Chapter 6 — Mist Peak Rescue Team

"Depart." Khanh Van only said one word, but the whole Heaven Gate station yard immediately moved like a machine waiting for a signal.

She had just turned off the radio after hearing the final report from Kien, and her decision had formed in her mind as soon as the words "a member was injured" rang out over the radio. Not because the weather had reached ideal conditions — visibility was still poor, the wind was still gusting — but because the risk calculus had now shifted: keeping Team A waiting even longer meant leaving three men missing and three men from Team B facing the cold night without backup.

"Dieu Han, check the GPS one last time, enter the coordinates of where Team B is staying as the first destination." Khanh Van said as she put her hands on her coat and zipped it up to her neck. "Uncle Tong, divide the rope and anchor into two sets - one set to carry with you, one set to leave at the meeting point with Team B in case you need to use it on the spot."

"Clear." Uncle Tong began dividing the equipment with the skillful movements of someone who has done this hundreds of times. His hands quickly rolled each piece of wire according to the standard eight turns, without excess or deficiency.

"Uyen Nhi, bring a hypothermia emergency bag and a spare shoulder immobilizer, plus the dose of heart medicine I've prepared."

"Yes, sister." Uyen Nhi put the bag on her shoulder and checked the strap one last time.

"Mr. Tua, you lead the way ahead, choose the safest route according to your experience, not necessarily following the exact trail marked on the map if you know a better shortcut."

Vu A Tua nodded and stood at the front of the line, holding a wooden walking stick that had become shiny from many years of use.

Dac Lam walked out of the command room, holding a newly printed piece of paper. "The latest weather report: the cold front will peak around three o'clock in the afternoon, then is likely to weaken temporarily before a second, stronger front arrives later this evening. If there is a window, it will be somewhere between two and four o'clock in the afternoon."

Khanh Van quickly wrote down that time frame on her sleeve with a permanent marker, a habit she has kept since her early days in the profession - the most important information must always be in a place where she cannot forget or drop it. "So we have about two hours to get to Team B, assess Bao Khang's situation, and continue on to area T7 while the windows are still open."

"Exactly." Dac Lam looked at her, his eyes both worried and confident - the complex emotions of a teacher watching his student enter the exact type of situation that made her fall two years ago. "Van, be careful. I need all six people from Team A back, no one is missing."

"I know, Mr. Dac Lam." She looked at him for a second, then turned back to her team. "Moving formation: Mr. Tua leads, then me, Uncle Tong, Uyen Nhi, Dieu Han go last. Keep a distance of no more than three meters between each person, always within sight of the person in front and behind. If visibility drops below five meters, use a link rope, connect each person with a carabiner to a main rope."

The whole team nodded, no one asked further. This was a procedure they had practiced countless times in regular training sessions, and now it was time to apply it to a real situation.

They set off at ten thirty-five, following the trail leading to the west slope of Sa Mu peak. Right from the first steps, the air was much colder than in the station yard, and the group's breath began to condense into thin white smoke. Vu A Tua walked ahead, occasionally stopping, bending down to look closely at the footprints on the wet ground, or touching the scratches on the bark of trees to determine wind direction and air humidity - signs that only people who have lived their whole life at the foot of the mountain can read.

"There's about forty more minutes to the narrowest part before taking the shortcut," he said, without turning around, his eyes still glued to the road ahead.

Khanh Van walked right behind him, one hand always on the compass strap worn on his belt even though he had a GPS, a habit of someone trained in an era when electronic devices were not completely reliable in the high mountains - the battery could run out, the signal could be lost, but the compass and paper maps never betrayed the person using them, as long as that person knew how to read them.

Behind her, Uncle Tong walked and checked each piece of rope wrapped around his body, making sure it was not entangled in bushes or dry branches. He's been doing this job long enough to know that a small detail like that — a tangled coil of wire at the exact moment a quick deployment is needed — can be the difference between a successful rescue and a failed one.

"Miss Van," Dieu Han called from behind, her voice a bit breathless because of her fast pace, "can I ask a question?"

"Ask."

"Why did you decide to start now, when the weather is still not really good? I thought you wanted to wait until the window was safer."

Khanh Van did not turn back, but her voice was still clear enough for Dieu Han to hear through the sound of the wind. "Waiting for the safe window doesn't mean waiting until everything is perfect, Dieu Han. There's nothing perfect on the mountain. It means waiting until the risks of going are balanced with the risks of not going. Now, with Bao Khang injured and the three missing people having been out for more than three hours, the risks of not going are greater than the risks of going."

"So... two years ago, was the risk the same then?"

That question made Khanh Van's footsteps pause for half a beat, even if only for a split second, enough for Uncle Tong behind him to notice and gently clear his throat, like an implicit signal telling Dieu Han to stop. But Khanh Van did not avoid it.

"No," she said, her steps regaining rhythm. "Two years ago, I miscalculated. I thought the risk of going was smaller than it was, and the risk of not going was greater than it actually was. That was my mistake. Not a mistake of action — but a mistake of misjudgment."

She stopped for a second, looking ahead, where the mist was lingering somewhere in the distance like a waiting wall. "The lesson I learned is not to never act when there is a risk. The lesson is to make good judgments, each time, not based on feelings or habits from the last time."

Dieu Han remained silent, seeming to consider that answer more carefully than she thought she would need. Ahead, Vu A Tua suddenly raised his hand to stop, bowed low, and looked closely at something on the soft ground on the side of the road.

“There are footprints,” he said, his voice low. "Three pairs of shoes, different sizes. Fairly new, probably from the missing group, passed through here this morning before turning onto the main trail."

Khanh Van knelt down next to her, looking closely at the indentations on the ground. A part of her - the part that had learned to read each smallest mark like a separate language - began to reconstruct the image of the three people who had passed here, not knowing what was waiting for them ahead.

"Write down the coordinates of this point," she told Dieu Han, "and we'll continue."

The group continued to move, their pace was fast but not hurried, each person automatically fell into their well-practiced role: Tua read the terrain, Khanh Van kept track of time and coordinates, Uncle Tong kept an eye on the equipment, Uyen Nhi noticed each member's physical performance, Dieu Han recorded all important milestones in a waterproof notebook.

About twenty minutes later, the road began to get steeper, gray rocks rising between the thin layer of moss-covered soil. Uncle Tong stopped at a narrow bend, looked up at the cliff above, estimating the slope with his eyes.

"This section needs additional anchors if visibility deteriorates," he said. "But now I can still see about twenty meters clearly. I can't go bare-handed. I just need to stick close to the wall on the left."

The whole group followed the cliff, each person holding one hand lightly touching the jagged rock surface, placing their steps firmly before putting their weight. The wind began to blow stronger as they climbed, passing through each layer of clothing, causing Dieu Han to pull the collar up to her chin. This was the first time she had participated in an actual rescue of such high urgency since completing the training course six months ago, and even though she had been thoroughly taught the theory, the real feeling of cold wind cutting through her skin on the mountain was still far different from what she imagined in the classroom.

"Is it far, Mr. Tua?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady even though her breathing became faster.

"Almost." Tua pointed to a large cliff ahead, blurry behind a thin layer of creeping mist. "That place is the rendezvous point with Team B."

Khanh Van looked at the clock. A quarter past eleven. They had been gone for forty minutes, just as originally planned, and if nothing changed, they would reach Kien in about fifteen minutes—just in time for the weather window that Dac Lam had forecast.