by Eliza Green
Neither Chris nor Janine said anything. She’d been hoping for a little more interaction from the pair. Excitement at seeing their friend again, perhaps? Janine loved the gossip and Level Five had created plenty in the past. Was that jealousy in Janine’s hardened eyes? Chris was staring down at his plate of food, his mouth drawn thin and white.
The tension mounted but she stayed put. She needed to hear her promotion was a good thing. She needed Chris to tell her that Haymarket was back on the transfer list.
‘What’s up with you two?’ The pair sat at the edge, leaving no space for Laura to sit. ‘You don’t have room for your friend?’
‘Friends?’ Janine spat. ‘Is that what we are?’
‘Excuse me?’
She folded her arms. ‘You heard me. You’ve been gone for a week and a half and we’ve been left to deal with your workload. That’s right, nobody replaced you. Now you’re here to what, rub your promotion in our faces? Well, congratufuckinglations.’
‘Chris, Janine, I can explain...’ She hadn’t come here to gloat. She came to tell the pair the job was nothing special.
Chris’s nose wrinkled like he’d stepped in something. ‘Crawl back to your new friends, Princess.’
Movement from across the room alerted her to a new change since she’d last been here. A roving camera, glossy and golden and shaped like a ball, hovered over a group in one corner. ‘Since when did they put cameras in here?’
‘Since a week and a half ago,’ said Chris. His gaze flicked to the camera that was on the move. He shooed her away with his hand. ‘Bugger off. We can’t be seen taking to you.’
But Laura refused to leave. The thoughts of returning to the silence on Level Five made her skin itch.
She leaned in and lowered her voice. ‘How much trouble can we really get in? We used to work together, for Christ’s sake.’
Janine refused to look at her. Laura couldn’t tell if it was jealousy or fear driving her cool attitude.
‘Oh, shit,’ said Chris, his body stiffening. Laura turned around to see the roving camera on its way over to their table. ‘See what you’ve done now? You’d better talk your way out of it.’
‘Yeah, you’re good at getting what you want, aren’t you?’ said Janine.
Chris glared at Laura. ‘Fix this, Princess.’
She wasn’t too keen on her new nickname, but the camera’s arrival cut off her chance to tell Chris that. The camera that could easily fit in the palm of her hand scanned her.
An electronic voice boomed through the device. ‘Laura O’Halloran, you are Level Five. Please explain why you are speaking to Level Four employees.’
She straightened up, seeing her shimmering reflection in the golden ball. She’d seen these cameras before, but usually in public spaces like the entrance to the ESC, or in the lobby on the fourth floor. Never in the cafeteria. It was also her first time being this close to one.
She cleared her throat, considering her next words. It would be so easy to drop the pair in it, to save her skin; she owed them nothing.
Laura glanced at the pair, then looked at the camera.
‘I was just asking—’
‘Just asking what?’ said the camera voice.
Talking to an AI camera was too weird, so she pretended she was speaking to an operator holed up in some basement room.
She glanced down at her food she’d yet to touch. ‘I was asking them where the swipe cards for the machines were.’ The cards reset the replication machines that ran on cycles. At the end of a cycle, the quality of the food degraded enough that the machines needed a reboot. ‘My stew has this weird metallic taste to it.’
The camera scanned Chris’s face, then Janine’s. ‘Don’t you three know each other?’
‘Yes,’ said Laura. ‘We used to work together on Level Four.’
‘Workers from different levels are not supposed to fraternise. I must report this.’
Laura caught the look of fear on Chris’ face. She couldn’t see Janine’s face but she imagined the same look.
‘I only asked them because I know them. I don’t know anyone on Level Five yet, but I promise this will be the last time.’
She meant it. She was done with the pair.
The camera made a humming noise as it continued to hover in the air. ‘The cards are to the side of the machines, where they always are.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t see them. I’ll check again.’
The camera lingered on her face a little longer—or the operator in the basement did—before moving away.
