{"id":2588,"date":"2013-04-06T11:05:18","date_gmt":"2013-04-06T16:05:18","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/?page_id=2588"},"modified":"2013-04-06T11:05:18","modified_gmt":"2013-04-06T16:05:18","slug":"blind-sight","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/samples\/blind-sight\/","title":{"rendered":"Blind Sight"},"content":{"rendered":"

Welcome to the preview sample of my work in progress – Blind Sight<\/em><\/strong>.<\/p>\n

\"Blind<\/a><\/p>\n

I’d like to thank my nephew<\/a> for his outstanding work on the proposed cover.<\/h4>\n

Chapter 1. \u00a0Recapture.<\/h2>\n

I. \u00a0Monitor Station Delta.<\/h3>\n

Timeline: 2:16am, Thursday, February 24th.<\/h6>\n

\u201cWhat in hell is that?\u201d<\/p>\n

Henderson frowned as he lifted his gaze from his paperwork \u2013 coming from Mitchell, those were strong words.\u00a0 His eyes narrowed as they flicked to the radar monitor in front Mitchell \u2013 it showed a completely unfamiliar pattern.\u00a0 \u201cThat isn\u2019t a radar pattern, what\u2019s it supposed to be?\u201d he asked, as he stood and moved to the specialist\u2019s back.<\/p>\n

Mitchell shook his head, \u201cThat\u2019s just the point \u2013 it\u2019s not supposed to be anything!\u00a0 Well, maybe some static \u2013 but certainly not a resolvable image.\u00a0 I\u2019m getting it from the satellite we lost three days ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

Henderson nodded absently.\u00a0 Heads would roll over that incident \u2013 the Navy didn\u2019t take kindly to losing billions of dollars\u2019 worth of advanced, highly secret technology.\u00a0 He chuckled, \u201cYeah.\u00a0 Soon as the brass can find a scapegoat, someone is going to wish they never enlisted.\u00a0 Far as I\u2019m aware they still haven\u2019t let State know that bird has flown the coop, so to speak.\u201d\u00a0 He smiled at the irony in his words as Mitchell keyed in a command, transferring the image from his integrated radio display to the high-resolution overhead.<\/p>\n

The hi-res picture sharpened, eliciting a sharply indrawn breath from Henderson as it came into focus.\u00a0 Shock evident in his voice, he exclaimed, \u201cWhat the hell did you just do?\u201d<\/p>\n

Typing a rapid series of unintelligible instructions, Mitchell glanced at Henderson.\u00a0 Frowning, he turned his full attention back to the monitor and his keyboard, \u201cJust my job \u2013 getting the best possible image I can.\u00a0 What do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

Shoulders tense, Henderson straightened as he took a step back, hand moving to the pistol on his belt.\u00a0 As the 1911 .45 came free of its holster, he raised it, aiming its unwavering barrel at the back of Mitchell\u2019s lowered head.\u00a0 He spoke in a low growl, \u201cAnd just how the fuck are you sending commands to a satellite we lost control of three days ago?\u201d<\/p>\n

The click of the pistol\u2019s safety disengaging served as emphasis.<\/p>\n

Mitchell froze.<\/p>\n

After a moment\u2019s silence, Mitchell muttered, \u201cDamnit, Bill.\u00a0 You nearly made me piss my pants.\u00a0 Good point.\u00a0 Truth is, I didn\u2019t even think about it \u2013 soon as I saw the first image I started standard resolution enhancement protocols.\u00a0 But she\u2019s talking to me, and doing everything I ask her.\u201d<\/p>\n

A deep drawn breath, followed by a slow exhalation.<\/p>\n

Lifting his hands from the keyboard, Mitchell spread their open palms toward the monitor before adding, \u201cSo.\u00a0 You\u2019re the man with the gun \u2013 what do you want me to do?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pistol steady, Henderson glanced from his aim point on the back of Mitchell\u2019s head toward the display.\u00a0 Fine sweat beaded his brow as he stared at the object on screen.\u00a0 Before he could formulate a coherent answer, the image blurred and began moving out of center, prompting him to exclaim, \u201cWe\u2019re losing it!\u00a0 Get it back in focus and track it!\u201d<\/p>\n

Mitchell sighed in relief as his hands flew to the keyboard to type a frantic series of commands.\u00a0 Gradually, over the next ten minutes, the image focused \u2013 slowly centering on the display as it did.\u00a0 Both men were soaked in sweat by the time the object was once more in clear contrast, perfectly centered on screen.<\/p>\n

Taking his hands from the keyboard, Mitchell clenched and released his fingers as he stared intently at the screen.\u00a0 The object remained centered, and in sharp focus.<\/p>\n

Mitchell\u2019s shoulders stiffened at the click of the 1911\u2019s safety engaging \u2013 they relaxed at the sound of the pistol slipping back into its holster.\u00a0 Careful to hold his hands open and visible, palms outward, he slowly swiveled his chair to face Henderson.\u00a0 On meeting his partner\u2019s eyes, he murmured, \u201cShe\u2019s tracking it now \u2013 without need of my input.\u00a0 So\u2026 maybe we can relax and figure this out?\u201d<\/p>\n

Using his gun hand to show confidence he didn\u2019t feel, Henderson lifted it from his pistol and wiped his brow.\u00a0 His palm came away wet.\u00a0 He grimaced in disgust as he wiped it off on his fatigues, \u201cMaybe we can relax?\u00a0 After what we just did?\u00a0 Mike, you always were a funny fucker\u2026\u201d\u00a0 A rueful chuckle, \u201cWe better get our stories straight, or we\u2019re done in the navy.\u00a0 Fuck it man, if we don\u2019t get our shit together we\u2019ll probably never see the outside of the brig at Guantanamo.\u00a0 You want to be a short-timer?\u00a0 Better get ready to kiss civilian life goodbye \u2013 forever.\u201d<\/p>\n

A momentary frown, as realization of the truth in Henderson\u2019s words dawned, before Mitchell answered, \u201cCall it in, Bill \u2013 and keep it to exactly what happened.\u00a0 You tell it precisely as you saw it, I\u2019ll do the same.\u00a0 They can\u2019t break the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n

