Chapter 18
MICAH
Kane studies the tactical map I've projected on the main display, his expression unreadable.
Dylan stands beside him, already geared up in full kit.
Stryker and Mercer flank the table, weapons checked and ready.
The four of them make up Echo Ridge's direct action team, and right now they're the only thing standing between Reeve and visual confirmation of this facility.
"Latest satellite pass shows Reeve's team here." I mark the position on the digital overlay. "They're miles northeast, moving through the valley corridor. His trajectory puts him on track to reach this ridgeline by dawn tomorrow."
"Visual range of the base?" Kane's question cuts straight to the problem.
"Affirmative. That ridge overlooks the entire valley. If he sets up long-range surveillance from there, he'll have eyes on our access points within hours."
Sarah inputs new data from her workstation across the operations center.
The map updates with terrain analysis, approach vectors, intercept points.
Her fingers move across the keyboard with the precision of someone who's built a career on finding patterns in chaos, but tension radiates from her shoulders.
She's burying the anxiety while we plan how to keep the team alive.
"Recommended intercept point is here." I highlight a canyon well short of the ridge. "It's a narrow approach, limited sight lines. It forces them into a choke point where you'll have tactical advantage."
"What's Reeve's force composition?" Dylan asks.
"Unknown. Cross's latest intel suggests he's traveling light but we have to assume he's got backup somewhere in the area." I pull up the encrypted message Cross sent minutes ago. "Committee standard operating procedure puts backup teams on reconnaissance missions this deep in contested territory."
"Equipment?"
"SIGINT intercept gear confirmed. They're likely carrying portable surveillance packages, encrypted sat-comms, standard small arms. Cross flagged that Reeve requisitioned long-range optics from Committee logistics weeks ago."
Kane's jaw tightens. Long-range optics mean Reeve's planning to conduct extended observation, not just a quick survey. He wants to map our entire operation before reporting back to Webb.
"Time to intercept?" Stryker's already calculating movement rates in his head.
"You've got time if you move now. Reeve's pace suggests he'll reach the canyon by mid-afternoon. You set up before he arrives, you control the engagement."
"And if we don't?" Mercer's question hangs in the air.
"Then he reaches that ridge and we're compromised. Webb gets confirmation of our location, this facility becomes a target, and everything we've built here dies."
Echo Ridge isn't just a base. It's home for most of the people here. It's the safe place they've built after the Committee destroyed their previous lives. Losing it means starting over, assuming we survive Webb's response to finding us.
"We're not letting that happen." Kane's voice carries absolute certainty. "Dylan, Stryker, Mercer—final gear check, wheels up in thirty."
Dylan and the others head for the armory, moving with purpose.
Khalid will be awake soon, the teenager's routine as disciplined as any operator's despite Mercer's attempts to let him just be a kid.
The boy lost his family to the Committee—Mercer quietly took him under his wing, giving him the closest thing to family he could until they joined Echo Ridge.
Kane lingers, studying the tactical display with the focus of a man who's planned hundreds of operations and knows the difference between theory and reality.
"Cross confident in her intel?" he asks.
"As confident as she gets. Reeve's been feeding the Committee information through channels she's monitoring. His last transmission confirmed he'd narrowed the search grid to this mountain range."
"But not this specific location."
"Not yet. He's still searching, just getting close enough that the margin for error is shrinking." I zoom the map in on the intercept point. "You stop him in that canyon, he never gets the chance to confirm anything."
Kane nods slowly. "Micah, I need you running tactical support from here. Sarah maintains communications, you coordinate real-time intel and adjust for any surprises."
"Already planned on it. I'll have satellite coverage tracked at regular intervals, Cross feeding any updates on Committee movement in the area, and Sarah monitoring all encrypted channels in case Reeve makes contact with his handlers."
"Good." Kane extends his hand. "Keep us alive out there."
I grip his hand, meet his eyes. "Count on it."
He leaves to join his team. The operations center empties except for Sarah and me, the silence broken only by the hum of equipment and the soft clicks of her keyboard as she pulls up communications protocols.
I cross to her workstation. "You good?"
"I'm fine." The lie doesn't reach her eyes, terror buried beneath the trained analyst's mask. "Comms are set, encryption running on rotating keys, relay stations configured for valley terrain."
"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 primary encryption 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 their job. 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.
"Cross just sent updated intel," Sarah says, her voice tight.
I cross to her workstation, read the encrypted message over her shoulder. My jaw tightens.