Esprit de Corps · Voice lines

"He must be really out of it, yelling like that. Well, at least he's alive...." Officer Minot in the blue uniform frowns: "Jean, maybe something happened? He's in distress..."

I'll wait. I'm on standby, he thinks, his hands sweaty around the machine.

We'll find it again, man. We'll get it, junior officer Cuno thinks. We'll fuckin' nail that phasmid one day.

We missed it, he thinks. We damn missed a spot. We should have... then the lieutenant collects himself.

Three-hundred metres inland special consultant Trant Heidelstam cups his ear. Satellite-Officer Vicquemare nods to him on the jetty: "I heard it."

However bad it is, pig, we go on, deputy Cuno thinks. We detect. There's nothing more.

I understand -- we've all been through similar things. It can be overcome.

You crossed a line. This will not be forgotten.

Elsewhere in Revachol, the lieutenant has also just turned on the radio. In his privacy, he doesn't even try to stop himself from smiling.

If only Lieutenant Kitsuragi were here to make sense of it...

Damn it -- the lieutenant had the number and he's not here.

This is Precinct 41 -- as close as you have to home now. It's far away...

But thank you.

Sincere worry, officer to officer. He feels you need help and regrets that he doesn't know how to offer it.

Eighteen kilometres to the south, in the 41st Precinct's relay booth, a small crowd has gathered around communication officer Jules "Oldboy" Pidieu -- around a dozen cops.

Far north -- on the other side of the motorway -- the officer quietly hunches with his hand in the motor carriage.

A scrawny old man sits in a dusty cubicle, smoking, with a large white rectangle sewn on his vest. In front of him is a box-shaped apparatus with an array of wires and antennas -- the radio switchboard.

The small room is filled with cigarette smoke, abuzz with laughter, when Officer Judit Minot enters. Her left arm is in bandages and her hair trimmed short.