Henderson snorted in derision, shook his head and muttered, \u201cBut they can bend it pretty damn far\u2026\u201d\u00a0 A deep breath for resolve, a stretch, and he held the microphone in his hand.<\/p>\n

At a firm nod of encouragement from Mitchell, Henderson murmured, \u201cAlright, the precise truth then, exactly as I saw it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Squeezing transmit, voice slow, steady, and sure, Henderson said, \u201cMonitor Central, this is Monitor Station Delta. \u00a0Chief Petty Officer Henderson here.\u00a0 Put the CO actual on \u2013 priority Tango Zulu.\u00a0 I say again \u2013 priority Tango Zulu, over.\u201d<\/p>\n

A hiss of static, as Henderson released the microphone\u2019s lever, followed by a few seconds of silence before the disembodied voice of the distant operator, which he recognized as Lt. Carter, \u201cPriority Tango Zulu acknowledged Mike Sierra Delta.\u00a0 Standby.\u201d<\/p>\n

Turning to Mitchell, Henderson shook his head slowly before saying, \u201cAnd now we wait\u2026\u00a0 Better write your report, Mike.\u00a0 Do it while this shit is still fresh in our minds.\u201d\u00a0 A pause, as he passed a fresh notepad toward the specialist. \u00a0\u201cI\u2019m doing my first draft on paper, at least I can burn that if I screw it up\u2026\u00a0 I can\u2019t burn the fucking computers, and we both know they\u2019ll be taking them ASAP.\u201d<\/p>\n

After initial refusal, Mitchell took the notepad, picked up a pencil and tried to hide the shaking of his hand by pressing the pencil firmly into the paper as he began writing.<\/p>\n

<<<\u20130\u2013>>><\/p>\n

II. \u00a0Early Warning.<\/h3>\n

Timeline: 2:34am, Thursday, February 24th.<\/h6>\n

Though Ensign Moore suspected this was just another hazing ritual, he burst out the hatchway to Monitor Central and sprinted down the narrow passageway abutting it.<\/p>\n

Two weeks into his first assignment and this was the first exciting thing that had happened \u2013 if it wasn\u2019t another joke.\u00a0 At first he couldn\u2019t believe his luck \u2013 three other graduates from the Naval Academy had tried for OBIT-TP, but he\u2019d won the plum post.\u00a0 The\u00a0 Orbital Ballistic Identification Tracking and Telemetry Platform\u2026 \u00a0A typical DARPA acronym, for a game changing idea.\u00a0 The idea of a global monitoring system capable of identifying and tracking in-flight missiles wasn\u2019t new \u2013 multiple attempts had already been made.\u00a0 All had failed.\u00a0 But after reading the science behind OBIT-TP, he truly believed it would work.<\/p>\n

Perhaps his enthusiasm had been the clincher in him winning the post.<\/p>\n

His enthusiasm\u2026 something everyone seemed keen to take advantage of by sending him on multiple, increasingly ridiculous tasks.\u00a0 Surely this couldn\u2019t be another?\u00a0 That bitch, Lieutenant Carter, had been adamant she couldn\u2019t simply call a priority Tango Zulu for a highly classified program, \u201cNot over the intercom into the Captain\u2019s personal quarters<\/em>\u201d, had been her words, delivered with her usual haughty, disapproving glare. \u00a0Yeah, Jacqueline looked red rot, but her words were like a pool of ice.\u00a0 Instead, she\u2019d insisted he run, claiming the two warrant officers were needed to man communications, \u201cin case anything else came up\u2026\u201d.\u00a0 The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed, but if Carter thought he\u2019d take the chance of treating a TZ as something less urgent than life and death\u2026 well, she\u2019d soon learn not to screw with him.\u00a0 She\u2019d laugh through the other side of her face when the CO tore a hole in it.<\/p>\n

A grim smile curved Moore\u2019s lips.\u00a0 He already knew the old man was more than his reputation \u2013 far more.\u00a0 Nope, the CO wouldn\u2019t kill the messenger \u2013 as Carter obviously hoped.\u00a0 He\u2019d listen to the message and treat it with appropriate urgency, while somehow managing to remain in control and unruffled.<\/p>\n

Could the CO be in on the prank?\u00a0 That thought slowed Moore\u2019s frantic feet for a few paces before the Ensign cast it aside and accelerated, almost knocking over a midshipman as he bolted around a tight corner.<\/p>\n

By the time Moore reached the Captain\u2019s quarters he was breathing hard.\u00a0 He didn\u2019t hesitate, just rapped urgently on the gray steel hatchway.<\/p>\n

Silence fell at the sound.<\/p>\n

Although he turned his ear toward the sealed door, Moore heard nothing.\u00a0 After counting to ten, he lifted his hand to knock again \u2013 halting it as the heavy steel door creaked open to reveal Captain Durn, resplendent in a threadbare navy issue blue bathrobe.<\/p>\n

Captain Durn\u2019s slight frown gave Moore pause.\u00a0 Drawing a quick breath to cover his hesitation, the Ensign saluted and said, \u201cGood Morning, Sir!\u00a0 Pardon the intrusion, Sir, but Monitor Central just received a priority Tango Zulu.\u00a0 The Duty Officer sent me down to alert you, Sir!\u201d<\/p>\n

Moore snapped his mouth shut as he finished, best the old man knew exactly whose idea of a joke this was \u2013 if it was a joke, which he suddenly doubted.\u00a0 The icy ball forming in his gut wasn\u2019t at all comforting, its cold reached his lips and pressed them into a thin, bloodless line.<\/p>\n

Seeing the Ensign\u2019s distress, Captain Durn smoothed his face, allowing a faint smile to reach his lips.\u00a0 For some reason people under his command seemed to find this reassuring.\u00a0 Nodding, as though two am intrusions were quite normal, he said, \u201cWait there, Ensign\u201d, turned on his heel and strode toward his spartan wardrobe.\u00a0 In less than two minutes he had donned a crisp khaki shirt, pants and the matching cap \u2013 though his dress whites were equally ready to hand, the khaki\u2019s lent reality to the situation.\u00a0 Another minute and he tied the laces on fresh polished shoes \u2013 a double bow, as he always used.<\/p>\n