Without a backward glance at Chris or Janine, she collected up her tray and marched over to the machine. There, she reset one—it didn’t matter which—and ordered another stew. To keep up the charade, she dropped the original dish in one of the waste receptacle units.
Dozens of eyes were on her as she sat down with her food. She ate but her anger at Chris and the imaginary camera operator absorbed all the flavour from the food. Mostly she was angry at herself for allowing Janine to make her feel crap about herself. In the past, her former colleagues had treated her like she was nothing. She was something, and far better than that pair.
Screw them. They could wallow in their self pity all they wanted. Laura had already met with Gilchrist and received assurances that she would be on the transfer list. Could they boast the same thing?
Despite the pep talk to herself, the last of her appetite vanished. Laura forced down another gulp of lemonade that tasted more bitter than usual, and ate a rabbit-sized bite of her average-tasting stew. After enduring all the stares she could, she abandoned her lunch and went back to her workstation.
She immersed herself in her duties. No further files appeared about Bill Taggart that day.
34
The recreation room aboard the passenger ship was quiet. A brief orientation at the start of Stephen and Anton’s journey had shown them the true size of this ship. Their own exploration after, however, had revealed that not all areas were accessible. Just seven humans sat in the sparsely decorated space, with tables and chairs huddled in a room twice the size of District Three’s Central Core. At busier times, Stephen guessed the numbers would be different. It settled his nerves to find it quiet that evening.
In the presence of humans, the pair sat in chairs to blend in. Despite their best efforts to look and act like those they despised, the humans kept away from them.
Our outfits are drawing more attention than I’d like, said Anton telepathically. He provided cover for Stephen while he injected a synthesised protein pack directly into his stomach cavity.
Stephen grabbed the edge of the table when the first stomach cramp hit—one of the nastier side-effects that Anton had forgotten to tell him about. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on the pain to control it. But the presence of others shot his concentration to hell. He straightened up halfway, only for the spasms to double him back over.
After a few controlled breaths, the pain plateaued.
I’m sorry. The packs aren’t designed for prolonged use, said Anton, keeping one eye on a group of three across the room. The first thing I’ll do when we get back to the district is correct the protein imbalance. I was under a little pressure before we left.
A new pain hit Stephen that felt like it was ripping his body in half. Don’t worry about it, please. It will pass soon— The pain cut him off.
Anton shook his head. I should have done more tests. It wasn’t ready.
Stephen sucked in air through gritted teeth. The alternative is starvation.
Anton sat up, too alert. His focus was on two humans who were on their way over. Stephen recognised the short man and his taller friend from the queue for the space craft.
‘Don’t let them get too close,’ growled Stephen. ‘I don’t want them to notice the inconsistencies in our appearances.’ His stomach muscles jerked again.
The shorter man pointed. ‘Hey! What’s wrong with your friend? You need a doc or somethin’?’
They inched forward until just
two table-lengths separated them. Anton stood and smiled. ‘He’s feeling sick. He doesn’t like to travel.’
Stephen groaned.
Both men jerked to a halt. The shorter man said, ‘Gerry here...’ he elbowed his friend. ‘He knows CPR and worked as a nurse for a stint. Didn’t you, Gerry?’
‘Eh, sure but—’
‘Well, go and help him, will ya? Don’t just stand there.’
‘I’m not sure. I think he might need a real doctor or something.’
The short man mumbled. ‘Well, you can still take a look, can’t ya? You’re embarrassin’ me.’
‘Er, sure, I guess.’ His taller friend stepped hesitantly towards Stephen.
Anton blocked his path. ‘That won’t be necessary.’
The shorter man’s gaze flicked from Stephen to Anton and back again. ‘Weren’t you two standing behind us in the queue for this rust-bucket?’
His friend nodded and smiled. ‘Oh, yeah, I think you’re right. In the queue.’
Another spasm hit. Get rid of them... said Stephen.
Anton smiled. ‘I’m sorry, but my friend here is about to be sick, so I suggest you keep your distance.’
