"Outrageous," Hagrave growled.
His Vice-Commander—a lean man with sharp eyes behind thin-rimmed glasses—looked up from his tablet. He didn't seem surprised.
"The Greenridge intel leaked. Beyond our borders. International hunter networks are buzzing about it. Specialized media are spinning theories. How is this possible? We locked down communications."
The Vice-Commander sighed, setting his tablet down gently. "Commander, hiding an S-class rift opening in today's world is like trying to stuff an elephant into a hallway. Energy sensors are accessible to every major association. Commercial surveillance satellites pick up geomagnetic anomalies. Rumors travel faster than our confidentiality orders."
Hagrave stood, his chair scraping harshly. He walked to the wide window overlooking a city still asleep.
"The Americans managed total silence on their S-rift incident in North Dakota three months ago. Not a word. Not a whisper. Until they announced successful closure."
Aris adjusted his glasses. "Exactly. That tells us who really controls information. They can enforce silence. We… we have to deal with the reality of a smaller, more porous state. Leaks don't necessarily come from our own ranks. A technician running his mouth in a bar, data trafficking on the dark web—the possibilities are endless."
"This isn't some minor leak, Aris." Hagrave turned. "They're waiting for us to stumble. The International Association's Central Council is watching. Our European neighbors are watching. If we fail—if this turns into a disaster—it won't just be a human tragedy. It'll be a blow to our credibility as a power. They'll strip funding, responsibilities. We'll be reduced to an appendage again, a buffer state dependent on others' protection."
"They only have rumors, Commander. Speculation. Nothing solid on our forces or exact strategies."
"You're naive." Hagrave returned to his seat. "Rumors are fertile ground for manipulation. They're enough to erode trust. And I seriously doubt our… observers… are content with rumors. They probably have sources inside the Division itself. Corporate spies, mercenary hunters hungry for sellable intel."
Aris spoke again, his calm voice a counterpoint to his superior's agitation. "Did our Association do the right thing playing the strength card with just three companies? Doctrine calls for a full battalion on an S. Five companies minimum."
Hagrave clenched his fists on the desk. "Our nation wants to be seen as a major hunter power, Aris. Not through sheer numbers, but efficiency. Quality over quantity. Sending a battalion would be admitting fear, a lack of faith in our elites. That's the message the Council and I wanted to send: we handle this with precision and minimal resources. Three hand-picked companies will be enough."
"Ironveil, Clover, and Jaeger," Aris listed, a faint smile on his lips.
"Yes. Borin's a bulldog—stubborn and powerful. Vanpelt's a brilliant, adaptable tactician. And…"
"And Mercer's an unpredictable wild card," Aris finished.
"You don't seem worried." Hagrave studied his subordinate curiously. "Despite the leaks, despite the gamble. You have absolute faith in our captains, then? That's good."
Aris leaned back, lacing his fingers. "Absolute faith? No. War against the Rifts is a science of uncertainty. But I have… reasons for optimism."
"Which are?"
"Only one of those companies truly reassures me."
Hagrave frowned. "Ironveil? Their success rate is outstanding."
Aris shook his head.
"Clover, then?"
"Stop pretending you don't know, Commander."
"You can't mean… Jaeger? The sloppiest, most notoriously undisciplined company in the entire Division—if not the Association? The one that regularly earns reports… written by you, I might add… detailing their tardiness and infractions?"
Aris let out a soft chuckle. "Exactly. It's a phenomenon I've been studying for two years, Commander. Their administrative file is a disaster. Their captain is a walking daydream. Yet look at their real operational stats—not the sanitized ones for public reports. And I know your true feelings about their captain."
He picked up his tablet, swiped through files. "Critical missions. A-class and above. Deployed personnel survival rate: 100%. Not a single loss on a major op since Mercer took command. Zero. Luck? Luck doesn't exist at that scale. I'm just curious how, this time again, the phenomenon will play out. How they'll deliver another 100%."
Hagrave regarded his vice-commander.
"They'd better deliver. For their sake, and ours. Monitor the channels. I want real-time reports the moment hostilities begin."
