The commander of the assault unit strode out of the portal with long, confident steps.
He wore a standard S-Armor, but my eye, sharpened by years of auditing inspections, caught an inconsistency almost immediately. The design was completely standard: a massive breastplate, a ribbed tank of compressed S-Power mounted on the back, and a shielded high-pressure cable running from it. Exactly like mine. Even so, something looked wrong. I studied him more carefully. His armor looked as though it had just come straight from the factory. Not a single scratch marred the matte composite, and there was not even the slightest chip in the paint where the plates met.
The contrast with the men following behind him could not have been greater. They looked like they had just hacked their way through some godforsaken Vietnamese jungle. Deep gouges scarred their shoulder plates, greenish-brown stains of dried mud were ground into their knee guards, and every piece of gear carried the worn look of armor that had survived real combat. Their commander, meanwhile, looked like he had stepped out of a Corps recruiting ad.
When he released the clasps and pulled off his helmet, I felt an unexpected flicker of relief. An ordinary, weathered man's face. A short military buzz cut streaked with gray, a rugged three-day beard, no dramatic scar stretching across his cheek, but his eyes were heavy and intensely focused. Most importantly, there was none of that youthful smoothness to his skin. He was clearly well into his thirties. On this base, where the average age seemed to hover somewhere between twelve and twenty-five, the sight of this man felt like a breath of fresh air. Surrounded by what often felt like a daycare, I had finally found someone who looked like I could actually talk to as an equal.
I wanted to know more. Focusing, I sent a mental pulse in his direction.
Name: Leon Stewart
Age: 35
Occupation:: Soldier, Strategist
S-Power: 9670/15208 [Control Level: Supreme]
Special Skill: [Phasing]
[Phasing is a physical superpower that allows the user to temporarily shift their molecular structure into an intangible state, enabling them to pass freely through solid objects.]
Race: Human (Homo sapiens)
Attributes:
Strength: 7
Endurance: 9
Agility: 8
Current Effects: Mild spatial disorientation following teleportation.
Interesting. Phasing. So that explained why his armor gleamed like a brand-new Cadillac sitting on a showroom floor. The guy simply walked through bullets and tree branches. Practical. Still, another professional question immediately came to mind. If you could turn yourself into a ghost, why wear the full armor package? Leon had not removed the external mesh required to activate the force field. If he ditched that assembly, he would shave six to eight pounds off the suit and gain noticeably better mobility. Personal S-Armor modifications were not merely allowed in the Corps, they were encouraged. I had already customized a couple of mounting points on my own suit. Whatever. I chalked it up to personal preference.
"Attention, everyone!" Leon's voice carried effortlessly across the compound. There was no shouting, no drill-sergeant theatrics, just the calm, clipped authority that came from years of command. His gaze swept across the assembled ranks, lingering for a split second on the group of recruits standing to my right. "Briefing at the command center in two hours. Don't be late. Dismissed."
He turned and headed deeper into the technical sector with the newly arrived team, toward the sealed-off area where the Corps technicians maintained the platoon's power systems.
The crowd around the portal came to life. Soldiers began dispersing, checking smartphones and wrist displays as they compared countdown timers.
Only Danny stayed beside me. He was practically glued to his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he fired off a message. He looked wound tighter than usual.
"Whew... they finally answered." Danny let out a long breath, and a boyish grin spread across his face. "Hope those idiots make it."
"Who are you talking about?" I asked. His nervous energy stood out against the otherwise businesslike atmosphere.
"Our guys. The mobilized ones. They went to the local stadium to catch a soccer match." Danny gave a tense shrug. "They just texted. They're sprinting out of the stands now, trying to grab a cab. Hopefully traffic doesn't kill them."
"What's the issue?" I glanced toward the now-empty portal arch. "As far as I can tell, nobody's been ordered to deploy yet. The commander gave us two hours. It'll just be a routine briefing."
"Yeah, that's true, Tom, but you don't know Colonel Stewart." Danny glanced around carefully to make sure nobody was close enough to overhear. "To him, showing up late for a briefing isn't just screwing up. It's flat-out disobeying orders and proving you don't take the mission seriously. He doesn't give second chances. He'll pull you off the operation on the spot. And you know what that means. If you don't go through the portal after an official mobilization order, you're automatically hit with draft evasion charges, and the Corps fines are so brutal you'll be paying them off for the rest of your life."
