Captain Enrique Villamor stood inside the dimly lit command tent, arms crossed, his eyes locked onto the silent radio receiver. Outside, the low hum of generators mixed with the distant shuffle of soldiers going about their routines, but inside the tent, the atmosphere was tense.
It had been over an hour since Lieutenant Colonel Santiago and his men had been dispatched to secure the refinery, and yet—nothing. No radio check-in, no updates, not even a distress signal.
They should have reported back by now.
Villamor glanced at Lieutenant Carlos Moreno, who was seated at the communications desk, headset pressed tightly against his ear. His expression was unreadable as he worked the frequency dial, trying to reestablish contact.
"Alpha One, this is Sentinel Actual. Do you read? Over."
Static.
Moreno frowned, adjusting the dials before trying again.
"Alpha One, Sentinel Actual. Report status."
More static.