Grant Slama

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Distantly, hauntingly, the wild soar and squeal of sensor patterns and the strange whoops and wails of electromagnetic activity sang out. They came and went, like anguished voices, moaning for a moment, then silent, high-pitched and musical, then low and guttural. Interference, audio artefacts, bits of corrupted data and sensor noise were loose on the wind like lost souls.
Titanicus (Sabbat Worlds #3)
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