Through the static, a low, rhythmic thrum —too slow for a heartbeat, too regular for wind. Then a sound like stone grating on stone. Then nothing.
> ISF WATCHKEEPER 4 // LOGOUT
The screen went dark. Then, in tiny gray letters at the bottom corner:
The concrete operations room was a tomb of stale coffee and low light. Watchkeeper Singh rubbed his eyes for the third time in ten minutes. The clock on the wall read 03:47. Somewhere in the disputed badlands four hundred kilometers away, a sensor node had stopped talking, and if it wasn't back online by 04:00, protocol demanded he wake the Major.
Singh’s fingers moved from memory. ID: W-Singh-7 . Password: a string of alphanumeric gibberish he'd been forced to memorize last month. Token: the six-digit number from the fob on his belt.
He clicked enter.
He pressed play.
The reply was instant:
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