Page 98 of Rescuing Sophia

“Good. Alpha team, your transport leaves in thirty minutes. Get to your vehicle and prepare for insertion. Bravo, your bird takes off in ten. Charlie, you’ve got fifteen minutes before your boat drops you at the base of those cliffs. Move out, Guardians.”

The hold erupts into controlled chaos as the teams gather their gear and move toward their respective transports.

Gabe places his hand on my shoulder, his usually jovial face serious. “We’re getting her back.”

Unable to find the words, I give a sharp nod. As I move toward Charlie team’s area, I catch sight of the storm through a porthole. The waves are growing larger, and white caps are visible even in the darkness. The weather is going to make an already tricky mission even more challenging.

I join my team, and we begin our final equipment checks; a profound sense of calm settles over me. We’ve prepared for this. We’re ready. And come hell or high water, we’re bringing Sophia home.

The klaxon sounds, signaling five minutes until our departure. I take a deep breath, centering myself.

It’s time.

Ethan gathers Charlie team around him, his face illuminated by the dim red lighting of the hold. “Alright, people, this is it.” His voice is low but intense. “We’ve trained for this. We know what’s at stake. Whatever happens in there, we all come home. Clear?”

A chorus of affirmatives echoes through our group. Our voices nearly drowned out by a particularly loud crash of thunder. We check our gear one last time. The exosuits hum with quiet power as we activate them.

We move to the side hatch, sliding it open. The storm’s fury hits us full force—wind howling, rain lashing at our faces, the air thick with the smell of ozone. Lightning illuminates the churning seabelow. The cliff face we’re about to approach looms ominously in the distance.

One by one, we prepare to deploy into the RIB, the inflatable boat swaying slightly as it hangs from the winch. The tension is palpable as we secure our gear.

“Deploy RUFI,” Ethan orders.

The three robotic units are lowered into the RIB first. Their waterproof bodies unfold, revealing compact flotation devices. They settle into the boat, immediately orienting themselves toward the shore.

We follow, climbing down into the RIB with practiced efficiency. The boat rocks beneath us, a stark reminder of the turbulent sea waiting below. Once we’re all aboard, Ethan gives the signal.

The winch whirs to life, and the boat begins its slow, steady descent toward the angry waters. The storm’s roar is deafening as we brace ourselves for impact, the sea waiting to swallow us whole.

We hit the water with a jarring splash, the icy spray stinging our faces despite the protection of our gear. The waves immediately begin tossing us about, but the RIB is designed for these conditions.

Ethan guns the motor, and we surge forward, cutting through the tumultuous waters. The RUFI, secure in the boat with us, scan the surroundings, their built-in sonar guiding us through the treacherous sea toward the distant shore.

After an eternity of battling the elements, the cliff face looms closer. Ethan skillfully maneuvers the RIB, bringing us alongside a small, rocky outcropping at the base of the cliff.

“Comms check,” Ethan’s voice crackles in my ear.

We sound off one by one to confirm our comm links are operational.

“RUFI, begin the ascent,” Ethan commands.

The robotic units spring into action, their limbs reconfiguring for climbing. They scurry up the rock face like crabs, displaying unsettling speed, pausing every few meters to drill in anchors and attach climbing ropes.

“Alright, team. Let’s move.” Ethan hits the base of the wall.

We begin our ascent, and the exosuits immediately prove theirusefulness. Their enhanced strength makes pulling ourselves up the ropes almost effortless despite the weight of our gear and the relentless battering of the wind and rain.

The climb is brutal. The cliff face is slick, and the wind threatens to tear us from our precarious holds. But the RUFI prove their worth, scurrying up the rock face with inhuman agility and setting anchors for us to follow.

We ascend in a leapfrog pattern, with three RUFI and six men working in perfect synchronization.

Suddenly, a shout of alarm cuts through the howling wind. I look up just in time to see the RUFI immediately above me lose its grip on the slick rock face. For a heart-stopping moment, it plummets toward me.

“Hold on,” Ethan yells unnecessarily.

The RUFUS’s tether to its companions snaps taut, arresting its fall mere meters above my head. It swings wildly in the wind, struggling to regain purchase on the cliff.

“Blake, guide it back,” Ethan orders, his voice steady despite the precarious situation.

---