Chapter 11
Crawling on their bellies through the coarse, sun-baked dirt, Maeve and Scout Platoon Echo reached the crest of the ridge overlooking the abandoned irrigation pumping station. Below them, nestled in a deep natural basin, sat a rusted concrete building surrounded by sprawling industrial pipes and rusted machinery. A rusted chain-link fence encircled the perimeter, but a large section of it had been recently cut away. Parked near the main entrance were two unmarked civilian all-terrain vehicles, their flatbed storage racks loaded with heavy industrial cables and black communication boxes that clearly explained the electronic jamming interference Jenkins had detected earlier.
Maeve signaled for the recruits to freeze behind a cluster of boulders while she raised her binoculars to scan the area. Two armed men in mismatched tactical gear were patrolling near the vehicles, smoking cigarettes and casually swinging assault rifles over their shoulders. They didn't look like professional insurgent fighters; they looked like local mercenaries or smugglers utilizing the abandoned government infrastructure for illicit communications relay. "What do we do, Sergeant?" Ramirez whispered from behind Maeve, his knuckles white as he gripped his rifle stock. "Do we call in an airstrike?"
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"Negative," Maeve whispered back without looking away from her binoculars. "An airstrike destroys the intel, and we still don't know who is funding these operations or what data they're transmitting. We take them by surprise, secure the facility, and capture the transmission logs intact." Jenkins swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly. "There's only five of us, Sergeant. How do we take a fortified position with armed guards?" Maeve turned her head slightly, offering a confident, reassuring smile that instantly steadied the young soldier's nerves. "We use terrain, timing, and absolute discipline. Follow my lead, execute your assigned sectors of fire, and make every move count."
Maeve laid out a swift, precise micro-plan in hushed tones, assigning each recruit a specific role. Davis and Ramirez would secure the eastern ridge to cut off any potential escape routes, while Jenkins and Miller provided overwatch with their scoped rifles. Maeve herself would infiltrate the perimeter through the cut fence to disable the communications array from the inside before the guards even realized they were compromised. It was a bold, high-risk maneuver that required absolute perfection, but as Maeve checked the magazine of her rifle and began her slow, silent descent down the rocky slope, she knew her platoon was finally ready to prove themselves.
