Captain Helena Valerius stared at the main screen, her reflection a pale, grim ghost against the mosaic of surveillance feeds.
Her uniform was immaculate.
Her posture was rigid.
But inside, her faith in the system was bleeding out.
"Status report," she said, her voice a clipped, professional monotone that betrayed none of the turmoil churning in her gut.
A young technician, his face pale and slick with sweat under the harsh fluorescent lights, spun in his chair.
"The D-Rank Gate in the Queens sector collapsed twenty-seven minutes ago, Captain," he stammered, his fingers flying across his keyboard. "Standard ghoul nest. Cleanup crews are on-site."
"I didn't ask for the public report, Ensign," Valerius said, her voice dangerously quiet. "I asked for the truth."
"Anything… unusual?"
The ensign swallowed hard.
"That's the thing, ma'am," he said, turning his screen towards her. "The energy readings… they're… wrong."
He pulled up a graph.