The shorter man made a face and backed off; his friend wasn’t far behind. ‘Don’t do well seein’ sick,’ he said, holding up his hands.
‘Me neither,’ said the taller man.
His friend shot him an odd look. ‘Whatcha talking about? You’re trained for this kind of thing.’
‘Only lasted a month at nursing school. Once we started the practical stuff, I was out of there.’
The short man shook his head. ‘Useless.’
Both headed for the exit. A passing warning from the pair was enough to move the remaining five passengers.
Stephen sucked in a deep breath; the worst of the pain passed. ‘I think we should restrict future injections to the sleeping pods.’ He shook his head. ‘Why did you let them get that close? We must keep under the radar more. Last thing we need is them telling everyone about the odd looking pair in the recreation room.’
‘Maybe we should ditch these hats back at our sleeping pods. And stick to only darkened areas from now on.’
With the room empty, they both dropped the pretence and stood. Referring to them as humans will take some getting used to, said Anton. What are we looking for when we get to Earth?
Answers, plain and simple. Something to explain how they exist, and why they want to destroy us. That Taggart man will be our lead.
They walked back to their sleeping quarters. On the way, Anton asked, ‘Why him?’
‘Who?’
‘You can’t stand to be near any of them but you met the boy Ben Watson twice. Why?’
Stephen shrugged. ‘I saw something in him that the others didn’t possess—innocence, perhaps? It was easier to be around him.’ He stopped and leaned against the wall. ‘I don’t know, Anton. I can’t explain why I feel angry at the rest, but not him.’
‘Maybe you’re coming round to the idea that not all of them are bad. I mean, you saved those men when they were suffocating.’
‘I saved Taggart because we need him alive. The others just happened to be there.’ Stephen made two fists. ‘I let my guard down with the boy and that pair just now. It won’t happen again.’
35
What Suzanne Brett described as a “hectic” period in the calendar was an understatement. Neither Laura nor her colleagues knew when the gruelling double shifts on Level Five would end, but everyone hoped it would be soon. In no position to negotiate an early release from duty, Laura accepted that Brett needed her more than Laura needed sleep.
Despite her exhaustion, Laura decided against taking a fifth Actigen pill. Twenty-four hours remained in her current double shift. She could make it without the pill. Maybe she could squeeze in an hour’s sleep in the Energy Restoration room on Level Two.
Her head pounded. Just one more day, she reminded herself. Chris and Janine’s behaviour a few days earlier had soured her mood, but something else played on her mind. The Taggart files.
The grey partitions encasing her isolation booth did little to ease her headache. Even her rearrangement of the items on her desk—a family photo, a fake plant and her communication device—couldn’t distract her from her thoughts.
Maybe a drink of water would help.
She shuffled over to the H2O replication station at the top of the room and requested water. The woman from booth sixteen arrived, disc in hand, and deposited it in the vacuum tube connected to Gilchrist’s office. The tube made a sucking noise and the disc disappeared. Sixteen returned to her seat without looking at Laura.
Laura drained the tiny cone-shaped cup and requested a second refill. But the hydration effects didn’t do much for her pounding head. She returned to her workstation and sat down, sick of the pain in her head. Sick of her colleagues’ indifference to her. Sick of others controlling her fate.
She closed her eyes and dreamt up other ways she could escape this planet. But the files about aliens and autopsies, and some investigator she’d never met, crept into her thoughts.
The transfer to Exilon 5 was a good thing. It would rescue the human race from an Earth past saving. But now this race called the Indigenes had shifted the World Government’s focus away from the transfer programme. It wasn’t clear from the files what they planned to do with the race, only that the investigation, led by Bill Taggart, appeared to be recent.
How long would Laura have to wait before Gilchrist allowed her to transfer to Exilon 5? Her Seasonal Affective Disorder needled her sanity daily. To everyone else sunshine was a luxury. To Laura it was life and death. Maybe she could explain that to Gilchrist?
