the fight. A second volley of Sidewinders flashed into the air. The UFO tried to maneuver desperately but died in a spectacular fireball.

        Several events happened at once.
        Already fifteen miles distant, the armored transport continued on its grisly mission.
        The first group of UFOs, originally commanded to silence the Howitzers, returned successfully from their raid.
        The Alien Commander activated the Ion Batteries.
        The tide turned against the Earth forces. An Anti-matter photon torpedo fired from one of the two remaining UFOs accelerated nearly instantly to its maximum speed of Mach 15. As it crossed the sky, radiation emitted from the negative particles (enclosed in a strong force field which would be canceled at impact), left a straight gray trail of phased photons in its path. A second torpedo discharged from the AMP torpedo bay of the other alien fighter and raced towards the Hornets.
        High powered Tachion Beam delivered a devastating salvo with pin-point precision.
        Two Hornets died, disintegrating into small pieces from the violence of the matter-anti-matter clash. A further two were felled by the Tachion shots.
        "Holy shit!" cursed Wildcat Lead. "Break left. I got the west bogie!" he instructed his team mates.
        "Roger, Lead. East is ours." In pairs the Hornets split up to chase the alien vessels. Air condensed into water vapor leaving circular trails behind their wings as they pushed their aircraft into high-G turns.
        Only eight F-18s had been able to leave Nimitz, and now only four remained. Four alien vessels had been destroyed. Wildcat Lead pulled hard on the yoke and sent the Hornet vertical. Craning his neck over the left side of the canopy, he spotted one of the UFOs climbing to meet him, the other occupied with Cats Five and Six. Lead checked his weapons display; two AIM-9 missiles and a full load of 20mm rounds left.
        "Snake," he called to his wing man. "Roll down. I’ll take high ground." The idea, practiced by them on many occasions, was to trap the UFO in between two levels, a pincers movement from below and above. He heard confirmation and punched in the afterburners, feeling the Hornet pick up speed. He checked the alien’s position and cursed as he spotted bolts of light spouting from its forward cannons, the UFO rising quickly after him. The overload warning system cut in with a double klaxon as he pulled the F-18 into an eight G turn, rolling clear over the UFO’s nose. Inverted, he followed the alien’s ascending trajectory for a brief second as it streaked by him.
        "Snake," his breathing coming in rasps from the G strain. "C’mon, man!"
        "Good shot, Lead," came the reply. "Missile out!" A Sidewinder shot under his canopy, leaving a faint smoke trail. Cat Lead flipped his Hornet over and jerked the yoke to the right, turning his nose into the evading UFO.
        Suddenly his aircraft rocked wildly. Alarms came on in the cockpit as the compound’s Ion Batteries delivered bolts scorching scant feet from his engine nozzles.
        "Goddamn," he called. "I’m hit, I’m hit. I’m going low."
        "Right on you, Lead," came the always reassuring voice of his wingman. "Gotta take care..." Cat Lead watched his friend disintegrate, his aircraft caught by the Ion Batteries.
        Cat Lead felt an incredible and uncharacteristic rage swell inside him, taking him by surprise. He pushed the throttle all the way forward, afterburning flame spouting out a hundred feet behind him, and swung the yoke hard up. Stall alarms came on, blaring strongly in the cockpit. Please, he begged, just one shot. Dark mountains filled his field of vision, rapidly tunneling from the G-Force effects. The mountains were replaced by gray sky as he continued his strong turn, nose angling up and finally the horribly familiar shape of the alien menace.
        "Fuck you!" screamed the pilot as he loosed off his two remaining missiles. Then he pulled his zero-zero ejection handle and nearly fainted as he was blasted into the cold air. The pilot, dangling from the chute, started to cheer and swear loudly, gaving the UFO the finger as it roared below him engulfed in flames.