Still breathing deep, mind racing as he considered the ever increasing possibility this was a genuine emergency, Moore was startled at how fast the CO reappeared.\u00a0 Stepping back and aside, he cleared the doorway and followed two paces behind as Captain Durn strode down the hallway he had so recently raced.\u00a0 As they approached the first corner, Moore boomed, \u201cClear the hall, Captain on deck!\u201d<\/p>\n

Captain Durn suppressed a smile at the Ensign\u2019s almost hysterical shout.\u00a0 Stepping around the corner, and finding the looming passageway clear, he glanced back at the Ensign and said, \u201cNo need for that, I don\u2019t stand on ceremony much\u2026 least when there are no Admirals about.\u201d\u00a0 A chuckle, and he added, \u201cEnsign Moore isn\u2019t it?\u00a0 So, where did the Tango Zulu originate?\u201d<\/p>\n

Startled, and pleased the Captain knew him by name, Moore swallowed hard as his mind raced.\u00a0 He had been so sure this was some stupid joke, he had barely paid any attention to the message.\u00a0 Concentrating, he nodded as recollection came, \u201cMonitor Station Delta, Sir.\u00a0 I believe it was called in by a Chief Petty Officer Henderson?\u201d<\/p>\n

To Moore\u2019s amazement, Captain Durn slowed at mention of the name.\u00a0 The CO\u2019s hesitation lasted barely a pace.\u00a0 Silence ensued as they marched down the passageway, a silence broken only by the sound of their heels striking the painted floor in perfect sync.<\/p>\n

Having gathered his thoughts, Captain Durn waited until they turned the next corner.\u00a0 It revealed another long, empty hallway.\u00a0 Pitching his voice low, he murmured, \u201cTZ\u2019s are serious business, Ensign.\u00a0 They may be only informational, but there are virtually no circumstances in which they\u2019re justified.\u00a0 Frankly, that Henderson called it in lends this one even more weight.\u00a0 I don\u2019t need to tell you this, but this matter does not pass your lips again, understand?\u201d<\/p>\n

A snappy salute and an affirmative grunt assured Durn that Moore realized this.\u00a0 If the Ensign had not taken this seriously till now\u2026 well, that had just changed.<\/p>\n

Facing forward once more, Durn increased his pace.\u00a0 He really ought to put a complete stop to the hazing of new officers and enlisted men.\u00a0 Generally in good nature, the light hearted pranks served well to break the ice, while clearly revealing the lines of established authority \u2013 something crucial in any military organization.\u00a0 Yet, when young officers thought a TZ could be a prank, as Moore clearly had\u2026 well, that was downright dangerous.<\/p>\n

Things would have to change.<\/p>\n

Too bad, more time-tested traditions abandoned in the face of progress.<\/p>\n

<<<\u20130\u2013>>><\/p>\n

III. \u00a0SAP COIN.<\/h3>\n
Timeline: 2:34am, Thursday, February 24th.<\/h6>\n

When Sergeant Venter reached out to shake his dozing supervisor, he elicited a mumbled curse.<\/p>\n

Lieutenant Coots sat up, wiped his eyes, glanced at the digital GPS clock and said, \u201cTwo thirty?\u00a0 I hate the graveyard shift \u2013 plays hell with my sex life.\u00a0 OK, what is it Sergeant?\u201d<\/p>\n

Venter glanced at his jotted notes before saying, \u201cSorry sir.\u00a0 I just intercepted something from that US outpost in Lesotho.\u00a0 Kind of unusual for them to be transmitting at this hour, but that isn\u2019t why I woke you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Coots sat bolt upright as he interjected, \u201cFuck it!\u00a0 How many bloody times must I tell you I\u2019m not sleeping!\u00a0 I think better with my eyes closed.\u201d\u00a0 Leaning toward the Sergeant, he deliberately crumpled a wad of paper near the radio console as he hissed, \u201cEverything in here is recorded you fucking arsehole, wake up or you\u2019ll be in Namibia before you can spit.\u201d<\/p>\n

Venter braced to attention, \u201cYes Sir!\u00a0 I meant disturb you, Sir! \u00a0I know you weren\u2019t asleep…\u201d<\/p>\n

Coots shook his head, the anger in his eyes in silencing Venter.\u00a0 After a deep, calming breath he threw down the crumpled ball of paper in disgust and said, \u201cWhich part of that transmission didn\u2019t you understand Sergeant?\u201d\u00a0 Reaching out, he snatched the Sergeant\u2019s notepad and read Venter\u2019s hand-written notes, eyes narrowed in concentration.\u00a0 As soon as he finished, he handed the notepad back to Venter, mouthed a silent curse and said, \u201cWell?\u201d<\/p>\n

Venter immediately said, \u201cI\u2019m not up on US priority codes, sir.\u00a0 What is a \u2018Tango Zulu<\/em>\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

Coots nodded in relief Venter hadn\u2019t said something stupid like \u2018It\u2019s right there on the transcript you just read.\u2019\u00a0 Venter was new to the South African Police, gaining the rank of Sergeant by virtue of his education \u2013 not the usual hard slog through the ranks.\u00a0 Meeting Venter\u2019s eye, he said, \u201cDon\u2019t worry about it, Sergeant.\u00a0 You\u2019ve only been in Counter Intelligence a short while, and God alone knows how hard it is to get up to steam with our own acronyms, let alone those of other nations.\u00a0 A \u2018Tango Zulu\u2019 is a US Navy priority code.\u201d\u00a0 After chuckling, he added, \u201cThey\u2019d probably crap themselves if they knew we knew that.\u00a0 Since they\u2019ve got different coding systems for Navy, Army and Airforce we\u2019ve just gleaned a valuable bit of Intel \u2013 that listening post is US Navy.\u201d<\/p>\n

After nodding agreement, Venter said, \u201cCan you believe the dumbarse actually gave his rank and name instead of just his call-sign?\u201d<\/p>\n

