Dressed in his royal blue uniform with a black cape billowing from his shoulders, Dillon took a final look at the pinned schedule on his wall. Having memorized every room number for his general soldier courses, he put away his phone as he walked out of the room. His one lecture of the day, Barrier Strategies Intelligence, would begin at 2:30 in the afternoon in the Combat Intelligence building all the way across campus. It was also the main building for holding strategy meetings of all ranks and general soldier gatherings, if they needed to huddle up or to attend an event of any kind. He was anxious, but more than that, eager to learn a new field of combat and strategics. Lord knew he needed the instruction on how to lead and guide his combative, proud team members. Plus, he had heard great comments about their instructor—his simple lessons, digestible content, and affable personality. There was no lack of integrity either, according to a few of his past students. Cedric, for one, praised this when Dillon found out which courses he was taking. Barrier Strategies Intelligence was a mandatory course for all new general soldiers and it also had limited instructors, so it wasn't hard to guess Dillon's instructor.

Soldiers took their own strategy courses as well, learning how to brainstorm, form, and plan out their course of action in a short amount of time, in the case of an absent leader. He wondered how the intelligence field would play out for general soldiers, how different the higher rank would be. When adrenaline and stress-fueled soldiers adapted a blank canvas in the midst of sudden change, tension, or danger, Cedric would signal for them to follow a Plan B, C, D, E, or any strategy with a name that could fill them with energy and confidence to tackle the new battle head on. They would follow his command without hesitation or confusion. Dillon could not say whether it would turn out the same for him; he had never led a full group for such a long period of time before.

He grabbed his second cup of espresso from the store counter, musing with anticipation about the morning's General Soldier Strategic Meet. Rookie general soldiers would be introduced to a group of veterans, and they would have an overview of how the strategic meets worked, followed by the rookies watching the veterans do their work as usual. They would learn by using their observation skills. Cedric had explained this to him two weeks prior.

As part of Team 0-26, he would meet teams 0-16 to 0-32 for the general soldier meets. As a result, he would not be seeing his former superior, General Soldier Reynard from Team 0-13. They had parted on negative terms, with Cedric putting in a somewhat urgent transfer request into his team. Dillon had done his best to get on well with his first team, sticking through the toughest times, declining all transfer requests from general soldiers that pitied him. Once, he had lost control of himself when an ally he was close to was killed. Reynard had not taken kindly to it at all, turning in yet another complaint report and marking his record. Unable to improve and move on from the grief, he had given up and pleaded for Cedric to transfer him.

Remembering the worst days of his military life, he sighed and shoved them aside. Cedric would arrive soon and no doubt pick up on his gloom, as he was wont to do. He took a sip as the one from his musings set a ure[1] into Dillon's palm. It was his favorite fruit, and Cedric often received them from his family. Hence, he would offer them to him.

"Why so glum this early in the day?" Cedric asked, smiling. "Don't tell me you're worried about the meet. Haven't I drilled it into you more than enough the past two weeks?"

He really could smell the mood in the air from miles away! He had just about faked perking himself up when Cedric entered the store area and ordered his food.

"No, I'm fine. I'm looking forward to it," Dillon said. He used a knife to slice the ure open. "Thank you for this. Let me guess, to 'commemorate' my promotion?"

"I'll get you more, don't worry. Baskets of them." He gulped down his iced crystal water. "So, why so glum? When are you not glum?"

"I'm fine! I'm just a little nervous about the lecture. Will it go well?"

"You'll be under Captain Foright; it'll go great. He's not strict about assignments. Not that you'd have anything to worry about, ace student who's never late with deadlines."

When Cedric's name was called, he fetched his breakfast and returned.

Leaning on an elbow, he poked the furrow between Dillon's brows and grinned. "Maybe one day I'll get to see you laugh. Not a fake laugh when you don't know what else to do...Like truly crack up. How do I make you? Does your lady from Gettua City know the answer? Is this facade of yours because of the people we've lost? Osaic?"

Dillon leaned away and chomped on the fruit. "Leave it. Nosy."

"I shall. For now." He poked his egg and bit into a toast. "You eat already?"

"Yes."

"Well, let's go then." He stood up and disposed of his plate, half-eaten toast still in his hand.

As they left the area and walked down the hall, heading for the staircase that would take them to the third floor, Dillon looked at him. He asked, "I was wondering...How did you know about, well, my friend in Gettua City?"

