by Eliza Green
That would remain his secret, for now.
‘You attempted to destroy our race once. Now you tail us, trap us. I should be more concerned about you. Do you hold no responsibility for your actions?’
‘You can only discard what you already own,’ said Charles. ‘To destroy is to assume it belongs to someone else.’
Anton shook his head at the old man’s riddles. ‘Are you going to kill me?’ He’d gone into this mission knowing he might not return.
Both Gilchrist and Charles laughed at the same time.
‘No, my dear boy,’ said Charles. ‘What a waste that would be. I have much better plans for you.’
‘Care to share them?’ said Anton.
‘Of course not. Where would be the fun in that?’
51
Laura’s shot at transferring to Exilon 5 was over. Gilchrist would make sure of that. But for the first time in her life she was doing something that mattered.
Two people stood in her apartment: one born in a brave new world, the other stuck in one that had to change. Both listened as she explained what she knew to the pair.
‘The Indigenes have only been in existence for fifty years. They were created from humans who had lives here, in the beginning.’
‘How is that possible?’ snapped Stephen. What little control he appeared to have before slipped away. ‘Our race has existed for thousands of years, not half a century. You are misinformed.’
Laura touched Stephen’s arm; he jerked away from her. ‘I wish I was. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the data for myself.’
‘Where did you get the data from?’ said Bill.
‘I received it from an anonymous tip. Anonymous, because I don’t even know her name.’ Laura attempted a laugh. ‘There’s a woman who works on Level Five, the place I was promoted to, about two weeks ago. Well, she approached me at lunch and handed me a micro file.’
‘She didn’t say anything?’ said Bill. ‘What was on it?’
‘The data speaks for itself.’
‘What did she say?’
‘That maybe I’d do the right thing, maybe I wouldn't. But that she couldn’t sit on this information any longer.’
Bill frowned. ‘At least someone who works there has a conscience. Any idea what her connection might have been?’
‘No idea. She wouldn’t talk to me after that.’
‘Not unexpected behaviour, given the circumstances.’
Laura felt Stephen’s eyes on her.
‘Wait,’ he said, his voice cracked. ‘Start from the beginning, please. I came to Earth because your species is still trying to eradicate ours. Why and how did we become another version of you?’
Bill’s gaze flicked from Stephen to her. ‘Yes, I’d like to know that too.’
Laura sat down. She knew she had to tell them everything, even about the experiments, but knowing and speaking about it were two different things.
Stephen and Bill stood at opposite ends of the sofa, looking uneasy.
She patted the vacant area beside her. ‘Please, someone sit with me. You’re both making me nervous.’
Bill perched on the edge of the arm-rest while Stephen remained standing.
‘In the latter part of the twenty-first century,’ she began, ‘the World Government appeared to have known about the inherent risks to our planet. The overpopulation had become an issue, the biodiversity was unbalanced and extinction lists were growing at an unmanageable rate. It was what drove the initial investment in space travel.’
Bill nodded. ‘Apart from the government’s early indications, this is all well known.’
Laura continued. ‘Well, as you know, their relentless search for a new exoplanet began shortly afterwards, and then they came across Exilon 5.’
‘In 2076.’
‘That’s right. But what the books don’t reveal is that the government in power at the time was digging up other facts isolated from this event. They discovered the planet could support life, but not their own because of incompatible gases. So they looked for other ways to make it happen.’
‘Alter its composition?’ said Stephen. His eyes were wider than looked comfortable.
‘Not at the beginning. While the government worked to come up with a solution, they were secretly putting Plan B into effect. As far back as 2032, the government were carrying out genetic experiments on human test subjects.’
Bill frowned. ‘There was an early twenty-first century condition known as hemeralopia that caused day-blindness. Specific cases mentioned it more recently, involving children with eyes that shone bright in the dark.’
‘Yes, I read about it too,’ said Laura. ‘That was one of the early experiments they carried out on children. Tests were done, often without permission. Some were as young as four.’
Stephen’s eyes widened further. ‘Did these children have superior night vision?’
‘Yes,’ said Laura. ‘They had exceptional vision in darker conditions, but their eyes were more sensitive in daytime light. Why?’
‘You have just described the eyesight of every Indigene I know.’
The confirmation made Laura shiver, but this was only the beginning of her story.
‘I’m sorry, Stephen,’ she said. ‘I know this is difficult for you to hear. But you need to know everything.’
52
Bill was buzzing. Yet he hadn’t had a coffee all day.
‘I’m having trouble understanding exactly where Stephen fits into this.’
Laura sighed. ‘As I said, the genetic experiments were carried out long before the planet had even been discovered. From the files, it appears that around 2110, while engineers and ship designers were busy perfecting space travel, the World Government had almost perfected something of their own.’ She glanced at Stephen.
Bill looked between the pair. ‘Are you seriously telling us...?’ He ran his fingers through his hair. They couldn’t. They wouldn’t. ‘No.’
‘Yes,’ said Laura. ‘They created a race that could survive on the planet in its original uninhabitable state. They’d given up hope of humans ever living there and without having discovered more exoplanets, they fell back on their contingency plan for the human race. In their mind, the Earth was beyond saving.’