        Lima International Airport

        "Boss." Keller turned as his radio man walked over, the satellite radio in his hand. "Long distance," he said.
        For the past twenty minutes they had remained in a military section of the airport, closely guarded by dozens of Peruvian troops. He wouldn’t allow his men close to their weapons or equipment - the last thing he needed was a fire fight with the South Americans.
        Catherine and the rest of the science team fretted, unaccustomed to being treated with less than reverence. From time to time she would stride over to him and ask for updates. On two occasions he had refrained her from loudly assaulting the Peruvian officer.
        "Keller," said the captain into the radio. The voice came back surprisingly clear.
        "Captain. We got ourselves a situation." Hammet’s voice brought a chill to his spine. "The attack on the alien camp is going to fail." Well, damn, thought Keller. Once the Peruvians found out his team would be left in an awkward spot. "They’re going to have to try again some other time. But the bad news is that Lima is under attack. Unidentified aliens have seized the residential part of the city."
        Keller glanced at the camouflaged troops. From their passive attitudes he guessed that no-one had informed them of the recent events. Fantastic.
        "Captain, you’re going in."
        "Excuse me, Colonel. Us?"
        "That’s right, Captain. Our Ambassador’s residence is slap in the middle of the mess. And the President wants his good friend the Ambassador safe on the double." Did he detect a trace of irony in Hammet’s voice? Keller closed his eyes and let a long, silent ‘shit’ escape his lips.
        "Captain, do you copy?"
        "Yessir. How do we get there, Colonel?"
        "Peruvian Air Force is providing transport. Just get the Embassy staff to the airport. No other shit."
        "Will do, sir," Keller said.

        Nazca

        The camp Commander order his remaining fighter to return to the base. All of the Terran aircraft had been dealt with but the Terran Tanks were already too close.
        A T-54 sped over a small hill a mile away. Inside the tank, the commander lined his TPK-1 sight on the alien enclosure and slew the turret onto the target. The gunner, sighting through the x3.5 magnification periscope fired.
        The camp Commander cursed as the mining building took several hits, depleting his shields. The Ion Batteries fired several quick shots, stopping two tanks.
        Then the fighter arrived.

