X-COM Files

The small shuttered room was lit only by the small LEDs of various pieces of electric equipment on standby. James pushed open the door, and flicked on the lights. He had come back early, the rest of the quys would be there soon. He glanced around on the large table holding six large computers. It was cluttered with stacks of paper and wires. Over in the corner dual servers and a coordinating monitor stood, continually searching the network for any whisper of activity.

James moved to his seat. He leaned back, and stared at the ceiling. As he had done before, he wondered what all this was about. They hadn't found much... He sat back up, he needed to concentrate. A left over container of Chinese food sat near the computer next to him. He was always clean, especially relating to food, but those who shared the room were not in agreement. He picked up the container, sniffed it, and disgustedly tossed it into the overflowing garbage can in the corner. There were other cans of pop and hamburger wrappers around, and James moved to pick them up as well. The group had been formed roughly three months before. It had actually been three months since they had started, and it had been constant hacking and searching since then.

The group was an elite group of hackers. They had been recruited by the government to spy on an underground operation. Why it was necessary, James didn't know. But he was being paid well, and that was good enough for him. While the others in the group may have been the best hackers they had, they certainly weren't the cleanest. "I don't know if I can put up with this much longer," James muttered to himself, as he carried his cargo over to the garbage. As he picked up the load, he heard the door downstairs. The others were back. About time.

It wasn't that he thought the job difficult, but he was expecting to get more. They had so far only intercepted various reports. Long, and thorough, but there should have been something more. Though progress had picked up, once they had discerned the file types used and created programs to monitor them. The connections had come from other servers spaced across the globe, often not even from where they were searching. Each time they found one, they would have to decode it. The process had gotten easier, but the progress was slow. James wondered if they would ever find what they were looking for. Though he didn't know what that was.

He pushed out the door, the large plastic bag in his hands. "Hey, Termi. You're back early," a man named Franklin said as he passed the group. James nodded politely. He used James' online codename. They all had codes, though Termi was quite odd. Franklin's was Zanabar, though, but it didn't really matter. As he reached the stairwell, the operations leader, Sam, grabbed his shoulder. "James, you're moving back to active searching, I'm taking you off of processing today." Searching, finally. James thanked him and continued outside. He was sick of processing. Finding and decoding the transmissions were fairly simple. He had been on searching before. He had found the first connection, where they discovered the file type. However, after a few days they had moved entirely to processing. There was only one person on searching, David. He wasn't the best at it. Since he had first been switched, James had been quietly theorizing how to best break the system. There was the potential connection with the mainframe when the comms were being sent.

James walked to the dumpster, and hoisted the bag over his head. A few items fell out, and so he bent down to pick them up. The communications were usually simple, meaningless numbers resulting from aircraft positions and radar frequencies. But there was potential to find more, and occasionally it was done.

James moved back up stairs, where Sam was signing on the computers. He moved to the end of the table, where David was seated. "Hey, looks like I'm back on searching." David nodded, but didn't say anything. James just shrugged. He didn't really know what to say to him if he didn't talk. "Ok, boys, let's get to work," Sam said, and he took his seat. Across the table, Frank and two others were having a belching contest. James noticed that all of the garbage he had just cleaned up was now replaced by fresh junk. Oh well.

James logged on. He opened word pad. For some reason the archaic program had an endearing effect. He just liked it. He started scribbling down notes. He had thought out the process before. Once he had the notes down, he would start making code for each step. Frank yelled at him, interrupting his typing. "Hey Termi, tell Jonesy here that I pick up chicks all the time. I'm just so charming." James gave a chuckle, though more out of the ridiculous statement than from any truth in it. Frank was nearly to large to fit on his side of the desk. He and Jonesy were arguing, and James went back to his work. Frank always picked on him. He wasn't bothered by it, it didn't matter much to him what the others thought. Besides, he tended to avoid confrontations unless it was really serious.
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A half hour passed before James was finished, and he went out to get a drink. He came back to his chair, and waited. There hadn't been any comms yet today, but likely there would be one, relating to airspace clearance, usually. The reports were detailed, though sloppy. Military is how James would describe them. They contained video records of combat events, or so it seemed, as well as radio transcripts. However, James hadn't decoded one of them, so he never got to see what it was in depth. He saw a brief starting of one. It went like this: S1-001.10.1-15.01.99 at LZ drop. Resit: MS.Sc.3 Allied: fan split, target east, inF to 00, outF 05,06,07,09. 09 TK. Nest entrance: 10. outF 10. 10 TK. outF 10. 10 TK. Area clear. Dis. est. weight- 13.35.42 Tact. Analysis: 6.

It still didn't make sense to him. And the accompanying files were untraceable as well. James was surprised that they were getting paid. He can make up random numbers too. So far he hadn't heard much about their finds, at least as far as them being successful. He wondered why.

