| |
TARA LINDHOLM OPENED her office door at the Surveillance Monitoring Division, ready to begin her daily shift. She slid into her leather chair, taking cautious sips of her steaming latte. More than a week had passed, and yet the majority of her viewscreens remained blank.
Repairs would have to wait. First priority was reserved for the as-yet-unresolved damage on the lower maintenance level and the desolate husk that was once the Citadel.
The Anodyne Initiative had been placed on hold, pending the outcome of a fierce and protracted debate in the recently appointed Council of the Enclave. The new Councilors, it appeared, were eager to flex their muscles and test the limits of their political clout.
Truth be told, her job had become much less complicated, with so few functioning surveillance cameras relaying data to her station. She hadn’t seen or heard a word from Darcy—or any of his associates—since the night the Citadel was destroyed.
No more of Darcy’s high-handed demands—Tara had no complaints. The peace and quiet was a welcome change.
She kept one screen tuned to the Infomedia to alleviate the boredom. It caught her attention now, displaying a dramatic aerial view of the Citadel’s still-smoldering ruins.
The scene shifted to a somber-faced reporter, microphone in hand, as he intoned his report for the masses.
“Oh, this ought to be good.” Tara stretched, reaching over to increase the volume. She settled into her chair with a cynical smile, cradling her drink. “What new conspiracy theories are the authorities peddling today?”
It would be entertaining, of that much she was sure.
And people will believe just about anything, if they see it on the Infomedia.