The briefing room fell into an unnatural silence after everyone else had left. The colonel and I were alone. He remained by the wall without shifting so much as an inch, his steady, unblinking gaze studying me with the painstaking scrutiny of a tax auditor.
"Ross, I've gone through your personnel file in detail," he said. His voice was low, stripped of any unnecessary inflection. "According to your record, you can visually identify altered genotypes. In plain English, you spot an awakened individual in a crowd and instantly know what kind of superpowers they have. Is that right?"
"Yes, sir," I replied, snapping into regulation posture. My back was straight, my hands at my sides.
"If I show you recent photos of the Loz'an taken through the portal, can you identify which ones possess S-Power?"
"No, sir. I need direct visual contact with a living subject," I answered calmly, searching for an analogy he'd appreciate. "Think of it like a computer. My ability is basically direct data access from a hard drive. If all I'm looking at is a picture of the computer case, I can't tell you the processor's clock speed. I need access to a live, running system."
"Too bad." Stewart gave a brief nod and moved on without another thought. No sigh, no trace of disappointment. A professional simply crossed an unworkable option off the checklist and kept going. "In that case, once we're deployed, you'll keep the perimeter under constant surveillance. Everything that enters your field of view goes through your filter. The moment you identify anyone carrying S-Power, you switch to my frequency immediately. Keep it short: coordinates, threat classification, and a quick summary of their capabilities."
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed, Second Lieutenant."
I pivoted on my left foot and headed outside. My emotions were mixed. On one hand, command clearly did not see me as dead weight or some clueless rookie the veterans would have to babysit. They considered my abilities a legitimate asset. On the other hand, my operational risk had just gone up. What had started as an observational deployment was quietly turning into a real combat assignment with personal responsibility attached to it, which completely undermined my original plan of keeping my head down and learning the ropes. Then again, arguing with upper management in uniform was a losing proposition. Orders received. Orders acknowledged.
When I stepped into the men's section of the barracks, a dry smile found its way onto my face. Danny had been right. Colonel Stewart's appearance had hit everyone like a bucket of ice water. Every trace of the morning's laziness had vanished. No stupid videos playing on phone screens, no roaring laughter, nobody wasting time with cards spread across the lockers. The atmosphere had tightened into focused pre-mission preparation. Outside, the guys were running fine motor drills to activate their abilities while others stretched in silence.
Around our bunks, things looked a little different. Ted had wedged himself into the corner of the top bunk and was demolishing a bag of dried bananas at machine-gun speed, the same ones we'd hauled back from Bogotá. The kid was stress-eating like there was no tomorrow. Danny Kim, meanwhile, was sprawled across his mattress with absolute, almost offensive indifference, lazily scrolling through something on his phone.
"Tom, hey..." Ted froze with a banana halfway to his mouth as I stopped by my locker. "Why's Danny... I mean, he's exactly like you?"
"In what way are we alike?" I asked, shooting Danny a sideways glance. "We're not even in the same weight class, in case you missed that."
"I don't mean how you look! You both... I don't know... it's like you're frozen. Everybody else is losing their minds, and you two look like you're just sitting down for coffee. Back in training, before the final tests, you had that exact same expression, like you already knew how everything was gonna play out."
"Maybe the captain's just used to this," I said. "But if you're that curious about somebody else's psychology, why not ask the man himself?"
The two of us wandered over to Kim's bunk. Sensing our shadows blocking the light, Danny looked up from a page full of custom skateboard photos and locked his screen.
"What's up?"
"First things first. Meet Ted officially. We went through training camp together." I nodded toward the kid. He transformed in an instant, straightening up so proudly he looked like someone was about to hand him a million-dollar check.
"We've already met," Danny said with a wink. "The kid wanted my autograph so badly I couldn't turn him down."
"He burned his initials into a piece of tree bark with an actual beam of fire! That was the coolest thing I've ever seen!" Ted instantly slipped into full fifteen-year-old fanboy mode. "Tom, seriously, you totally sandbagged me! Why didn't you tell me back at camp Danny Kim was your personal mentor? The guy's a living legend!"
