Blink: Leviathan (Book 2)

08

Darien couldn't blot out the surge of apprehension he always felt when other operatives Blinked out of existence. Even with all his knowledge and experience there was still a tiny part of him that found the whole business just a little bit strange. Amber and the precision Blinkers from Tundra and Vandal stepped out into the middle of the room, giving each other a wide berth out of habit more than necessity.

He remembered watching Amber do this all those months ago under far more dangerous circumstances, flinging herself into the unknown, billions of miles into the ether because she'd chosen to. She was one of the bravest people he'd ever met, and in an organisation like Blink she had some stiff competition. She caught his eye and flashed a reassuring smile before turning and readying herself for the Blink. By Amber's standards this was a cake walk – a few thousand meters, clearly defined with every distance mapped and locked. He could probably have done it himself, but he trusted Amber explicitly. She had a gift. She could Blink more effectively than anyone he'd ever known.

The boy from Tundra disappeared first, his body vanishing from sight and leaving behind a strangely distorted area of empty space, still catching up with the fact that he was no longer there. Amber went second, then the Vandal operative. Silence hung in the air and he could see the dumbstruck faces of several of the bridge crew. Most of them had probably never seen someone Blink travel before. Tyndall was hiding his surprise, but the way he stared hard at the empty spaces where the three teenagers had just been told Darien that he was impressed. Link, by contrast, made no secret of her amazement. Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened.

"That is one hell of a magic trick," she murmured.

Darien didn't answer. He waited, foot tapping involuntarily against the deck plating as seconds trundled by; waited for the tingle that would tell him Amber was safe. He caught Niamh's eye but his second-in-command stayed impassive, quietly confident. He wished he could lock up his emotions quite so easily.

Then he felt it, the small warm twinge in base of this neck and the sense of connection. He could suddenly feel every inch of space between himself and the Nav-Rod – orient himself to arrive anywhere around it. The distances, the spaces, they were handed to him by the technological miracle. Relief trickled through him and he nodded to himself. It was time to go to work. He looked at the other Hammerhead operatives first.

"Everybody locked on the signal?" he asked.

An enthusiastic buzz of agreement told him that everyone under his command was ready to go. He cast his eyes over Vass and Mina.

"We're all set," Mina told him.

Vass grinned maniacally. "Rock'n'roll."

"Listen up," Darien declared, raising his voice. "All teams check in once all operatives have safely arrived at their locations. From there we proceed on mission. Radio check-ins every thirty minutes unless I tell you otherwise. Be safe, everyone."

The rest of the Blink operatives spread out around the room in a large circle. Darien hugged his carbine crossways over his chest and swallowed a deep breath. Then he let his mind descend into the trace-like state that Blink travel required, and made it happen with a single thought. He felt a brief moment of absence – of not quite existing at all – before his body returned to the physical world.

His feet struck the ground, generating the faint clack of hard soles on stone instead of the metallic thunk of the submarine's deck plating. In a single, smooth motion he opened his eyes and his body uncoiled like a spring. He locked his carbine against his shoulder, flicked the switch of the mounted torch, and scanned the area immediately around him.