“Just... gone?” said Lord Histender, the protruding veins on his forehead seeming to provide a physical map of his anger. “How is that possible? What about their tracking chips?”
“There’s no trace of them, Your Lordship,” said Dontible, legs apart and hands behind his back, focusing on his usual spot on the wall behind Histender’s head, his expression unreadable. “Gone completely offline.”
“That has never happened, Dontible.” Histender’s voice was so quiet as to be almost inaudible. “You must be aware that, realistically, there is only one thing this can mean. And it is disaster for this government.” He rested his fists on the desk, clenching them so tightly that the knuckles were the same colour as nearly everything else in the room – and in the country.
Dontible nodded. “Yes, Your Lordship.” There was no need for either of them to say it.