"Sarah." I keep my voice low. "Look at me."
She does. Dread bleeds through despite her best efforts—worry for Kane and Dylan and the others heading into danger, anxiety that the protocols we built won't hold, the creeping certainty that this is the mission where everything falls apart.
"They're good at what they do," I tell her. "Kane's been running operations like this since before either of us joined our respective agencies. Dylan survived multiple tours in Afghanistan and everything the Committee threw at him after. Stryker and Mercer are solid operators who know this terrain."
"I know." Her voice barely rises above a whisper. "I just keep thinking about all the ways this could go wrong."
"Then don't think." I brush my thumb across her cheek, the gesture probably too intimate for the operations center but I don't care. "You do your job, I do mine, and we trust them to do theirs. That's how we get through this."
She leans into my touch for a heartbeat, then pulls back and straightens her shoulders. "You're right. Let's get to work."
I work through the next minutes pulling every piece of available intelligence on the target area, cross-referencing terrain maps with known Committee operational patterns, building contingency plans for a dozen different scenarios. Sarah configures the communications network to handle potential interference, sets up backup channels in case primaryencryption gets compromised, coordinates with Tommy to ensure our SIGINT capabilities stay active throughout the operation.
Kane's team loads into vehicles in the pre-dawn hours. I watch them through the security feeds, four operators moving with practiced efficiency.
Sarah's voice comes through my headset. "Comms check."
"Kane clear," Kane responds.
"Dylan, clear."
"Stryker, clear."
Stryker would've already checked on Rachel and Lucas before gearing up—his protective streak where they are concerned is legendary. The boy is probably still asleep, unaware his mother's partner was heading into Committee territory.
"Mercer, clear."
"Operations confirms all channels active." Sarah's voice stays steady, controlled. "You're cleared for departure."
The vehicles roll out, disappearing into the pre-dawn darkness. I switch the security feed to satellite view, tracking their progress as they navigate the access road leading away from Echo Base.
"Satellite coverage locked," I confirm. "We're updating at regular intervals with thermal overlay."
Sarah pulls up the tracking data Cross sent. "Reeve's last known position puts him miles northeast, still moving toward the valley corridor."
I study the map, calculating movement rates and intercept timing. "Kane's team reaches the canyon in hours if they keep current pace. Reeve hits the same area later. That gives us time to set up the ambush."
"What if Reeve moves faster than projected?"
"Then Kane adjusts position and we compress the timeline. It's not comfortable, but manageable if everyone does theirjob. Worst case, they intercept him before he reaches optimal ambush position. It's not ideal but still gives us the element of surprise."
Time drags. I monitor satellite feeds, update terrain analysis as new data comes through, coordinate with Cross on any Committee communications traffic in the region. Sarah keeps constant contact with Kane's team, providing navigation updates and confirming their approach vectors match the plan.
It's just the two of us and the hum of equipment, watching icons move across digital maps while real people navigate real terrain miles away. I've done this before, coordinated operations from remote locations while other operators risked their lives. But having Sarah beside me changes everything.
She's not just another analyst feeding me data. She's someone who understands what we're doing, the stakes we're playing for, the cost of failure measured in lives instead of mission objectives. Watching her hold herself together while the small tells she can't quite hide give away her terror reminds me why I came back to Echo Ridge in the first place.
Not for the mission. Not for redemption. For her.
"Kane, Ops. Status report."
"We're two miles out from the intercept point," Kane confirms. "Terrain matches the satellite imagery. No signs of Committee activity in the immediate area."
"Copy that. Continue to target location and set up defensive positions."
"Understood. Moving now."
The radio goes quiet again. I pull up the latest weather data, checking for changes that could affect visibility or communications. Everything looks stable, but Montana weather can turn on a dime this time of year.
