by Eliza Green
Stephen grimaced at the idea. ‘Sounds challenging.’
‘What will we tell the representatives about this trip?’ asked Elise
‘Nothing, for now,’ said Pierre. ‘The less they know the better.’
In the meantime... Anton removed the security chip from his pocket and dropped it into Stephen’s hand. Get get rid of this, will you?
22
Laura looked up when Suzanne Brett burst into Document Control and Storage, followed closely by the overseer for Level Four. Work ground to an immediate halt as dozens of pairs of eyes watched them.
‘Carry on with your work,’ said Brett.
‘Yes, carry on everyone.’ The overseer mimicked Suzanne’s order, as he ran to catch up with her.
Laura stared at her screen so hard the letters blurred. Brett’s uniform made a swishing sound as she walked. Why was she here? Who was she here for? Laura had only met Suzanne Brett once before, back when she had started work. She hadn’t warmed to the woman’s chilly desk-side manner and her black hair and thin lips had given her the name “the ice queen”. Laura knew better than to cross the women who occupied the top positions in the ESC.
Her intense study of the screen made her dizzy. The swishing sounds abated causing her to tense up.
A tap on her shoulder startled her. She wheeled round, face flushed, to see Brett standing behind her. The room fell silent. Brett’s cold eyes bored into her while the overseer hovered uneasily in the background.
‘Laura O’Halloran?’
‘Yes?’
‘You are being relocated as a matter of priority. Get your things.’
‘What? Where?’
She glanced at her overseer who nodded it was time to go. She stood up and gathered together her meagre possessions that included her DPad and a framed picture of her parents. ‘Where am I going?’
Brett took the lead. The overseer for Level Four followed behind Laura as Brett walked her to the exit. Her panic grew.
She saw curiosity on her colleagues’ faces. Janine mimicked a call sign and mouthed ‘later’. No doubt Janine would be talking about her as soon as she left.
When would “later” even be?
Brett led her to the turbo lift and called it.
‘Where are you taking me? Have I done something wrong?’
The lift arrived and Brett entered first. The overseer for Level Four shoved Laura inside.
‘Thanks for your help, Phil,’ said Brett. She placed a hand on the overseer’s chest, preventing him from following. ‘I’ll take it from here.’ As the doors closed, Laura saw Phil mouth the word ‘bitch’.
‘One floor down,’ said Brett.
At first Laura thought it was a command for the lift. But then her heart battered against her ribs when she realised where she was headed.
‘Why?’
‘Hold out your right thumb.’
Laura complied and Brett jabbed her with a pointy-tipped instrument. Laura winced, but didn’t pull away her thumb while Brett upgraded her security chip access.
The lift doors opened. ‘That will give you access to Level Five,’ said Brett. ‘Gilchrist’s orders. But before I can take you there, you need to come with me.’
Gilchrist?
They stepped out into an unremarkable corridor of grey walls and matching carpet. If it hadn’t been for the number five flashing like a beacon in the turbo lift, Laura wouldn’t have known what floor she was on. Brett ushered her into a small room two doors down from the lift. A stern looking man wearing the familiar purple uniform of Level Five was sitting at a table in one of two chairs. The man’s uniform was adorned with almost as many accolades as Brett’s. Clearly, he was somebody important in the ESC.
He pointed to the second chair. ‘Please, take a seat.’
She sat down and looked around her. The door sucked shut, trapping her. Brett remained inside the room, standing in one corner.
The purple-clad man thrust a DPad at her. ‘Read this out loud, so I know you understand it.’
Laura shakily read the full text of the document.
CONFIDENTIALITY AGREEMENT
You are entering into an area which contains highly sensitive documentation.
You may not discuss the information you see with anyone.
You must only divulge information to an employee of a higher rank than you.
If you do anything that is in direct violation of this agreement, you will be severely reprimanded.
Place your security chip at the bottom of the screen if you comply with this agreement.
What reprimand? Perhaps she’d find out at her induction programme later.
Laura’s excitement and shock pushed her towards the promotion, but her mind pulled her back. This was all happening too fast. She wasn’t scheduled for promotion for another two years and hadn’t heard of anyone being fast-tracked. Gilchrist had ordered her promotion? Was that good or bad?
Had her recent run in with Gilchrist had anything to do with it?
What do you care, Laura? This is what you wanted, to get on Gilchrist’s radar.
‘I suppose.’
‘Excuse me?’ asked the man.
Laura blinked at him. ‘Oh, nothing.’
The transfer list to Exilon 5. That’s all that mattered.
Laura placed her right thumb on the marker below the text and took a leap of faith unto the unknown.
23
The midday sun was as hot as Stephen had predicted. The humans in the queue were getting too close. His efforts to avoid contact with them were in vain as the humans repeatedly encroached on his space. Anton, standing next to him, was studying his thumb where he’d inserted one of the chips last night.
Ahead was New London’s docking station, a large prefabricated cabin between the waiting passengers and the area where the spacecrafts docked on the other side. At least a large white tarpaulin covering was shielding them from the midday sun. Stephen bounced on his feet. Once he boarded the space craft taking him to the passenger ship in orbit, there would be no turning back.