Smiling, Coots mouthed, \u201cGood man\u201d, before saying, \u201cYa, that is kind of strange.\u00a0 Anyway, a Tango Zulu is a high priority code.\u00a0 Unusually, for the yanks, it actually means something.\u00a0 In civvie, TZ is an acronym for Time Zone \u2013 the US Navy uses it to indicate an important informational message affecting all time zones.\u00a0 In other words, it\u2019s a high priority global alert.\u201d<\/p>\n

Coots stopped smiling as he spoke.<\/p>\n

After shaking his head, he frowned and said, \u201cGood catch Sergeant, I\u2019m going to commend you for that.\u00a0 You know what\u2026 play the recording back \u2013 there\u2019s something else in it that troubles me, but I can\u2019t quite put my finger on it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hand already on his mouse and clicking the Instant Replay icon,\u00a0 Venter said, \u201cGood idea, Sir.\u00a0 Now that you mention it \u2013 something is off, hearing it again will definitely help.\u201d\u00a0 His mouse flicked through the multiple channels being recorded, quickly finding the pertinent one.\u00a0 With a nod of satisfaction, he said, \u201cOK, here it is.\u201d<\/p>\n

A mouse click, and the exceptional quality of a truly high end digital recorder filled the sound proofed operation center.\u00a0 The transmission played back, complete with every bit of static interference, tonal voice change, along with opening and closing microphone crackles.<\/p>\n

Henderson\u2019s voice filled the room, as clearly audible as if he was in the room, \u201cMonitor Central, this is Monitor Station Delta.\u00a0 Chief Petty Officer Henderson here.\u00a0 Put the CO actual on \u2013 priority Tango Zulu.\u00a0 I say again \u2013 priority Tango Zulu. Over.\u201d\u00a0 A few seconds of dead air, then an unidentified, calm, feminine voice sounded in response, \u201cPriority Tango Zulu acknowledged, Mike Sierra Delta. \u00a0Standby.\u201d<\/p>\n

Coots nodded, and said, \u201cAgain.\u00a0 Higher volume, suppress other background.\u201d<\/p>\n

Venter did as instructed, silencing all other radio channels before replaying the clip.<\/p>\n

After listening carefully, head leaning to one side in concentration, Coots turned to Venter and said, \u201cDivert the aerial drone monitoring the Lesotho border to Thabana Ntlenyana.\u00a0 Immediately.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOn it, Sir!\u201d said Venter as he complied, typing a rapid series of commands into his console. \u00a0Smiling, he turned to Coots, \u201cDrone commandeered and redirected at zero two forty six, Sir!\u00a0 ETA on target is twenty-two minutes \u2013 that border post can\u2019t be more than twenty clicks from the US base.\u201d<\/p>\n

Impressed by the speed with which Venter had accomplished the not insignificant task of appropriating control over another SAP division\u2019s asset, Coots nodded, \u201cLock its laser acoustics, along with its cameras on the US camp.\u00a0 Oh, better invoke redirection override \u2013 do it on my authority, we don\u2019t want some dipshit snatching control back\u2026\u201d\u00a0 A sigh, and he continued, \u201cHow anyone can think deploying a half million rand machine to monitor a ten rand pot smuggling ring makes any kind of sense, I just don\u2019t know.\u201d\u00a0 A harsh laugh, and he added, \u201cNot that there\u2019s much chance of that \u2013 those dope-heads in Contraband are probably all stoned right now, if they\u2019re even awake.\u201d<\/p>\n

After typing a few commands, Venter turned a face that was suddenly visibly pale, even in the radio room\u2019s dim light, toward Coots.\u00a0 After carefully placing his back to the bugged radio console, he murmured, \u201cFuck!\u00a0 I just stole control of a drone allocated to one Colonel Mapuranga.\u00a0 Hope you know what you\u2019re doing, sir \u2013 Mapuranga is the brother-in-law to the Minister of Home Affairs.\u201d<\/p>\n

After a moment\u2019s hesitation, Venter turned his head and spoke toward the console, voice at normal volume, \u201cI need you to type in your passcode here, Sir.\u201d \u00a0Turning his head back toward Coots, voice lowered to an almost inaudible murmur, \u201cIf you still want to do this.\u201d<\/p>\n

When Coots hesitated, Venter murmured, \u201cI can put the drone back on its last station, sir.\u00a0 Doubt anyone will even know we borrowed it.\u201d<\/p>\n

After a nervous chuckle, Coots shook his head and said, \u201cWhat the hell\u2026\u201d\u00a0 Standing up, he moved to the console, masked the keyboard with his body and typed a very long password.\u00a0 Returning to his seat, he looked at Venter, laughed aloud, and said, \u201cBet you never thought a Lieutenant\u2019s authority could completely override a Colonel\u2019s.\u00a0 You chose the right division in SAP, Sergeant \u2013 in Counter Intelligence, we can do pretty much anything we damn well please.\u00a0 With appropriate justification, of course\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Coots spoke the last directly toward the radio console, enunciating each word with care.<\/p>\n

After shaking his head, Coots smiled in satisfaction.\u00a0 This particular graveyard shift might turn out better than sex after all, it was certainly a damn sight more exciting than watching his pudgy wife undress for bed.\u00a0 Turning to Venter, he said, \u201cBe ready for their next transmission Sergeant \u2013 I\u00a0 want it triangulated, might as well know exactly who they\u2019re talking too.\u00a0 Oh, and pipe the drone\u2019s audio feed back to us \u2013 live.\u00a0 Start it right now.\u00a0 Ya, I know it\u2019ll sound like crap till it acquires target and resolves, but we don\u2019t know how long we have till they\u2019re on air again.\u201d<\/p>\n

A few typed commands from Venter, and the discordant cacophony of a shrieking wind, overlaid with a disturbing hiss, boomed into the room.<\/p>\n

Both men instinctively covered their ears.<\/p>\n

Sheepish, Venter grimaced as he dialed the volume all the way down.<\/p>\n

Pinching his nose, Coots blew hard to clear his ears before saying, \u201cOK Sergeant, time to prove your worth.\u00a0 Start working on a filter to reduce the wind noise.\u00a0 I\u2019ve been through Sani Pass, and I can tell you that bloody noise we just heard never stops.\u00a0 I don\u2019t want anything masked from the recording, we can\u2019t risk losing data \u2013 but I do want it reduced in the audio stream we\u2019re listening to.\u201d<\/p>\n