The last piece slotted into place, and Bill’s hate for the Indigenes slipped away. ‘So not only did Deighton and the board members create a new breed of human, but they did it without permission?’
‘Most likely.’ Laura glanced at Stephen. ‘He was designed to be a better version of us.’
‘Shit.’ Bill let out a breath. It all made sense. The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place. The video’s he’d watched on board the ship; the young Indigene with the genetic makeup of a twelve-year-old boy. Except for the mutations to his appearance and how he breathed, the boy could have passed for human.
But something else about the story caught his attention. ‘And what had they planned to do with the regular humans?’
Laura hesitated. ‘The government was placing our future existence in the hands of this superhuman race. What remained of the human race would be wiped out.’
Bill knew the World Government were shady, but this stooped to a new level.
Stephen stepped forward, a move that surprised Bill. He’d almost forgotten about the man in the room who’d been unwittingly caught up in a war not of his making.
‘How did we come into existence?’ said Stephen. ‘Where did my race come from exactly? Please, I need to know.’
Laura nodded. ‘In the early days, scientists had advertised for human test subjects to join their gene-splicing and manipulation therapy programmes. It was funded by the World Government.’
‘Another non-surprise,’ said Bill.
‘Some volunteered, but many didn’t. Without enough test subjects, they resorted to taking people from the street. The tests succeeded at first, they said. But neither the splicing nor manipulation techniques worked well in those who had inherited genetic diseases from
their parents. Their bodies successfully rejected the changes.
‘It was through trial and error that the scientists discovered that anomaly. Later on, when they trialled splicing in people of average intellect with clean DNA structures, the results improved slightly, but showed minimal differences between the before and after test subjects. It wasn’t until they tested those with a superior IQ that the genetic splicing and manipulation worked perfectly with their genes. The work done also had a boosting effect on their brain’s ability to learn. Take doctors, engineers and professors. Professions with a high IQ. The tests seemed to supercharge their skills somehow.’
Bill had always suspected there was something different, or special, about the indigenous race on Exilon 5. ‘So, there really is a race of super-intelligent beings on Exilon 5?’
‘You only have to look at Stephen to know that’s the case.’
‘What’s your IQ, Stephen?’ asked Bill.
‘We don’t use human measurements to define our intelligence, but if I was to compare it to your scale, it would be close to two hundred and seventy.’
Bill let out a low whistle. Stephen might still pose a threat, but all he saw before him was a man whose history had been torn to shreds. A man who fitted nowhere.
‘So, Stephen is fully human?’
‘Yes and no. Stephen is less than fifty years old. Am I right, Stephen?’ The Indigene nodded. ‘So, essentially he was the product of two superhumans. He’s a true indigenous species of the planet. According to the files, those older than fifty would have lived as humans, since there have been no experiments for the last fifty years.’
Stephen gasped suddenly, alarming Bill. ‘What is it?’
‘Our oldest Central Council members are well over fifty years old. Are you telling me they were once your kind of human?’
‘I’m afraid that’s probably the case,’ said Laura.
The Indigene shook his head. ‘But it’s not possible. They have specific memories of being born, of growing up on the planet, and of a life before the one we have now. How can that be?’
‘When the government created the early superhumans, they overwrote their memories with new ones. The scientists rewired the neural pathways so they’d forget their old lives. The government scientists created a new existence for the new race, so they’d adapt to the new planet. Because of your age, Stephen, your memories are real. Any recollections of your society earlier than fifty years ago are most likely false.’
One thing still confused Bill. ‘Why is the government trying to kill the Indigenes if they are just like us?’
Laura pulled the band out of her hair and ruffled it. When she tucked it behind her ears, Bill could tell she was hoping for a break.
‘Their motives appear to have been more innocent at the start,’ she said. ‘While putting all their hopes for survival into this new race, they accidentally stumbled upon a way to alter the gas composition on Exilon 5. When they realised the planet could house ordinary humans, they knew one race would be sacrificed for another. When the explosions happened, it wasn’t just to terraform the planet; it was to destroy their creation. The files mentioned that neither race could discover the other.’
‘We did more than survive.’ The Indigene snarled. ‘We adapted even further.’
‘He’s right,’ said Laura. ‘The first superhumans who relocated to the planet resembled us, but were more primitive in behaviour. Their skin was as sturdy as it is now, but their outward appearance was more like how you and I look.’ She addressed Stephen. ‘I imagine it was the years of living underground that altered your DNA and made your appearance what it is today.’
‘Apparently,’ said Stephen. ‘But the toughened skin, how?’
Laura’s rounded shoulders told Bill she had carried this truth for too long. He encouraged her with a touch on her shoulder, and felt her shaking through her clothes. ‘I know this is a lot to explain, but please continue. We need to know everything.’
She nodded. ‘The genetic manipulation involved experimentation with other species’ DNA. Animals, mostly. Think of the toughened exterior of a rhinoceros, for example, or the night vision of a nocturnal animal, or the regenerative properties of a lizard. They tried various permutations to alter the human code so it would mimic the more interesting properties of some animals.’