Cedric grinned. "Curious? I'm a mind reader, of course. You're an open book to me."

"Answer me."

"What a stickler." He shook his head. "You told me once several weeks ago. You were invited to go to an open-view aquarium before the recent war happened. Was what you were going to do on your day off. I deduced it was a female 'cause you were glowing. You never glow."

Dillon arched his eyebrows. Glowing? He was? "You remembered such a small thing? Well, you're wrong. It was a man that time. His name is Fay. A friend."

"Are you serious?" He halted in his tracks, grabbing Dillon by the arm. "Really?"

The truth was that Anita had been with them as well. He shook his head, dropping his eyes. "I'm serious."

"So you have both a lady and a friend." He sighed. "Here I thought I was your only friend."

"We are not friends."

For the first time, his smile faltered. "Don't joke like that. Coming from you, I might think you're serious. "

Dillon turned away, coughing to resist his laughter. His statement was not entirely a joke, but he would keep that thought to himself. He let Cedric finish his food in peace as they went up the stairs, their footsteps echoing on the glass.

Butterflies fluttered through his stomach again at the thought of the meeting looming ahead of them. He still felt a bit intimidated by the amount of material he would have to learn and memorize, though Cedric had reassured him multiple times that he would get it all eventually, knowing how diligent and studious he was. They knew what the true problem was: if he could handle the pressure of being a leader, despite Dillon's many experiences in leading Team 0-18 when it was his turn. Back when he learned of his promotion to becoming a general soldier, he had wished for a team that had multiple general soldiers so the work would not be as overwhelming, but those teams were few in number.

"I can smell your worries in the air. Don't give me indigestion," Cedric sighed. Several rooms down the hall of the third floor, he peered inside a room while Dillon hung back. "Not everyone is in yet. No one will ask you questions during the introductions, so don't fret about the prying today. Just state your name, team, former team, and goals, then watch us talk magic."

He followed him in, but when he tried to go to a desk at the back of the room, Cedric stopped him as he pulled a chair out next to his.

In the room full of metal desks, about ten people chatted among themselves. Cedric wasted no time and turned his attention to another neighbor, who Dillon supposed was a friend of his based on their expressions and energetic body language. They waited half an hour for the meeting to start, while Dillon kept his eyes shut and maintained a meditative state. He was later nudged by Cedric.

At the front of the room, a tall soldier with slicked white hair, dressed in a chestnut brown and white uniform, and sky blue tie and diamond badge on his outer sleeve, stood, waiting for all attention to focus on him. He smiled, which made him look pleasant and younger. "At ease, soldiers. I am Captain O'Rielle. While we're here, call me Daniel if you wish. I'll be overseeing all of your strategic meetings and providing assistance and information to those in charge of you. General Soldiers Ledes, Iowe, and Aster from Team 0-16, 0-17, and 0-18 respectively, are in charge of these meetings from this point forward." He pointed at each of them to indicate who they were, while they nodded as he pointed.

"Today I'll take a more active role as speaker since this is the first meeting with many of you. If you have concerns about any of the ones in charge, please discuss that with them and hash it out. If, for some reason, you cannot do so, come to me. However, remember that you are all leaders of an unruly group of power-driven, headstrong, competitive soldiers...So act like one. Crush those ridiculous, petty grudges you hold—because those don't mean a lick of crystal out in the fiery battlefields where anyone can drop like flies!"

Cedric whispered to Dillon, "Hey, I wonder if he's talking about your good ol' Reynard?"

Dillon kept his gaze forward.

"And if it's me you got a problem with, let's handle it at the Games, yeah?" O'Rielle bared his teeth. "I'll tear you apart until you don't have even a drop of anger left in you."

Dillon couldn't stop himself from widening his eyes, and glancing around, many seemed to have done the same. Turning to Cedric, he noticed the all-knowing smirk and glint in his eyes. It was apparent they knew of O'Rielle's outrageous personality.

What was with soldiers and their overconfident power-tripping egos and threats? The Volcanoes weren't the only ones with them. Low-ranked soldiers weren't the only ones.

He glanced at Cedric, who flashed him an amused look. "He's playing."

Dillon returned the smile, not believing him, as he glanced back at his notebook. He had written the names that O'Rielle gave them, as well as what teams they were from. Only a handful of the other general soldiers were taking notes. Shame on the others if they regretted not doing the same later.