Venter typed for a few moments, lifted his hand from the keyboard as though at the end of a final exam, and said, \u201cDone!\u201d<\/p>\n

Disbelieving, Coots reached over and cranked the volume back up, face contorting in anticipation of the wind\u2019s wail.\u00a0\u00a0 It was gone, though a faint hiss remained.\u00a0 Newfound respect filled his eyes as he turned them to Venter, exclaiming, \u201cOngefokinglooflik, that is impressive!\u00a0 Maybe there is something to be said for your fancy overseas education after all\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Venter chuckled appreciatively, \u201cOverseas education my arse, meneer \u2013 I went to Wits.\u00a0 It\u2019s just as good, if not better \u2013 to say nothing of a damn sight cheaper.\u201d\u00a0 A confident smile, then he added, \u201cWant me to mask the hiss as well, sir?\u201d<\/p>\n

Coots considered this for only a moment before saying, \u201cNah, I want to know when to start paying attention.\u00a0 Get the visuals on our overhead, and overlay the channel their transmission came on over our audio \u2013 just in case they don\u2019t encode.\u201d<\/p>\n

After complying with the command, Venter turned the volume down and said, \u201cPardon me for asking, Sir \u2013 but what changed your mind about this incident?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pleased Venter had phrased the question in a fashion that covered his earlier inattention, Coots smiled as he responded, \u201cThere were three things I didn\u2019t really notice during the actual transmission.\u201d\u00a0 Grinning wide, he lay his head on his hand, drooped his eyelids and feigned snoring before continuing, \u201cFirst, the tone of that bugger Henderson\u2019s voice.\u00a0 Until we played the recording back through quality acoustics, and at a decent volume, I didn\u2019t notice the fear in it.\u00a0 Whatever this is about, it has him shit-scared.\u00a0 That\u2019s got to mean something \u2013 they may just be bloody yanks, but they\u2019re serious soldiers.\u201d<\/p>\n

Venter nodded agreement, adjusting the volume and fine tuning the image on the overhead as he did.<\/p>\n

\u201cSecond, Henderson said \u2018CO, Actual.\u2019\u00a0 Now, I don\u2019t know about you Sergeant, but there is no way I\u2019ll risk waking up the Brigadier \u2013 unless I\u2019m damn sure I have really important news.\u00a0 This might be serious for the yanks, but it\u2019s still not serious enough for me to take that risk.\u00a0 I\u2019ve been to northern Namibia \u2013 trust me, it\u2019s not a fun place.\u201d<\/p>\n

Again, Venter nodded agreement.<\/p>\n

\u201cThird, the operator who acknowledged the transmission seemed kind of bored.\u00a0 That, and the fact they transmitted in clear is probably what threw me off first time around.\u201d\u00a0 Grinning broad, Coots shook his head as he repeated the motions of a mime emulating sleep.<\/p>\n

Venter smiled acknowledgement, then dutifully said, \u201cI don\u2019t understand, sir?\u201d<\/p>\n

Face serious, Coots said, \u201cThink about it \u2013 the responding operator has no reason to feel fear because she doesn\u2019t know how serious this is.\u00a0 She probably thinks it\u2019s some scripted exercise \u2013 like I did until I heard the fear in Henderson\u2019s voice. \u00a0Henderson obviously knows this goes way beyond a mere Duty Officer, who is probably just some poor lowbie stuck with graveyard \u2013 just like me.\u00a0 That\u2019s why Henderson wants the actual CO.\u00a0 Which brings us to the million rand question\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

After frowning, Venter shook his head, shrugged and said, \u201cGuess you\u2019ve got me again, sir.\u00a0 What\u2019s the million rand question?\u201d<\/p>\n

Though Coots smiled, it never carried to his eyes, \u201cWhat could possibly happen in Lesotho that warrants a high priority global alert for the US Navy?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pursing his lips, Coots frowned as he considered his own question.<\/p>\n

About thirty seconds passed in relative silence, broken only by the low hiss from the aerial drone\u2019s audio stream.\u00a0 The image on the overhead display remained indistinct, yet somehow conveyed motion.<\/p>\n

Venter typed into his console, causing the image to resolve into the heat signatures indicative of infra-red optics.<\/p>\n

After glancing at the shifting pattern of reds, blacks and greens, Coots said, \u201cAnd precisely what is the bloody US Navy doing perched on top of the tallest mountain in southern Africa?\u201d<\/p>\n

<<<-0->>><\/p>\n

Chapter 2. \u00a0Business, Objects & ID.<\/h2>\n

I. \u00a0Investments.<\/h3>\n

Timeline: 7:45pm, Wednesday, February 23rd.<\/h6>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not going to tell you again \u2013 everything\u2019s going precisely to plan!\u201d\u00a0 Admiral Fairchild made no attempt to mask the exasperation in his voice.\u00a0 \u201cJust keep your mouth shut, and keep pressuring your tech teams to search harder.\u00a0 Increase their workload \u2013 the more tired they are, the less chance of them figuring this out.\u201d<\/p>\n

The voice on the other end of the mobile call took on a sulky tone, \u201cI won\u2019t let up\u2026 the overtime is insane, but I\u2019ve authorized it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Fairchild\u2019s voice became dangerously quiet as anger flared, , \u201cIs that what this is really about?\u00a0 A few thousand dollars in overtime \u2013 when we\u2019ve already made millions?\u201d<\/p>\n

After a long silence, the answer came back, \u201cIf I believed this was necessary, I wouldn\u2019t care \u2013 but the science team really think she\u2019ll work.\u201d<\/p>\n

Voice harsh, Fairfield interrupted, \u201cI don\u2019t give a shit what they think!\u00a0 Half of those airheads can\u2019t hit the urinal when they take a piss!\u00a0\u00a0 You expect me to feel confident they can target a missile travelling at Mach twenty, on their first try?\u00a0 Are you willing to gamble fifty million on that chance?\u00a0 Because I SURE AS HELL AIN\u2019T!\u201d<\/p>\n