        Lima

        The low buildings of the capital of Peru flashed quickly underneath as the Super Puma helicopter sped towards its destination. The helo came in from the north, passed the old, beautifully colonial section of the city and then crossed over into the newer business district. Skyscrapers, dwarves compared to their larger cousins in New York but impressive nevertheless, towered above them as the helicopter thundered at near street level.
        The citizens of Lima, returning home from work had been caught in the attack or detained in roadblocks. Thousands of taillights told the story of a monumental traffic jam. Keller distinguished frightened, angry and concerned faces turn up as the helo thumped overhead. A few cheered the military vehicle on. Wrong nationality, thought Keller with a twinge of regret.
        The first of the Army and National Guard roadblocks flashed below them. APCs and police cars lined the streets, lights blazing red and blue in the dusk.
        Ahead, a column of black smoke rose lazily into the night. A glow of orange told the same story. Death, terror, suffering.
        The business district gradually gave way to the residential area, office blocks morphing into low rambling estates. Cars abandoned everywhere. Deserted streets. As they proceeded the destruction became more apparent. Here and there fires consumed houses and trees. A bodies lay on sidewalks and on immaculate lawns. Keller surmised that a Robot or two were responsible. If they were still around, the cops were in for a hard time.
        The pilot of the Super Puma turned and raised a finger. One minute. He checked to make sure that his team had noticed the warning. Gator, Wales, Gonzalez, ‘Topcat’ Maddigan, a Spanish squaddie from Team Five and himself. Six men. No more room available once the Ambassador’s family and staff was onboard. The commandos activated their laser scopes and rechecked their gear.
        The seconds dragged by until the helicopter turned into a wide avenue, flanked by trees and deserted cars. A high iron fence marked the perimeter of US soil. The helicopter crossed over the fence and reared, breaking its forward movement and touching down in a swift motion.
        "Go, go, go," yelled Keller.
        The US Ambassador’s Residence was a large, white colonial building set back from the main entrance about one hundred yards. A wide gravel driveway, lined at regular intervals by large trees, serpented from the front gate to the double doors. The rest was occupied by a perfectly trimmed garden. Lights blazed brightly from every window. The six men spilled from the Super Puma and ran towards the house entrance, where two Marines crouched behind stone figures, M-16s prominent.
        "US Special Ops team," yelled Keller as he ran. "We’re here to get you out." The Marines remained motionless. One of them, barely into his early twenties, seemed at the verge of a nervous breakdown. The older one, a sergeant, rose slowly but kept his eyes riveted on the garden.
        "’Bout fucking time, man!"
        Keller took the steps leading to the doors two at a time.
        "Where’s the Ambassador?" he asked.
        "Inside. Watch the lawn, man. We got bugs all over the place. What the hell are they?"
        Keller noted the Marine’s terror. Something was different, wrong. He looked at the younger who stared fixedly into the night, slowly moving the muzzle of this machine gun.
        "Gator, set a perimeter defense." The burly Sergeant turned and gave orders. Keller opened the residence door and walked in quickly. Furniture lay overturned on the floor, a couple of three-piece sofas propped against a wide double door that most probably led into a living room. A second door to the left had a bureau moved in front of it. A group of terrified civilians huddled against each other next to a wall, covered protectively by two young Marines. They had barricaded themselves in the room.
        Keller talked slowly.
        "We’re US Special Operations. We’re here to take you home." He turned to an older man. "Mr. Ambassador, let’s go."
        "Thank the Lord," said the diplomat, relief washing over his terrified face. His wife cried silently in his arms, her eyes haunted with a look of pure terror, two kids cradled to her chest. Jesus, what had scared these people so?
        The group, the diplomat’s family plus two staff and another American couple, trouped behind Keller. Outside he signaled the Marine.
        "OK, Sergeant. Let’s get these people to the helicopters."
        The younger one still hadn’t moved.
        "Ain’t going out there, Sarge," he said. Keller turned sharply.
        "Come on, kid. It’s time to leave," said the sergeant. The young Marine shook his head, refusing to move.
        "No fucking way. Not out there."
        Keller felt a chilling apprehension creep over him. "It’s OK, kid. Just a thirty yards. We’re X-COM. We’re here to protect you." The kid looked up and nodded reluctantly. A cloud seemed to pass over his eyes. Then the helicopter exploded, the concussion rolling over the garden and hitting them like a solid wall. The fuel tank blew, gushing a flame dozens of yards into the night sky and revealing a large mass beyond it. A Robot moved slowly in front of the Embassy gate on triple axles, mechanical terror icing their hearts.
        "Oh, shit," growled Gator.
        "They’re back, Sarge!" screamed the young Marine. Keller quickly assessed the situation. The helicopter lost and a ‘bot in front. Inside.
        "Move," he ordered. "Back in!" The kid swore loudly and fired a long burst at the Robot. Wrong move.
        The Tank stopped and targeted the Terran. Fired.
        Keller dragged the Marine sergeant into the residence. Outside the kid lay in a heap, smoke rising from his broken chest.
        "What happened," screamed the Ambassador’s wife, nearly hysterical. Keller looked through the window. The helicopter burned intensely illuminating the garden, rotors turning in slow motion. The Robot advanced to the gate, smashed it with a plasma shot and glided through. But something tore his gaze in another direction. Shadows, vague shapes darted quickly from behind trees converging on the house.
        "Listen up," said Keller urgently. "Helicopter is down and we gotta move fast." He turned to the Ambassador. "Do you have a garage in the house? Cars?"
        The diplomat a tall man of fifty, gray hair at the temples, hesitated briefly.
        "My wife’s Cherokee. And the Embassy car." Eight civilians, plus three Marines and six of their own made seventeen people. No way they’d make in two cars. They’d have to borrow another from the street.
        "It’ll have to do. Keys?"
        "On a key ring, downstairs. On the garage wall."
        "OK. Let’s go. Now."
        "Down there?" said another Marine, backing away slightly. "Man, you don’t know... you haven’t seen..." he stammered.
        "Hey, you want to stay here chat with the robot, ‘sup to you." Keller motioned Gator in front but the Marine sergeant moved forward.
        "I know the way. Follow me," he said. Quickly they removed the bureau and opened the door.