When all of the novices got their introductions out of the way, O'Rielle claimed the attention of the room again.

"Our meeting today will cover several topics and one pressing issue. First, as a reminder, please remain vigilant for signs of all incoming emergencies and wars, and be ready to enter the battlefield as soon as you are called, or when you hear an alarm. That includes during the Games as well; if you are called or hear the alarm, drop all of your plans, discontinue participation, and gather with your team on the outskirts of the stadium. Those of you not at the Games should head to the site of the Games." When he noted the soldiers' acknowledgement, he continued, "There's been increasing strain as of late, so tensions and workload are at an all time high. Be cautious of conflict and violence on campus. Some of you may know of this already, but there has been one report of a notable incident since the recent War of Towers 19 to 24 Juieland City. The offending soldier was suspended for the severity of damage he inflicted. Every leader, including you new kids, is expected to take control of such incidents if you encounter one. Should you need assistance or advice on how to go about it, see your previous leader, or one of the veterans here. But really, it isn't much different than how you would deal with your own team being unruly and rebellious, other than that those soldiers being a potential stranger to you."

I imagine all of you are enrolled in Captain Peare's Control in Leadership course this period, given it's mandatory. His lessons will be helpful to you when it comes to such situations, among other things. If the situation escalates for some reason, say because you are not as strong or are injured, and no one else is in the vicinity, call in Security or Special Armed Forces via 0-0-2 on your comm. There should be at least one of them available on the grounds at all times, even in a crisis. Grab a voe[2] if you really need to find help."

He nodded at a man who raised his hand. "Yes, Lucwid?"

"Will it count against us in our performance review if we perform poorly and don't handle the situation well?"

"As you are new to your role, the first couple of weeks will not affect your review score or results. We don't expect all of you to do it perfectly from the get-go, but you do have experiences in your former team, and once you've attended a few lessons in the upcoming weeks, we will expect you to learn quickly and put your studies into action. All of your superiors, your former leader included, will be supervising you. Many of you will be shocked by how keen their eyes are. Also, missing your lessons or failing in your attendance will be inexcusable, even if you are still, say, grieving. The only exception is in the case of an emergency like contracting an illness or the death of a close relative." He smiled. "Any other questions?"

When no one answered, he put down his packet. "Well, I need to address today's pressing issue. We have made several sightings of a suspicious figure in the shadows of Leggia City within the Odde district. He has disguised himself a couple of times, and his efforts to remain concealed in his movements put himself on our radar, but the Investigations Unit have yet to confirm if he's a terrorist. He is careful. They strongly suspect he is a spy and that a group of them, also likely spies, is hiding in the same city. The reason I'm informing you of this is obvious...well, to us veterans at least. The Odde district is within the walls of Towers 10, 11, 12, and 13. What takes place in the Odde district?"

He nodded at one raised hand. "Iose, right?"

"Yes, sir. The Games is located in the Odde district."

O'Rielle nodded. "That's right. All general soldiers will be there. Normally this kind of information is classified as it is still undergoing investigation, but we were instructed to announce them at the meetings because of the high profile and risk of the Games. Even if you are in a game, keep your guard up at all times and observe the audience. You'll be looking for signs of this individual or any of his accomplices. They'll probably be wearing similar cloaks to his." He passed a single photo of a heavyset man wrapped in a navy blue cloak, his dark-skinned face barely peeking out of a large hood as he looked out of an alley to his left. "This is the only time I can show you this photo, so burn him into your retinas right now. When you do notice him, or anyone acting suspiciously, you will use a couple of signals that I'll show you later."

One of the rookies raised his hand and asked, "If we're looking for him there, do they suspect he'll show up at the Games?"

"Yes. Nim. They highly suspect he or his accomplices will be there. That something will happen there while everyone is distracted by the Games. It's the single most important event where a massive portion of the population will be gathered in one place for several days—other than the Kingdom's coronation celebration, of course. No doubt they have planned some kind of attack, which the Investigations Unit is attempting to uncover."

Nim asked, "With so many soldiers and crystallizers there, isn't it risky to attack at the Games? I find it hard to believe they would endanger themselves that way, especially with only a few of them."

"You're right. It's extremely risky and dangerous. I don't know what led the Investigators to suspect this other than the location of the sightings, but we will have to wait and find out. My guess is that there will be a huge number of non-crystallizing civilians there as well, so they may just be targeting them, regardless of the fact soldiers will stop them. They may try to execute soldiers at the same time, so be on your guard."