Fairfield\u2019s jaw clenched as he fought for control.\u00a0 When no reply came, he breathed out.\u00a0 Voice a studied calm, he continued, \u201cAnd don\u2019t forget that\u2019s just the first of seven installments.\u00a0 No \u2013 make that eight\u2026 we\u2019ll need to replace the one our good Captain has just lost thanks to his gross negligence.\u201d\u00a0 The last was said with conviction, in rehearsal for his coming presentation before the Joint Chiefs.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re right, Admiral.\u00a0 Of course.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIncrease the pressure on your staff, and stop worrying about nickels and dimes.\u00a0 Now you\u2019ll have to excuse me, I\u2019m almost at my meeting\u201d.\u00a0 With a decisive tap, Fairchild disconnected the call.<\/p>\n

Over an hour remained before his meeting, but he had more important things to do than calm the fears of drastically over paid fools.\u00a0 Perhaps he\u2019d been harsher than usual, but the further along this project got, the more disproportionate his risk became.\u00a0 He had made the decision to scuttle the first satellite on his own, based largely on Durn\u2019s warnings.\u00a0 Regardless of his opinion of the man, Durn was a fine officer, motivated by devotion more than power.\u00a0 Unfortunately, like so many not born into privilege, Durn was incapable of understanding how power could only maintained with capital, and lots of it.\u00a0 The higher Durn progressed, the more intractable he became \u2013 and the more dangerous.\u00a0 Durn had discreetly approached several other members of the Admiralty, stressing his concerns about the OBIT-TP project.\u00a0 Luckily, the good captain had made a fatal mistake \u2013 the personal secretary of one of those Admirals was from a family almost as old as the Fairchilds.\u00a0 At a chance gathering of Washington\u2019s elite, he\u2019d mentioned Durn\u2019s meeting \u2013 Durn\u2019s disloyalty had been the final straw.<\/p>\n

Fairfield smiled as he leant forward to lower the sound-proof partition, and instruct his chauffeur, \u201cGet me there at exactly nine forty-five.\u201d\u00a0 He raised the partition without waiting for acknowledgement.<\/p>\n

After unwrapping a His Majesty\u2019s Reserve, he clipped it and ran it beneath his nose, delighting in its aroma.\u00a0 Lighting the cigar took all his attention as he slowly rolled it, holding its tip well above the lighter\u2019s flame.\u00a0 By the time it glowed, most of the tension from his conversation had ebbed.\u00a0 Over the next twenty minutes, he would savor the cigar and unwind completely.<\/p>\n

This investment was finally paying off.<\/p>\n

<<<-0->>><\/p>\n

II. \u00a0Visual Acquisition.<\/h3>\n

Timeline: 2:49am, Thursday, February 24th.<\/h6>\n

The murmur of voices stilled the instant Captain Durn stepped into Monitor Central.\u00a0 Two paces behind, Ensign Moore spoke with a quiet assurance he had lacked not twenty minutes earlier, \u201cAttention! \u00a0Captain on deck!\u201d<\/p>\n

Granting barely enough time for the operation center\u2019s occupants to snap to attention, Captain Durn braced his arms in acknowledgement before saying, \u201cAt ease.\u00a0 Ensign close the hatch.\u00a0 Duty Officer, report please.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lieutenant Carter, the DO in charge, remained at attention while she waited for Moore to close and secure the doorway before delivering her report.\u00a0 \u201cWe received a priority Tango Zulu from Monitor Station Delta, Sir.\u00a0 MSD is our two man outpost in the Drakensburg mountains.\u00a0 Chief Petty Officer Henderson is on logistics, Chief Warrant Officer Mitchell is the monitoring specialist.\u00a0 I believe you know Henderson, Sir?\u00a0 He wants to talk to you \u2013 personally.\u00a0 Henderson explicitly asked for CO actual.\u00a0 They\u2019ve been instructed to standby.\u201d<\/p>\n

Durn glanced toward the door before fixing Lt. Carter with a steady gaze and asking, \u201cAnything else?\u201d<\/p>\n

Understanding the implied question immediately, Lt. Carter said, \u201cNo Sir.\u00a0 We received MSD\u2019s transmission at zero two thirty three.\u00a0 The time is now zero two fifty three.\u00a0 Everyone present and accounted for, Sir.\u201d\u00a0 She flicked her eyes briefly toward Ensign Moore as she spoke, turning them back to meet the Captain\u2019s as she finished speaking.<\/p>\n

Captain Durn nodded acknowledgement before walking toward the warrant officer manning the primary console.\u00a0 The sailor immediately slid his chair back and to the side, clearing space.\u00a0 With a small smile of gratitude Durn reached out, took the radio handset and raised it to his lips, \u201cMike Sierra Delta, this is Mike Charlie.\u00a0 Charlie Oscar actual here.\u00a0 Initiate crypt then report.\u00a0 Keep it brief.\u00a0 Over.\u201d<\/p>\n

For the next twenty seconds complete silence filled the room.<\/p>\n

A rapid series multi-frequency beeps issued from the radio, followed by a drawn out chirp and a second\u2019s silence.\u00a0 A crackle of static, and Henderson\u2019s voice filled the room, \u201cCrypt status confirmed.\u00a0 Good to hear you CO.\u00a0 We\u2019re in shit street, sir, and it\u2019s running deep.\u00a0 Don\u2019t know how he did it, but our specialist is getting data out of the bird we lost three days ago.\u00a0 \u00a0Confirm you know the one I mean. \u00a0Transmitting image data stream now.\u00a0 Over.\u201d<\/p>\n

A slight frown signaling his uncertainty, Captain Durn turned toward Lt. Carter.<\/p>\n

Lips pursing, Carter\u2019s eyes narrowed as she gazed into the middle distance.\u00a0 About twenty seconds passed before she drew a sharp breath.\u00a0 Stepping toward her CO, she held out her hand for the microphone, which he immediately relinquished. \u00a0Speaking slowly into the instrument, while looking into Captain Durn\u2019s eyes, she said, \u201cMike Sierra Delta, that\u2019s a negative.\u00a0 You can\u2019t mean the high bird?\u00a0 Over.\u201d<\/p>\n