"That's exactly why I didn't," I said dryly, watching his excitement lose a little steam against my completely unimpressed expression. "Dial it back, Ted. We're on a military base, not at an autograph signing in a mall."
"Hey, Tom, take it easy. Don't crush the kid's spirit." Kim flashed an easy grin and folded his hands behind his head. "I've got no problem with the attention. So what's the question?"
"Explain your incredible Zen state to the two rookies here." I gestured around the nearly empty barracks. "Half the guys look like they're writing their last wills, and you're lying here happily browsing your phone. Are you even planning to deploy, Captain?"
"Sure am. It's not like I've got a choice."
"Then where's all this calm coming from? In twelve hours we're going through that portal. Into hostile territory. The Loz'an won't be shooting paintballs over there. They'll be firing real acid. People die over there, Danny."
"Okay, here's the breakdown." Kim propped himself up on one elbow, wearing the confident grin of a man who knew exactly how the game worked. "First off, for me personally, the Loz'an are about the easiest enemy I could ask for. My fire burns through their flesh in about a quarter of a second. I'll melt their weapons before they even get a chance to aim."
"Fair enough. I can see how your personal combat effectiveness changes the equation." I folded my arms across my chest. "What's the second reason?"
"Second, this mission's gonna be a cakewalk." Danny narrowed his eyes with a sly grin, clearly enjoying the fact that he knew something we didn't. "There's a reason they brought in you fresh graduates. The Corps doesn't throw future specialists into a meat grinder. You're way too expensive an investment. So to make sure everything goes nice and smooth, our assault team is getting backup on this deployment from Recon."
"And why does that make such a difference?"
"That's how I know you're a civilian at heart. You've probably never lifted anything heavier than a calculator." Kim shook his head with exaggerated disappointment. "You honestly have no idea who recon operators are. They're one of a kind. The best of the best. There are maybe a dozen of them in the entire Corps, and portals are opening almost twice a week these days. Normally, Recon goes in first, gathers intelligence without anyone noticing, and disappears back into the shadows. After that, they send people like us, assault troops and mobilized reservists, to clean up the mess."
"I get the logic," I said. "But there's still one piece missing. How does having a few extra guns along, even if they're carried by elite operators, guarantee we're in for an easy stroll through the jungle?"
"Like I said, you've never worked with them before." Danny let out an amused snort, idly rocking the toe of his combat boot. "I've walked plenty of rookies through their first portal. Those psychology classes I took actually turned out to be useful. Normally, Recon gives us the bare essentials: a rough map of the area, like the one the colonel showed on the projector, and a general route to the objective. After that, we're basically flying blind. Then we get there and reality's changed. New traps. Patrol routes have shifted. Fresh armor on the field. Those kinds of surprises usually get assault troops killed."
Danny paused, holding up a finger for emphasis.
"But when Recon is attached directly to the operation, those risks drop to almost nothing. Their analysts monitor the area in real time for miles around us. We stop being the ones who get surprised. We become the surprise."
"Holy crap..." Ted forgot all about chewing, his eyes glowing with pure, uncomplicated excitement. "That's it. I'm joining Recon. Why don't they assign those guys to every assault unit?"
"I literally just told you. There aren't enough of them." Danny spread his hands, his voice turning more serious. "Abilities that make someone perfect for deep reconnaissance are incredibly rare. And if you ever look at the casualty reports, Recon tops the list. Tomorrow we'll be following their trail like we're using GPS. They're the ones who step into the unknown first. No fire support. No backup. Half the time, no contact with base. You spend a week hiding in purple bushes, tracking enemy movement, scared to take a deep breath because one mistake gets you turned into hamburger."
Ted slowly lowered his bag of dried bananas and swallowed hard. "Yeah... I think I just changed my mind about Recon. Infantry suddenly sounds a whole lot safer."