A short man to his front spoke to the tall man beside him. ‘Definitely could have stayed for a lot longer. Going home again is the worst.’
‘Yeah, I know what you mean,’ said the taller man. ‘Guaranteed sunshine during daylight hours? To be able to breathe without wearing those stupid masks? Remind me why we’re going back there?’
‘If we don’t, the damn gov’ment will track us down. We’ll be blackballed from ever returning here. Better we don’t give them a reason to leave us behind—’
A man charged up the outside of the queue suddenly, knocking the short man’s arm as he passed. Stephen drew up to full height when he sensed Anton’s agitation, like a quivering down his spine. A young officer at the head of the line blocked the man’s path. Stephen couldn’t see the man’s face.
The short man grumbled. ‘What the hell... He just pushed me. Someone thinks he’s more important than the rest of us.’
An argument unfolded between the officer and the queue-cutting man. Stephen listened while Anton chewed on his thumb.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ said the officer. ‘Didn’t you see the queue behind you?’
The man reached inside his shirt pocket and pulled out some sort of identification. He held it inches from the young man’s face. ‘I am a high-level employee of the World Government.’ He nodded towards the waiting craft. ‘I’m scheduled to travel today on the passenger ship.’
His voice sounded familiar.
The short man in front of him straightened up with a new interest. ‘Looks like a fight’s about to happen.’ He stood on tip toes. ‘What’s he saying now, Gerry? I can’t hear ‘em all the way back here.’
Even his taller friend looked to struggle to hear anything.
Anton helped him out. ‘The man is telling the officer that he’s not going to queue and he wants to pass now.’
Stephen shot Anton an angry look.
Anton shrugged. S
orry, they were irritating me.
The shorter of the men turned around. He gawked at Anton’s appearance. ‘Er, thanks.’
The argument up ahead picked up steam, pulling the man’s focus off Anton.
‘There’s still a queue, and these people were here first,’ said the officer to the man. ‘Everyone’s been waiting for at least two hours.’
‘Look, I don’t really give a shit...’ The man pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘What’s your name, soldier?’
‘Uh, Officer Ridge.’
‘Well, Officer Ridge, I have orders from Gilchrist and Deighton to return to Earth today. Would you prefer if I call one of them? Have them confirm this?’
The officer pressed his lips together and studied his DPad.
An eerie silence descended through the crowd. Stephen sensed agitation from the queue-cutting man. Something about him, about the way he stood, nagged at him.
The taller man craned his neck towards the front. ‘Looks like the kid’s about to crap himself.’
The shorter man tried to make himself taller. ‘What’s happenin’ Ger?’
The officer fumbled with his DPad. ‘No need to call Ms Gilchrist.’
The crowd groaned with disappointment.
‘Ah, it’s all over. The officer backed down already.’
The short man returned to normal height. ‘Without a fight? People got no backbone anymore.’
The officer’s finger shook as he ran it down the passenger manifest. He turned the DPad around. ‘You’re on the list. Place both thumbs here.’
The man obliged.
‘Investigator William Taggart, International Task Force,’ the officer read out loud. ‘Ah, it seems you should be in the ‘Other’ queue, over there.’ He pointed to a large white tent, where just ten people waited, and called the next person forward.
The man walked away and the officer sighed with relief.
A new shiver caught Stephen, caused by Anton’s agitation.
What is it?
Anton nodded at the investigator, who was making a new fuss at the second queue. I think I recognise him, from the restaurant. He was sitting at the table by the window when I recorded those scenes for you. He looked at me twice.
Stephen stilled. He’d seen him before. In the tunnels.
Why was he returning to Earth? The investigator was following orders from a Gilchrist and a Deighton. Hearing one of those names had clearly rattled the officer.
Do you think he might recognise you now? asked Stephen.
Anton shook his head. He didn’t pay me much attention. Seemed distracted by something. Do you think he could be involved in the surveillance on us?
He is. Anton frowned at him. He followed me into the tunnels after the second meeting.
Anton switched to his voice. ‘What?’
He shushed his friend when the pair ahead of them turned around, eyes narrowed. Anton smiled at them sweetly until they turned back.
What did the officer say his name was? said Stephen.
Investigator William Taggart.
He committed the name to memory. Who was the investigator, and what instructions had he been given by Gilchrist and Deighton?
24
The driver called him to say his car was waiting outside, but Bill had spent a moment longer in his ITF apartment. The half empty place had been his life for the last year—barely an existence while he’d searched for his wife. That morning, the fog from his brain still had not lifted. Nor had it delivered a creative way to convince Gilchrist to keep him on.
Bill tossed his suitcase into the waiting vehicle and climbed in beside it. The driver commanded the vehicle to drive to the nearest docking station, located fifteen miles outside New London’s border.
While it followed the only road out of New London, Bill watched couples laughing beneath the warm sun. City parks hummed with the sound of squealing children. Chatty parents carried picnic baskets. He rolled down the window and dangled out one arm, to absorb the last goodness this planet had to offer. The warmth on his skin pushed away his anxiety. He needed this city.