A pacing Stephen asked, ‘What do they plan to do with us?’
‘I don’t know. They can’t carry out any more explosions on the surface, not with a few transferees already living on Exilon 5.’
He stopped pacing. ‘What then?’
‘I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘Look, I got no idea of how this would play out. All I can tell you about are the facts on the micro file.’
Bill glanced at a stressed-looking Stephen. ‘Sorry for pushing you so hard, Laura. We both appreciate the effort you’ve made here. Do you still have the file?’
‘Yes. I thought about getting rid of it, but for some insane reason I kept it around. It’s yours if you want it.’
‘This transfer you speak of,’ said Stephen with a frown. ‘When did it begin?’
‘Around twenty-five years ago,’ said Bill. ‘Why?’
‘And when did it slow down? Far fewer of you have since settled on the planet.’
‘I don’t know exactly. A few years ago. Why?’
‘Well, it seems to correlate with the extra attention paid to our young.’ Bill assumed he was referring to the capture of one Indigene, from the videos. ‘Could it be their plans have changed?’
‘Anything’s possible,’ said Bill.
‘So what do we do about it?’ said Laura. ‘Can we do anything?’
Bill had no idea. ‘All I know is it’s not safe for us to stay here. Laura, you need to come with me. Leave your apartment, your life behind.’
Her eyes grew large. ‘What? No, I have a job. A career. I can’t just leave it.’
‘If they find out what you know, you won’t live long enough to enjoy it.’
‘You don’t understand. I need to get on the transfer list to Exilon 5. I can’t explain why. If I disappear now, I lose that chance.’
‘I expect all future transfers will be placed on hold, anyway. There are more pressing issues at play here. You need to decide which side you’re on.’
She stood. ‘I’m on this side, of course. Wouldn’t I be more useful to you if I was on the inside?’
Bill couldn’t see how it would work. She’d be in too much danger.
‘I must return to Exilon 5,’ Stephen declared, breaking the tension. ‘I need to tell the Indigenes what I’ve learned here. We have much more to fear than I’d first anticipated. We must be ready for when they come.’
Compassion replaced the anger that had consumed Bill for so long. He’d had it all wrong. He’d been focusing on the wrong enemy. ‘Of course. Getting you safely off this planet is our first priority.’
‘I have another favour to ask of you, Bill,’ said Stephen quietly. ‘I didn’t come here alone. My friend Anton was captured so I could escape. I need you to find out if he’s still alive.’
‘If the World Government has him, he may not be.’
‘I’m prepared for that. But I would still like you to check.’
‘I’ll see what I can find out.’
‘Thank you.’
Bill ran a hand through his hair. He stopped to touch the bump that remained after his near-suffocation.
‘I’m sorry about your head,’ said Stephen.
‘How do you know about...?’ He paused. ‘That was you?’
Stephen gave a small smile. ‘Actually, it was Anton who convinced me to help. I’m glad I did now.’
A yawn caught Bill by surprise. He’d been so tense about his return to Earth and meeting with Gilchrist that he’d pushed the exhaustion away. This heavy input of new information let it all back in. ‘Do you mind if I take a quick nap on your bed?’ he said to Laura.
She nodded. ‘Take all the time you need. But before y
ou go, there’s something else.’ She went into her bedroom and returned with three envelopes.
He looked at them, puzzled. ‘What are these?’
‘Letters from your wife.’
His heart pounded. He stared at the envelopes, then at Laura. ‘Where did you get these? What do they say? I mean, did you read them?’
She shook her head. ‘I was given them at the same time as the micro file. I can’t decipher them. They’re coded, I think. Just take them.’ She shoved them closer to his hand.
He grabbed the letters from her, swallowing down a lump in his throat. He pulled Stephen aside. Laura read the situation perfectly and gave them space to talk.
‘What do you know about the whereabouts of my wife?’
Stephen frowned. ‘What was her name?’
‘Isla... Isla Taggart. She went missing on Exilon 5. Do your people have her?’
Stephen shook his head. ‘There are no humans living in the district. I’ve never heard our elders mention someone by that name. I’m sorry.’
His eyes said he was telling the truth. Bill let out a long breath. ‘I’ve suspected for a while that I’ve been looking in the wrong place. I just didn’t want to believe it.’ To Laura he said, ‘Wake me up in an hour. We can’t stay here.’
With a heavy heart and clutching the envelopes to his chest, he shut the bedroom door behind him. The truth had drained the anger from him. He still had questions, and he didn’t know if he could fully trust the pair in the next room. But he was certain of one thing: the Indigenes were not his enemy. They never had been.
Bill kicked off his boots and lay on the bed. He turned onto his side and hugged the letters close to him. Tears fell. His eyelids drooped with the effort to keep them open.
He needed to rest. He was sick of fighting.
But the fight was just getting started.
53
Anton woke to the sound of buzzing electricity. He sat up, shaking his head to clear the persistent noise from his ears. The lump on the back of his head was fresh.
After he’d refused to tell the humans anything more, the officers shadowing Charles had approached his cage. With the barrier still in place they’d reached a long needle through and jabbed his arm with it, just before he passed out. He must have hit his head on the floor.