        The Net

        Gandalf finished unzipping the hundred meg file and sat back with a smile. Gotcha! he thought. He hoped that it was worth deleting all his games from his second hard disk He opened his text-debugging program and opened the alleged alien file. As it slowly loaded into the computer’s memory, he popped open a can of soda. A couple of minutes later, the program silently displayed the contents of the file.
        "Cool," he exclaimed and reached for the mouse.

        Lima

        The door opened into narrow staircase leading below, towards the kitchen. The Marine sergeant raced down, his M-16 covering his advance. Behind him Gator and Gonzalez followed, point protection for the civilians. Keller and the rest closed the rear. That is the reason why Keller hardly saw what happened.
        A dark figure bounded from the shadows, a hideous hissing marking its attack. The Marine screamed and fired wildly into the ceiling, his back crashing against the wall as the creature seemed to embrace him.
        "Watch out," bellowed Gator. Moving forward, he slammed the butt of the laser rifle against the creature’s side, the sickening crack hardly heard over the hysterical screams of the Ambassador’s wife and kids. With hardly any space to fire, Gator hit the alien repeatedly until it fell backward, dragging the screaming Marine with it.
        "I knew it, man," came a terrified scream from a Marine. "We’re all dead!"
        "Fuckin’ kill it," yelled Gonzalez, crouching low and trying to free the Marine Sergeant from the bug’s death grip. Thin black sinews covered in slime wrapped around the Marine’s shoulders and back. "Do it!" Shouts of panic mingled with the loud voices of the X-COM men.
        "Can’t shoot, man. No angle," shouted Gator. He grabbed a slimy limb and pulled with all his strength, back arcing with effort. "The Hell is this?" he grunted through clenched teeth.
        The alien lay under the Marine, thrashing strongly from side to side.
        "Back up," said Gator urgently. "Move back."
        "OK, asshole," said Gonzalez and dropped his rifle exchanging it for a razor sharp hunting knife from his belt. "Time to let go, pal."
        But at that moment, the Marine Sergeant was launched with tremendous force up and back against the Hispanic, tripping him against the stairs. The creature rose quickly and jumped towards Gator.
        A series of blue laser shots ripped it to pieces, burnt stench invading the cramped space. Pieces of it splattered against the wall and over the X-COM Sergeant. The large mass of Wales bounded quickly down the steps and took position covering the rest of the corridor.
        "Move, move," barked Keller from the top of the stairs. He could hear the Robot outside crashing through the front doors.
        Gator moved to help the Marine up and snatched his hand back quickly. The sergeant’s eyes were white, turned backwards into the sockets, sweat breaking on his face as if he had been bathed. Dark scratch marks had ripped his uniform open, blood soaking his chest. His lower jaw hung loosely, saliva dribbling uncontrolled onto his chin. He shook violently and suddenly started screaming madly, crashing maniacally against the wall.
        "What’s going on, man?" said Gonzalez a tremor in his voice. Gator backed away and then his eyes widened.
        "Sweet Jesus," he breathed.
        The Marine convulsed violently a low moan escaping his torn lips. Gator had never heard anything closely resembling that sound; it sent a dread through every pore of his body and he knew he would remember the rest of his days. What followed would haunt his nightmares for weeks.
        The Marine flew back against the wall and split down the middle, blood gushing like a fountain, tainting the walls crimson. His entrails spilled against the floor giving way to a second alien, exactly like the first, stepping from the Marine as a butterfly bursts from its cocoon.
        It was Gator’s introduction to a Chrysalid, the terror that the Sectoid Commander had unleashed on Lima.
        The alien straightened slowly and hissed viciously, preparing to attack. Gator was frozen on the spot, his laser rifle pointing towards the floor. Gonzalez, backed up the stairs slowly, eyes wide in terror. Wales glanced over his shoulder and froze.
        Then Gator reacted, lifting his laser and blasting the Chrysalid with a volley of shots as it lunged forward. The alien was flung back against the wall, screaming horribly, thorax blasting open. It hung motionless for a moment and the slid down, crumpling in a heap at Gonzalez’s feet.
        "Oh, man," said Gonzalez slowly. "This is not good," moving away quickly.
        Keller heard a crash upstairs. He turned and yelled down. "Let’s go, we’ve got company!"
        The group moved quickly, but carefully down the stairs into a wider corridor. Ahead of them, a door led into the garage. Half way down the corridor, wooden doors led off into the kitchen and the servant’s area. Wales flattened his back against the left wall and Gonzalez against the right. Gator, still shaken from the encounter crouched in the middle. Wales thrust his head into the kitchen and quickly moved in.
        "Clear," he said. Gonzalez did the same.
        "OK," said Gator moving forward. He reached the door and stopped. The Spanish squaddie trotted up and grabbed the door’s handle.
        "Ready?" said Gator. The Spaniard nodded.
        "Go!" The Spaniard raced into the room and ducked behind a large car. Gator came in right behind him, moving quickly left. They covered the room in scant seconds. Nothing.
        "Boss," said Gator loudly. "All clear."
        The garage was large enough for two cars, both of which occupied their allotted spaces, gleaming quietly under the lights.
        "All right. Mr. Ambassador, your family and you," he pointed at the diplomat’s guests, "in the Jeep. One up front with a kid. The rest in the back." He pointed at Gator, Wales and Gonzalez. "With them." Then he signaled the staff and the remaining two Marines.
        "In the Cadillac. One up front. The rest in the back." Which left himself, the Spanish squaddie and Maddigan without a ride. They’d have to ride shotgun on the Jeep, clinging to the doors as they could.
        "What was that?" cut in TopCat. Keller glanced at him. "Heard something, boss," he said aiming his rifle down the corridor they had just traversed.
        "Shit," said Keller. "Pedro," he said. "Let’s get the door opened." The Spaniard assented silently and mashed a button on a wall, taking station in front of the Cadillac, ready to repel any attack.. The door bucked and started to swivel open, an electric whine echoing through the garage.
        "Uh, boss. I think the bugs are back," said TopCat from the door, his voice a harsh whisper. Keller swore under his breath and trained his rifle on the night, waiting for a something to come bouncing towards him.
         "Keep ‘em back," he warned. The garage door swung fully open, revealing nothing but emptiness.
        "Let’s go!" said Keller. He ran to the side of the jeep and opened the door behind the driver. He hopped on, one leg inside the cabin, the rest of his body clinging perilously to the exterior. The Spaniard did the same on the other side and TopCat, after tossing a stun grenade down the corridor, raced into position on the co-pilot’s side. The cars roared to life and drove quickly into the night, careful not to lose the commandos that clung to the exterior.

