On the Cult of Spirit (excerpt from the Houston law enforcement files):

A religious group that came into existence shortly after the Leonid meteor impact and the consequent discovery of the Phantoms. Its first members came together under the influence of a man known as Toryn the Founder. The story behind this individual ranks as one of the more bizarre ones to be documented in modern times.

Toryn’s true name is Gaal Ferin, a USMF second lieutenant who became infected during an extermination mission against a Phantom nest. Placed in quarantine and given a next to non-existent chance of survival, he somehow managed to beat back the contagion, a feat that doctors find utterly mystifying even to this day. But before a more thorough analysis could be performed he escaped from the treatment center and disappeared into the metropolis of Houston Barrier City.

Ferin managed to evade all capture attempts and it was during this time that the patient-turned-fugitive began to experience the dreams. As was the case of Dr. Aki Ross, the Phantom particles attempted to communicate with their host. However, he could not take the intensity of the bizarre images and was eventually driven mad. The alien infection eventually weakened and died but the contact left his mind permanently altered; Ferin now believed himself to be God’s apostle. Living in the more desolate and shunned areas of the city, he preached to any who would listen, claiming that the Lord was displeased with mankind and had sent His angels–the Phantoms–to cleanse the planet of sin. Only the pure of heart would be saved. Nonbelievers would perish, leaving behind a New Eden for those favored in God’s eyes. Ferin took the name of Toryn the Founder and his teachings grew with remarkable speed, particularly among those disturbed by the martial tactics of the military and disillusioned with the slow, tedious progress of the scientists. Those easily swayed eventually found a common focus and the Cult of Spirit was born.

Certain acts of sabotage–stolen Phantom research data and attempted vandalism of several barrier generators, among others–seemed to be Cult-inspired. As for the cultists themselves, they generally appear no different than any other citizen, but for one exception. They all have a small tattoo just below the nape of the neck (it is usually concealed by normal clothing). It is the ancient astronomical symbol for earth, and resembles crosshairs within a small circle. Any correlation between this mark and Gaia, the alleged ‘spirit of the earth,’ is purely coincidental.

Human sacrifices were performed on a random basis, and as if this was not alarming enough, the fact that cult members willfully participated was even more unsettling. Those selected would leave the city in the dead of night, alone and unarmed, and enter the neighboring wastelands to await a spiritual "release". Of course, this was nothing more than a swift death from the ever present Phantoms. The bodies were usually found several days later, and what the patrols noticed was disturbing…instead of the horror-stricken expressions of the usual Phantom victims, these people appeared serene–it was almost as if they had looked forward to their demise. Official explanations of the suicides ranged from drug use and mental instability to desperation borne of depression. While this aberrant behavior would appear to reduce the Cult’s membership, more individuals joined and thus kept the ranks of this secret society at a fairly consistent number.

After the Phantoms were defeated in December 2065, Cult activity abruptly declined and Toryn has not been seen nor heard from since. Nevertheless, he is still alive and remains hiding underground along with a core group of his most trusted and faithful followers. Not only does he resent the fact that humans interfered with God’s plans, but he remains vexed that the man he considered one of his greatest adversaries–General Douglas Hein–had vanished and is currently presumed dead following the end of the Phantom War. Now that another threat menaces the recovering planet, the sect is undergoing a revival and sporadic evidence of cult activity is being reported in Chicago and New York. While the local government is too busy with the reconstruction of our ravaged world to bother chasing down what was generally viewed as a group of eccentric heretics, the Cult of Spirit is quietly growing in the midst of a still-recovering society.

"It looks like a big fish."

"No, it looks more like a whale. Why would someone fly something that looks like a fish?"

"Fish, whale, whatever. It’s the same thing."

"No, it’s not. A fish isn’t a mammal. Try reading up on it sometime."

Greenish-blue eyes narrowed. "What’d you say?"

"A proper education can do wonders, you know."

Now she positively bristled. "So? Who cares?"

Martin blew out an exasperated breath. "Come on Atwood, stop baiting her. And you, Harper…show some respect for Dr. Ross. She fixed that busted tooth of yours, no?"

Eri gestured dismissively. "For your information, you skirt-chasing geek, I did thank her. And on top of that Her Nibs bought my story too. So there." Her hackles lowered and she gave a wide grin as if to prove that all of her teeth were in fact present and accounted for.

The Black Ops tech struggled to keep the incredulous expression off his face. "If you think that the captain fell for that tale about tripping down some stairs and doing a face plant, then I’m the president of Mars. Trust me, she just didn’t want to waste time blasting holes in your story. Be grateful you got off with a warning."

"Doc should’ve wired her mouth shut," Tyler groused under his breath. The next instant he flinched as Eri’s outraged oath echoed throughout the huge underground hanger.