A hiss of static as Henderson\u2019s voice again filled the room, \u201cThat\u2019s an affirmative.\u00a0 An affirmative with a capital Aye and a capital Eff, if you get my drift. \u00a0Standing by for CO actual.\u00a0 Over.\u201d<\/p>\n

Handing the microphone back to Durn, Carter lowered her gaze to the floor.\u00a0 She knew the relationship between the CO and Henderson was one of mutual respect, and that the conclusion she had already reached therefore called the Captain\u2019s judgment into question.\u00a0 Without raising her eyes, she said, \u201cHenderson\u2019s talking about the satellite we lost three days ago, Sir.\u00a0 All Monitor personnel have been through SAP for it, but that bird was only scheduled to come online in another week. \u00a0\u00a0The top brass is convinced it was hacked, though they don\u2019t know how, by whom, or for what purpose \u2013 yet.\u201d\u00a0 Troubled by knowledge Durn couldn\u2019t have, she covered her hesitation with a cough before adding, \u201cWhoever took control of our bird fired a retro to kick it onto its back.\u00a0 Then they shut it down\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

No one spoke.<\/p>\n

Knowing her next words were an accusation, Carter lifted her eyes to meet the Captain\u2019s, and added, \u201cThat pretty much turned a billion dollar instrument into a heap of worthless trash.\u00a0 In turn, that means suspicion is on some group seeking to hurt us \u2013 not steal our technology.\u00a0 Sorry Sir, but if Mitchell has somehow gained control of it\u2026 well, there\u2019s only one possible explanation.\u00a0 He\u2019s one of the radicals who hacked it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Captain Durn\u2019s brow furrowed as he evaluated the troubling words just delivered.\u00a0 Though Henderson was an ornery bastard, he was also an unquestionable patriot.\u00a0 Sure, Henderson had been overlooked for promotion and sent into the asshole of the world on a mission anyone could see was a career ender.\u00a0 But that was only in the eyes of people who didn\u2019t know Henderson.\u00a0 He knew Bill Henderson.\u00a0 He remembered Bill\u2019s smile of satisfaction as he shook his hand in farewell.\u00a0 Henderson had been only too happy to escape the political infighting and red tape that all too often choked a peacetime navy.\u00a0 That posting had been a blessing, not the curse his enemies thought they inflicted.\u00a0 Then, on top of his personal knowledge of the man, there was the phrasing Henderson had used in his transmission.\u00a0 A casual ear might well have missed the messages within it \u2013 he knew better.\u00a0 That, \u201cgood to hear you, CO\u201d\u2026 now that was bull if he\u2019d ever heard it.\u00a0 He\u2019d explicitly instructed Henderson to keep it brief… Bill wanted him to know he knew exactly who was talking.\u00a0 And the words, \u201cwe\u2019re in shit street\u201d\u2026, \u201cwe\u2019re\u201d not, \u201cI\u2019m\u201d. \u00a0Then, further emphasizing how he considered Mitchell, Henderson had described his partner as, \u201cour specialist\u201d, instead of simply using his name \u2013 that clearly indicated Mitchell remained part of the team.\u00a0 Apart from those clues, intended for all ears, Henderson\u2019s words had also held a special message.\u00a0 A special message intended for his ears only \u2013 the cryptic reference, \u201c\u2026an affirmative with a capital AYE and a capital EFF\u2026\u201d\u00a0 That Lt. Carter was exceptionally bright suddenly became cause for concern \u2013 if she picked up the obscure reference to Admiral Fairchild\u2026<\/p>\n

This introspection took Captain Durn less time than was needed to smooth his brow and settle his mouth into a grim line.<\/p>\n

Lt. Carter snapped back into attention as she watched Durn\u2019s eyes tighten.\u00a0 Seeing the Duty Officer\u2019s reaction galvanized the three other men to emulate her.\u00a0 Tension immediately filled the room.<\/p>\n

Drawing a breath through his nose, Durn shook his head and said, \u201cNot a chance, Lieutenant.\u00a0 Nope! \u00a0Chief Henderson is a Navy man to the core, and he needs our help.\u00a0 Correction, they need our help.\u00a0 You heard him acknowledge they\u2019re in shit street \u2013 they know they\u2019re now the top suspects in whatever investigation is underway.\u00a0 They could have kept quiet.\u00a0 Quite likely, no one would ever have known if they had.\u00a0 They didn\u2019t. \u00a0Instead of taking the easy way out by keeping their mouths shut, they put themselves in our crosshairs by calling it in.\u201d<\/p>\n

Turning slowly, Durn looked from person to person, briefly meeting the eyes of all four.\u00a0 Two officers, and two warrants.\u00a0 Good, solid sailors all, and totally trustworthy. \u00a0Well, Moore was largely an unknown, but he had scored top of his class at the academy, which meant something \u2013 though not as much as the SAP clearance the Ensign had already acquired and needed to even enter this particular operations center.<\/p>\n

Seeking to alleviate the growing tension, Durn growled , \u201cAnd we\u2019re damn well going to be here for them!\u00a0 Aren\u2019t we?\u201d<\/p>\n

Four voices immediately rang out, \u201cAye Sir!\u201d<\/p>\n

Durn let the corners of his mouth creep up in a faint smile as he nodded in satisfaction.\u00a0 At his change in demeanor the tension eased, slightly.\u00a0 Once more fixing his gaze on Ensign Moore, he said, \u201cGet on the blower to the mess and have them send up some decent chow.\u00a0 Don\u2019t take any crap from the mess commander, Ensign.\u00a0 Tell him I\u2019m in here, and I\u2019m in no mood for nonsense.\u201d<\/p>\n

At this, Moore blushed \u2013 the other three smiled.\u00a0 Lt. Carter, obviously the instigator of that particular prank, chuckled before stifling her laughter and fixing her suddenly intent concentration on the image forming on the small, integrated radio data display.<\/p>\n