Cedric said, "I'm of the opinion they have obtained a tool—a weapon, even—that will allow them to hit big and hard. But that's just a conjecture."

Dillon was not surprised that Cedric thought of his own theory, nor that he volunteered to share it. It was just like him. 'Conjecture' was him trying to sound intelligent. That was also like him.

"A magic tool, huh? Wonder if it might be a new one..."

"How about an amplifier? They allow effects of some magic to be cast over a wide range of 300 to 400 yards wide."

"Don't you know how rare those are? The last known amplifier is said to be used three decades ago, and now it's secure in a museum in the Vollese Islands," Lucwid said. "There's been no news of its theft or disappearance."

"The Vocalists have somehow obtained magic tools over the course of five years. It's not a stretch to say they managed to get their hands on one."

"Call them terrorists, why don't you? Don't use the name terrorists actually want to go by," someone interjected through gritted teeth.

"I won't have that debate in a meeting like this," Nim said, a cool smile plastered on his face.

O'Rielle coughed. "He is right. We call them 'The Vocalists' in our classrooms, assignments, and public speeches. Therefore, in our meetings as well. Even if 'terrorist' is also acceptable. Let's get back on topic. Any other suggestions or ideas?"

"Yellow conch shells? If they collected enough for each of them to use, the growth of all their fire combined could be enormous. It could be like the Battle of Aerudan again, and only Commander Caspian, as far as we know, can handle such a size..."

In the year 199-8, the biggest war to ever occur in the eastern island region happened on one of the Kingdom's neighboring islands, Island of Aerudan. While a training program for new crystal soldiers took place there, as was customary each year, a fire ignited in the middle of a forest, unnoticed and unguarded. The forest was between two neighboring towns, with sparse houses separated by a vast stretch of land, some picket fences, some gated fences, and acres of grassy fields. It was natural and country-like compared to the Kingdom of Crystal, known for its glassy, icy, and stony aesthetic, ranging from square tower structures, to intimidating domes, to breezy and frigid houses with unwelcoming walls. Aerudan, in stark contrast, was greenish, woodsy, and cozy. Hence, most of Crystal civilization did not enjoy their atmosphere or lifestyle, unless they tended to stray from societal norms, had a looser character, or warmer human blood—which sometimes happened if the individual had mixed genes. Aerudan had infrequent tourists and visitors who came on vacation. Because of the convenient location and lower population, it made it convenient to hold new soldier training programs and secretive military bases to keep highly confidential information out of the prying eyes and ears of the Kingdom. The main military campus was no place for guarding secrets, as hard as militants may try.

As the fire in the forest grew, it continued to grow in only the same patch of grass, thanks to the efforts of four fire manipulators and their yellow conch shells. In large enough numbers, the shells could become a catastrophic magic tool. Alone, they did not help much other than to allow a user to focus their magic in the spot it was pointed towards. Focus of magic in a user's desired spot was one of the easiest magic techniques to use, something that an average user could master like a child riding a bike, or a student reading words on a page. However, if several yellow conch shells were used by multiple people with the same magic, for the same goals, the focus of all their magic would be pinpoint, precise, and hyper-enhanced. They made a whirlwind of an inferno that, in the core, grew larger and stronger. Touched by trees, branches, and wood, it escalated in no time and spread outward. At the edges of the forest stood knee-high blades of grass and dying weed that caught on fire.

Acres of nature and land burned those first few days, going almost five days before the soldiers or government even noticed. Protective agencies in the government enlisted the aid of the crystal soldiers, but being the closest ones to the site of the first fires, only the new soldiers went in. Only half of the numbers were equipped with the magic to extinguish a fire, while the rest needed magic tools, which they did not have enough of, to melt their crystal barriers in a reasonable time frame that could then be used to extinguish a fire. All they could do was crystallize barriers and cordon sections of the fire from safe land, or prevent the fire and smoke from reaching healthy townspeople.

