Forty-seven minutes after the sky tore open, San Francisco was on every screen in the world.
Smoke still climbed from Marina Boulevard. A hundred news drones buzzed like flies around the wreckage.Every channel said something different—terror attack, alien invasion, biblical event, government experiment.The only people not guessing were the ones still sweeping brass off the street.
Major Cole stood beside a line of body bags, the wind snapping their tags.Medics worked quietly, too exhausted to whisper. MPs taped off another zone while a camera crew tried to film them through the fence.A pair of burned horses lay tangled in a crater. Armor that looked hand-forged lay twisted around them.
"Sir," Sergeant Lee said, stepping up with a clipboard he'd scavenged from somewhere. "Initial count: forty-six civilian dead, twenty-seven wounded. Hostiles…" He exhaled. "Too many to count."
Cole nodded. "Any survivors?"
"One. Unconscious, in restraints. Wearing armor that looks like it came out of a museum. Doc says he's human. More or less."
Cole looked out over the bay. The Gate still shimmered above the water, steady now, humming softly like distant power lines."'More or less,'" he repeated. "That'll look great in a report."
The air smelled of burned gasoline and salt.Helicopters thundered past carrying stretchers, crates, and VIPs who'd never set foot near a rifle before.Black SUVs rolled in and disgorged suits, generals, and enough classified briefcases to bankrupt a paper mill.
One of them—a colonel from the Pentagon with perfect hair—walked straight up to Cole.
"Major Nathan Cole?""Yes, sir.""Congratulations. You just made every briefing for the next decade. Don't talk to the press.""I wasn't planning to.""Good. Don't talk to anyone, actually."The colonel left before Cole could answer.
Lee watched him go. "Nice guy. We should invite him to the Christmas party.""If we make it to Christmas," Cole said.
Across the street, a squad of National Guard troops dragged a burning banner out of the wreckage. The fabric bore a black sun sigil embroidered in gold thread.Reyes crouched nearby with her field kit, scraping a sample of ash into a vial.
"This metal isn't any alloy I recognize," she said, half to herself. "Composition's… inconsistent. Molecular structure looks printed, but there's no machining.""Meaning?" Cole asked."Meaning I have no idea. Sir, do you realize what this could be?""Yeah," Cole said. "A headache."
A reporter broke past the perimeter yelling questions until an MP intercepted him."Is it true the army opened the portal? Is this retaliation? Are there aliens?"Cole didn't turn around. "No comment. Especially on the aliens."
Another explosion echoed from down the coast—a fuel depot going up. Fire crews shouted. The city burned in patches, and the skyline shimmered behind heat waves.
Lee came back, radio pressed to his ear. "Command wants us at the Civic Center for debrief. They're setting up an emergency ops HQ."
Cole glanced at the line of armored bodies being loaded onto trucks."Tell them I'll be there in ten," he said.
The command center looked like a convention of over-caffeinated chaos.Maps of the Bay plastered every screen. Satellite feeds looped the same impossible footage: a stone arch suspended in the air, its runes spinning lazily, the shadow of it stretching miles across the water.
Reyes stood at one table surrounded by engineers and physicists all arguing at once. She looked far too happy.
"Major Cole," she called. "We've been analyzing the Gate's energy output. It's stable, emitting a constant field—no radiation, no heat, just… resonance.""Meaning?""Meaning it shouldn't exist, but it's very polite about it.""Can we close it?""No idea. We don't even know what it's made of.""Then you're ahead of the politicians," Cole said.
A projector flickered on. The Pentagon's seal appeared, followed by a live feed of a room full of men and women who had already decided everything.
A voice from the screen: "Major Cole, we are designating this incident Operation Frontier Light. Your after-action reports place you as the senior field officer with direct engagement experience."
"That's one way to say 'survived,'" Cole muttered.
"You will secure the perimeter, coordinate with incoming specialists, and prepare for potential reconnaissance through the anomaly."
Reyes blinked. "Through it? Sir, we don't even know what's on the other side."
"That's why we're sending people," the voice said. "Preferably ones who follow orders."
The feed cut off. The room fell silent except for static.
Lee looked at Cole. "Well, congratulations again. You're now in charge of walking into hell."Cole rubbed his temples. "And here I was hoping for a desk job."
Outside, the city glowed orange in the dusk—fires still burning, sirens echoing like distant alarms from a dream.On the horizon, the Gate pulsed once, twice, slow and steady, as if waiting.
"Sir," Lee said quietly. "You think it's going to stay open?"Cole didn't answer.He just watched the shimmer of light over the bay and felt the wind shift, carrying the scent of smoke and something stranger—ozone, ash, and maybe a hint of the world that had sent its soldiers through.
Whatever it was, it wasn't done with them yet.