by Eliza Green
He got to his feet. His suit was gone. A pair of loose-legged trousers was all that covered him now.
Anton’s hope lifted when he spotted freedom. An opening to the room was all that separated him and the way out. But in his effort to reach it, something slowed him down. A strange energy nipped at his skin. His legs grew heavier, as though he were treading deep waters. He only made it two thirds of the way before an electrical current rooted him to the spot.
Two voices reached him, one belonging to Charles and the other to Gilchrist.
Her voice was low. ‘Charles, how long do you plan to keep him here?’
‘As long as it takes.’
She laughed once. ‘But I’m still not clear on your reasons for holding him. Is he a threat?’
‘No, my dear. He is the answer to our problems.’
‘Charles, I still don’t under—’
‘All in good time, Daphne. You worry too much. I promise to tell you everything. Now leave me.’
Anton heard a door close. Charles appeared in the tunnel outside the opening. He whistled a tune.
‘Let me... out of... here.’ Anton’s words were thick and slow, just like his movements. Breathing hurt more than usual. His device! He rolled his tongue over the back of his throat. The flexible membrane shifted in place.
‘I’d like to, dear boy, but you’re far too valuable to me.’
‘Let me... go and I won’t... kill... you.’
Charles laughed. ‘You won’t, because you can’t.’ He fixed his watery gaze on Anton. ‘Daphne is terrified of you. But me, I find you utterly fascinating. She agrees with me in public, but I know she has her reservations about my plans. We cannot live on this planet indefinitely. We cannot live in these broken bodies. We can help each other.’
Anton inched backwards until he had regained mobility. The electrical binds released his hands, allowing him to check for the rest of his filtration device. Finding it calmed him enough for the device to work as it should.
‘You’ve seen what I can do.’ Anton huffed out a breath. ‘The female is right to fear me. You should too.’
The old human laughed, hard. ‘I’m quite sure I’m safe. You won’t escape this room unless I turn that thing off.’ He swirled one finger in the air. ‘That low buzzing noise is an irritation, even to my ordinary ears, but the electricity works wonders to halt you.’ He hid his hands behind his back and a small smile settled into place. ‘We need each other.’
‘How?’
‘You need me to survive and I need you to convince the board members of my ambitious plans for the human race.’
Plans?
Anton slowed his breathing down, until the fog in his mind had lifted a little and he could think a little clearer. They had drugged him. His sluggish body and mind were attacking the new substance; it wouldn’t be long before his supercharged immune system counteracted its effects. ‘My friends, they’re coming for me,’ he breathed out.
Charles tensed up. He dropped his friendly manner. ‘Who is coming for you? Are there more of you on the way?’
Anton considered telling him about Stephen. How he had evaded the authorities and was loose on Earth. He could send them on a wild chase and buy himself more time. But to admit to it would be suicide for both of them. He pursed his lips.
‘Yes, that’s what I thought.’ Charles relaxed his shoulders. One Indigene was apparently enough for this human. ‘You’ve come alone. Or maybe you haven’t, it doesn’t matter. I only need one of you, anyway.’
Anton slid down to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. His bare back pressed against the cool rock. It felt familiar and comfortable, like District Three. He concentrated on his captor’s thoughts, but the old human appeared able to block Anton’s abilities. Or maybe it was the electricity, or the drugs. He shook his head to clear both.
Would Stephen send for help? Would he live out his days as a prisoner? Not if he had anything to do with it. But how could he fight against both the drugs and the electricity?
A part of him resigned to his capture. He looked up at the old man. ‘What do you need me for, anyway?’
Charles’ eyes brightened for a moment, but then he turned and walked away. Anton heard a door open.
‘To help keep me alive.’ His voice echoed in the open space.
Keep me alive? The three words tumbled about in Anton’s mind as the door shut. The faint thread of a thought danced before him; he tugged on it.
Charles needed Anton for something. That meant he had a fighting chance.
54
Their chat had left Laura feeling exhausted. But while Bill slept, she kept an anxious Stephen company.
‘Can I get you anything? Water? Food?’
He attempted a smile. ‘No thank you. But I do need to leave.’
‘There won’t be another passenger ship leaving until tomorrow. We have time.’
The Indigene looked away. This weirdness between them bothered her.
She sat down of the sofa. ‘I know this isn’t what you expected.’
Stephen laughed once. ‘No, it is not.’
