Chapter Two
‘Your report, service patrol.’ Laylene’s voice was crisp, but the scratchy static of the comms pillar gave it a husky tone, as if she was whispering at them. Service junior Milo, who was in his first year of duty, had never heard any better feed from the pillars. His patrol mate, elderly Hallen, shook his head at the sound. Milo raised his brows. The old fellow was always complaining that everything worked better before the aftershock. The PPA, the post-post-aftershock, that had happened over two decades ago, before Milo had even been an egg, was the one Hallen referred to, as if Milo could possibly care. He was tired of hearing about it. He was tired of Hallen saying how bad all the comms were now, and bored with Hallen’s annoyingly formal language. He only wished that he had