I mentally gave Colonel Stewart another big checkmark. The man clearly understood the value of discipline. As far as I was concerned, if you signed up for a military operation, you left your civilian habits behind. The fact that so many people here somehow managed to balance combat duty with nights out in Bogotá clubs and afternoons at soccer stadiums never stopped baffling me. War was an unforgiving place where a single mistake could cost you your life.
"Tell me more about him," I said as I eased myself down onto a wooden bench.
"Man, that's a tough one." Danny sat beside me, pulled off his cap, and scratched his head while searching for the right words. "Oh, right! He's one of us. One of the Awakened. Not a career soldier. His thing is walking through walls. Can you believe that?"
"I know," I said, cutting off his excitement. The disappointment on his face was immediate. I had just ruined what he thought would be a great reveal. "What surprises me is the specialization. I would've expected the commander of an assault unit to have something a little more... overwhelming. Triggering localized earthquakes, freezing an entire sector, generating a focused explosion. Something that lets you wipe out the enemy in one move."
Danny smiled with quiet amusement and shook his head, looking at me the way a teacher might look at a first grader who had stumbled over the multiplication table.
"Tom, you still don't really get how the unit's command structure works. Yeah, the Corps sends invitations to the assault divisions to just about anyone who develops combat abilities, but that doesn't mean it's just a bunch of people charging headfirst into battle. At the very top, the best of the best, you've got reconnaissance. They're the first ones through the portal when nobody has the slightest clue what's waiting on the other side. Their job is to quietly crack open the enemy's defenses, count the guns, mark the coordinates of fortified positions, and slip back out without making a sound. For work that delicate, phasing is the perfect ability. Absolutely perfect."
"So reconnaissance is basically an exclusive inner circle within the assault divisions?" I asked, mentally piecing together the chain of command.
"Exactly." Danny snapped his fingers, pleased that I'd caught on. "And the easiest way to tell a regular assault trooper from a recon operator is by rank. Standard assault troops are line infantry. Sergeant is as high as they can ever go."
"Interesting." I rested my elbows on my knees. "So what's the ceiling for reconnaissance?"
"Nobody can tell you that." Danny spread his hands, his expression turning serious for a moment. "All I know is that Stewart holds the highest rank of any Awakened I've ever heard of. Colonel. Honestly, I've never seen a single one of us anywhere in the Corps ranked higher than that. Maybe that's the unofficial ceiling for people like us. Or maybe it's just because the organization is still so young. Nobody's had enough time to work their way up to a general's stars yet. Time will tell."
The next two hours slipped by almost without notice. Much to Danny's relief, his soccer-loving buddies came rushing in at the last minute, sweaty and out of breath, but they made it before the briefing started.
The entire unit assembled in a spacious windowless room. For the moment, the only source of light was a powerful projector aimed at a blank concrete wall. The setup reminded me, oddly enough, of Selina's lectures. Everyone took seats on standard folding chairs, and without anyone saying a word, the room naturally split into three distinct groups: the Corps' career assault troops, the temporarily mobilized reservists, and us, the fresh recruits who had only recently graduated from training camp.
"Some of you have worked with me before. Some of you are meeting me for the first time, so it's only proper that I introduce myself." Leon stood before the rows of chairs with his hands clasped behind his back. His posture was flawless, without a single unnecessary movement. "I'm Colonel Leon Stewart, commander of this assault unit. The first thing every one of you needs to understand is this: we're not heading out on a weekend outing. This is a combat operation, and from the first second to the last, it's under my direct command."
His steady, unblinking gaze shifted toward the reservists and settled on their section.
"Back home in the States, you might have impressive titles or think you've earned the right to argue with your boss. I don't care. You're not home. You're under my command, and military law is the only law that applies here. When I give an order, you carry it out immediately. No debates, no second-guessing, and no fantasies about filing complaints with the Pentagon. Any act of insubordination or sabotage will be dealt with on the spot to the fullest extent military regulations allow. Any questions?"
"No, sir," came the uneven chorus from the reservists. The response sounded halfhearted and out of sync.