‘But it is what it is.’ She patted the seat next to her. ‘Can’t we at least pretend to be friends?’
‘I prefer to stand.’
‘Okay.’ She stood, despite her exhaustion. ‘Then we’ll stand.’
Stephen eyed her. It wasn’t fear or wariness lodged there, but curiosity. ‘You are strange.’
She clasped her hands to the front. ‘So are you.’
‘Are we... related?’
She didn’t think so. ‘Distant cousins, maybe. I don’t believe our government has a right to claim you, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
Stephen sighed and his guard appeared to lower. ‘We have not asked for any of this.’ No they hadn’t. ‘Why are we being followed now? The experiments you mentioned took place a long time ago. What is the reason for their interest now?’
‘I wish I knew, but the investigation—Bill’s investigation—obviously triggered a new interest in something. You want the truth?’
‘Please.’
Laura focused on the floor. ‘We were supposed to transfer to Exilon 5, all humans, all twenty billion of us. While that hasn’t happened yet, interest in Exilon 5 remains high. For what purpose, I don’t know.’ She looked up at him. ‘But I don’t believe that everyone in charge has the same agenda—whatever that may be.’
Stephen nodded. ‘What will become of me if I stay here?’
‘You will end up like your friend.’
‘I need to find him.’
She touched his arm briefly and smiled. ‘And with our help you will.’ Gilchrist had told her to be a team player. She hadn’t pictured her team to consist of an angry investigator and an Indigene. But she finally trusted her gut. ‘We’re on the same side. Bill and I won’t let anything happen to you.’
Stephen frowned at her. ‘How can you make that promise?’
‘I can’t, but I’m going to damn well try.’
55
Bill hadn’t moved from where he’d collapsed on top of Laura’s clothes. Sleep had hit him hard but the good feeling hadn’t lasted. Bill couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a decent night’s rest. He checked the time. An hour had passed. Tears and tension had woken him five minutes ago.
The envelopes felt like an extra weight in his hand. He brushed his fingers over the tops of them, brought them up to his nose, and sniffed them. It was faint, but he thought he smelled Isla’s perfume.
Panic hit him. Was he ready to read his wife’s innermost thoughts? Was he ready to learn she was still in danger, or worse, that the letters might be his last tangible link to her?
She must still be alive. Without the discovery of a body, it was the only proof he had.
The door to Laura’s bedroom creaked open. He stuffed the envelopes into his jacket pocket and sat up. More pressing things required his attention, like getting Stephen off this planet. That and leaving the apa
rtment, before the officers returned to ask more questions.
She paused at the door, one hand on it.
‘Hey, time for us to go.’
His wife used to stand at the door like that. His raw ache needled at him.
‘You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.’
She flinched at his snappy tone. ‘You needed the sleep. Excuse me, I’ll be outside.’ She closed the door behind her.
Bill set his feet on the floor. The envelopes made a crunching sound in his pocket.
‘I’m sorry love, but someone needs my help right now.’
She didn’t answer him. In fact, she hadn’t spoken to him since the passenger ship. After he helped Stephen, his focus would shift to Earth. But he needed to do it fast, before they erased all clues as to Isla’s whereabouts.
Bill emerged from the bedroom to see Stephen standing by the front door, his navy-blue suit buttoned and free of wrinkles, his borrowed black Stetson in one hand.
‘Are you sure you can get me safe passage off Earth, Bill?’ he asked, fitting his hat on his head.
‘I’ll make damn sure it happens. I just need to make a quick call first. One of my off-grid contacts.’ He paused. ‘I don’t want to see you here again. You understand?’
Stephen smiled. ‘If I’m here it means I’m not safe.’
Bill dug his communication device out of his pocket and stuck the earpiece in his ear. He barked instructions to the man.
‘Are you sure it will work?... Yeah, yeah. Colin Stipple... It’s a hot name right now. People are probably looking for him.’
‘Is it for a friend?’ the contact asked.
Bill glanced at Stephen. ‘Yeah, something like that... Cheers, I owe you one.’
Laura slipped her jacket on and wrapped a scarf around her neck and head, making it into a hood of sorts.
Bill pulled his earpiece out, taking in Laura’s appearance. ‘And where the hell do you think you’re going?’
‘I’m coming with you.’
‘I won’t be responsible for another person going missing,’ said Bill.
