Rachel sprints ahead toward the command center. Dylan and I follow her into ops.
Kane is there with Tommy and Sarah, all three studying the tactical displays. Rachel moves to the back wall where Lucas stands with Khalid, Odin alert at the kid's feet. Willa arrives from the medical bay, field kit in hand. Reagan and Delaney enter from opposite corridors, geared up and ready.
"Status," Kane demands, not looking away from the screens.
Tommy points to the display. "Kessler deployed multiple operators in a sweep pattern, moving northeast to southwest. They're using handheld FLIR units, military grade. Range on those devices means they could pick up our ventilation exhaust within a certain radius."
"How certain?" I move closer to the screen, analyzing the movement patterns. Kessler's team is systematic, professional,covering ground in overlapping sectors. This isn't amateur hour anymore.
"Close enough that they'll start detecting anomalous heat sources soon." Tommy pulls up a map overlay showing the projected search pattern. "They're currently at a safe distance and closing. At their current pace, they'll be in detection range before long."
Kane turns to Sarah. "Options?"
"We can't just sit here and let them find the ventilation signatures." Sarah pulls up schematics on her tablet. "Even if they don't locate the actual entrance, anomalies in this area will tell them something's here. They'll come back with ground-penetrating radar or seismic equipment."
Kane turns to Tommy. "Can you create false heat signatures? Feed them targets that pull them away from our actual position?"
Tommy's fingers fly across his keyboard. "I can deploy our tactical drones with heat emitters attached. They'll register as human-sized signatures on their scans. If I program flight patterns that mimic people trying to stay hidden while moving through terrain, it'll draw them away from our actual position."
"Do it," Kane orders. "How long do you need?"
"Enough time to get the drones airborne and programmed with movement patterns." Tommy pulls up drone controls. "But this only works if they're scanning from a distance. If any of them break off and investigate on foot, they'll realize it's a decoy."
Mercer limps in from his quarters, favoring his injured ribs but clearly refusing to sit this one out.
Kane nods. "Then we make sure none of them get close enough to investigate." He looks at me. "Stryker, you're going out. If any of Kessler's operators break from the search pattern and head toward our actual position, intercept before they cancompromise us. Dylan, you're with him for support. Mercer, you're on overwatch from the north ridge despite those ribs." He turns to Reagan and Delaney. "You two on perimeter security, rotating positions to cover our blind spots. Khalid stays with the Donovans in ops. Willa, you're on standby in medical. I'll coordinate from here with Tommy and Sarah."
Sarah hands out earpieces to the strike team. "Stay on comms. We'll feed you position updates from the thermal scans."
I check my tactical vest. Knife secured, spare magazines loaded, suppressor attached to my sidearm. Dylan's already set. Tommy's drone footage shows Kessler's operators spreading out across the terrain, signatures bright against the cold Montana night.
The equipment airlock cycles Dylan and me through, the heavy door grinding open to reveal the access tunnel leading to the surface. Cold air rushes in, carrying the scent of pine and snow. We move through the darkness with practiced silence, letting our eyes adjust to the ambient light from the stars overhead.
Sarah's voice comes through my earpiece, calm and professional. "Stryker, you've got movement. One operator breaking from the search pattern, heading northwest. Trajectory puts him on a course that'll bring him close to the primary ventilation shaft."
"Copy. Moving to intercept." I shift direction, using the terrain for cover. Dylan shadows me, maintaining tactical spacing. The forest thickness here provides concealment even from their imaging. We stay close to the tree trunks where our signatures blend with the ambient temperature.
Tommy's decoy drones are working. Most of Kessler's operators adjust their search pattern to investigate the false heat sources. But the lone operator breaking off is a problem.Probably an experienced tracker who noticed something off about the pattern, or maybe just someone who trusts his instincts more than the equipment.
Either way, he's too close to our position. We're going to have to deal with him permanently.
Movement through the forest shows decent fieldcraft. He uses available cover and pauses regularly to scan with his handheld unit. I shadow him from a distance, matching his pace and waiting for the right moment. Dylan circles wide, setting up a crossfire position. Killing him in the open risks alerting the others. I need to draw him into terrain that provides concealment from both visual and thermal observation.
"Stryker, he's slowing down," Sarah reports. "Looks like he's detected something. The ventilation shaft maybe, or just temperature variation in the area."
He stops, raising his scanner for a more detailed sweep. Clear silhouette against the lighter sky. Professional kit, confident movement. Kessler has experienced operators.
I circle wide, putting myself between the operator and the ventilation shaft. A cluster of boulders provides the concealment I need, and I settle into position behind the largest one. My knife is already in my hand, the blade dark and non-reflective. Dylan holds position behind me, covering my six.
The operator advances toward my position, scanner sweeping back and forth. Close enough now that his breathing carries to me, steady and measured. Getting closer with each step. He's following the signature from the ventilation shaft, trying to pinpoint the source.
I slow my breathing, becoming part of the landscape. He pauses, lowering his scanner to pull his sidearm. Smart. He knows something's off, knows he's close to finding whatever generated the heat signature.
When he's within striking distance, I explode from cover. My knife takes him in the throat, severing the carotid artery and windpipe in one strike. He tries to cry out but only manages a wet gurgle, blood flooding his airway. I catch his body weight as he collapses, lowering him silently to the ground.
Seconds from ambush to kill. Textbook execution, exactly the kind of strike I've made a hundred times before. But this time is different because Rachel and Lucas are depending on me to make sure this man never reports what he found.
I drag the body into deeper cover, searching his gear for intelligence. Dylan maintains cover, scanning for any response from Kessler's other operators. Standard tactical kit, encrypted comm unit, thermal imaging device. His tactical vest yields a folded map marked with grid coordinates and search sectors. Our general area is circled, but not the exact location of Echo Base. Not yet. Another few minutes and he would have pinpointed the ventilation shaft.
