The briefing room shakes for the third time in a minute, and Director Ashe keeps talking as ceiling dust salts her shoulders. Around the table sit four people you grew up watching on cereal boxes, none of whom will look at each other: the Ember Saint, Coldwake, the Meridian Fox, and Tallhammer, who is drumming two fingers like the meeting is beneath him. On the screen behind Ashe the rift flexes, and something with too many wings tests the edge. Ashe slides the command token across the table, and it stops in front of you.