And although she had delegated security details to Overton, she couldn’t help the impulse to micromanage. As she glanced at the sleeping girl, her long-buried maternal instincts stirred. She’d always been a little disdainful of her colleagues who dropped out of the field to have kids. After meeting Emanuel, she’d started to come around to the idea, but somehow it had never been the right time. The distance between them, new projects, and her own insecurities had conspired against the both of them.

With a sigh, she reached out to brush the girl’s hair from her face.

Sophie didn’t have the heart to wake her. Not yet—not until she could guarantee the girl’s safety, something she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to do. The thought frustrated her. She could only imagine what the poor child had already gone through. The possibilities sent a wave of grief through her tired body. She ignored it and continued on, stopping only momentarily to hand her helmet to Finley so she could pull her frizzled hair back into a ponytail.

“Keep an eye on that guy,” she whispered to the young Marine.

He narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

They rounded a corner, and the passage widened into a chamber about fifty meters across. It was divided into two sections. One appeared to be some sort of living quarters, with several bunk beds resting against the jagged rock walls. Next to the beds were two chemical toilets cordoned off by a few carelessly hung sheets.

Not exactly keen on privacy, Sophie thought.

In the corner was a pyramid of boxes labeled MREs and several crates of bottled water. The area looked to be mostly unused. What was even odder was the fact the space was built to shelter more than one person. Where were the others?

“This way,” he said from a few paces ahead.

The team passed into the smaller part of the chamber. In the center of the room sat a large wooden table and a red leather couch. Not exactly what Sophie had expected. Lining the walls were dozens of monitors sitting atop portable metal desks.

Sophie approached the computers. The setup was complex. Sophisticated. Not the type of hardware the average person had lying around.

“Don’t touch anything,” Luke cautioned. “Give me a second, and I’ll explain everything.” He strolled over to Bouma. “Why don’t you put her to bed on the couch?”

Overton gave the slightest of nods, and Bouma laid the girl down and draped her with a tan blanket.

“This way,” Luke said in the same monotone voice.

“Mind if Private Finley here pulls sentry duty?” Overton asked.

Luke halted and cocked his head, looking first at Finley and then back at the sergeant.