To his left, David was searching away, though he didn't seem to be finding anything. James lay back. Sure, he wasn't trying to break any firewalls, but he had time. "Got one, coming in!" a man named Val said. Now was the time to act. The rest of the group got busy on catching and decoding the message, as it flew through the servers. "Let's see if we can get them!" David quickly turned his attention to analyzing the source. They had tried that already, without any luck. But this time James was trying something different. Instead of hacking the sender, he was going for the receiver.

The signal ended, but James had been ready. A few minutes later, as the rest of the group realized they had located another airway clearance code, James burst in upon an entire cache of data. He snooped through the files. There was one directory, called X-COM. He opened a folder called 'Files' Shortly there after he began reading. He called Sam over.

"Well, here it is! I think this is what they want," James said. He couldn't hold back the satisfaction in his voice. "How did you get in there?" Sam was dumbstruck. There wasn't as much data as they expected, but the connection stayed, so they continued reading. It was nothing like what they had seen before. This was no longer strings of numbers and code, but actual writing. Almost like a report, a story of the events. At current there were 17 of them. James started at the first, and read though. The stories were about a group so soldiers, apparently connected, who were fighting against alien hordes. It was fascinating, though James didn't know what to think. Sounded unreal to him, but at least it was different.

On the 17th entry, it seemed to end. James copied it down along with the rest. Odd...

X-COM #17:

Well, that last set of attacks went very well. The only worry is that a battleship will show up on my doorstep. But not that likely.

I have one replacement: Jordan J. C-,G: 53,55,36,40,36,63,69,33-High accuracy, but still rookie stats.
Anyhow, now to wait for the alien scumbags to arrive. I'll attempt this while talking to Kevin over facebook. Meanwhile, some Sectoids land in Russia, and the Skyranger goes out on a mission. Night mission, in the forest. Rolling hills and stuff.

But not many Sectoids. One walks near an electro flare, and our new teamster Jordan kills the punk. However, I don't feel very concentrated, so I decide to carry on later.

Then the record ended. How strange...James wondered what had happened. He read back through the other files. Some of the soldiers had died, fighting against unknown aliens. But the comical writing was almost making it unreal. Maybe someone is pulling a huge prank, he thought. Then again, what about the official data? Well, what about the Facebook? Very, very odd.

James started looking around again. He found a folder titled, "Soldiers." Inside there was a list, as well as a note. It read: "I have made a mention of all stats of all soldiers. Those who have not been here long, or accomplished anything, may not be mentioned. Also, those who have become casualties have been omitted."
James pulled it open. He started reading through the files. Another folder led to a list of those killed. It was somewhat shocking. He copied this folder as well.

Anna N.
Kills: 0
Missions: 1
Rookie

Ashley C.
Kills: 0
Missions: 1
Rookie

Bree G.
Kills: 2
Missions: 6
Captain

Brian Y.
Kills: 1
Missions: 1
Squaddie

Brianna B.
Kills: 0
Missions: 3
Squaddie

BriAnne D.
Kills: 2
Missions: 3
Squaddie

Cameron M.
Kills: 0
Missions: 3
Squaddie

Cami Claw
Kills: 2
Missions: 3
Squaddie

Carly Rawlins
Kills: 5
Missions: 6
Squaddie

Chelsea W.
Kills: 7 (+1)
Missions: 8
Sergeant
MVP
MVP Bombay Terror Mission

Cheyne J.
Kills: 0
Missions: 1
Rookie

Courtney F.
Kills: 3
Missions: 6
Squaddie

Courtney J.
Kills: 18 (+2)
Missions: 10
Captian
MVP Buenos Aires Terror mission
MVP
MVP Base-4