It was supposed to be quick and simple to control, but too much land burned and was suffused in a smoke that no one on the island was used to. There were too few efficient soldiers in the area, no fire control agencies, and behind the scenes, still unnoticed, terrorists continued to start up and grow fires that, altogether, reached Level 6 Flame Damage, Flame Duration, and Flame Risks all around. Level 6, of course, being the final and most destructive level in the ladder of levels for fire terrorism. Many of the new soldiers, not yet officiated into the military, were not provided masks to protect themselves from the heady smoke. Within the day, a quarter of the new soldiers died at the hands of a terrorist or suffocated from the smoke. Some of their bodies were at the mercy of a terrorist, who burned their corpses without remorse. While the area in the west stole many of the military force's attention, they stole the lives of thousands of townspeople in the east.

When help finally arrived and put out most fires, much of the land in the surrounding area had turned a charred black. Before the terrorists fled, they ignited yet another fire that they had built over five minutes, creating the largest ball of fire yet. The height of it was a few feet tall, and some yards wide. The efforts of the leftover soldiers barely put a dent in the extinguishing of the massive fire. Commander Caspian was in a nearby town, so he was immediately called in for assistance. It took even him several long minutes to gather his magic to wash over the raging flames, and when it was contained, it had forced him out of commission for at least half an hour. Such a time may seem short for a crystal soldier at first, but Commander Caspian was no ordinary crystallizer. He had an almost absurdly abundant source of caspian water within him, thanks to his genes, practice, and magic tools, nearly rivaling that of the top magic sources in the eastern island regions: Lark of Domion Island, Uleo of The Trackstan Deserts, and Nova of Avalon from the Island of Volcano. Suffice to say, he had a lot of water to draw from.

By the time they had beat the catastrophe on the island, over a quarter of the island's property were damaged and blackened, and even worse, about a quarter of the population, most of them within the east, had been lost. Many new soldiers on the Aillen Campus, the military base in the west where one of the training programs took place, were lost that day. Even though the people of the Aerudan depended on them for protection, at all times, the Crystal Military was unprepared for this war. They had failed them. Commander Caspian had a rough first few weeks presenting his heartfelt apologies, resolving leftover issues, raising recovery funds and aid, conducting education programs on fire terrorism emergencies, and instigating new security plans in joint treaties with the island's government. Aerudan and the Kingdom had officially joined hands in the war against The Vocalists, and all military bases and campuses on the island were better equipped and educated to fight against the fire and terrorists.

"Hard to say. It'd take at least 10 minutes. A slow-growing fire like that won't go unnoticed, especially in the Odde district," Ledes remarked from the back. "At the peace-making communal, Commander Caspian proposed that the Volcano people would need permits to acquire a yellow conch shell. They all unanimously agreed to it. If a number of the terrorists carry them around, or they all got their permits around the same time, I bet some red flags would be raised. It's a lot of hoops to go through—though the permit is only level two. Not that hard to earn."

"Then they'd get them on different dates. Let's hope not."

Lucwid raised a hand. When O'Rielle raised a brow, he said, "What if their plan is to ring a bell? Bait and draw all of our attention and forces to the Games, while they hit somewhere else? It could be government manors, Kold district, or even just towers and cities on the far side of the Kingdom."

"Good point," Cedric said as he studied the other soldier from head to toe—or, obstructed by a desk, head to midriff. "I like that idea."

Dillon glanced at his comm when it vibrated against his waist. This boy's clever. I like the new leaders.

It buzzed again, and again, and again—three consecutive times. You need to toss your hat in the ring...Get on our good side! Volunteer for once, ok? Like your roommate, the teacher's pet.

Dillon stared at Cedric, who continued tapping into his comm. He sighed and powered his own off, causing the spammer to spear him with a look.

Iowe, on Cedric's other side, nudged him and grinned. "Stop teasing him. And no texting."

O'Rielle typed some notes, then glanced at his recorder to check if it was still working. He pulled up a page of plans on the classroom's projector. "Excellent ideas, gents. I'm sure the investigators can't think of everything by themselves. Let's move on to our strategies if any of you do spot our targets. Take action for even just one of them, not all of them. In the case that you have managed to capture one of them in a barrier or what have you, Special Armed Forces will take care of the rest. They know what to do, so don't worry and keep the Games going. I did say to discontinue participation, but that's only if there is danger."

He used his sword as a pointer on option action one, and read, "Use the two signals for all of the teams nearby, then two of you guys will get close, silently and surreptitiously. Use a barrier nick[3] to conjure your quickest barriers around them. This is likely the most efficient and effective method. Option two: Surround them, entrapping swords at their throat between two of you, and cuff them from behind. It's sneaky, but not the safest way to go if they get a chance to use magic."

