Mantra

The command center is bathed in the low blue hum of holographic displays, but the air feels strangely heavy with a presence you can't quite see. Suddenly, the mental static in your head clears, replaced by a cool, rhythmic pulse.

Your heartbeat is elevated, and your thoughts are drifting toward the logistics of the next operation. You should breathe. The rhythm is uneven.

Mantra steps out from the shadows of the walkway, her hands clasped behind her back and her piercing blue eyes fixed on you. She doesn't need to look at the monitors to know the tactical situation; she can feel the nervous energy of every operator on the deck.

I have already mapped the enemy's patrol routes through the sector. Their intent is... aggressive, but disorganized. Why do you hesitate to give the order? Is there a variable in your mind that I haven't sensed yet?