Sarah steps forward sharply. "Which direction?"
Tommy tracks the thermal imaging signature. "West. He's heading west through the forest." His fingers freeze over the keyboard. "That's toward our general area."
My blood runs cold. "How close?"
"Too close for comfort. He's closing fast and moving with purpose." Tommy pulls up additional feeds. "He might have thermal equipment. Could be trying to locate heat signatures."
"Mercer," Kane's voice cuts through the radio, sharp with urgency. "You still on the north ridge?"
"Affirmative," Mercer responds. His voice is calm, professional. "I've got eyes on the runner. He's at distance, heading west."
"Can you intercept?" Kane asks.
"Working on it. Wind's picking up, but I've got the angle." A pause. "He's moving through heavy cover. Wait, he's slowing down. Checking something on his wrist. Probably a handheld thermal scanner."
Khalid stands slowly, Odin rising with him. The dog's hackles come up slightly, not full alert but aware. His nose works the air, testing for something I can't sense.
"He's getting readings," Mercer reports. "Changing direction slightly. He knows there's something out here generating heat signatures."
Sarah's hand moves to her sidearm, resting on the grip. "How far is he from Echo Base's outer perimeter?"
Tommy runs calculations on his screen. "If he maintains his current trajectory, he'll be within detection range of our ventilation exhaust soon. Close enough to know something's here even if he can't pinpoint the exact location."
"He's not getting that close," Mercer says. The sound of rustling comes through the radio as he adjusts his position. "I'm moving to higher ground. Give me a moment for a clean shot."
"Mercer, you are cleared hot," Kane says. "Take the shot when you've got it."
Silence on the radio. The seconds stretch impossibly long. I hold my breath, my fingernails digging into my palms.
"Wind's steady from the northeast," Mercer mutters, more to himself than to us. "Long range. Elevation advantage is good. Target's moving through sparse cover now."
Then Mercer's voice, barely above a whisper. "Target acquired. Steady. Steady."
The crack of the rifle comes through the radio a split second before Tommy's screens show the hostile's thermal signature drop and go still.
"Target down," Mercer reports. "Hostile eliminated. Threat neutralized."
The relief that washes through the operations center is almost physical. Sarah's shoulders drop. Tommy exhales sharply. Khalid settles back into his chair, and Odin lies down with a huff.
"Good work, Mercer," Kane says. "Police that area, retrieve any tracking equipment, and destroy it. Then rejoin the team. We're moving out."
That hostile came too close to discovering Echo Base's general location. Too close to finding proof that something was out here in the wilderness. The Committee would have sent more teams, would have saturated the area with searchers.
Lucas would never have been safe.
"Team's preparing to extract," Sarah reports, eyes on the tactical display. "They're policing the area for intelligence, then heading back."
The blue markers begin moving, but the relief I felt moments ago is already fading. Something feels wrong. The victory feels too clean, too simple.
Then Stryker's voice comes through the radio, strained with controlled tension. "Tommy, we have a problem. Just found something on Kessler's body."
"What kind of problem?" Tommy asks, already pulling up additional monitoring systems.
"Dead man's switch. Biometric trigger tied to his vitals. If his heart rate drops below a certain threshold and stays there, it activates a beacon."
Sarah's face goes pale. "How long has he been dead?"
"Long enough that we're about to find out what happens when that beacon goes active."
