Elias Mercer came in last, hands shoved in his pockets, shuffling like he'd rather be anywhere else. He hadn't shaved. His hair looked like it had lost a fight with a wind tunnel.
Mara trailed three steps behind him.
"Well, look who rose from the grave," a woman's voice said, laced with amusement.
Captain Charlotte Vanpelt. Clover Company.
She sat with her legs crossed, cradling a steaming mug. Her uniform was spotless, but a green scarf was knotted loosely around her neck.
"Captain Vanpelt," Elias muttered, dropping into a chair like it had personally offended him. "Always nice to see your sense of humor is still stuck somewhere around the Cretaceous."
"The Cretaceous ended sixty-five million years ago," the man sitting beside her corrected calmly.
Tall, thin, round glasses. He was tapping methodically on a tablet.
"Thanks for the vital update," Elias said. "My life is forever changed."
Dimitri nodded. "You're welcome."
Mara took the seat to Elias's left, pulling out a notebook and pen. She glanced sideways at her captain.
*He's upright. That's something.*
"Where's Borin?" she asked.
"Late," Charlotte answered.
Right on cue, the door slammed open.
Captain Borin strode in—broad-shouldered, chin high—followed closely by a woman.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced in a booming voice. "Apologies for the delay. I was finalizing tactical adjustments with my teams."
"You were admiring yourself in a mirror," Elias said without looking up.
Borin froze. His smile tightened. "Excuse me?"
"Nothing. Go on. Tactical adjustments—fascinating stuff."
The woman with Borin—black hair pulled into a tight ponytail—laid a calming hand on his arm.
"Ignore him," she said evenly. "He's clearly still drunk."
Elias leaned toward Mara's ear.
"She's about as warm as an icicle in January."
Serin turned her head, gray eyes locking onto his.
"I have excellent hearing, Captain Mercer."
Elias blinked. "Ah. Sorry. That was… a compliment. Icicles are… refreshing."
Mara closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.
Borin sat down noisily, spreading an actual paper map across the table—a deliberately old-school move when everyone else used tablets.
"Right. Let's begin," he said. "Greenridge. Rift S. Projected opening in under eighteen hours."
"Seventeen hours and forty-three minutes," Dimitri corrected without looking up from his screen.
Borin stared at him. "Come again?"
"Seventeen hours and forty-three minutes," Dimitri repeated. "Energy flux calculations show a 3.7% acceleration since this morning. The rift will open earlier than projected."
Charlotte gave a small smile. "My vice-captain loves his numbers."
"Numbers don't lie," Dimitri said. "People do."
"Anyway," Borin continued, "we have three companies. Ironveil will lead the assault on the Boss. Clover will provide support and hold the eastern perimeter. Jaeger…" He paused, looking at Elias with thinly veiled condescension. "Jaeger will handle cleanup."
"Charming," Elias muttered. "We're the dimensional garbage crew."
Mara placed a firm hand on the table. "Captain Borin, with all due respect, committing the main assault to a single company is… risky."
Borin turned to her. "Vice-Captain O'Connel, is it? Concern noted. And dismissed."
"Captain Borin is correct," Serin cut in. Her tone was flat, factual. "Ironveil has the experience and firepower required. Splitting forces against an S-class Boss would be counterproductive."
"She's got a point," Charlotte admitted. "Even if I hate saying it."
Dimitri raised a hand. "Question."
Everyone looked at him.
"What's the error margin on the classification?"
Borin frowned. "What?"
"The rift is rated S," Dimitri explained calmly. "But rifts of this magnitude carry significant classification error. It could be low-S. Or high-S. Or…"
"Or what?" Mara asked.
Dimitri met her eyes. "Or SS."
"Ridiculous," Borin snapped. "Sensors would have—"
"Sensors are 87% accurate on S-class," Dimitri interrupted. "That drops to 62% on SS-class because energy flux exceeds standard measurement thresholds."
"You're saying we might charge blind into an SS rift?" Elias asked, suddenly paying full attention.
"It's possible. Low probability, but non-zero. Roughly 8 to 12%."
Charlotte let out a low whistle.
Borin stood abruptly. "Enough. We're wasting time. Whether it's S or SS, protocol remains the same. Ironveil neutralizes the Boss. Clover and Jaeger handle the perimeter. End of discussion."
"And if the Boss is too strong?" Mara asked.
Serin looked at her. "Then we die. But we die trying."
"Inspirational," Elias murmured. "I'm getting that tattooed on my forehead."
Borin jabbed a finger at him. "You got a problem, Captain Mercer?"
Elias met his gaze. "Several, actually. Most of them existential."
"Be serious."
"I'm always serious. My version just includes sarcasm as a defense mechanism."
Charlotte burst out laughing.
Borin sat back down. "Fine. We move out in six hours."
Elias raised a lazy hand. "Question."
"What?" Borin growled.
"If we die, do our families get hazard pay? Or is it just a 'thanks for playing' and a posthumous medal?"
Borin stared. "You're serious?"
"Deadly. I'd like to know if my death has any market value."
Mara closed her eyes.
*Dear God.*
Charlotte stood, stretching. "On that cheerful note, I suggest we all get some sleep. Or drink. Or both."
"Sleep," Dimitri said. "Alcohol impairs cognitive function."
"Thanks, Captain Obvious."
She ruffled his hair. He stiffened, adjusting his glasses with mild annoyance.
Borin and Serin left first, without another word.
Charlotte approached Elias. "Rough night, Mercer?"
"You have no idea."
"Try not to die, okay? It's a paperwork nightmare for the rest of us."
"That's exactly what my vice-captain told me."
Charlotte smiled. "She seems smart. Listen to her."
She left, Dimitri trailing three steps behind, eyes glued to his tablet.
Mara and Elias were alone in the room.
"You held it together pretty well," she said eventually.
"I managed not to puke. Small victories."
"Do you actually think Borin can handle an S-class Boss?"
Elias stood and walked to the window.
"No clue," he said simply. "But he's stubborn. And certain. Certain people are dangerous."
"Then why did you agree to this?"
He shrugged. "Because maybe—just maybe—he'll pull it off. And I can go back to sleeping soundly."
Mara sighed. "You're impossible."
"That's why you love me."
"I don't love you."
"Liar."
She smiled despite herself. "Come on. Let's get the troops ready. We leave in six hours."
"Five hours and fifty-seven minutes," Elias corrected.
"You're starting to sound like Dimitri."
"God forbid."