The operations deck was alive with tension. Several screens pulsing with static-blue readings, operators barking different updates, and the hum of servers like a low drumbeat through the room.
“There’s been readings of a portal just above Thorne Hallow, sir,” one operator reported, his voice sharp, steady.
General Holbrook’s jaw flexed. “Class?”
“A type C.”
“Any casualties so far?” General Miranda asked, leaning forward with a stiffness that revealed how little she trusted early reports.
“None recorded.”
“Good,” Miranda said. “Let’s keep it that way.”
Holbrook cut through the chatter. “Compile a list of available squadrons currently in the base.”
“Four, General,” another operator answered without looking up. “Excluding Alpha, Falcon, and Delta.”
“So then what have we got?” Holbroo
