The squad stayed hidden as they watched the last crimson sliver of sunset dissolve behind the western jagged peaks, plunging the Bleeding Gorge into freezing, impenetrable darkness.
High along the canyon rim, mountain winds whistled across the knife-edge rocks, carrying drafts of frost. Bukata crouched near the cliff's crumbling lip, anchoring three braided silk rappel lines around a deep crevice before testing the tension with two firm jerks of his gloved hands.
"The lines are set," Bukata whispered, signaling Zazarie and Ulekai to take up defensive watch positions. "Team Two has five minutes to reach the generator gallery before the lower shift change begins. Keep your eyes on the gorge floor."
Zazarie and Ulekai nodded in unison, dropping into the rock shadows with their heavy recurve bows resting across their knees.
High above the subterranean facility, the mountain stillness felt brittle, stretched tight like a bowstring ready to snap at the slightest mistake.
