Chapter 147: The Chase Begins
The first hundred meters went better than Marcus had expected.
That alone made him nervous.
The prisoners moved through the trees in a loose column, guided by Atlas infantrymen positioned at the front, middle, and rear of the formation. The pace was painfully slow compared to military movement, but considering the condition of the people they were escorting, it was almost miraculous they were moving at all. Several prisoners limped. Two needed assistance just to remain standing. One elderly man had to be carried outright after collapsing near the quarry entrance.
The child from the work detail refused to leave the older man’s side.
Marcus watched everything unfold through the Predator feed projected across the operations center wall.
Twenty-three recovered.
No friendly casualties.
No alarm raised.
Not yet.
The last part mattered most.
"Status update," Marcus said.
The drone operator checked his display.
"No movement from Black Fang. Patrol routes unchanged."
Good.
Very good.
But the clock had already started ticking.
The quarry detail should have returned before sunset. The moment they failed to appear at the expected checkpoint, questions would begin.
Questions eventually became searches.
Searches eventually became pursuit.
Inside the forest, Tomas raised one hand and halted the column.
The stream lay ahead.
Clear water flowed through a shallow depression in the earth, no deeper than a man’s knee in most places. Dense vegetation lined both banks while overhanging trees concealed the route from above.
Perfect concealment.
Assuming nobody already knew where to look.
"Move into the stream," Tomas ordered quietly.
Several prisoners hesitated.
One older woman stared at the water in confusion.
Rolf stepped beside her.
"We’re hiding our tracks."
The woman blinked.
Understanding slowly appeared.
Within minutes, the entire group had entered the stream bed and resumed movement.
The difference was immediate.
No footprints.
No broken vegetation.
No obvious trail.
The Dominion’s wolves might still find them eventually, but every minute mattered.
Every minute increased the distance between the rescue team and Black Fang.
The operation resumed.
Slowly.
Painfully.
The rescued prisoners weren’t soldiers.
Most had spent months as forced laborers.
Several appeared malnourished.
One man’s ribs were clearly visible beneath his shirt.
Another coughed constantly.
A young woman stumbled repeatedly despite assistance from two infantrymen.
Marcus watched the pace drop from three kilometers per hour to barely one.
The stream route that should have taken twenty minutes was beginning to look closer to forty.
He didn’t like that.
Not one bit.
"Atlas Actual."
Marcus grabbed the radio immediately.
"Go ahead."
Tomas’s voice remained calm.
"We’re reducing speed."
"I can see that."
"The prisoners are in worse condition than we estimated."
Marcus looked toward the medical officer.
The medic grimaced.
"Expected."
No.
Expected wasn’t the right word.
Feared.
Prepared for.
Hoped against.
But not unexpected.
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
"Maintain movement."
"Copy."
The transmission ended.
The command center remained quiet.
Everyone understood the problem.
The operation was succeeding.
The operation was also slowing down.
Those two things often went together.
Unfortunately, time favored the Dominion.
Not Atlas.
The first sign of trouble appeared seventeen minutes later.
"Movement at Black Fang."
Every head inside the operations center turned toward the main display.
The eastern gate had opened.
Three mounted riders emerged.
Not toward the rescue route.
Not yet.
But moving quickly.
Marcus frowned.
"Destination?"
The operator zoomed out.
The riders split apart.
One headed south.
One west.
One directly toward the quarry.
Marcus’s expression hardened immediately.
"They noticed."
The room became quieter.
Not panicked.
Not surprised.
Simply quieter.
Because everyone had known this moment would arrive eventually.
The only question had been when.
The answer was apparently now.
"ETA to quarry?"
"Approximately ten minutes."
Marcus looked toward the blue icons representing Tomas’s team.
They had made progress.
Good progress.
But not enough.
Not nearly enough.
"Tomas."
The radio answered instantly.
"Go."
"They’ve discovered the missing work detail."
A pause followed.
Then:
"Understood."
No panic.
No hesitation.
Just understanding.
The former adventurer already knew what came next.
The riders would reach the quarry.
They would find dead guards.
Missing prisoners.
Signs of combat.
Then the settlement would react.
The scale of that reaction remained unknown.
Marcus hoped to keep it that way.
The rescue column continued moving.
The stream bent northward.
Extraction Zone Lantern sat less than seven hundred meters away.
Close.
Painfully close.
One of the prisoners suddenly collapsed.
The older man from the quarry.
The child’s father.
The boy immediately dropped beside him.
The infantry medic moved forward.
Quick examination.
Rapid assessment.
Then the answer everyone feared.
"He can’t walk."
Tomas closed his eyes briefly.
Of course.
Of course it couldn’t be easy.
"Stretcher."
Two soldiers immediately moved forward.
The father protested weakly in trade speech.
The boy translated rapidly between exhausted breaths.
"He says leave him."
Nobody answered.
Because nobody intended to.
The soldiers lifted him anyway.
The column resumed movement.
Slightly slower now.
Marcus watched the clock.
The riders reached the quarry six minutes later.
The drone camera followed them as they dismounted and entered the excavation site.
One rider discovered the bodies first.
Another found the unconscious guard.
The third located the abandoned tools and missing prisoners.