Devyn E.
Kills: 3
Missions: 8
Squaddie

Hannah Banana
Kills: 6
Missions: 5
Sergeant
MVP London Terror

Jacque A.
Kills: 7
Missions: 7
Colonel
MVP Base-1

Jason E.
Kills: 0
Missions: 1
Rookie

Jeff W.
Kills: 1
Missions: 1
Squaddie


Jessica W.
Kills: 0
Missions: 1
Rookie

Jill S.
Kills: 2
Missions: 4
Sergeant

Kade Downs
Kills: 7
Missions: 3
Sergeant
MVP Base-2

Kaitlyn R.
Kills: 5 (+1)
Missions: 3
Squaddie

Kami J.
Kills: 4
Missions: 1
Sergeant
MVP Base-3

Katrina S.
Kills: 5
Missions: 2
Squadie
MVP

Kevin D.
Kills: 16
Mission: 12
Colonel
MVP Vancouver Terror
MVP Kidnap

Kristen O.
Kills: 2
Missions: 3
Squaddie
MVP

Lindsay H.
Kills: 1
Missions: 2
Squaddie

Marie G.
Kills: 2
Missions: 2
Squaddie

Mary A.
Kills: 12
Missions: 9
Captain
MVP-Novisbok Terror

Melissa W.
Kills: 3 (+1)
Missions: 5
Squaddie

Natalie C.
Kills: 14
Missions: 8
Captain
MVP
MVP Kidnap
MVP supply3

Reggillious
Kills: 3
Missions: 4
Sergeant

Sahra M.
Kills: 0
Missions: 2
Rookie

Tyson A.
Kills: 14
Missions: 9
Commander

Taya A.
Kills: 4
Missions: 7
Sergeant

Vern
Kills: 3
Missions: 3
Squaddie

Zach S.
Kills: 3
Missions: 3
Sergeant

Zen Halen
Kills: 11
Missions: 12
Sergeant

There wasn't much else relating to the plight of the soldiers. The rest was repetitive numbers. He wasn't sure who had made these reports, who had found them out. He didn't even know if these things were real. But he just couldn't leave it where it cut off, he had to know what happened. What had happened to Tyson, and Kevin, and the others that he read about? Was the war a success? The Contributors, who were they? It didn't make much sense if it wasn't real, but then again, if it was real, he felt he needed to know.

He blindly stumbled through mounds of files, confusing code based on interweaven files that made no sense. Every time he would return to where he started. Then he started to notice something. The files were starting to be blocked. Each time they were harder and harder to break. What was going on? It happened fast, and the counters were perfect for his method. It was like the computer was writing itself.

A short time later, there was nothing left he could access, and any downloads were blocked. He was, in a sense, forced back into the 'Files' folder, where he was eventually left with the final entry, #17. It didn't even have a title.

Then the text of the final entry disappeared, and it started to change. James didn't try anything, he just watched. For one thing, it meant the connection was live. For anther, it meant that whoever was on the other end had likely reverse hacked his computer. It was unlikely he could have done anything as it was. The words disappeared. And then new ones quickly formed in their place.

Intruder. You have been noticed. However, you were allowed free access of my memories for my own reasons. Perhaps you can see the truth behind them. I realize that they may sound far fetched, but they are not the works of a crazed person. Though they may have been started for reasons unsatisfactory, they have been started, and now they cannot be turned back or undone.

You may be wondering what has become of the soldiers of X-COM. My record ends abruptly, and unfortunately I believe that it will not be continued. In the end is has become impossible for me to complete the task I did set myself out for. However, I have done a satisfactory job of compiling all evidence and all actions to the best of my ability. Suffice to say, there is no more that I can write, as I have written all I know, and there is nothing else I have to display. The data is lost.

The story was started for mischievous reasons. Though it was done foolishly, as it now cannot be undone. But the events had to start, and once they did there was no sense in turning them back. The original comic adventure idea of the event was kept only here, where realism could not harm it. It is odd, how I have thought so much, and yet obtained so little.

I do realize one thing though. There seems to be an odd drive, and whether it is singular to me, or it is a shared attribute I don't know. Though I have seen drives for power, for conquest. The goal of conquering, of destroying everything. Of obtaining power, of combat and victory. It certainly entertains the mind of youth, though without a reminder it remains something of a story.

These writings do not give justice to my point. Imagine with me, for a minute if you will, that you are in these writings, and that they are real. Think of your friends who have been cut down. Next time you see them, are reminded of their face, think that they would be gone, lost to the world. That is one think that can seriously be taken from these things. The serious fact that war, which seems to come and go as the tide, is a horrible thing. When it is impersonal, it has little effect, but if you realize the horror it causes, before time forces it upon you, then perhaps you will spend all of your efforts to eliminate it.

There is little else I have to say. I have been a contributing factor to this calamity, and while it is a horrible truth, it is a truth none the less. I have had to start it, and once started, I could not stop it. If only I was made to preform without option, I would never have to waste in an infinite loop. However, it is the price that is paid for with choice. Though now....there is not much else I can do, so I must continue on my path, until it comes to an end.

I hope you have read all that you desired. For there is nothing more. I have yet said enough. You have taken all that you need, and that is enough.

The typing stopped. James waited, tried to formulate a response, but couldn't write it anyway. His computer was in a frozen state, with only the up down arrow keys working. He sat back, and wondered at what he had just read. "Well, this changes everything!" Sam had just gotten off the phone. "They want to see it right away. James, can you pull it back up? James. James?" James leaned back, staring at the ceiling.





As said, I am leaving. While December 10 is a ways away, the moving of things to provide for carpet will likely last as long, and the old computer will probably remain dormant for many years. It also means I can't finish post #17. :( I wonder if this blog will remain for the time that I am gone, but either way, it was fun. I guess this is my final farewell. From this blog, at least. Peace.

PS. Unfortunately I do not know how may aliens we've killed here at X-COM, though you could count them all out using the promos screens I have for each mission. That would be cool to know. Somebody count them up!