"They wouldn't have taken you anyway," I said matter-of-factly. "Your ability profile doesn't meet their baseline requirements."
"By the way, Tom." Kim leaned forward with a sly grin. "What kept the colonel talking to you so long? Don't tell me he spotted hidden potential and decided to recruit you."
"Nope." I quickly replayed my conversation with Stewart. There had been nothing classified about it. "He ordered me to scan every Loz'an we come across during the operation for superpowers. If I find anyone with S-Power, I report directly to him."
"That's it?" Danny flopped back onto his pillow with exaggerated disappointment. "Man, I already had the whole story written in my head. First you skip the line and walk out of camp with officer bars, then you get a personal offer from the elite."
"I wouldn't take it even if he made the offer," I said after giving it some thought. "Going by your own analysis, the return doesn't justify the level of risk. I don't see the upside."
"Well, the money's definitely there." Kim raised a finger. "Recon is to the Corps what top salespeople are to a Fortune 500 company. Highest salaries, fast-track promotions, and first pick of the best gear."
"A bigger paycheck doesn't mean much if there's a good chance you'll end up in an early grave," I said, bringing the conversation to a close.
Before lights out, I activated the [Special Command], and sleep hit me almost instantly. Deep, restorative sleep, without a second wasted on late-night overthinking. My body needed a full reset before the operation. Ted wasn't nearly as lucky. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes and his worn-out face, he'd spent half the night fighting his nerves, something he quietly admitted over coffee the next morning.
At exactly 0700, the base's technical warehouse rolled open its heavy doors. Inside, massive wooden crates stood in neat rows, stenciled with TOP SECRET and US ARMY. Each contained an individual set of S-Armor flown in from the States aboard a dedicated transport.
I grabbed a pry bar from the rack, wedged it beneath the lid of my crate, and popped the steel fasteners loose with a sharp crack. My armor rested inside a custom-molded insert. It looked flawless, as though it had just come off the assembly line. Every trace of the green sap and ground-in grime left over from my sparring match with Sam was gone. The Corps technicians clearly knew their craft. The armor had been meticulously cleaned, polished, and lightly coated with fresh gun oil.
I had just reached for my helmet when I felt a gentle but persistent nudge against my elbow. I turned and found Mary standing beside me, holding out her phone. An incoming call was already connected.
"It's Mom," she said quietly, her voice carrying an odd edge. "She wants to talk to you."
My brain locked up for a second. Megan Rogers was calling me right before a combat deployment? Why me? Why now? There wasn't much point standing there asking questions nobody could answer. I silently took the phone.
"Thomas Ross speaking," I said in the driest, most professional tone I could manage while continuing to inspect the chest plate of my armor.
"Tom, drop the business voice. It's me." She let out a quiet laugh, but it sounded strained. "I've got a huge favor to ask. My little girl... this is her first trip through a portal. She's still just a kid, Tom. Please keep an eye on her over there."
"I can do that, Megan, but I'm not sure I understand why you're asking me specifically." I glanced over at Mary. She was pretending to study her armor with intense concentration, but the tips of her ears had turned bright red. "Captain Kim has officially been assigned to supervise our team. That's his responsibility."
"I've seen those supervisors!" Megan snapped, unmistakable panic creeping into her voice. "The second the commanding officer looks away, he'll be standing around chatting with his buddies. And that's exactly when something awful happens. You're different, Tom. I know how you work. If you take responsibility for something, you follow through. Please... look after Mary."
"Thank you for trusting me. I'll do everything I can within the limits of the mission."
"Thank you, Tom. I owe you one."
I ended the call and handed the phone back to Mary. She accepted it without a word. During the next forty minutes, I methodically suited up, fastening each section of my S-Armor and checking every seal one by one. By the time I finished, the suit was fully mission-ready.
At exactly eight o'clock, Colonel Stewart gave the order to begin the operation. The platoon advanced in a solid column of steel, disappearing one step at a time into the shimmering haze of the portal. Right on schedule, the crossing between worlds began.