Catherine Clark made sure her microphone was recording correctly and once satisfied, looked around the interior of the alien craft. She started to speak softly.
        "Professor Clark, September tenth, nineteen ninety seven, nine fifteen a.m. Analysis of interior of UFO-1. Dimensions and other initial data can be consulted in, " she checked the clipboard she carried, "document D-1997-024 dated yesterday, recorded by the on-site team on the crash site of UFO-1. Head of team is Dr. Richards, X-COM Cheyenne Mountain Base." She stopped and found that she was slightly out of breath. Calm down, get a grip. Yeah right, like it's every day you're inside a UFO. Maybe that big guy, Keller, could look relaxed but every time she came near the alien technology her stomach flipped. This was, understating wildly, incredible.
        "Entry into the vessel through the port side door, um, that's on the left hand side," hell, she'd only learned that recently. "Size description of access doors to be found in previously mentioned document. Interior is composed primarily of alien alloy, most probably Duritium."
        Catherine glanced around the small access area. After crouching through the access door, presumably made for the small gray alien's size, she found that inside she could stand her full height. Barely. Being rather tall she nearly reached the ceiling with her head. Shoulder length chestnut hair, liquid brown eyes and a figure to kill for had earned her in high school the title of most likely to grace a Playboy centerfold, the jerks. She had come out of Caltech with honors. She hoped that the drooling idiots of her class were unloading crates off an Iranian cargo ship in some scum infested port. Well, not really.
         To the right, fastened against a wall a bonus: two small laser rifles and a couple of unidentified objects. Small flat screens peppered the walls. Light seemed to emanate from the ceiling, but she was unable to determine the source. The inside hull was a spartan bluish gray, polished to perfection. The alloy was Duritium, at least that was the name given by Earth scientists, a metal found in several UFO recovered crash items during the past decade. To the left, the pilots station. A large seat made out some black plastic resin commanded the craft. Around it, a couple of flat screens and nothing else. No buttons, no dials, no noticeable computer equipment. Maybe the vessel's systems were controlled by brain waves or neurological stimuli. Wasn't the Air Force experimenting with this?
        In front, a wall of alloy replaced what, in conventional earth aircraft, would have been the windshield. She turned and walked to the rear, leaving the access door to the right. A small corridor that ended in a door. Locked. Damn. Entering the UFO had been easy. The access door had been found open, which did not mean that they knew how to open them. She walked up to the door, hoping that it would whoosh open. Proximity sensors like at airports? She bumped into the door and cursed. No dice. Next she moved her hands around the door at different heights. Nothing. She pushed her hands against the door, its frame and the walls. The door stood unmoving. Ah well, try later.
        A head popped into the vessel.
        "Katie? Hey, here you are." Peter Chen was one of the brightest graduate students to come out of MIT. He had been recruited by X-COM directly, four months ago and had worked himself to near exhaustion over the past months. A forced vacation in Hawaii had done him a load of good. His tanned oriental features smiled at her from the door.
         "Couldn't resist yourself, could you?"
        Catherine smiled sheepishly. "Well, you know..."
        "Dr. Richards is coming down. He's calling a pow-wow in the conference room in five minutes. Wants everyone there." Chen backed out and Catherine followed.

        They walked slowly, talking excitedly as they left the main lab hangar and into a smaller room, where diverse equipment, plasma guns and the frisbee launcher among other things, lay carefully on metal tables. Tagged and ready for analysis. Chen opened a door for Catherine and they stepped into a corridor. The laboratory section of Cheyenne mountain occupied most of level three (underground). Two large hangars, three lab rooms, several smaller ones, a clean room that would have made NASA drool with envy and storage facilities took up most of the space. The corridor had the same futuristic look as the rest of the base. They hooked left, passed by several empty offices, a guard post before arriving at the conference room. Inside, most of the staff had already assembled. Not counting themselves, twelve of the best minds in the country. Fourteen total. One hell of a lot of brain power.
        Dr. Richards turned. A short man, about fifty five with a round face and white beard, he looked more like Father Christmas than the previous year's Nobel prize winning physicist. On the back of his lab coat, immaculately kept by his wife who worked as his assistant, he sported a picture of Albert Einstein, whom he revered as a demi god. In light of all of this, some people could have thought he was an eccentric old geezer. They would have been very wrong. Richards was a kindly old man with one of the brightest minds of the century.
        "Ah, we're all hear. Good, good. Let's get to work." The conference room consisted of a long wooden table, a dozen and a half chairs, a large drawing board on one wall and a TV monitor. Cardboard panels lined the walls with notes, diagrams and drawings tacked on. Richards sat at the head of the table and the rest of his audience propped up on the table, stood or lounged around wherever they could.
         "We have two main areas of interest. Firstly, the alien ship. Catherine," he said looking at the young scientist. "You'll be in charge of that. What we need to know is how it works, what fuel it runs on, how does it control its automated systems, does it use computers, etcetera. We'll draw up a list as we go along. How far are you in the Plastic Armor project?"
        "Um, we've finished Stage One. Only one unit has been produced so far, but Engineering is promising a full load by the end of the week. The plastic-ceramic composite looks good, but maybe we could take a look at that Duritium alloy. I don't know. Maybe Carol could look that over." Catherine looked at Carol Yeng, one of her young assistants. Rumor had it that something was developing between her and Chen, but if it was true they were keeping it a secret.
        "Sure," said Carol. "I'd like to send some samples to the Swiss CERN, to the National Supercomputing Lab and to JPL. If we could figure out how to duplicate the alloy..." she threw her hands up.
        "OK. Carol gets on the Duritium alloy." Richards clapped his hands. He was excited. "Now, the second part. Weapons, and other odds and ends. There are two Lasers on board the craft, we've recovered three intact plasma rifles, a bomb launcher and some other miscellaneous stuff. Maybe there's a transmitter in there somewhere. Chen, you take that."
        Chen smiled and said : "Toys are us !" Someone knocked him on the shoulder and guffawed. A few commentaries on the intelligence of his remarks and some laughter. Spirits were high.
        "Dr. Richards? What about the alien corpses ?" asked one of the scientists. His name tag read Dr. Patrichs.
        "God knows where they'll end up. The new base commander, Colonel Hammet has promised we'll get a full report."
        "So, what's the Colonel like ?"
        Richards shrugged. "Military man. Very uptight, but I've heard he carries a considerable reputation. Time will tell. OK, ladies and gentlemen. We'll have a short meeting every morning to pool information and share knowledge and a longer Monday morning one. Now, off to work, and let's get those results in!"