        The Net

        Gandalf sat back disgusted and scratched his scalp. It was two o’clock in the morning and his adrenaline was beginning to wane.
        The text file on his screen made no sense. He started to believe that someone was pulling the Net’s collective leg, floating a worldwide prank. Who was he kidding? There was no way he was going to be able to make sense of mess of symbols and numbers on his computer screen. Hell, this was stupid. His computer was translating the bits by way of the universal ASCII code, rendering the whole code useless. If indeed this was an alien code.
        A message flashed on his screen, his ICQ (‘I seek you’) program advising him that someone on Internet was calling him. Goldilocks. He double-clicked the name and brought up the IRC program.

        GANDALF : sup, man?
        GOLDILOCKS : how’s it going with the file?
        GANDALF : lousy. Someone making fun of us?
        GOLDILOCKS : check Nellis AFB web page. Big surprise. Gotta go :-)

        Gandalf closed the chat program and fired up a web connection, quickly surfing to the suggested site. A simple message read on its main page: CODE HACKERS CLICK HERE. The last word was in blue, underlined in the universal Internet fashion indicating a link to another page. Impatiently he click the word and avidly read the new page. ‘You are fighting a war in a new front. Click below to add to thread. Entries are being monitored. Good luck.’ Below that a text-entry box and a button with a simple label: ‘Send’.
        Gandalf typed a ‘Hello’ into the text box and pressed the button.

