2.28.1

Still Wild

Astrid bolted to the door and jerked it open, heedless of the wardens that stood just on the other side.

She opened her mouth, to beg the Statics to back off. To diffuse the situation in some other way. But the Statics tolerated no such resistance, not even for a second.

Yet again, the piercing screech of a pulsar sent Channelers clutching for the far corners. Those inside the cafeteria fled further, with an easier path to get away. But those in the hallway remained exposed victims, with S.O. fighters at either side and stacked against the exit.

But among the kids in the hall, though some cracked under the sound, others funneled their pain and anger.

Astrid watched from a kneeling position as Kelvin beat against the agent’s armor with clenched fists. A weak but valiant effort from a flinching form.

So, the Opposition continued to push. And push. The noise didn’t stop. It bore into every Channeler in radius until some of the children lay like sweaty puddles on the ground.

Astrid couldn’t stand against the noise and the way it cleaved into her brain.

But she did grow blind, almost mindless, in her torment. She couldn’t take it one more second. And in her madness, she kicked from the ground at the bastard that wielded the pulse over them.

The burst stopped while the man reacted in pain. In the moments after, a clumsy mess all her own, Astrid scrabbled to her feet and threw herself in front of the new arrivals.

The S.O. operative clutched his shin where the woman kicked him. His face darkened to see her defiant, panting, while she stood before the younger kids.

Her heart pounded. And when the man once again went for the switch on his stick, her body acted all its own. She would not, could not, endure it again.

She summoned strength for those around her. Lights from down the hall, data devices on the enemy. Anything in her radius that didn’t have its own heartbeat. The energy all joined the fierce swell of protectiveness drawn from within her. And she shoved it all in a cone burst against the S.O.’s wrangler.

Her power burned, brighter, and harsher than ever before. Whether from the chaotic effects post-pulsar, or an inadvertent benefit of their nightly sessions, she had no time to wonder.

The man in question blew back. And too late, Astrid remembered he stood one of many.

The others pounced. Not on her, but on the children. The Opposition hastened to separate the kids from their defender.

The lot were thrown against the wall and lined up. And no amount of protests stopped the eight men and women in Opposition garb that rallied their guns on the new batch of intakes.

Nine Channeler children huddled before drawn weapons. The little ones whimpered. The senior students jostled to put themselves before the others. Kelvin, the eldest, turned the face of one of the smaller children into his hip and away from the brutal Statics and their mixed guns. So the younger boy couldn’t see.

From inside the cafeteria chamber, more Channeler children panicked from behind the windows. Most fled to the far wall, away from the hostilities.

“Do it again!” Another fighter, this one a female, yelled from her position in the firing line. “I dare you!”

Energy weapons hummed to life.

“Let them go!” Astrid cried. Though she knew it to be fruitless. All she wanted, the only thing she wanted, was to get those kids out of the range of fire.

“This one, he’s the troublemaker. I say we take him out the equation now.” The first pointed to Kelvin. Whom, despite his feverish complexion, stared down adults twice his age.

“No!” Astrid put herself directly between him and the energy guns now trained on him.

“You think I care?” the rabid woman pushed. “You or him. Either way, we’re going to make an example of a problem child tonight.”

“The rest of you!” The man ordered. “Get inside now.”

Relieved, Astrid watched as the new arrivals were driven into the cafeteria with the others. With only a blithe order that they learn from their brethren and adapt sooner, rather than later.

But Astrid and Kelvin they left outside, under the guard of guns. The oldest willed with all her might that the teenagers would herd little eyes away from the windows.

“Don’t be stupid,” one of the Opposition argued with his colleague. “If we do it here, we risk more problems. Remember what the boss said. We need their cooperation.”

“Then we should ensure cooperation,” the she-bitch pitched back to him. “We should let them see! I’m done playing around. Let’s make sure they don’t pull this shit again!”

Astrid drew a shaky breath while the S.O. debated the merits of killing her and Kelvin in front of the others.

But while two argued, others grew impatient.

Power warmed in two weapons. Under a familiar twist of compact energy light beamed from two separate muzzles. One for Astrid, and one for the boy.

In a sickened flash, Riley Ann, utterly and thoroughly destroyed, passed behind the specialist’s eyes. She flailed to prevent a repeat.

When she threw her arm impulsively, a dense bright light nearly blinded her. Even she shied away, until she realized herself the source.

For between the Channelers and the Statics, a small wall of compact, pale energy shielded herself and Kelvin. So dense and tight the blue shimmered nearly white.

The energy beams intended for the Channelers fell caught in a glaring shield of force, no wider than Astrid’s arm span.

They diffused. The shield grew in brightness when it absorbed the shots. And before Astrid could even think to repurpose the energy she’d taken, the wall of light dissipated. An opportunity missed in her own shock.

“What the hell are you!?”

Too late Astrid realized she’d messed up. By exposing herself, she risked her position with the captives, and her whole plan.

The discharge of weapons brought the thunder of fresh boots. More Opposition arrived from down the hall, alerted to the noise.

Astrid was shunted to the ground, cast down the hall and away from the others, Kelvin and Statics alike.

She fell, hard. Closer to the door of the cafeteria.

Maya and Finn pressed their faces just on the other side of the adjacent windows, but Astrid refused to look at them, or risk drawing attention to them.

For now, she held all the focus. And that, at least, marked improvement.

“Let’s see if she can block this!”

The rancorous female, most hungry for satisfaction, stomped to the front of the line and drew a ballistic heavy pistol. She waved the thing in Astrid’s face, and careless of witnesses, took aim on the oldest Channeler.

“Hold!”

A voice of the Opposition, one of those recently drawn by the weaponsfire, stormed forward for a closer look.

“Not this one.”

Strong, muscled legs planted themselves on either side of the specialist. A platinum blonde head loomed over. Where once sprouted an unruly crop of hair now combed back into a blunt ponytail, accentuated by a sharp undercut on either side of her head.

But the former soldier remained as recognizable an energy signature, to Astrid, as any from the Aldebaran.

“This isn’t one of ours,” the Opposition agent informed the others. Her face twisted in cunning. Not amused. Delighted. “This one is London’s.”

Then, Rue offered a gloved hand to her former teammate.

“Hello, Astrid.”