The air inside the mobile command unit was thick with the scent of ozone and the frantic, rhythmic tapping of keys. Zeta stood at the center of the cramped space, his eyes darting across the holographic displays that illuminated the dark bunker with a harsh, flickering blue glow. Outside, the night in the industrial sector of Neo Soma was deathly silent, the usual mechanical drone of the city momentarily subdued by the cold, damp fog that rolled in from the outskirts. Zeta was still haunted by the encounter in the abandoned building, the memory of the silhouette that had dissolved into static playing on an endless, maddening loop in his mind. He pushed the dread aside, forcing his focus onto the tactical mission parameters for Sector 5.
"Everything is prepped," the rebel commander said,
