The flight took 8 hours. They landed at a forward operating base in a location Sarah wasn't cleared to know. transferred to helicopters and inserted under cover of darkness 5 mi from the monastery. The climb to the infiltration point took 3 hours through rocky terrain that seemed designed to break ankles.
At 0230 hours, they reached the base of the cliff face. Sarah looked up at the vertical rock stretching into darkness above them, and for just a moment, she felt doubt. It had been so long. What if she'd lost the edge? What if her skills had dulled?
Then she remembered Park's face in that corridor. His mockery, his apology, his growth into a man worth saving. She clipped into the rope, checked her gear one final time, and began to climb. The first 300 ft went smoothly. The rock was solid, the handholds where she remembered them.
Behind her, she could hear her team climbing steadily. Their breathing controlled, their movements efficient. Then they reached the first overhang. Here, the rock jutted out at a 15 degree angle, requiring climbers to essentially hang upside down while moving laterally. In daylight, with modern equipment, it would be challenging.
At night, in full combat gear, it was nearly impossible. "Hold position," she whispered into her radio. "I'm going across first to set the traverse line." She swung out onto the overhang, feeling her core engage, her fingers, finding purchase on holds that were sometimes just rough patches of rock. Feet smearing against the vertical surface, arms burning with the strain of supporting her full body weight, plus gear at an impossible angle.
Halfway across her right hand slipped. For one heart-stopping moment, she dangled by three points of contact her combat gear pulling her backward toward a fatal fall. Then training took over. She pivoted, found a new hold, continued the traverse with mechanical precision. Two minutes later, she reached the far side and secured the safety line.
"Traverse line set. Come across one at a time." Morrison went first, moving with the controlled aggression she'd taught him. He made it across in 90 seconds, breathing hard but solid. Chen crossed next her movements so smooth and controlled that she barely disturbed the rope.
Natural talent meeting expert training. Walsh followed his experience, showing in how he managed his energy, never overgripping, never wasting movement. Rodriguez came last, and 20 feet into the traverse, his foot slipped, he swung wide, pendulum-like, slamming into the rock face. Sarah heard his grunt of pain through the radio, but he maintained his grip, repositioned, and completed the traverse with determination that would have made her proud if there had been time for pride. They continued climbing 400 ft, 500, 600. Each pitch harder than the last.
Each movement consuming precious time and energy. At 700 ft, they reached the crux, the hardest section of the entire climb. A 53 ft horizontal traverse on a ledge so narrow that climbers had to sidle along it with their backs to a vertical drop and their faces inches from rock. No safety line possible. One slip meant death.