        Hundreds of miles away, a computer expert received the message and quickly deleted it. Dozens of similar messages were arriving in his in-box every minute, as well as in the other tech’s message mailboxes. The experts sat in front of powerful terminals in the bowels of Area 51’s computer center, scanning the replies of their global treasure hunt. He scanned the next message and pressed the DELETE key again. And again. And again. And then stopped.
        "Well, they’re starting to roll in," he said smiling.

        Gandalf frowned as he regarded the web page. Nothing on it but the input regions. He moved the mouse over the RELOAD button and tapped his finger impatiently. The page went blank and then re-appeared. His eyebrows went up. A new message read:
        ‘Download this program. It uses the alien code to print a simple message. Signed: KnightRider.’ Two files were linked to the message; a text file and the corresponding executable. Gandalf downloaded them both, his ISDN connection gobbling the bytes quickly. Then he opened his text-based debugger and opened the first file. The first lines were :

	//**	**This program by KnightRider**	**//
	//**	****************************************	**//
	//**	This program uses the alien code to	**//
	//**	print a ‘Hello World’ to the screen.	**//
	//**	Alien code uses 3 state qubits. The	**//
	//**	code corresponds to lines 1124 and	**//
	//**	1125 of alien OS. States 1 and 2	**//
	//**	initialize the monitor + clear the screen..	**//
	//**	****************************************	**//

        Underneath a few simple lines. His hands practically shaking, Gandalf double-clicked the executable file and watched his screen turn black, an insignificant ‘Hello World’ printed in the top left corner. Actually, it was probably one the most significant and important phrases ever to appear on a computer screen.
        Gandalf returned to the alien OS. Tri-state qubits? Ug, quantum computing. A qubit stood for a quantum bit, a revolutionary concept that was not easy to follow. He had recently bought two books on the subject and had spent countless hours on the Net searching for documentation to satisfy his curiosity. Coincidence? He hoped it was more like destiny. He stood and walked over to his bookshelf, stretching, working the cricks out of his back. What time was it? Jeez, three a.m. already. Tomorrow he’d drag all day. Thank God it was Friday.
        Let’s see. What did he know about quantum computing?

        Lima

        Keller grabbed the open door of the Cherokee for support until his knuckles turned white. Inside, one of the passengers held his belt but even so equilibrium was precarious. His right arm extended over the roof of the car, his laser rifle hanging around his shoulders. The cars turned into a wide avenue and cruised quickly using the middle of the street. Behind them, the Cadillac followed.
        So far, they had seen no-one. People had either barricaded themselves in their homes or had already left the area. A few military and police helicopters thundered overhead and were shot down as they carelessly entered the Robot’s defensive perimeter, somewhere behind them. Hopefully, somewhere far away.
        Except for the purring of the Cherokee’s engine and the crunch of the gravel under the wheels, little else could be heard. A few house alarms raged on and, in the distance, police sirens blared faintly.
        His ear radio came on.
        
        "Boss," it was Wales’ voice. Urgent. "Take a look to the rear."
        Keller twisted his head around, spotted the menacing outline of a Robot three hundred yards distant and cursed. It seemed to be crossing the avenue they were on, moving perpendicular to them. He prayed it would not detect them.
        He leaned over and instructed Gonzalez, who was driving the Cherokee, to speed up slightly. Again, he looked back and saw the Robot swivel suddenly and stop. So much for his prayer. Behind him, the trunk of the Cadillac exploded with a flash of bright light as the Robot fired a plasma round. The sedan swerved violently, crashing against a parked Volkswagen.
        "Damn," spat Keller. "Move," he barked at Gonzalez. The Cherokee blasted forward as a second bolt of plasma tore by them. Gonzalez maneuvered the Jeep into a side street and braked hard. Keller jumped off.
        "Get the Ambassador to the road blocks," he told Gonzalez. "Gator. Wales. Stay with them."
        "Man, what about you?" asked Gonzalez.
        "Just take care of the Ambassador. We’ll, uh, improvise."
        "Don’t do that, man. You don’t know how." Keller turned and ran towards the stricken Cadillac. Gonzalez leaned his head through the car window and watched TopCat and the Spanish X-COM squaddie dash behind the Captain. "Just once, man, just once it should be easy."
        Then he turned towards the senior diplomat.
        "Which way south?" he asked.

