The meeting resumed, diving into even drier tactical considerations. Elias set about counting the mother-of-pearl buttons on the uniform jacket of the captain across from him—twelve, perfectly aligned—when a phrase suddenly snagged his drifting attention:
"—recurrent dimensional disturbances in the Greenridge Forest sector."
Hargrave tapped the map with his finger, on a vast wooded expanse striped with exclusion markers. "The latest data indicates rising etheric instability. Altered perception phenomena among peripheral observers. Sound distortions, fleeting visions... like echoes of another place trying to overlap ours."
An older captain with snow-white hair and a weathered face—Tharim—leaned forward, knuckles whitening on the table. "A pre-opening of a Class A rift or higher. The precursor signs are clear. We need to evacuate a hundred-kilometer radius. Immediately."
Another captain, Rikkar, let out a scornful grunt. "Evacuate a hundred kilometers? For a still-theoretical phenomenon? You're overestimating the danger, or underestimating the 7th Division's capabilities, Captain Tharim?"
Hargrave raised a hand to impose silence. "The information is classified top secret. High command has decided: the 7th Division is tasked with surveillance, containment upon opening, and closure of the breach. End of discussion."
Elias laughed. A short, involuntary laugh that escaped before he could stop it. All eyes, already tense, drilled into him again.
"You find the situation amusing, Captain Mercer?" Goran sneered.
Elias let out a snort, rolling the pencil stub between his fingers. "A Class S rift? You know, to justify the annual budget."
The room froze in icy silence.
Hargrave wasn't laughing. And the captain to his right, Vanpelt, with silver hair cut in a sharp bob, wasn't laughing either. She stared at Elias with analytical intensity.
Elias blinked slowly, playing dumb. "It was a joke. An absurd guess. Statistically, it's more likely than a giant hamster invasion, right?"
Tharim slammed his palm on the table, a sharp crack that made everyone jump. "Commander, I beg you! Call in the entire Association! This country... it seems to have forgotten what a Class S rift is. We're gambling with the extinction of an entire region!"
Another captain, Avans, a man with a smooth face and cold eyes, spoke up. "Nippon handled a Class S last year with just three of its major divisions. Their country is militarily and economically weaker than Britania. If we mobilize our entire Association for one rift, what image do we project? That of a nation trembling before a threat others handle in silence?"
Tharim turned to him, shaking with barely contained fury. "Reputation? You're weighing reputation against tens of thousands of lives? Against the possibility of uncontrolled expansion?"
Another captain, a stocky man, cut in indignantly. "You're insulting our Division, Captain Tharim! In reality, one company would be more than enough to nip this in the bud. Wouldn't it, Captain Mercer?"
A light snore was the response. Elias, head tilted back in his chair, eyes closed, appeared to have plunged into deep sleep.
"Mercer!" Hargrave thundered.
Elias jolted, blinking with perfectly feigned confusion. "Huh? Yeah? Debrief over? Great."
The captain clenched his jaw. "I said one company would suffice. You agree?"
Elias looked at him. "One company for what?"
Behind him, Mara pinched the bridge of her nose.
Hargrave took a deep breath. "The sampled energy residues and geomagnetic anomalies match exactly the pre-opening signatures of a Class S rift. Furthermore..."
He slid a tablet across the table displaying complex graphs and images of grayish, powdery crystals.
"The opening is imminent," Vanpelt concluded coldly. "And we will be the first and last line of defense."
Tharim shook his head. "This is madness."
"It's an order," Hargrave corrected, implacable. "The 7th Division deploys. Clover and Ironveil Companies will establish the containment perimeter at D-5."
His eyes settled on Elias, who was trying to make himself as small as possible, staring once more at the duck-shaped ceiling crack.
"Jaeger Company, being stationed at the outpost closest to the predicted epicenter, will handle close-range surveillance and real-time data collection starting at D-1."
Elias shot up so fast his chair toppled backward with a crash. "Close-range surveillance? At D-1? That's... that's nomenclature for 'get sucked into the formless void first'! We're more of a... rearguard company. Guardians of the rear. Very important!"
Mara leaned in and murmured: "The security contract, Captain. Addendum 9 stipulates that our services include 'first response and rift assessment' in our assigned sector. A Class S is no exception."
"It was unreadable!" Elias hissed, horrified. "Legally contestable!"
"Not in a court-martial during a crisis," she murmured, stepping back with an almost pitying look.
Elias collapsed forward onto the table, forehead against the wood, in a mix of pity and exasperation.
Vanpelt smiled: "Given who you are, you might even close the rift before we arrive."
Elias turned his head sideways, cheek stuck to the table, to give Vanpelt a glassy stare. "Please, don't give me credit. It's bad for my image as a fatalistic slacker."
Mara sighed.
"This actually works out pretty well for you, in the end," she murmured.
Elias turned his head sideways, cheek against the cold surface. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Death in combat isn't the ultimate dream of every chronic slacker? An end without paperwork."
'That bitch.'