RONAN Victor chuckled, low and rough, and I caught the movement from the corner of my eye as his shoulders bounced once, then again. “Yeah, that definitely counts as bad,” he said. “They’re tank killers. Depending on the conditions and how good the crews are, any vehicle they target has about a fifty percent chance of shooting it down and surviving.” “Won’t the armor protect us?” The question came out quieter than I meant. When I first saw the armor, it had felt solid. Reassuring. Now it felt like thick walls closing in, steel shaping itself into a coffin. “No crew that’s ever been hit by one has lived,” Victor said. His voice stayed light, almost casual. “The vacuum effect inside the cabin makes that impossible. It pulls the air right out of your lungs. That’s assuming molten debris doesn’t punch through first and light you up like a human torch.” He laughed, full and open.“Dying in this can isn’t funny to me.” Victor let the laugh fade. His tone shifted, steadier now. “Laugh or cry, Kamal. I don’t have any tears left. So I laugh. Do us all a favor and do your job. If they’re carrying those ATs, find them so we can kill them before they kill us.” “Makes sense,” I said. Both parts did. I meant it. My scans kept ramping up, faster with every second. The moment the army began crossing the river, communications across the entire area erupted. Channels lit up. Civilian traffic. Unfiltered noise. The sky filled with drones. Four times as many as before. I couldn’t tell who they belonged to. Some were probably locals trying to see what was happening around their homes. Others were almost certainly insurgents probing for gaps. It didn’t matter.If they weren’t broadcasting an approved IFF signal, the defensive lasers on the vehicles burned them out of the sky. I imagined what it looked like outside. Small bursts of light blooming in the air. Little suns appearing and vanishing. Flaming fragments tumbling down every minute, scattering across streets and rooftops. Only approved drones stayed airborne. Their feeds streamed directly into the brigade command net, and I had access to all of it, every angle, every jittering frame. The problem wasn’t a lack of information. There was far too much of it. Even with the limited AI assistant running on the army network, Victor and I couldn’t do what was normally handled by dozens of analysts working in shifts. Before we rolled out, we had tried to establish a satellite link to one of the support centers in Silvergrove, Pacifica State.Thousands of specialists worked there. Cyber warfare. Digital reconnaissance. Remote eyes and minds supporting forces across the globe. We tried again and again. A dozen attempts at least. Nothing came back. The satellite itself was fine. Still in orbit. Still functioning. It was the facility that wasn’t responding. When we updated Major Davis, the emotions that crossed his face hit harder than any words. Shock. Anger. Fear, barely contained. When he rushed toward the brigade QEC, whatever confidence remained in the column drained away with him. So here we were, rolling down the Interlink Highway. A midsized city pressed in close, buildings tight and watching. Too much intelligence flooding in.No external support to help manage it. I felt the weight of every man and woman in the brigade settle on me again, heavy and constant. I forced myself to focus on Victor’s words. Keep perspective. Do what’s possible. Not everything. I took a slow breath. The air was warm and stale, thick with the smell of lubricant and recycled sweat. It didn’t calm me. As we curved around the interchange and crossed TN-36, units peeled off and climbed toward the overpass, spreading out to gain height and visibility. The rest of the brigade continued forward toward the railroad overpass. Nguyen’s team reported it clear. As we drew closer, an itch started between my shoulder blades. Sharp. Insistent. If these people were going to attack us, I wanted it done. I wanted out of this vehicle. I wanted air that didn’t feel used up. I wanted to get on with the task given to me by the Director’s Office. But, I couldn’t find the ones behind all of this from inside a metal box. Watching elements of the brigade cross the railroad overpass didn’t distract me from the pressure building inside. I reached back, trying to scratch the spot between my shoulders. It was difficult even without armor. With it on, it was impossible. The itch grew worse. Why even wear the armor? It wouldn’t keep my lungs where they belonged if a Pilum hit us. So what was the point?I started pulling my arm toward the sleeve, halfway committed to getting out of it. Then Victor’s elbow drove into my back. Hard. Sharp. Final.