BLUEMANTLE Karen Langston (digital ebook reader txt) 📖

Evan lay curled on a bed in a friend’s cramped quarters. He thought about Bend Sinister, imagined what it might be like, right then, in that moment, underground. He wouldn’t let himself think of anything else, only Bend Sinister’s show. That was the closest he could get to thinking about Cole without breaking down.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Alpha-Charlie-One. This is Trooper Three-Seven. Positive detection. Repeat. Positive detection. Over.”

Dent’s heart skipped. He stood up, scanning the darkness. “Trooper Three-Seven. This is Alpha-Charlie-One. Copy that. I can’t see your beacon. What’s your grid position? Over.”

“Position eight-four. Beacon flashing. Over.”

Dent looked to his right and spotted the blinking light. “I see you. Hold your position. I’m coming now. Over and out.” With his path lit by helmet lamp and hand torch, Dent ran towards the beacon, dodging rock and boulder. He flicked the channel on his radio and called out, “Delta-Charlie-One, this is Alpha-Charlie-One. Positive detection in upper-right quadrant. I’m moving in to verify. Over.”

An instant response fired back. “Alpha-Charlie-One. This is Delta-Charlie-One. Copy. On our way. Out.”

Dent reached the Allear. “Hold the beacon as high as you can,” he said. “Deaf Squad are coming.” Then he knelt down, closed his eyes and concentrated on the layers of sound and silence. He took his time, slowly delving deeper to discover distant traces.

“For crow’s sake,” he hissed, and dropped his head. He didn’t need to strain to hear the thud of combat boots, far in the distance, growing louder as the Deaf Squad approached.

They eventually reached the location, Wulfwin leading the charge. “Lore. Tell me your boy ain’t imagining things,” he said, his voice taut with anticipation.

“I was just attempting to confirm.” Dent had remained on the ground, head down, in the pose of interrupted business.

Wulfwin stood back and turned to his men. “Silence. I don’t want to hear you fucking breathe.”

Dent closed his eyes once more and resumed the task. The technique of stripping back layer after layer, discarding lost echoes and organic murmurs, was painstaking, yet reliable. There, deep in the heart of the superficial silence, was the quarry. He stood up and faced Wulfwin. “Detection confirmed.”

For a fraction of a second, Wulfwin’s face shone with anticipated glory. It was immediately masked by concrete composure and fierce control. He barked a barrage of orders. “Trooper Fifty-Eight. Radio Comms. Report ‘confirmed detection’ and initiation of procedures for source invasion and recovery.” He turned to someone else. “Trooper Nineteen. Radio Ops HQ. Surveillance. I want every WatcherCam they’ve got covering this cursed mountain.” Then to a third, “Trooper Twelve. Get your unit together. Rig the lights and fire up the generator. I want this place lit up like it’s fucking high noon.” Then to other men, “Troopers Twenty, Twenty-Five and Thirty-Seven. You know the drill. You’re our fish net. Spread your units out. Go as wide as you can. It’s down to you to catch any bastards that try to escape. I’ll send other units to cover the north face, but this side is likely to be their main route down and, possibly, their only route home.”

Wulfwin turned to the remainder: eighty or so men, clad in combat gear, heavily armed with coshes, chains, electroshock prods and tranquiliser guns. Clamped to their helmets were their ear defenders, poised ready to protect. “Men. Listen up. You know what to do. And you know what it means to get this done right. The Governor has said this could be now or never. For you, there is no fucking option. This is it, boys. Time to destroy the Scene and the bastard User scum. Most of all, time to put an end to the Music Makers, once and for all. Dead or alive is the order. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir!” came a terror-hungry roar.

“When I give the signal, ear defenders on. They don’t come off until the job’s done. Keep your in-helmet radio on open frequency. We follow the Allears until they pass the baton, then we take over. You know what to do from that point on, so don’t cock up. Failure is a finger up to me and, let’s face it, you don’t want to be the one giving me the bird.” He hesitated, allowing the consequence to be fully imagined. “Radios on. Helmets on. To attention,” he barked, watching the men follow his orders with practised precision.

He turned to Dent and dropped his voice. “It’s true what I said. The Governor believes it. Are your blind gimps up to the job?”

Unfazed, Dent nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Then lead on. Find me the source so we can get those fuckers.”

–

Blix had heard the confirmation transmission the moment it came in. From that point on, the Comms Control Centre in the Authority Complex became a blur of movement and white noise. Concentrating on the strain of composure, Blix pictured the scene, superimposing what she imagined would be happening on the Heights like a cinematic palimpsest. The simultaneity was disorientating, blending realities of here and there into a single image. She closed her eyes and grabbed hold of a desk edge, resisting her body’s inclination to shut down and pass out.

In the darkness, fresh calls of “Incoming!” drew her back. With effort, she pulled herself together and returned to her surroundings. She strode over to the officers seated at the bank of raised desks. “The latest,” she said.

The officer nearest to her stood up and saluted. “Communication from the Chief of Command, Governor. Allears have located the source. They’re handing over. Deaf Squad ready to move in.”

–

“You’re taking the piss, right?” Wulfwin looked at Dent Lore, incredulous. He had removed his helmet and ear defenders, which he held up as if redundant.

“No, sir. I’m absolutely certain.”

“From under the fucking mountain?”

“I’ve had Allears monitoring the source from different positions. We’re detecting distinct variation in reverberation time, as well as patterns of high and low frequency, with a predominance of low-frequency sound.”

“Cut the crap, Lore.”

“I believe the sound is coming from a network