Partials. She let go of the tuning knob and moved to the next speaker, searching for the signal. A radio signal was a delicate thing, a soundless, invisible voice in the sky. To hear it clearly she had to tune her radio to the exact frequency, with enough power, under perfect atmospheric conditions, and she had to hope that the radio sending the signal had enough power as well. Even the size and shape of the antenna could play a part. Finding that lone, weak signal in the midst of all this chatter was—

“. . . Sergeant, get to the top of that hill immediately, we need covering fire on the right flank. Over.”

“Yes sir, moving out. Over.” It was Haru’s voice.

“Yes!” Kira shouted, pumping her fist in the air. The signal was still weak—they were probably using handhelds, like the little ones she’d learned on, and they didn’t have the wattage to send a clear signal this far from the island. They must be close, she thought, somewhere on the west side of Long Island. The Grid base in Brooklyn? Had the Partials attacked it first? She tried to remember what she’d learned about Partial tactics from her history classes, wondering what an assault like that would signify. If they were raiding the North Shore that was one thing, but if they were taking out the Grid headquarters, it was in preparation for a full-scale assault. Cut down the defenses, and then secure the island unimpeded. She listened closely to everything Haru’s team was saying, then continued to scan the airwaves, listening to pieces of Partial broadcasts, until one caught her attention.

“. . . to the top of the hill. Snipers at the ready.”

Kira swore. That was a Partial communication, coming in on a different speaker. All the Partial messages had been on different speakers, even the ones from the same voice in the same battle. They were changing their frequencies on the fly to make sure no one could eavesdrop, but they hadn’t been counting on Afa’s paranoid, overproduced workshop; Kira could hear everything. They knew where Haru’s unit was headed and that the Partials were ready with an ambush. And she was the only one who knew about it.

Kira reached for a microphone, but there was nothing—no handhelds, no ceiling mics, nothing. She looked under the console, then raced around to look behind it. Nothing again. It was as if Afa had removed them all on purpose, which, she reflected furiously, he probably had. He wasn’t trying to communicate with anyone, just to listen. To collect information.