The reaction was immediate.
One rider mounted his horse and immediately turned back toward Black Fang.
The other two remained behind to investigate.
Marcus felt his stomach tighten.
"How long?"
The analyst answered immediately.
"Fifteen minutes to settlement."
Then perhaps another ten to mobilize a response.
Twenty-five minutes.
Maybe thirty.
Not enough.
Not nearly enough.
The eastern gate of Black Fang opened again.
This time, more riders emerged.
More wolves.
More guards.
The operation had entered its second phase.
The chase.
Inside the forest, Tomas received the update without changing expression.
"Keep moving."
The prisoners obeyed.
Mostly.
Fear had become a powerful motivator.
The realization that pursuit was coming spread quickly through the group.
One man asked whether the hunters would catch them.
Another wanted to know where they were going.
A woman asked whether Atlas truly had flying machines.
Rolf answered while helping support an injured prisoner.
"Yes."
The woman looked unconvinced.
"You’re going to see one very soon."
The former adventurer glanced toward the sky above the trees.
"Honestly, I’d like to see one too right now."
The radio crackled.
"Raven Actual, this is Atlas Actual."
Tomas immediately answered.
"Go."
"Black Fang mobilizing pursuit elements."
"Numbers?"
A pause followed.
The command center was still counting.
"Estimated twenty-five to thirty personnel."
Tomas frowned.
"Only that many?"
Marcus understood the confusion.
So did he.
Black Fang had hundreds of inhabitants.
Why such a small force?
The answer arrived moments later.
The drone operator looked up sharply.
"Oh."
Marcus turned.
"What?"
The operator pointed toward another section of the screen.
Additional riders.
More of them.
Much more.
Not from Black Fang.
From Site Two.
From Site Three.
The surrounding settlements were responding as well.
The realization hit the room simultaneously.
The Dominion wasn’t treating this as a missing work detail.
They were treating it as an external threat.
A coordinated response.
Just like Atlas would have done.
The estimated enemy numbers climbed rapidly.
Thirty.
Forty-five.
Sixty.
Marcus slowly exhaled.
The first rescue mission had officially become an international incident.
"Tomas."
"Go."
"The entire region is mobilizing."
The response took several seconds.
Then:
"...Wonderful."
Despite the situation, Marcus almost smiled.
Some habits survived everything.
The blue icons continued moving toward Lantern.
Five hundred meters.
Four hundred.
Three hundred.
So close.
The first helicopters were already warming engines back at Atlas Base.
Rescue One.
Rescue Two.
The crews sat inside the aircraft waiting for launch authorization.
Rotor blades remained still for now.
Not for much longer.
The drone operator suddenly pointed toward another screen.
"Wolves."
Marcus immediately looked.
Several pursuit groups had split from the mounted forces.
The wolves moved ahead of the riders.
Fast.
Very fast.
Too fast.
The estimated intercept point appeared automatically on the map.
Marcus stared at it.
Then frowned.
Because the projected intercept wasn’t at Lantern.
It was before Lantern.
By nearly ten minutes.
The wolves were going to reach Tomas first.
"Tomas."
The response came instantly.
"Go."
"Wolves incoming."
The former adventurer looked upward instinctively despite knowing he couldn’t see them.
"Numbers?"
"Eight confirmed."
A pause followed.
"Possibly more."
Rolf’s voice suddenly appeared on the radio.
"I really hate these things."
Nobody disagreed.
The stream route continued winding through the forest.
The prisoners pushed harder now.
Fear could do remarkable things to exhausted people.
The child from the quarry stayed beside his father while helping stabilize the stretcher whenever terrain became difficult.
One infantryman quietly handed him a water bottle.
The boy stared at it as though it were treasure.
Then carefully helped his father drink first.
Tomas noticed.
So did Rolf.
Neither said anything.
The radio crackled again.
"Two hundred meters to Lantern."
Close.
So incredibly close.
Then the first howl echoed through the forest.
Every person froze.
The sound rolled through the trees like distant thunder.
Deep.
Powerful.
Close.
Far too close.
Several prisoners visibly panicked.
The child looked toward his father.
The older man closed his eyes briefly.
Because he recognized the sound.
Everyone did.
Hunters.
The wolves had found the trail.
The second howl came from somewhere farther east.
Another answered from the south.
The realization spread quickly.
They weren’t chasing blindly.
They were surrounding.
Tomas raised his rifle.
"So much for a quiet extraction."
Rolf checked his magazine.
"On the bright side..."
Nobody looked at him.
"...I think the helicopters are about to arrive."
Almost on cue, the distant sound of rotor blades began echoing faintly through the forest.
The prisoners looked upward.
Confused.
Fearful.
Curious.
The sound grew louder.
Closer.
The first reactions appeared among the rescued captives.
Eyes widened.
Heads turned skyward.
Expressions shifted from confusion toward disbelief.
Because for them...
The sky itself had started making noise.
And somewhere behind the rescue column, hidden among the trees of the Forest of No Return, the first wolves of the pursuit force were already closing the distance.
The race to Lantern had entered its final minutes.
And for the first time since Operation Lantern began...
Atlas and the Dominion were no longer maneuvering around one another.
Now they were running directly toward collision.
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