"Yes, Commander."
***
Elias Mercer was sprawled on an empty ammo crate, another cup of coffee in hand. Half-lidded, he watched the presumed rift opening point a kilometer away. Space was already warping slightly, heat mirages shimmering where no sun touched.
Mara stood beside him, scanning the horizon through thermal binoculars. "Dimensional disturbances are spiking exponentially. Opening's imminent. Less than an hour."
"Hmm," Elias replied, taking a sip.
"Ironveil's deploying in phalanx formation. Clover's launching recon drones. We…" She lowered the binoculars to look at him. "We're waiting."
"We're preparing," he corrected softly.
"By napping, meditating, and doing card tricks?"
"Everyone's got their method. Mindset's what matters." He turned to her. "You gave the order. 'Everyone comes home.' They've taken it in. Now they're getting their heads around the fact that they will come home. That's the best prep. Fear's controlled, channeled. They won't go chasing death stupidly."
Mara opened her mouth to argue, then glanced around. Beneath the apparent casualness, she saw intense focus, razor-sharp alertness. No wasted tension, no dumb heroics.
"You've got a strange way of commanding, Mercer," a voice said behind them.
Mara's console screen flared to life, projecting Captain Vanpelt's face into the stale camp air.
"So, Elias, still napping while the grown-ups work?"
Mercer didn't even sit up. He just raised his coffee mug toward the hologram in salute. "It's called energy conservation. You should try it—you look like you've already killed thirty nemeses before the gate even opens."
Vanpelt let out a clear, bright laugh, completely ignoring Mara, who had stiffened. "Always got a comeback. I saw your Jaeger guys running bets on the first monster out on the intranet. You never change. Watch yourself, 'Unpredictable.' I don't want to sign your death report because you forgot to lace your boots."
"You know I'm immortal through sheer stubbornness," Elias shot back with a wink that made Mara's brows knit.
Vanpelt tilted her head, looking at Elias with a softness Mara didn't miss.
"See you on the other side, Elias. Don't keep me waiting too long for debrief."
The image vanished. Mara snapped her binoculars shut.
"Captain Vanpelt is… awfully familiar," she finally said.
Elias drained his coffee. "Charlotte? She's a brilliant tactician. Just worried about her flanks."
"That wasn't tactical concern, Mercer. That was straight-up flirting. During an S-class deployment."
Elias finally set the mug down and stood, stretching lazily. He caught Mara's dark glare and sighed, a half-smile tugging his mouth.
"Oh, don't make that face, Mara. Ancient history. We dated for a year—back when we were cadets, so no administrative conflicts or anything, right?"
Mara froze, mouth slightly open. "You… dated the 'Brilliant' Vanpelt? The Association's model student?"
"They say opposites attract, don't they? It ended because she wanted to reorganize my life the way she reorganizes battle plans. But we kept… fond memories."
He patted her shoulder as he passed, heading toward the troops starting to rise.
"Come on, pack away the jealousy."
Mara blinked.
"I'm not jealous," she said sharply. "I'm just… surprised. That a Vanpelt could… well…" She hunted for words, clearly rattled by the idea. "…put up with your ways."
Elias stopped dead, turned slowly, one eyebrow raised.
"Oh, she didn't put up with them," he said with a calm smile. "She made spreadsheets. Schedules. Color-coding. Even tried to enforce a bedtime."
Mara winced. "You're exaggerating."
"Wish I was." He resumed walking. "One day she tried to optimize our relationship with a weekly retro-planning. 'Minor conflicts on Tuesdays, deep talks on Thursdays.' I broke it off when she mentioned quarterly goals."
A strangled sound escaped Mara. "That's…"
"Sacrilege?"
"Inappropriate."
He stared at the air distortion in the distance, now throbbing like a wound about to tear open.
"That's why it never really worked between us."
He glanced at Mara.
"She wanted to change me. You just look at me and wonder how I pull it off."
The Rift pulsed once.
"Come on," Elias said, moving forward. "We told everyone we're coming home. Let's not start by lying."