        Keller raced towards the broken embassy car, glancing down the avenue as he ran. The robot moving in and out of shadows as it crossed under street lights, continued its advance, already less than two hundred yards distant. As he dashed by the front of the car the robot fired again plasma smashing into the side of the car, lifting it off the ground and tossing it forward like a toy, missing the running commando by inches.
        A figure detached itself from the shadows of a stone wall and waved to him. The stone parapet, similar to many others on the tree-lined avenue, served as man-made barriers between luxurious mansions and the rest of the world. Keller hardly checked his stride and ran towards the Marine.
        "Let’s move." The group, two Marines and two Peruvian staff members crouched in the shadows of the wall, ivy cascading around them, stood quickly and commenced a mad run away from the Robot. A third plasma shot disintegrated the stone wall where they had been scant seconds before.
        On the other side of the street, TopCat skidded to a stop next to parked BMW and aimed his laser rifle at the Robot over the roof of the car. He fired, mashing his finger on the trigger, full automatic. Next to him the Spanish X-COM commando did likewise. Dozens of bolts of photonic energy crashed into the side of the Robot, leaving black burn marks on its alloy frame. The Robot swiveled and fired, catching the parked car in a window. Glass flew everywhere, rocking the car and destroying a tree behind them.
        The two commandos turned and ran for cover. Bolts of rapid-fire laser followed them, churning dirt, gravel and grass into smoking holes inches from their feet.
        Three hundred yards distant, Keller stopped and looked back up the street. The Spaniard, Pedro Ortiz and TopCat had bought him some precious time, big trouble as prize for their effort. He leaned on a car and sighted through the night scope. He pressed the trigger and sent a dozen quick shots at the Robot, catching it in the left axle. It bucked strongly but continued to fire at the retreating commandos. Damn, he thought. I need more firepower.
        "TopCat," he called into his mouth mike. The voice came back in short rasps.
        "Right here, boss."
        "Cut east two blocks and then head south three blocks. Meet you there." He stood and ran towards the group. "Let’s go."