No, she’d promised to pull her weight, to work hard. Making the transfer list would be her reward.
But what planet would she be heading to? One occupied by a violent Indigene race?
Two words stood out from the latter files: “Intelligence” and “Adaptability”. For any race to survive, they needed both.
The image of the alien named in the files as Stephen stuck in her head, along with Bill Taggart’s naturally aged face. Would she recognise either of them if they passed her on the street?
According to the files, the investigations were to gauge the threat levels of the Indigenes towards the human population. But with hundreds of millions having transferred to Exilon 5, it wasn’t like they could keep this information a secret. She was certain the World Government didn’t have endless resources to start again.
The government had to stay and fight. It’s what Laura would do if she were in charge.
She had to make Gilchrist understand. To stay on Earth would be a death sentence for her.
Couldn’t the Indigenes live separate to humans? The planet, three times the size of Earth, could easily accommodate both species. Was that the reason for the ongoing investigation, to determine the willingness of the Indigenes to share the planet? But that wasn’t clear from the reports. The alien’s side of the story had been omitted.
☼
Lunchtime couldn’t come around soon enough. Laura clocked off from the system and headed for the cafeteria on Level Two. Chris and Janine would not scare her off. She just made sure to go at a time when she knew they wouldn’t be there.
In the nearly empty cafeteria, Laura sat down and ate her lunch of grilled chicken and potatoes. She ignored the slight jolt when someone sat down beside her, just one seat away. Glancing up, she half-expected to see Chris or Janine there to offer an apology. A breath caught in her throat when she saw it was the dark-haired woman from booth sixteen. The woman who handled level-six information.
Sixteen scooped food onto her fork and stuffed it in her mouth. Laura stared at the woman in her mid sixties. Her shoulders were rounded, as though she carried a heavy weight.
‘Eyes down,’ growled Sixteen looking ahead.
Laura stared down at her food. A new burst of adrenaline had ruined her appetite. She picked up her coffee mug, hopi
ng to settle her stomach, and took measured sips.
In a hushed whisper the woman said, ‘You’ve been told lies. The ESC appears to work for the good of the people, but it doesn’t. Things are going on here... things I’m not allowed to speak about.’ Laura searched for the roving camera. ‘They are using you. So far, they’ve only shown you things they want you to see.’
What things? What was she talking about?
The woman continued, ‘You think you know why you were promoted. Gilchrist said she saw potential in you, correct? That’s what she says to everyone, but we’re not needed to do this work. They’re using us to further their own cause.’ She shifted in her seat. ‘I know you were sent the Taggart files. Have you wondered why?’
Yes she had. Laura glanced around her, relieved to see the camera at a table farther away, interrogating some young woman from Level One. She coughed into her fist to disguise her next question. ‘Why did they give me the files?’
‘I don’t know, but Gilchrist doesn’t home in on someone unless they can help her. I’m guessing it’s because you’re new and less likely to cause trouble.’
That’s what Gilchrist had said: Don’t make trouble.
Sixteen forced more food into her mouth. She chewed and spoke again. ‘You’re the first person in a while to grab Gilchrist’s attention. That’s why I’m giving you these.’
She pulled out three folded envelopes; one had a tiny micro file taped to the front. ‘You’ve seen some files already, but they’re nothing compared to these. Be careful, or Gilchrist will keep pulling your strings, making you dance.’ Her words were barely audible now. Or maybe the thudding in Laura’s ears had killed off her ability to hear. Sixteen shoved the envelopes into her sweaty shaking palm. ‘These will tell you what’s really going on. Maybe you’ll do the right thing, maybe you won’t. But I can’t sit on this information any longer.’
Laura resisted the urge to look at Sixteen, to see the truth—or the lies—in her eyes. Keeping her eyes down, she slipped the envelopes into the waistband of her trousers. The adrenaline agitated her body to the point where she couldn’t sit still. Her head told her to calm the hell down.