        Keller plopped down on the stool in the bar and ordered a Bloody Mary. SEAL officers were supposed to guzzle beer, but he had acquired the taste years before and he enjoyed the drink. Never mind the flak he caught. The bar on level two had been designed in a completely different spirit than the rest of the base. It looked more like a pizza joint. In the center, somewhat elevated, waiters served drinks behind a dark wooden counter with a brass handrail. Around it, scores of tables offered customers decent ribs, hamburgers and Italian food. Most people avoided the base cafeteria in favor of the bar. Not that the food was better, it just helped you forget what you were here for. Loud music blared from loudspeakers strewn about the room. Billy Joel banging his piano.
        Keller looked around. Base personnel, men and women, laughed loudly, ordering food and drinks. Waiters danced around tables carrying orders to and fro. Technically, for fun and games X-COM personnel were supposed to drive down into the nearby towns, but all leave had been canceled until the base could count on three shifts: one on duty, another on R&R, and the third on base rest. Until then, no one left Cheyenne Mountain.
        The sound proof double doors swung open and Lieutenant Ridge and three other team members strolled in. They spotted their boss and walked over, dodging a passing waitress.
        "Yo, boss, all alone?" Sergeant 'Gator' Kowles spoke with a slow southern drawl. Louisiana born and raised, he had been serving with Keller for quite some time. He was the type of man known to special forces all over the world. Tough as nails, built like a mountain and dependable to the end. The kind of guy you definitely wanted by your side when things started gravitating rapidly from stage SNAFU (Situation Normal All Fucked Up) to TARFU (Things Are Really Fucked Up) to the ultimately dangerous FUBAR (Fucked Up Beyond All Repair).
        "Yup, and liking it," he said with a smile.
        "Ah, boss, you insult us. Remedy it with a beer, man's drink not that veggie stuff you sip."
        "Technically," said Gonzalez, "beer is also a vegetable derivative. If you consider that..."
        Gator turned on the rookie and gave him a sideways look. Gonzalez raised his hands.
        "Hey, just passing out some information." Gator smiled. "Barkeep, give the kid a brew. Have to shut him up somehow."
        "We heard you had a little tête-à-tête with Sachs and the new commander," said Lieutenant Ridge. "Anything up?"
        "Yeah. Seems like we're going to start for real. The guys from Delta are moving out tomorrow to a new base in New York and we get six transfers from SEAL Team Six."
        "Team Six?" asked Gator. "Do you know who?"
        "Not yet. Hammet is giving me the files first thing in the morning." Keller recounted the conversation with his superiors to his team mates, leaving few details out. When he was done, Ridge whistled. "About time the World listened up,"
        "Yeah," said Keller. "Anyway, the new guys come in at 0900." He looked at Ridge. "Chris, show them to their quarters and after let's all get together for meet at the op room. Make it at 1000."
        "Will do, boss." Ridge stood up and hailed a waiter. "Hey, we're dying over here. Where are those brews, man! Hey, hey, hey, look at that new babe." Conversation moved to different areas of interest.

