Sentinel

The group was met at the bottom of the stairs. A tall man in a long brown trench coat waited in the hall, arms crossed over his chest. His face was handsome, but weathered and browed by too much sun. He had short black hair and, clearly visible on his scalp, was a long white scar that stretched from the back of his head to the front.

“I knew you’d be here.” He said “You always are when you should be getting ready.”

“Lay off, Denzel.” Linnea sneered.

Denzel reached out a swift hand and pulled Linnea into a headlock. “Listen you little bastard, I could have you zapped to kingdom come if you ever take that tone with me again.” He snarled, “so you better shut your smart mouth before I have you fried.”

“And I could crush you like a bug, Denzel, so let me go.”

The man released his hold on Linnea’s neck with a wry smile. “Little smart ass. I swear I got the worst job. Babysitting a bunch of smart ass brats with freaky powers is not what I signed up for when I joined the Corps.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you signed up for?” Seven asked sweetly.

Denzel looked at her for a moment. “I never know whether you’re being serious or not, little one.” He said. “Anyway, transport is here. I trust you are all packed?”

The group nodded.

“Good. Collect your things. I’ll meet you by the main exit.” Denzel turned on his heel, his trench coat swishing behind him, and he walked away from them, his boots making clicking noises on the floor.

***

The main exit was simply another locked door. This locked door had more meaning than the others, however because of the armed guards in white. They stood in the hallway, milling around, machine guns slung over one shoulder, shock sticks clutched loosely in their hands.

As Linnea and her team approached, they looked up gripping their shock sticks tighter, but as Denzel appeared to meet the four, the guards settled down again. Denzel led the party to a window in the wall. A woman’s face peered out from behind bullet proof glass.

“Senior officer Denzel Richardson to escort four.” He said through a small microphone. The woman in the tiny room nodded and began typing on a computer. “Please place your codes to the scanner.” Her tinny voice echoed. One by one, the team rolled up their black sleeves and scanned their bar code under a blue light near the window.

“So that’s Sentinels 112, 646, 199, and 777?” She asked in her hollow voice as the numbers appeared on her screen.

“Correct. Code names: Linnea, Allen, Kai and Eliza. Check out authorization number: 900912767” The woman began to type again.

“Seven.” Seven mumbled.

“Shut up, kid.” Denzel shot back.

“How long will they be under your care?” The woman asked.

“Until Sunday.”

“May I see your ID?”

The ID changed hands.

“Very well, you are cleared to leave.”

A green light flashed above the door, and it slid open to reveal another metal door behind it. This too slid upward, and the group exited the Sentinel’s Wing. As soon as they had all passed through the door, it slid closed again, and vanished into thin air as the cloaking mechanism took effect.

The party walked through an empty hallway and took a left at a fork, passing through yet another door. Suddenly they spilled out into a bustling flurry of activity. They had come out into the middle of the Sector 1 hub. Far above them a roof was just visible, almost ten stories up. The walls stretched away to either side with no end in sight. Along the walls venders hocked merchandise of all kinds, their cries filling the air. Children kicked balls through the chaos, soldiers hurried along on errands, mothers and wives walked together in pairs, military vehicles plowed slowly through, people making way for them. High above, messenger drones flew, delivering parcels and memos to thousands of people. The air was thick with the buzz of voices. In the distance, Gate 1 rose above their heads. Almost four stories tall, it was an impressive sight to lay eyes on.

Base 01 had four main points of entry. The giant gates, numbered one through four, served as entry and exit points for most of the military activities. Seldom used by civilians, the actual gate platforms were guarded by sentries, separating the docks from the chaos of the sector hubs. The party, however, would not be using the main gate. They were led, instead, into an elevator, close to where they had exited the hall. This took them up and through a series of shafts, to a helipad dock where their transport was waiting for them. As they exited the elevator, Denzel swiped his ID at the last door, and opened it. A blast of fresh night air hit them. They stepped out onto the helipad. Wind whipped at their faces as the blades of the helicopter tore through the air.

The crew, lounging against the helicopter stood to attention and saluted as Denzel walked onto the platform.

“Is it ready?” He asked.

“We are ready for takeoff at your command, sir.” The pilot reported.

“Good. It’s time then. Discreetly if you please. I don’t want any surprises on this trip.”

The pilot saluted again with a snap, and turned to give orders to his small crew.

Before the moon had fully risen into the sky, they were in the air.