Company

F I V E

Shriden
. . .

We sprint down one alleyway after the next, both of us completely silent. I can feel Michael at my heels, keeping pace with me easily.

Getting into the Company was not easy. We ran the last half a mile to the wall, his in the one blind spot we were able to find, and used Climbers to get up the fifteen feet of cement. After that, we had to make sure we didn't touch the wires hanging from the twenty foot tall metal towers sitting on top of the wall like guards. The T7,000 did its job well, we fired it at the four military droids there, and watched as hundreds more pooled out of buildings to follow the signal. We dropped the gun and ran, finding a hover ramp to take us down to the ground.

Now we're weaving through buildings, towards the Mubs. We avoid every puddle of sewage, metal trash bin, and rusty pipe, our years of training allowing us to dodge the obstacles with ease. Only once I reach the end of this alley do I skid to a harsh stop, eyes wide at the scene unfolding before me. Michael slams into my back, forcing me to take a couple steps forward to keep from falling.

Men, women, and children, walk with their heads down in single file lines. Watchmen blow whistles and lash out their whips. I watch in horror as one old man stumbles and falls. There's no threat, no warning, the Droids haul him up by the arms and carry him over to a platform. They whip him before shorting him between the eyes. I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep me from crying out as Michael turns me away from the scene and gathers me into a hug.

"I know. I know." He whispers to me, over and over again. I can tell he is just as upset by it as I am, but he keeps better control of himself. "We have to hurry."

I can only nod before we make our way into one of the lines. Hunching and lowering our heads more than anyone else due to our height. Michael still stands a few inches taller.

The watchmen pay no attention to us. We're almost to the Mubbles, where workers start spreading out from their single file lines to go into their metal homes, when a droid stops us. Actually, it stops Michael.

"Stop." The droids robotic voice says from behind me.

I keep walking until I'm behind the first Mubble, where I turn around to watch Michael.

"Identification number?" The droid asks Michael.

"Factory number?" Michael looks confused.

I curse under my breath.

"Identification and Mubble number."

"Oh, uh"

"Spit it out." The droid presses a blaster to Michaels chest.

I reach for the blaster in my waistband, preparing to shoot if I have to.

"1-4-7-3-3-2-8-7-1-dash-1-4-8-6-5. Mubble number 067."

The droid pulls out a screen and types something in. A hologram of Mubble 067 comes up, the lights are off and other than a couple workers passing in front of the hover camera, there's nobody there right now.

The droid gets rid of the image and types in something else. An ID photo comes up, from this far, I can't read the number, but I can see the photo. It's of Michael in a factory jacket. I can only guess the number under it is the same one Michael told the droid.