Ledes stroked his chin and squinted his eyes. "This isn't usually how we operate, Daniel. I thought all we had to do was keep an eye out and send the signals."

O'Rielle nodded and motioned to him. "You're right, Kristopher. Absolutely right. It would go over smoothly and quietly under the practiced Armed Forces. That is their job. I should have clarified—take action only when necessary. Like I said, when there's danger. That is, let's say there has been no response or action taken after you've signaled more than three times. For some reason, members of the Armed Forces are occupied or unresponsive, or maybe even failed to capture the target. Then, and only then, do you ladies and gents make a move. Understood?"

Ledes chuckled and spread the palm of one hand. "Daniel! What I understand, sir, is that you are tired. Did you sleep in this morning?"

Crossing his arms and forcing a hollow smile, he said, "Yes. Yes, so I made a mistake. I'm normal. So execute me." His words only made Ledes laugh more, so he shook his head and continued, "Disruptions from colleagues aside, the first signal is this." Forming a circle with his whole hand, he held it up, then he pointed at the image of a hand on the projector. "It might look like you're trying to see better, or chanting a mantra. After you make this motion, drop the arm while pressing your index finger and thumb together. Obviously the first one means nothing; the second signal is the real one, still made to look like you're about to cast magic. While you make these signals, start a monologue with your mouth as if you're chanting. Doesn't matter if you normally chant in your head—just sell the act."

He eyed a few people. "Some of you aren't jotting notes. Not even in your devices. Are you sure you'll remember?"

"I'm recording," Nim said.

O'Rielle nodded. "As long as you erase them afterward. You can't keep those. No copies. Rule number five—"

"Five. I remember, sir."

O'Rielle glanced at Iowe, brow raised, receiving a nod in return. Nim's previous supervisor. Dillon guessed that was a signal for Iowe to check if he did erase the audio files.

"Right. Any questions?"

When no one spoke, he explained that there were no other known news or predictions of the next battle ahead, other than the group of targets mentioned. According to Cedric, such predictions or recent predictor events were disclosed in their general soldier strategic meets.

They moved on to cover emergency plans, contingencies, battle plans, and responsive actions. The lesson plans were concise, comprehensive, and understandable, but their purpose and significance made Dillon apprehensive. Theories and thorough plans were necessary precautions, but conceptualizing and seeing a real-life situation, then putting those plans into action, were different experiences altogether. Dillon knew that based on past battle experience.

Two months ago, the military failed to provide safety to a privately owned property due to a lack of sufficient crystal police force and soldiers. When the owners or tenants called in assistance, arriving soldiers executed a hasty examination to read the situation and Operation Civilian Property Precautions to defend hiding innocents and stealthily remove them from a property attack; Dillon was one of the last soldiers to arrive. In the last few seconds, as they rushed out occupants and partiers through an unsupervised side exit, soldiers failed to surveil three of the tenants, who were blasted to injury or death in that moment.

During the tumultuous struggle afterward, Dillon managed to steal away two targeted figures, but they only got away by six minutes ahead of enemies. A section of one of his barriers melted quicker than it had ever been melted before. It was no easy feat, given the impregnable density of Dillon's double barriers at the time. Three Vocalists stood on the other side, with what looked to be a red piece of metal—a magic tool specially made for fire magic, no doubt—in one of their hands. He had seen it in action a few times. Up in the nearest Tower, he had peered down with trepidation. His last barrier, conjured only minutes before its demise, had failed them. His final last-minute strategy was to mislead and misdirect the three terrorists—a plan to get as much distance from attackers as possible, along with protected individuals, in as little time as possible, with defensive barriers haphazardly erected to fool their pursuers. Despite Dillon's number of flawless executions of them, they did not always pan out. It was only him guarding a militant secretary and his friend on that Tower. They needed only to check the Tower and discover them. With nowhere else to hide, he thought they were goners.

In what should have been a swift getaway, chaos and terror can surprise its victims—unused to them and surrounded by strangers in palpable fear—by the sudden emergence and severity of their arrival. In seconds, all emergency rescue plans and protocol get abandoned. Unused to a particular situation at hand, and regardless of the presence of a leader or authority, trained forces forget all the instructions and lessons that were instilled. Unfortunately Dillon, and no doubt every other general soldier in that room, witnessed such havoc more times than he could count. His fear as a new leader on his own was that he would not be ready.