Durn nodded to Moore, confirming his knowledge of the incident and indicating his sympathy.\u00a0 Turning to address Lt. Carter, he found her jaw hanging agape as she stared down at the small screen.\u00a0 Raising his voice, to ensure all could hear him clearly, he said, \u201cSorry Lieutenant Carter, but you\u2019re going to have to share the shitter with us men.\u00a0 No one will be leaving Monitor Central for any reason\u2026 not until I say so.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lt. Carter nodded absently.<\/p>\n

Turning from the display toward the Captain, voice unsure, she murmured, \u201cI think you\u2019d better come and look at this, Sir.\u00a0 If that object is what I think it is \u2013 we\u2019re all in shit street, not just Henderson and Mitchell.\u201d<\/p>\n

<<<-0->>><\/p>\n

III. \u00a0Obscured Visuals.<\/h3>\n

Timeline: 2:51am, Thursday, February 24th.<\/h6>\n

Turning to Coots, Venter said, \u201cGetting our first visuals now, sir.\u00a0 The drone is still clicks away, but its optics are really high end.\u00a0 We should get an audio lock in about ten minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n

The camera projected a strange multi-colored image onto the high resolution display.\u00a0 Coots picked up a laser pointer, turned it on, circled the middle structure with its red dot, and said, \u201cTime for a lesson in infra-red imagery, Sergeant.\u00a0 Damn!\u00a0 Doesn\u2019t that look like one shitty little outpost?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOne second, sir,\u201d said Venter as he typed into his console.\u00a0 The image on the overhead changed to show an aerial photo, obviously taken from high altitude.\u00a0 The picture revealed little.\u00a0 Several structures, made indistinguishable by camouflage netting, sat on a slope covered with scrubby mountain grass.\u00a0 Muttering, \u201cWell, that was a bust\u201d, Venter keyed another command.\u00a0 The display reverted to the infra-red image.<\/p>\n

Coots chuckled, \u201cI already checked our surveillance photos \u2013 that was the best we have.\u00a0 A strange position for an observation post, though it is well sheltered from wind.\u00a0 They\u2019re only a few hundred meters from the ridgeline, but what the hell could they be observing?\u201d\u00a0 After pausing to consider his question, he again highlighted the middle structure, \u201cThis is their op-center and living quarters combined.\u00a0 I recognize the thermals on it \u2013 it\u2019s a hi-tech, self-contained, pre-fabricated carbon fiber composite.\u00a0 Get the drone to focus on that building for our audio feed.\u00a0 Our laser audio works great on them \u2013 we\u2019ll be able to hear them fart.\u00a0 Doesn\u2019t look like much does it?\u201d<\/p>\n

Already concentrating on the commands needed to control the drone, Venter muttered something non-committal.<\/p>\n

\u201cDoesn\u2019t look like much, but you\u2019re looking at a hundred grand, US currency \u2013 and that\u2019s just for the shell.\u00a0 God alone knows what the gear inside is worth, but I\u2019m willing to bet it\u2019s a damn sight more than the shell.\u201d\u00a0 Coots flicked the pointer to a smaller, square structure alongside the first building, \u201cThat might be a supply building.\u00a0 No, hang on, it\u2019s got a weird thermal signature\u2026 might be batteries, or a generator?\u00a0 Anyway, some kind of electrical machinery.\u201d\u00a0 The pointer moved to three separate squares spaced evenly around the two central structures. \u00a0After circling two of them for emphasis, he said, \u201cResidual thermals on these two show they\u2019re solar panels, bloody big ones as well \u2013 they must have a lot of equipment to power.\u201d\u00a0 The pointer flicked to the third square, \u201cAnd that\u2026 that\u2019s probably a radar.\u00a0 Doesn\u2019t look like it\u2019s active, which is just as well\u2026 we don\u2019t want them detecting our drone.\u00a0 At first light, we can get some decent close-ups.\u00a0 So, what does this all mean, Sergeant?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLooks like a pretty standard listening post, sir.\u201d said Venter.<\/p>\n

Coots agreed, \u201cListening post sounds good, and that\u2019s what it looks like \u2013 but my gut says otherwise.\u00a0 Nothing I can point a finger…\u201d\u00a0 A crackle of static interrupted him, followed by an unrecognized voice, \u201cMike Sierra Delta, this is Mike Charlie.\u00a0 Charlie Oscar actual here.\u00a0 Initiate crypt then report.\u00a0 Keep it brief.\u00a0 Over.\u201d<\/p>\n

Already looking at Venter, Coots raised an eyebrow as Venter typed frantically before murmuring, \u201cSorry sir, the drone can\u2019t target its laser audio until it\u2019s overhead.\u201d<\/p>\n

Exasperated, Coots exclaimed, \u201cThrow me a bloody bone! Well, get me a voice-id on whoever that was, along with everyone we\u2019ve recorded so far.\u00a0 Was that transmission long enough for triangulation?\u201d<\/p>\n

Venter glanced at his display, shook his head, and entered further commands into his console.<\/p>\n

A harsh, squeaky static hissed into the room. \u00a0Sighing, Coots reached over and turned the volume down to almost inaudible.<\/p>\n

<<<-0->>><\/p>\n

{Author’s Note: If you like what you’re read, then I encourage you to take a few moments to post a comment here.\u00a0 Yes, the Captcha is irritating but it serves a good cause – the digitization of old works.\u00a0 Alternatively, chat with me on Twitter where you can find me as @CGAyling<\/a>.}<\/p>\n

{While you’re here… I’m always looking for reviewers<\/a>, or bloggers<\/a>. Please contact me if you’re either of those.}<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Welcome to the preview sample of my work in progress – Blind Sight. I’d like to thank my nephew for his outstanding work on the proposed cover. Chapter 1. \u00a0Recapture. I. \u00a0Monitor Station Delta. Timeline: 2:16am, Thursday, February 24th. \u201cWhat in hell is that?\u201d Henderson frowned as he lifted his gaze from his paperwork \u2013 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"parent":15,"menu_order":2,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-2588","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2588","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2588"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2588\/revisions"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/15"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/cgayling.com\/malmaxa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2588"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}