I glanced over at Danny. He looked exactly the same, wearing the bored expression of a high school student listening to the same lecture for the hundredth time. Nobody got excited over the obvious, but rules were rules.
"Now let's get down to business." Leon turned his head slightly. "Seal the door. Bring up the projector."
The room was swallowed by darkness for a brief moment. Then came a quiet click, and a bright beam lit up the wall, revealing a highly detailed three-dimensional topographic map compiled from the latest reconnaissance drone data. Before us stretched a vast plateau several miles wide, boxed in by sheer rocky cliffs. Dense vegetation covered the basin below, but even the digital model made it obvious this wasn't anything found on Earth. Purple tree canopies, twisted trunks burdened with clusters of fruit that looked disturbingly like wriggling larvae. An alien ecosystem, hostile at every level. Along the right side of the projection floated a tactical report listing estimated enemy strength, patrol routes, and three Awakened Loz'an with concise summaries of their known abilities. Credit where it was due, reconnaissance had earned every penny.
"Our insertion point is here." Leon's pointer settled on a pulsing red marker embedded in the cliffs at the edge of the plateau. "The enemy command center is on the opposite side, inside this sector. Distance: three miles. In a typical American suburb, you'd cover that on foot in about thirty minutes. But we're not in the suburbs."
The colonel paused, and I had the distinct feeling his eyes had settled on our section of rookie recruits.
"You'll be slogging knee-deep through mud, forcing your way through dense jungle in brutal heat and humidity while carrying full combat loads. Add minefields and constant enemy patrols to that. The terrain won't support wheeled or tracked vehicles, so you'll be doing it all on foot." The projection shifted to a full-body image of a tall humanoid with skin that looked almost rubbery. "You should already know Loz'an anatomy and every vulnerable point by heart from basic training, so I'm not wasting time reviewing it. Standing orders are simple: if you see one, shoot to kill. No hesitation. This isn't the place for compassion. They're not refugees, they're not diplomats, and they're not here to negotiate. They're a trained occupation force, and our job is to erase them from this sector."
In the silence, I clearly heard Ted and Mary, sitting to my right, straighten in their seats at exactly the same time. Their breathing had already grown shorter with nerves.
"This next part is for the recruits." Leon's voice turned even colder. "For you, this deployment is strictly an observation and training exercise. Stay at the rear of the formation, keep your heads down, watch the veterans carefully, and follow every order your assigned instructor gives you. I don't need heroes charging the front line, and I definitely don't need cowboys trying to prove themselves. Your mission is simple: watch, learn, and come back alive. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," I answered calmly, realizing the younger recruits beside me were too nervous to get the words out.
"The primary objective is the complete elimination of every hostile in the target sector." Leon concluded his briefing as the projector shut off. The door slid open, flooding the room with the harsh light from the corridor. "Secondary objective: recover materials. Any intact technology, wildlife specimens, or biological samples. Whenever possible, avoid destroying potential trophies. According to our analysts, assuming nothing unexpected comes up, we should finish the operation within three hours. Any questions?"
"I've got one!" Ted practically sprang out of his chair, shooting his hand into the air with the enthusiasm of a puppy ready for its first hunt. "Sir, are we getting any special tactical gear for this mission? Acid grenades? Laser rifles made for fighting the Loz'an?"
A wave of amused laughter swept through the room. The veteran soldiers openly chuckled into their fists at the teenager's excitement. I found myself resisting the urge to rub the bridge of my nose. Sitting next to this fountain of adolescent enthusiasm was becoming mildly embarrassing.
"Specialized weapons and heavy equipment are issued only to assault teams that have completed the required three-month advanced training program," Leon replied without the slightest hint of a smile. "Everyone else will use standard S-Guns. Field operations have proven them one hundred percent effective against this particular threat. Captain Kim, special assignment. The cadets are your responsibility."
"Yes, sir," Danny replied without any sign of surprise. Judging by his reaction, babysitting recruits had long since become part of his job description.
"Final equipment checks and column formation at the portal begin in twelve hours." Leon swept the room with one last look. "Dismissed."
Chairs scraped across the floor as soldiers headed for the exit, chatting about ordinary day-to-day things. I had just started to stand, looking forward to getting some rest, when the colonel's voice stopped me cold.
"Second Lieutenant Ross, I'd like you to stay behind."