        At the same time that Keller sat with his team members drinking beer (plus the odd 'veggie drink'), a small submersible touched down on the ocean bed somewhere in the Mediterranean. The water at this depth was pitch black and the flood lights that struck out into the darkness had little effect. Sand swirled around the alloy sub as it bumped gently on the floor. A few deep water fish swam curiously by and then disappeared into the void. If they could have seen, they would have noticed a small antenna telescoping from the sub and connecting itself to a cylindrical object that was permanently anchored to the sea bed. Inside the sub a small gray humanoid turned in his command chair towards a screen on his left. He peered at it intently through eyes as dark as the surrounding view and the screen lit up. A buzz sounded and figures scrolled into the screen. The alien looked down to his left arm rest and then up again as a three dimensional terran globe appeared in front of him. The translucent image of the planet rotated and zoomed until the alien sat looking at a small island formation in the Pacific. He turned his attention once again to the screen, switching off the map, and when he finished studying the mission profile he reclined in the chair and turned a dark gray color. The earthlings did something similar when they were amused, opening their mouths and emitting loud raucous noises.

        The following morning Keller walked into the op room with five minutes to spare. Already all X-COM Team One members were assembled, talking animatedly between themselves. As he entered, a tall black rose to greet him.
        "Steve, hey, it's good top see you." Chief Petty Officer John Wales extended his hand as he strode over. He had met him briefly some time ago, first in the invasion of Grenada where special forces had played an active role and then in several training exercises. Wales came from SEAL Team Six, the Team's counter-terrorism unit.
        "John, I just found out you were coming. Welcome aboard." Keller greeted the rest of the men. He already knew four of the new transfers but two were new to him. The operations room of the X-COM teams was located in the first floor of Cheyenne mountain. A door led from it to the locker room and then on to the large hangars that housed their Ospreys and support helicopters. To one side of the room a couple of large tables stood in front of a coffee machine and a soda dispenser. To the front, a display screen and a large map of the United States presided over a third desk. Five rows of chairs in two sections allowed forty men to sit comfortably. On the left wall, a cork panel had several large notices attached: 'Genghis Khan was a liberal' was a favorite. Their motto dominated in large block letters: 'X-COM happiness: a warm MP5 and two dead bugs before breakfast.' Keller walked to the front of the room and stood on the slightly elevated platform.
        "Good morning. Firstly let me welcome all the new guys. Some of you I know. I gather you've all introduced yourselves but to, uh, " he paused to remember the names, "Kadinski and Szekelly my name is Steven Keller." Two heads nodded in response. Keller took a deep breath and perched himself on the table.
        "Ok. This is it. In case you don't know, you guys are here to fight aliens." He looked for a reaction but found none. Television stations all over the planet were emitting continuos reports of strange activity in military bases worldwide. However, these bases were sealed off and reporters had little room to speculate. A few stations were suggesting alien intervention but these reports, unconfirmed as they were, drew little response. Several alien attacks on military installations had left a few civilian witnesses that were hunted down by avid camera crews, but were found to be uncooperative. People just didn't want to go on air talking about little green men. Keller had been surprised to note that most people were blocking out the information, skeptical to the news as they had been for all those years. The White House realized that this was just a matter of time. The information blackout that they had orchestrated over the military was soon going to start leaking, and the more enterprising of the newspeople would get their stories. They had days to prepare the world for the reality of alien aggressors. Contrary to the worst predictions wide spread panic was not evident ; stock exchanges around the globe were cautious, dropping only slight percentages, vacations remained as planned, crowds didn't hit the streets. However, word was spreading like brush fire through the armed forces. If the threat was real, would they have to fight? When the call had come through for special forces operatives to join a secret group of men on an unidentified mission, hundreds had signed up. Only the best (and that had been a tough job) were selected.
        "Let me give a quick round up on what's been going on." Keller launched into a detailed description of the past year's alien activity, including the sinking of the Dakota and the more recent attacks on Spanish and Russian bases. He ended with an account of the previous days action. Then he pointed at a wall were a life-sized photo of a gray man was tacked.
        "That's what they look like. From now on you have the honor of being part of X-COM Team One, counter-alien. Counter means we do it to them before they do it to us. There will be of course, some changes starting by the most obvious. We are no longer a naval unit and consequently our ranks have changed. Chief Wales, " he said addressing the large Californian, "you're now a sergeant." There were a few groans from the assembled men. "You do retain you current ranks if you choose to leave the unit." Keller paused again.
        "As of today, X-COM is under direct command of JSOC." He was referring to the Joint Special Operations Command created by the Reagan administration which coordinated all special force units in the three branches of the armed services. JSOC reported directly to the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
        "X-COM boss for the US is General Sachs and Colonel Hammet - you've all heard of him - is Cheyenne Base Commander. Later on you'll be interviewed by the admin. people and they'll give you the particulars on pay and that kind of stuff. Chris Ridge, " he said pointing at the young Lieutenant," is my second and Gator and Wales head a squad each. What I expected is the best performance possible. We have to the best fighting unit in the world and, " he smiled, "outside of the world." A few laughs. "Next time E.T. shows his ass, I want a message delivered: 'check Pluto, it's more hospitable'." Louder laughs.
        "All right, we've got a few hours before lunch so let's summarize what we know about these aliens. Weapons, tactics, weaknesses, strengths."

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