Page 63 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2
Blake leans forward on his driftwood seat. “And the other part?”
“Complete black operations,” Sam continues. “A close team of Mitzy’s best AI experts working with Collins’s nanotech specialists. Their mission is twofold—find a way to locate the women, and eliminate the nanobots entirely.”
“Or better yet,” Mitzy adds, her grin turning predatory, “use the nanobots to launch our own Trojan horse directly into Malfor’s infrastructure.”
I like it. Dual operational tracks—one visible, one invisible. Force Malfor to fight on multiple fronts while never knowing the true scope of our capabilities.
“Timeline?” I ask because operational parameters always matter.
Mitzy’s excitement dims slightly. “Unknown. The quantum entanglement technology is beyond anything I’ve reverse-engineered before.” She shrugs. “But with Collins’s specialists and resources backing us up, maybe we get lucky.”
“And in the meantime?” Walt’s question carries desperation he’s trying to hide.
“In the meantime, we maintain operational discipline,” CJ responds. “Visible operations continue as normal. Training drills. Guardian teams deploying on actual missions—all except Charlie team. We respond to calls, run missions, and maintain the image that we’re operating under normal conditions.”
“While the real work happens here,” Forest adds, approval clear in his weathered features. “Every piece of critical intelligence gets processed in this clean zone.”
I absorb the new operational paradigm, adjusting my mental frameworks to accommodate the shift. It’s sound tactical doctrine—compartmentalized intelligence, multiple operational tracks, strategic deception.
But the fundamental variable remains unchanged. Ally is still missing. They’re all still missing.
Rigel asks the question that’s been burning in all our minds. “Collins’s resources? What exactly are we talking about?”
Sam’s expression grows thoughtful. “Tech billionaire resources. The kind of money that can buy access to information networks, hire the best specialists, and deploy corporate assets in ways that complement our tactical capabilities.”
“Manpower?” Brady asks.
“Intelligence gathering,” CJ clarifies. “Collins has connections in the tech world that we don’t. Corporate espionage capabilities, financial tracking, and digital forensics. Different tools for a different kind of war.”
It makes sense. The most crucial advantage Collins brings isn’t just money or connections—it’s the ability to establish a completelycleanfacility. Somewhere separate from all nanobots, where his specialists can work without Malfor’s surveillance. We don’t have that luxury at Guardian HRS. Every time we go back up that cliff, we’re compromised again, and if we do something about the nanobots, that tips our hand, letting him know we’re aware of the infestation.
“So we wait,” Gabe states, resignation bleeding through controlled fury. It’s the first time he’s spoken since we sat down, and his voice carries an edge I don’t like.
“We waitstrategically,” Sam corrects. “Every hour we’re clean is an hour we can use for preparation. For planning. When coordinates come in, we need to be ready to move fast and hit harder than Malfor expects.”
The circle settles into a different kind of quiet. Not the desperate silence of the past three days, but something approaching patience. The kind that comes when operators finally have a plan, even if that plan requires waiting for the right moment to execute.
The strategy feels solid. More solid than anything we’ve had since this nightmare began. But it still requires the one thing none of us wants to accept.
Patience.
“We’re setting up a temporary field office here,” Mitzy explains. “A way to search for evidence of where they are.”
“How?”
“Not sure, to be honest.” Mitzy shrugs. “But he took Stitch and Ally. Between the two of them, I have to think they’re going to do whatever it takes to send a message. Some way to tell us where they are.” She doesn’t say the obvious thing because none of us wants to hear it.
If Guardian HRS were going to find them, we would have already. We’ve exploited every advantage, yet we’ve nothing to show for it. Finding our women rests with them now.
The sun hangs lower now, painting the waves in shades of gold and crimson. Tide pools reflect the changing sky like scattered mirrors across the rocky shore. Somewhere out there, beyond the horizon, Ally and the others wait for rescue.
None of it is possible unlesstheyfind a way to reach us.
No comms. No trackers. No clean tech. Nothing but the minds of two people caught in Malfor’s cage.
We’re blind.
Deaf.
