Chapter 9 #2
“I’ve got a requisition list longer than my arm,” Jug said. “Night vision, proper body armor, encrypted communications, vehicle upgrades. But every request goes through the Burundu Defense Ministry, and they’ve got about as much urgency as a sloth on quaaludes.”
Talon studied the map again, his gaze tracing the red line of the convoy route.
Long stretches of open ground shimmered in his mind’s eye, punctuated by rocky outcroppings that provided perfect cover for ambush positions.
The mining company had chosen the path for efficiency, not security, and changing it wasn’t an option.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “We focus on what we can control. Jug, work with Captain Oumarou on basic formation discipline. Stryker, medical training is critical. If they can’t keep their wounded alive long enough for extraction, nothing else matters.
Wolf, advanced reconnaissance, determination of blind spots, countermeasures, and early warning systems. Hammer, vehicle hardening, and defensive positions at Boka. ”
“And you?” Jug asked.
“I’ll be working with their command element on tactical decision-making.” Talon’s voice was clipped, controlled. “Someone needs to teach them how to think three moves ahead instead of just reacting to contact.”
The air was heavy, the hum of electronics buzzing low in the background. Then a new sound broke through. The sharp buzz of an encrypted tablet.
Talon glanced at the screen, expecting another dry logistics update. Instead, the first line he read made his pulse jump, a hard thud against his ribs.
New personnel assignments, Shoemaker Mining Consortium.
His eyes skimmed the list of corporate liaisons, safety inspectors, and administrative staff being deployed to Arjun Ridge. Most were the usual suspects—middle management who’d stay inside the compound and complain about the heat.
Then his gaze caught on a name that pulled the air from his lungs.
Riley Shoemaker, ESG Compliance Officer and Corporate Liaison.
The tablet felt heavier in his hands, the weight disproportionate to the slim device. His grip tightened just enough for the edges to bite into his palm. Heat surged through his chest.
The air conditioner hummed on, weak and ineffective, but the heat pressing in on him had nothing to do with Burundu’s temperature.
“Boss?” Jug’s voice seemed to come from very far away, cutting through the steady hum of the air conditioner and the faint buzz of the communications equipment. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Talon forced his expression back to neutral, years of training locking his features into place. His heartbeat settled into a steady rhythm. “Just reviewing incoming personnel assignments. A lot of people. The mining operation is growing.”
He set the tablet down with deliberate care, but the smooth, cool metal felt heavier than it should. His mind was already running scenarios, every one of them ending with Riley in the crosshairs of this place’s danger. “Looks like we’re getting some corporate oversight types at the mine site.”
“Great,” Stryker muttered from where he was organizing his med kit. The sharp snap of plastic echoed in the confined space. “More people to babysit.”
“They’ll be staying at Arjun Ridge,” Talon said, keeping his tone even, measured.
“Our primary responsibility is making sure the SRF teams can protect the convoy route and Boka Airstrip. The mining site has its own security protocols and is the size of a small town.” The hired security around the site kept all unwanted people far away.
However, Riley was coming into Burundu, her security was his responsibility, whether it was said or not.
“Jug,” Talon said suddenly, his voice cutting clean through the hum of electronics, “I think we need a full threat assessment of the Arjun Ridge facility. Security protocols, defensive positions, and evacuation procedures. Everything.”
Jug’s brows rose. “That’s outside our scope of operations. Mine security’s handled by their private contractors.”
“I know what our scope is.” Talon’s voice dropped into that controlled tone that allowed no argument. “I also know that if something goes wrong at that mine, we’re the ones who’ll be called in to clean up the mess. I want to know exactly what we’re walking into.”
Jug’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave a short nod. “Copy that.”
Talon returned to the map, tracing the red line of the convoy route.
His focus was still on the forty-seven kilometers of hostile territory and the time they had to forge a fighting unit out of raw recruits.
But his brain was now running on two parallel tracks, the mission and the reality that Riley was returning to this dangerous area.
She’d said she was, but … damn, this made it real.
“All right,” Talon said, his voice carrying the weight of command.
“We’ve got eight weeks to get the SRF ready for the real convoy exercises.
That means intensive training every day, no exceptions.
Jug, draft a schedule assuming eight weeks total.
If we get more, great. If not, they need to be ready. ”
“Roger that,” Jug replied, already pulling up files.
“What about the equipment situation?”
“We work with what we have and improvise the rest,” Talon said, shifting his weight forward, his palms flattening against the cool metal of the table.
“Hammer, jury-rig whatever training aids you can from available materials. Stryker, provide medical training with the supplies they have. We can’t train them on ours; it’s too advanced.
Wolf, long-range reconnaissance using civilian optics if necessary. ”
The team began breaking into their respective planning sessions, the space filling with the muted scrape of chairs and the low rumble of voices. Talon stayed where he was, gaze fixed on the red line that cut across the map like an open wound.
Forty-seven kilometers of hostile territory.
Eight weeks to make soldiers out of men who barely knew how to hold formation.
And now, Riley was there. The woman who’d been a constant in his life over the last year, her words threading into the spaces between missions, grounding him when the chaos pressed too close.
He pulled out his phone, his thumb hesitating for a second over the keyboard until he tapped out a message.
Talon: Things are progressing here. Challenging but manageable. How did your meeting go with your father?
Simple. Professional. Nothing that gave away the sharp, insistent undercurrent of emotion he’d been ignoring since seeing her name on the manifest.
As he hit send, the air in the ops center seemed heavier.
Outside, the rising sun burned away the shadows.
Heat already radiated off the sand in waves that fooled the eye.
The Sahel didn’t forgive mistakes. The teams he was in charge of training needed to understand, embrace, and work with it, or they would die. And dying wasn’t an option.