        Gonzalez dashed wildly around a corner and felt the tail of the Cherokee slide behind him, wheels skidding out. He counter-steered and brought the vehicle under control. In front of him, objects appeared erratically, illuminated by the headlights.
        "Jesus, Gonzalez, let’s try to make it one piece," said Wales.
        "No time, man. Boss is gonna need our help real pronto."
        The car swerved around another corner under the instructions of the Ambassador and skidded to a halt, throwing everyone forward. In front of them, Peruvian police vaulted out of the way of the sliding Jeep.
        "Nice going, Schumacher. Kill the cops," said Wales, dripping irony.
        The X-COM commandos dashed from the car and then stopped cold.
        "Hey, hey, relax," said Gonzalez. "Americans," he said. The Peruvians, those of which were not prone on the ground wondering if they were still alive, were aiming their guns at the commandos, shouting loudly in Spanish. The Ambassador stepped from the car.
        "We’re from the American Embassy. Embajada Americana," he said. A Police Sergeant came forward gesticulating wildly. Others recovered their composure and drew their weapons.
        "Oh-oh, boys. Y’all get ready," said Gator softly. The Ambassador stepped forward between the two groups and raised his hands. Suddenly, a loud voice cut through the commotion.
        "Estense quietos todos." Nobody move. A figure advanced through the roadblock, weaving past the police cars. A man in uniform, a Captain Gator noted. He hoped the situation diffused quickly.
        "Ustedes," he said pointing at the group. "Vengan conmigo."
        "He wants us to follow him," translated the Ambassador.
        The group left the Jeep and were herded towards a waiting helicopter.
        "Wait a second," said Wales to the Ambassador. "Tell this guy we gotta go back for our Captain."
        The diplomat stopped and hailed the Peruvian officer, passing on the message. The Peruvian shook his head strongly and indicated the helicopter. The Diplomat turned towards Wales.
        "It seems that..."
        "Well tough shit. We ain’t leaving without the boss. We’ll use the Jeep." Wales turned back towards the Cherokee.
        A loud detonation echoed in the night. Wales’ training urged for him to hit the ground and return fire, but he managed to keep control. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gonzalez start to move.
        "NO!," he screamed. "Everyone stay cool." The Peruvian Captain held his sidearm pointed to the sky, smoke billowing gently from the muzzle. Police troopers aimed weapons at them, fingers already putting pressure on triggers. They were sorely outnumbered. He grabbed Gonzalez’s laser and pushed the muzzle to the ground. The situation was getting out of hand.
        "Cool it, man."
        "Fuck cool! We go back for the boss," shouted Gonzalez. The Peruvians advanced on them.
        "Your guns," said the Peruvian officer. "Give them, now."
        "Come get them," said Gonzalez softly.
        "All right, all right," said Wales moving towards the Peruvian. "Stay calm. We don’t want problems. Our Captain is back there and needs help."
        The Peruvian shook his head. "You go to airport. Now." He gave a quick order in Spanish and several police troopers and soldiers cocked their weapons.
        "OK, Captain. Go ahead and shoot, cos we ain’t moving," said Wales, staring into the Peruvians face. At that moment, a military truck came to a screeching halt, dozens of figures pouring from the back, young men in uniform. They circled around them, training their machine guns on the group of X-COM men.
        "OK guys. Fight’s over. Let’s go," said Gator. "We ain’t doing nothing here."
        "Shit, Gator. We just can’t leave," complained Gonzalez.
        "No other option. Our mission is to get the Ambassador to safety. From where I see it, it ain’t close to over. We’ll improvise."
        Gonzalez glared at him. "We won’t improvise. We’ll get the boss out."

        The helicopter ride to the airport was uneventful but tense. The X-COM commandos, unarmed sat tight-lipped in the rear under guard of the Peruvian soldiers. The Ambassador, his family and friends were cramped in the forward section.
        The helicopters initiated the descent and touched down in the tarmac close to the Hyper-X transport. The Peruvians marched them out and guided them to the plane.
        "What about the rest of our team," said Wales, fury tainting his voice.
        "All inside. Go," said the Peruvian Captain.
        The diplomats hurried up the stairs to the waiting aircraft followed by the X-COM men. Inside, the science team and the rest of the commandos waited impatiently. As they entered, Gonzalez exploded.
        "We’re not going to leave without them!"
        The British Captain (head of Team Three), Ian Weston, moved forward, his Spanish counterpart right behind him.
        "What happened?"
        "Keller, Maddigan and your guy," said Wales looking at the Spanish Captain. "They’re still in Lima. Asshoes wouldn’t let us go back for them. Nearly had a fire fight back there."
        "Great," said the Brit. "I’ve been on the horn with the Airport Commander. They want us to take-off right away."
        "What? Without the rest of the team?"
        "No way," said Gator. "You’re the ideas factory, man. Let’s heah the plan," he said looking at Wales.
        Wales sat heavily on an arm rest. At that moment one of the Hyper-X pilots came up.
        "Gentlemen, we’re awaiting instructions. Peruvians want us to leave right away."
        Wales suddenly looked at the pilot. He let out a deep breath.
        "You wouldn’t be helicopter qualified by any chance, would you?"
        "Well, actually, yes." Wales looked up sharply. "It’s part of NASA Test Pilot requisites."
        Wales glanced through one of the side windows and saw the helo that had brought them from Lima sitting idly not one hundred yards away. He gave a toothy grin and looked at Gator.
        "You’re not gonna like the plan."

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X-COM: UFO Defence is copyright 1996 by Microprose Software, Inc. All rights reserved.