Page 69 of Dark Chains: First Link
The ladder was industrial steel, and the ascent took him less than a minute. At the top, the wind was stronger, carrying the salt smell of the ocean.
He peeled the adhesive backing off the transmitter disc and pressed it against the steel surface between two mounts. It adhered easily, blending into the shadow cast by the nearest bracket. It would be effectively impossible to spot unless someone knew exactly where to look and what to look for.
Number One climbed back down.
"Let's test the receiver," Number Two said.
As Number Seven drove to a quiet spot where they could contact Onegus without fear of being overheard, Number One took the receiver from the casing and examined it. It was a piece of remarkable engineering, and he wondered how such a small thing could do what it was supposed to, operating either on sunlight or the temperature differential between body heat and ambient air.
When Number Seven parked the Humvee behind a storage building, Number One placed the device in his left ear, slidingit into the canal with a faint pressure that registered for a few seconds and then faded as it settled into position.
He pressed and held for three seconds.
A soft click. Then silence. Then a voice, so clear that the speaker could have been sitting in the back seat.
"Receiving you loud and clear. Confirm identity." Onegus's voice, with its slight echo of Scottish accent, was unmistakable.
"Number One. The device has been retrieved, and the transmitter is installed."
"Excellent. Signal strength is optimal, and encryption is active. How's the audio quality on your end?"
"Perfect." It was more than perfect. The clarity was startling. He could hear the faint ambient sounds behind Onegus's voice, the hum of electronics, and a distant conversation in another room. The technology was extraordinary.
"Good. Here's the protocol. Daily check-in at twenty-two hundred hours your local time. If you have an emergency and need to reach us immediately, press and hold for five seconds instead of three. That triggers an alert, and someone will respond within sixty seconds regardless of the hour."
"Understood," Number One said.
"The receiver stores approximately four hours of active transmission on a full charge. Body heat alone will sustain short check-ins, but if you're anticipating a longer operational conversation, charge it in sunlight beforehand."
"Noted."
"All right, Number One. We're operational. Onegus out."
The connection closed with a soft click, and the silence that replaced it felt loaded with potential. They had a connection that could be activated at any moment, linking them to people who could offer help when needed.
It felt strange. In a good way.
They were no longer alone, just them and two Russian scientists and a waitress from Australia. They had a powerful ally on the other side of the world, and for the first time since they had started planning the escape, the plan felt tangible.
A peculiar feeling washed over the collective. Not joy, because joy remained a phenomenon they could identify in others but not generate internally. It was more like the loosening of a pressure they hadn't fully registered until it eased. The recognition that the distance between their current existence and the one they were working toward had just become measurably shorter. That the plan, which had lived entirely in the theoretical realm of conversations and intentions, now had infrastructure.
Number Seven started the engine, and as they drove toward the hotel for the briefing, the collective's background processes cycled through the morning's events, cataloging risks and outcomes. The patrol encounter was a blemish, but a manageable one. The transmitter was installed and invisible. The receiver was operational and secure. The channel was live.
And beneath all of it, threading through the tactical assessments and the operational planning, Yaaf's thoughts returned to where they always returned when there were no more pressing issues to address.
Sullha.
He needed to see her again, preferably today. The communication device changed the pace of everything, and now that they had a direct line to the clan's strategist, the operational plan would start taking shape.
Decisions would need to be made about how many women they could realistically extract. Names would need to be attached to those decisions, and Sullha's name needed to be at the top of the list.
But that wasn't why he wanted to see her.
He wanted to see her because when he was with her, the part of him that was still Yaaf surfaced, and the silence that usually filled the space between his individual thoughts and the collective's hum was replaced by something warmer that belonged just to him.
27
SULLHA
