Estranged

Attack

That took Jebba aback, if only for a split second, after which she took on a contemplative look. “You want to see if I can use her against him.”

“Surely if you hate the District Head and are interested in shutting him down as quickly as possible to secure our interests, I imagine you would be very much willing to do so. Except if…for some reason, you are unable t—”

A boom erupted in the distance, drawing their attention to the glass wall on the left. Brows creasing, Jebba rose from her seat urgently, about to go look, when a figure burst in through the door.

“We’re under attack!”

***

As far as plans went, this was definitely his most outrageous yet. Never in Gringe’s twenty-nine years had he ever thought he would find himself here, outside of New Earth.

The lack of wind was disturbing. As was the lack of any sound. Praetor and Scott hung on either side of him, also waiting completely still. The three of them were perched two-hundred-and-eighty-meters high on the outside of the outer Level Wall, digging into the smooth face of the vast barrier by their fingers and toes with the help of their ExoSuits.

Even this high, the air was heavy, clouded by a grey fog that tasted faintly acrid when they breathed it in too deeply. And below, down below, was the ruined old world; arid, desolate land that stretched forever in every direction.

It had been hard work getting to this point. Having convened before dawn at the top of the Level Wall some three kilometres away to begin their climb, they had descended down its outer face with ropes and then begun creeping westward along the side of the wall, moving out of notice of any soul. For hours, they had climbed, enduring the intense physical strain thanks to their ExoSuits. And now, limbs stiff from exertion, they hung in place silently—a mere twenty meters from their target—awaiting the signal.

Gringe looked up. An explosion thundered from the other side of the wall, causing a low rumble that he felt in his buried fingers. At once, they began to climb. Made of high-grade fibreglass and powered by a controlled radioactive core, the ExoSuits covered their whole bodies. Planting clawed hand after clawed hand into the concrete surface, they ascended up those last thirty meters like jerky crabs.

As they neared the top, Gringe heard a voice and rushed footsteps from above. It would not be long before their approach would be heard too. At a signal from him, the three of them sped up. With five meters to go, a guard burst into view from the top of the wall, face shadowed by the noon sun.

Everyone froze for a second, guard and infiltrators alike; everyone except Gringe, who had anticipated the moment and so seized upon it. With a freakish burst of acceleration, he powered up the remaining space and in one synchronized movement, gripped the ledge of the wall for leverage with one hand, grabbed the guard by the ankles with the other, and yanked him down.

Praetor and Scott hugged their bodies to the wall, moving out of the way as the guard fell, screaming as he plummeted down to Old Earth.

“Hurry,” Gringe commanded, heaving himself up atop the wall. He analyzed the unfolding scene at once. Their target, a small square building with glass side walls sat not more than fifty paces away. Between the building and him stood five bewildered guards, three of whom already rushed his way, pistols aimed at him.

He needed to move so Praetor and Scott would not arrive headfirst into an ambush. He saw the guards’ eyes widen in shock as he barreled towards them as well at full speed.

They began to shoot, firing wildly. The bullets pinged off Gringe’s ExoSuit, slowing his run, but not by much.

Swiftly realizing the futility of shooting, the guards holstered their pistols, the first two drawing out knives, while the last brandished a proton beam.

Proton beams were designed to subdue enemies in ExoSuits. He could not afford for this to drag out.

As he was about to clash with the knife-wielding guards, low whirring sounds came from behind, followed by two blue energy beams that flew past his sides and tore holes through the two guards, taking them down at once.

The last guard turned his attention to the source of the proton beams. Gringe capitalized on the distraction, drawing out his pistol and shooting the guard square in the head. An eerie silence descended after the bang of his shot, while muffled explosions continued to erupt from Synthë Sector below.

Praetor and Scott came to join Gringe’s side as he took in the remaining two guards who stood by the building’s entrance.

He knew them both. To the left, dark and menacing, was Jebba’s right-hand man, Germaine. And to the right was Halon, one of Wilda Damij’s elite duo of guards who had handed him the microphone that day at the Ministry. They would both be significantly tougher to handle than the foot soldiers they had just dispatched. And there was not much time left.

***

“We’re under attack!” Haylen barked as she barged into the meeting area.

Jebba’s face remained neutral, but her hands balled into fists.

Wilda reached below, grabbing a large metal suitcase from beneath the table, swiftly handing it to Haylen. The guard wore the suitcase on her back by its straps, inputting the codes into her MiraLink while Wilda tied her flowing hair into a bun.

“How many? What’s the situation—“

Two zaps from outside the door silenced Jebba. All three of them shared a knowing look: those were proton beams. And then came the c***k of a gunshot.

That was as long as Haylen was willing to wait. She stomped over to the glass wall—as twin wings ejected from the sides of the suitcase—pulling out a gun, and firing off.