Strolling ahead of the bickering X-COM members, Aki caught Jane’s gaze and the two women shared a covert grin; Neil wore his best poker face as, behind them, Martin was forced to break up a spat before it started. Ignoring the commotion, she returned her attention to the ship ahead of them, which was parked a dozen levels below the USMF airfield. Setting down a small case containing her diagnostic equipment, she approached a control terminal and powered it on. While she waited for it to boot up she found her eyes being drawn upwards, to the darkened cockpit windows of the Black Boa. Pushing the release request through the proper channels on such short notice had been a pain–even for her–but when a certain general’s signature had appeared beside hers on the requisition forms her demand had been expedited with alacrity.

Aki felt the curious gazes of her companions on her as she took a few more paces and rested a light hand on a massive front tire that stood almost to her chest. The Gaia research module was still aboard but most of the equipment it contained had long since been removed. This included the most critical piece of hardware for the mission, the bioetheric scanner array. The powerful sensor suite would have to be reinstalled. Once this was done Neil and Martin would be on hand to modify the hardware and software, respectively, recalibrating it to enable scanning for any faint Elerium traces as well as corrupted bioetheric signatures. And once the Black Boa was up in the maintenance hanger she would have to be given the standard post-storage check-over. All of this was going to take time, time which was in precious short supply.

The scientist sighed and brushed some stray hairs out of her face. She already figured that she would probably be burning the midnight oil just to get the Boa ready. But it was worth it, for the ship could enter a higher orbit and scan more areas of the globe faster than any satellite presently operating. As she rubbed her brow her mind was already drawing up a plan, and she threw a thought at the craft. It’s been almost two years. Looks like we’re going to be saving the world again. Are you up to it, old friend?

"So, what do you think, doc? It’s been awhile since you flew the friendly skies, you know." Neil, his hands stuffed into his pockets, was now standing beside her, and Aki had been so immersed in her thoughts that she nearly jumped at his voice. Instead, she nodded. "Yeah, it has. But she’ll get the job done…the Boa never let me down."

At that moment, the console chirped and the glow of the reader plate was briefly obstructed when Aki went back and pressed her fingertips against the cool plastic before keying in a certain sequence. The Boa’s computer acknowledged the terminal’s command and replied with a hiss of hydraulics. The main cargo door swung open and the internal standby lights flickered on, illuminating the bay behind it in a soft glow. Everyone took a step back when a spindly arm swung out and the winch motors hummed, and a moment later the loading platform touched down with a metallic clank.

"Welcome aboard," Aki said, gesturing towards it with a flourish and waiting as the others stepped onto the platform. Retrieving her case, she manipulated a control and they all rose upwards towards the open hatch.

Elsewhere, Gray and Ryan were standing outside the doors to the Council, waiting for the conference to conclude. General Tobias had been inside for over an hour, presenting hard facts and the latest mission data to the Council and his fellow military staff.

Gray remembered escorting Aki to the general’s office earlier in the day. She had requested access to the lower storage hanger where the Black Boa resided. Tobias and Schaeffer had listened intently as the scientist laid out her plan in rapid detail and remained silent when she had finished. The general’s gaze shifted from the scientist to the major, and then back to Aki, who clenched a hand nervously.

Then a corner of the general’s mouth lifted slightly, lightening the room’s somber mood. Agreeing with her proposal, he signed the necessary procurement forms and then called an emergency meeting with the council.

"Hey, captain," Ryan said, bringing Gray back to the present, and they both looked down the hallway at the man hurriedly approaching them. It was Matt, and as he drew closer they saw that he appeared a bit agitated, something quite at odds with the cool and collected Black Ops squad member they had come to know.

"Have either of you seen captain Broderick?" Lanier asked, brown eyes darting from face to face.

The other two exchanged puzzled glances. Gray spoke first. "No, not since the debriefing after the last mission. Why?"

"Dammit." Matt ran a hand through his brown hair. "Well, she’s not in her quarters. She’s not answering her comm, so I thought she might be over here with you. I checked the break room and mess hall, even called over to the lab. I can’t find her anywhere–"

At that moment the double doors behind Gray slid open and the general emerged, with the major close behind. Voices raised in arguments could be heard in the huge room beyond.

Gray, Ryan and Matt snapped off automatic salutes. "At ease," Tobias said. "Most of the Council members agree with Dr. Ross’s plan on locating the aliens, especially considering all that has happened." He was prepared to go into detail when Matt politely interrupted and explained the latest development. And as he listened his brow furrowed, and the subtle change in his mannerisms was evident. "Captain Broderick submitted her report not long ago–just after Captain Edwards dropped his off, in fact. Anyone departing the base must pass through checkpoints. There is no way she could have left unobserved. When did you last speak with her?"