He also felt closer to Isla here.
The vehicle trundled along a dirt road before pulling up next to the docking station. Ahead of him was his dreaded return to Earth, looming over him like a dark and dingy threat. It was where all his problems had started. A year was a long time to be away.
He glanced down at his carry-on bag containing his DPad. A two-week trip home would give him time to catch up on what he’d missed while away. Developments on Exilon 5 had stalled in tandem with the transfer programme, but what was happening back on Earth?
He wasn’t done here; the alien’s appearance confirmed they were at the start of something huge. What didn’t make sense to him was Deighton and Gilchrist taking him off the hottest investigation the ITF had ever started.
After a run-in with an officer for the wrong queue, Bill boarded the correct craft that held just twenty other World Government employees. None of them looked familiar. Not surprising. He wasn’t exactly the get-to-know-you type.
Bill slumped into the first available seat and pulled the restraints tight across his body, in anticipation of the rough flight ahead.
The craft pushed off, assisted by magnetic polarisation that gave the craft a swift sharp shove. Bill’s stomach lurched forward then up. The craft passed through the planet’s shield to reach the passenger ship orbiting fifty miles above it. With a groan, Bill tried to control his queasiness. Others, not as successful, lunged for the sick bags and filled them up.
He stared out the window at the ship measuring a mile high from base to tip and two miles long; a tubular core ran through its length. Circumnavigating the core was a trio of wheel-like structures, attached via interconnecting tubes or “spokes”. Powered by a Faster Than Light drive, the ship used the natural magnetic fields between planets to navigate a path home.
The spacecraft docked inside the main hold of the ship. Feeling like he was on a different kind of ship, Bill gripped the railing to stop his world from spinning. Gingerly, he joined the others in the hold and waited in line. A push and pull of dwindling energy made it hard to focus on much. All he wanted were two things: an easy registration process and a place to store his personal items.
A female officer waited up ahead as the high-level officials formed a queue. She hummed a tune as she ran a finger down a list. ‘Not too many on board, I see. We’re already off to a good start.’ She smiled at the waiting group. ‘Looks like I got the easy list. I’m assuming everybody has been on-board a passenger ship before?’
They nodded.
‘Good. But I should run through everything once more. Protocol.’ Looking up from her DPad, she launched into the rules and regulations from memory.
‘The journey takes two weeks. There are two accommodation options available to you. Option one, you can stay in normal mode, during which you will be provided with sleeping quarters and have access to a stocked kitchen. You will be charged for your stay and board. Option two, you can avail of one of our sleeping pods. You will be sedated and sleep-suspended until you arrive at your destination. You will be revived and administered with a nutrient pack upon arrival. Naturally, the cost of option two is cheaper than option one. All expenses will be recorded on your identity chip. Is everyone clear?’ The group nodded again. ‘Please line up on the left-hand side, and when you reach me, state your accommodation requirements.’
Bill kept his eyes on the ground as he moved forward. When it was his turn, he placed his thumb on the DPad and picked the only option he could live with. ‘Sleeping quarters.’
‘That’s what I would have picked too.’ The officer wrinkled her nose. ‘I hate giving up control to the machines.’
For a second Bill forgot himself and smiled back.
But a new feeling overcame him, and he felt himself sway.
She grabbed his arm. ‘Are you all right, sir?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. Just need sleep.’
&nb
sp; The officer nodded. ‘Don’t worry about it, sir. It’s more common than you think. The journey can be a little disorientating. A little rest and you’ll feel right in no time.’ She released him and he walked towards his uncertain future.
It didn’t take long to get to the sleeping quarters with a dozen individually sized units set against both walls. Bill punched in a code for one of them, climbed in, closed over the side-flap and locked it. The accommodation was no bigger than a coffin.
Aside from his fear of being under someone else’s control, he had to prepare for his debriefing with Gilchrist. The only items he’d packed were his clothes, some personal items and his recollection of yesterday’s events. Plus a copy of the videos he’d used to prepare for the meeting between the Indigene and Ben Watson.
Bill turned on the DPad. The brightness of the screen illuminated his coffin. He opened one of the official World Government reports about the initial move to Exilon 5.
“Grey skies, frigid temperatures and a vanishing sun; clear signs that Earth is changing. The first layer of atmosphere has strangled the sun’s attempts to reach the surface. A drop in air temperature has turned the planet ice cold. We passed on four unsuitable exoplanets before we discovered Exilon 5—our last hope. The terraforming process will make it possible for plants and trees to grow there.”
The ITF’s initial role on Exilon 5 had been to help new transferees adjust to their new home. But the shock of living on an alien world had been too much for some people to handle. The World Government, in their pursuit of a utopian society, had separated them from the rest of the transferees.
Bill read the report.
“We intend to reintroduce technology slowly to avoid triggering addiction in those who use virtual systems as a replacement for living. Exilon 5 will give its residents new opportunities to re-learn the basics of thinking, feeling or just being, as well as accessing technology in a safe and productive way.”