Estranged

Move

A base of operations had been set up already in the tower’s large parking space on the ground floor. Men and women roamed its floors, attending to the duty required of them by orders issued from the control room at the top of the tower. By her count, it had only been forty minutes since their part of the mission—storming the sector with men and equipment—had begun. Things were progressing very quickly. All in line with the plan. Then why was she still anxious?

“Missy, trouble on your mind?”

Whylan’s question brought her to the present. The queasiness at the beginning of the elevator ride had settled now. They were passing the fortieth floor and were still rising. “It’s nothing, just…” she trailed off. Her doubt was intangible, furthest from being concrete; she would be a fool to voice it out.

“Lemme guess, there’s been no hitch in the plan so far and it feels off. Like it’s only a matter of time before something goes wrong and everything goes to shit.”

Aliyah stared at him, shocked.

Whylan only chuckled. “We’ve been through a few of these things, admittedly nothing on this scale, but still…it takes experience to ignore that voice and instead have faith in your mates.”

Aliyah was silent for some time. “Thank you,” she said to the tall man.

He flashed a wolfish grin. “Pleasure’s all mine,” he replied, and there was no taunt in his eyes. “And one last thing: always trust Gringe. Bastard knows what he’s doing.” She was about to say something in return but he interrupted, nodding at the elevator display. “We’re here."

The doors opened to a heavily guarded hallway. Whylan tipped his head in return to salutes as he and Aliyah made for the control room. The guards had not been lax at Whylan’s arrival, but they seemed more attentive, more ready, just by his presence.

At the end of the hallway, they came to a solid steel door that had no handle, lock, or design. It was just a smooth slab of steel. A scanner from atop the door beeped, running a vertical line of light from right to left to capture their identities. Another beep followed and the steel door slid open without as much as a hiss. They stepped in and it slid back close behind them.

The inside, a wide oval room, was more mutedly lit than the hallway. Personnel lined the perimeter of the room, attending to surveillance, analytics, comms, logistics; all that was required to transfer information between the outside and here. In the centre of the room lay a roundtable—around which sat four people—with a large hollow in its middle.

Gringe and Aunt Jebba, flanked by a stolid, standing Germaine, sat at the far end, heads bent over in deep conversation. Praetor and Scott were across from them, silent and utterly still, locked in what appeared to be a staring contest.

Whylan skipped down the short steps leading to the room’s centre, his stringy arms outstretched as he announced, “Cadre, how refreshing it must be to see our faces once more.”

“The young girl, definitely. You on the other hand…” Praetor snorted derisively, eyes not shifting an inch.

Whylan chuckled as he and Aliyah reached the table. “You hide your affection in barbs. I see and hear you, Praet, clear and loud.”

Praetor turned on him, her face a darkening cloud, her eyes like furious lightning.

Whylan took a step back, his arms raised in surrender. “The game is the game…”

“…is the game,” Scott softly completed. He stretched his hand out to her. “Pay up.”

Praetor realized what had happened and somehow her expression turned more murderous.

Aliyah was intrigued by the camaraderie between the three. Across the space in the middle of the table, Gringe and Aunt Jebba had looked up. The media tycoon looked nothing like the dejected leader who had just announced her defeat to the whole world; the air of wounded pride that had been obvious in the public notice video was gone, leaving behind the Aunt Jebba Aliyah knew: unwaveringly covetous of all that catches her eye.

Aliyah left Whylan’s side, making her way over to the other end.

Aunt Jebba greeted her with a smile. “Welcome, dear.”

Aliyah replied with a smile as well. She acknowledged Germaine as she always had, as he had always implored her to: with a simple nod, which the brawny guard curtly reciprocated.

“Bumpy ride?”

She looked up at Gringe’s question. His expression was so unchanged, his posture so lax, that she might have been convinced he was not spearheading a mission to topple the reigning powers of Level 3. Aliyah glanced back. “Whylan wouldn’t stop hollering throughout. He gets really excited, huh?”

Gringe chuckled darkly. “He’s still only warming up. Anyway, let’s get things moving. Mirabelle?”

At Gringe’s voice prompt, the lights in the room dimmed further. The hollow space in the middle of the roundtable seemed to whirr with life. A four-sided holo display appeared in that space, hovering well above the table. Mirabelle’s robotic voice followed, “Welcome, District Head Gringe. How may I assist you in your briefing today?” The AI was the underlying system upon which most of New Earth was built. MiraLinks, banking operations, autonomous machines; and basically anything that required a network was run through Mirabelle.

“Pull up a map of Synthë Sector, filter by mines and refineries.” The words had barely left Gringe’s mouth when the cube of screens changed their blank display to show the map. “Thanks, Mira.” Gringe addressed the room, “Deployment is our priority in this sector. We have to set up equipment and begin operations. Lady Synthë owns and knows the lay of the land and so she’ll be in charge of that. Aliyah will assist her. Praet, you’ll be overseeing the sector defences. Merge our troops with the sectors, get a reconnaissance network running, and try to assure the residents we mean them no harm.

“Scott, Whylan, get the men to muster, we head out in thirty.”