"Shortly after the last mission. We were in the hanger. She usually sticks around while I run post-flight checks but she said she was tired and going to relax a bit. This isn’t like her at all." He rested his chin in a palm, trying to think of several scenarios all at once. "We should begin at her quarters," Schaeffer said crisply. Turning to a nearby hall guard, she spoke a few brisk words. The man quickly saluted and withdrew a net-phone, and the major now addressed Tobias. "Sir? With your permission, we’ll get a search underway immediately."

"By all means, major. Keep me posted." His mien was grave as the gravity of the situation became apparent to everyone and his gray eyes grew flinty. "With the mothership still undiscovered and the very real possibility of these alien attacks escalating, we can ill afford to lose any tactical advantage. Do what you must, but find her. And quickly."

Cheyenne’s senses slowly returned but she resisted the temptation to jump to her feet. Instead, she calmly counted backwards to a hundred while she waited out an unsettling feeling of queasiness. She heard a faint humming but paid no real attention to it because her body was telegraphing all sorts of aches and pains. As a final insult the thin mattress she lay upon was lumpy and uncomfortable. She remembered the so-called ‘lieutenant’ and that pair of goons. That little bitch! If I ever get my hands on her! She grimly thought of just how long a person could remain conscious during some creative interrogation.

Now her eyes slowly cracked open and she sat up gingerly on the edge of the low bed and looked around. Part of the overhead light fixture was burned out but it still afforded a clear–if dimly lit–view of a bare concrete floor. Neither the toilet nor sink looked as if they had been used in months. On one gray wall was a shelf holding a few tattered books; the other three were decorated with faded phrases and words, the echoes of past occupants’ existences. A faint mustiness overlaid everything, hinting that this room hadn’t been occupied for quite some time.

Her initial scrutiny complete, she noted a faint reddish light that seemed to be indirectly illuminating the room and looking towards the front of the room now saw why. The entrance was blocked top to bottom by shimmering ruby beams, each half the thickness of her little finger, and there was a gap of less than a handbreadth between each one. It was from here that the humming emanated. She swore softly and got to her feet, grimacing as her cramped thigh muscles protested. She cautiously approached the glowing bars and got a slight whiff of ionization. Peering closer at the doorway’s edge, she saw that the beams emerged from recessed holes. Disabling even a few of them would be out of the question. There was no heat but common sense dictated it would be unwise to touch them.

What the hell…? Mind running in circles, she stood behind the bars and frowned, eyebrows knitting as her logical self trying to make some sense of this mess. Okay, she was incarcerated, no doubt about it–exactly why she had no idea but she certainly intended to find out.

"Brooding about it won’t help, you know."

She started, looking up sharply and noticed that there was another cell almost directly opposite hers, just on the other side of a narrow center passageway. Its containment field was likewise active because it also held a prisoner. Squinting, she could just make out the vague shape standing behind the glowing red lattice. Curiosity got the better of her; she suppressed her frustration and edged so close to the bars she could feel the fine hairs on her bare arms tingle. Her growing puzzlement lent her courage. "Where am I? What’s going on here, dammit?" she said.

There was no immediate answer but the shadow shifted a little. Although there were no more than four meters separating them Cheyenne could see him only slightly better in the relative dimness. Then he spoke again, the sardonic reply carried a tinge of lazy amusement, something a bit out of place considering the circumstances. "I had hoped to meet X-COM’s captain under more…favorable…conditions."

Her green eyes went wide. "How–?"

"Did I know who you were?" he finished, and clasped his hands behind his back. Since he was standing right behind his cell’s barrier, the glow enabled Cheyenne to see him a little clearer now. He was wearing plain civilian clothes but there was something rather militaristic about his ramrod-straight posture. "You might be surprised."

She crossed her arms, trying to appear more confident than she really felt at the moment. "You have me at a disadvantage. Why don’t you tell me who you are?"

He shrugged. "I can’t see the harm in it, although I have no doubt that we’re being monitored. By the way, you might want to watch yourself around the pulsonic lasers. They can pack a wallop."

He touched something to one of the beams before him. Cheyenne wondered if he was crazy but then saw that the object was not his finger but merely a cigarette. Its tip ignited and sparks fell to the floor in a fizzling spray. The flare illuminated his face and, for a brief moment, her imagination conjured up the ridiculous image of a vampire. Well, maybe not exactly the bloodsucking count of legend, but this gentleman could have made an acceptable stand-in. His face, with its prominent cheekbones and defined features, was a little on the sallow side, while the dark hair was swept back from a high, intelligent brow and created the semblance of a widow’s peak. Between a neatly trimmed moustache and likewise tidy goatee, his lips were compressed in an inscrutable line. Raising his cigarette, he inhaled deeply, taking his time and appearing to consider her request. A long moment later he exhaled. His eyes were a pale blue that bordered on gray and they did not blink or even waver behind the slowly drifting smoke. Cheyenne, as gallant as she tried to be, was beginning to feel a mite uncomfortable under their steady scrutiny.

"My name," the man answered simply, "is Douglas Hein."