BLUEMANTLE by Karen Langston (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud TXT) 📕

he thought, staring into the eyes of his reflection. And yet I do. More still. I know the man. He trembled now, just as he had on the side of Lyun Mountain, emerging from the crevice into the warm night air, eyes scanning the dark sky for the dot of red light that would spell WatcherCam. He had hurried silently beneath the cover of darkness, switching on his headlamp when he heard voices in the distance. He had rejoined his unit moments before Deaf Squad troopers emerged with the first batch of handbound captured.

He studied his reflection, a face that was not his own. He raised his hand and touched his left cheek, covered by the dark hair of his beard. His fingers lingered, stalling. His heart raced, anticipating the incontrovertible, knowing the verdict before it was called. Swallowing hard, he leant in towards the mirror and slowly, with trembling fingers, parted the hair.

There. A small tattoo. A diagonal line.

Beeping, louder than it should have sounded, made him start in alarm. He looked down at the pager strapped to his belt and felt his blood drain. Recognising the number, he knew it could mean only one thing. He dialled in, dreading the confirmation that inevitably came.

By the time he crossed the Complex and arrived outside the office of Governor Blix, he had mustered some small degree of self-control. Forget what you know now, he told himself repeatedly. Think only of what you thought you knew. Pausing to take a deep breath, Dent pushed back his shoulders, lifted his chin and knocked on the door.

“Enter,” came Blix’s voice from within.

Dent obeyed, closing the door behind him. He stepped forward into the centre of the sparse office and stood to attention. Blix was standing before the tall window, her face bleached by the wan light outside. She turned slowly to face him. “I am curious, Allear Commander Lore. The raid last night. Your assessment in the context of mission objective.”

Dent stared ahead, his body rigid. He had the urge to swallow, but his mouth felt dry. “Governor. We successfully detected the music and located its source. The raid led to both a substantial number of arrests and the discovery of the nest. I believe the latter is an important objective successfully accomplished.”

“Explain.”

“With the nest exposed, it is effectively destroyed. This will disrupt the Scene. They will have to find somewhere else to operate. That will be difficult to achieve in the context of your expanded Special Forces and associated deterrents.”

“You’ve yet to make reference to the single, most fundamental failure in your duty to obey orders.”

“Apprehension of the Music Makers.”

“Indeed. Flows from the tongue as if you take your orders seriously. And yet your performance contradicts.”

“Governor—”

“The Scene is context, superfluous. Our detention centres are already overflowing with Users. The only objective that truly mattered was the capture or killing of the Music Makers. We believe there are several. And yet the raid delivered me none. My assessment would be thus: comprehensive failure.”

“From the perspective of the primary objective, Governor, I agree.”

“How accommodating of you. But just to be clear,” she said, stepping up close and forcing eye contact, “there is no hierarchy, no primary over secondary. There is and there has always been only one. One order. One objective. One measure of success. And, once again, you have not delivered.”

Dent knew better than to respond to the judgement. He stared ahead and waited.

Blix circled him, her eyes trained on his face. “Interesting. Wulfwin describes you as lacking passion. Yet, I detect a distinct agitation.”

“With due respect to the Chief of Command, I suspect the passions that Wulfwin and I feel are of a different order. I doubt he would recognise mine, just as I am unable to identify with his.” He blinked, choosing his words with care. “I am moved by the knowledge that I have disappointed you. The privilege of service to you and the Authority is all I’ve ever known and all that matters to me. To know that I have failed you pains me.”

“Such loyalty. I wonder where you place your family in the light of this apparent devotion to the cause.”

“Without the benefit of experience I can claim my own, family is an abstract concept to me. As you know, I was adopted at a young age by the Authority. This is my home and my life; I’ve known nothing else. If you will accept family to be the community to which I feel bound by loyalty, then it is the Authority, under your sovereignty. As such, I place my family above all else.”

Blix stepped back, as if to gain a fuller perspective of the man stood before her. Her own agitation had begun to bubble below the surface, slowly building, like the relentless itch that tormented her. She hesitated, debating how hard to push. Eventually, she said, “Just as Wulfwin described. Textbook.” She moved to her desk, closer to the silver pillbox in its top drawer. With trembling fingers poised on the handle, she stood erect, eyes delving into Dent’s. “Regurgitation is one thing. Let’s see how it holds up when put to the test. Dismissed.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

It was dusk by the time Chase and Wella passed the outlying dwellings and re-entered the city proper. They crept through the southern corner of the Wallace Estates, pausing briefly to leave a message in Naylor’s mailbox, then sought obscurity in Rader’s concrete maze. Time was against them. With curfew fast approaching, they were forced to abandon stealth and run the remaining blocks.

“It’s this one,” said Wella, stopping outside one of several hundred identical tenement buildings. “Follow me.”

Chase, with weary resignation, did as instructed.

They hurried up the concrete stairwell. With half their faces obscured by dust masks, Wella was confident they looked as anonymous as the few citizens they passed. Chase, on the other hand, still turned his head away when they saw anyone. Rader was rampant with Meezel addicts; he was in no doubt there would be eyes all