‘He’s right, Laura,’ said Stephen. ‘I don’t want you risking your life for me. It was Bill Taggart I needed to find and now I have.’
She turned the collar up on her coat and produced a gel mask from her pocket. ‘The last time I checked, neither of you were responsible for me. If I hadn’t seen the information on the micro file, you two wouldn’t have learned as much as you did. And since you’re both in my apartment, I’d say I’m very much involved.’
Laura opened the door and walked out into the communal hall.
When they didn’t follow, she turned back.
‘Well, are you coming or not?’
Bill shook his head. ‘Stubborn,’ he muttered, walking past.
‘You have no idea just how much, Bill Taggart.’
He had a feeling he was about to find out.
Laura closed the door after Stephen and put on her gel mask. ‘Now, let’s get Stephen home.’
56
Four days later
Stephen had boarded the passenger ship to Exilon 5 the next day without setting off any alarms, thanks to Bill’s contact. The authorities weren’t looking for another stowaway. Three days on board and his stolen identity chip hadn’t alerted anyone to his presence on the ship.
Sat in the ship’s recreation room and dressed in his blue suit, his skin tightened at his proximity to a group of humans. Chatter echoed around the space. Curious eyes sought him out.
Without Anton, Stephen second guessed every decision he made. Should he stay out of sight? Should he sit on display? He realised his best defence was company not isolation.
The rim of the black Stetson he wore irritated his skin. He sat on his hands to stop himself from adjusting it. Fiddling with his hat would only draw attention to the parts of his arms where the silicone skin had fallen off. The brown contact lenses irritated his dried-out eyes. His filtration device struggled to remove the extra oxygen from the ship’s purified air. Ironically, the Earth he’d left behind—the oxygen-starved air and the grey skies—felt more like his old planet had before the changes.
Two men three tables over began a fight with each other over something. Stephen shifted to a table farther away from the roughhousing. Others followed suit. Two officers carrying Buzz Guns entered the room. The air danced with electricity, making Stephen’s static eliminator run hot as it drew the static from the air.
The officers got rough with the pair before handcuffing them. Was that how the military had dealt with Anton? His gut twisted thinking about his friend. But his priority was to get home. Despite his logic, the guilt of leaving him there tightened its grip on him. Stephen tugged his jacket around him as a new chill blasted his hot and clammy body.
The officers left the room with the pair, taking the static energy with them. Stephen retreated to his sleeping quarters—the only place left where he felt safe. Inside the dark coffin-like sleeping pod, sleep continued to elude him
☼
Two weeks later
Exilon 5 drifted into view outside the windows of the passenger ship. Stephen joined others at the viewing window to look out at his home that he hadn’t seen for four weeks.
Knowing the truth about humans, he now viewed the planet with new eyes. Six minuscule blots on the landscape represented each of the human cities. Roads connecting the cities left tracks in the earth like blood-filled veins. Areas of recently disturbed land meant only one thing: they were preparing to transport more humans to Exilon 5.
The ship slipped into Exilon 5 space in the dead of night. At least he’d have cover and cool temperatures for the final leg of the journey to District Three. The cooling packs inside his jacket helping to regulate his body temperature had stopped working a week ago. The tight and restrictive human clothes he wore irritated his clammy skin.
Alongside the other passengers, he waited in the ship’s hold to board a spacecraft destined for New London. As the craft descended to the planet, he planned his escape. Minutes later, it hovered above the magnetised landing plates at the docking station where he and Anton had begun their journey.
The passengers filed off the craft too slowly, which only made Stephen anxious. How he wanted to break out of his human pretence. Ahead of him, an officer was scanning the passengers’ identity chips.
His heart slammed against his ribs. Had Bill Taggart’s contact made sure his name would not trigger alarms on Exilon 5 too? Putting his safety in the hands of strangers chilled him, but he’d seen no other way.
Stephen scanned the station for the fastest way out. He could make a run for it, but that would draw attention to him.
The line inched forward and brought him one step closer to escape.
Keep it together, Stephen.
The device in his throat struggled to reduce the oxygen levels in the docking station. The humans’ heartbeats sounded like a runaway train. Their thoughts were like muffled sounds.
Stay calm, you’re almost there.
Keeping to the plan would help Anton too—if he was still alive.
He shivered as he passed through the identity verification area. The alarm stayed silent.
He released a breath.
‘Did you enjoy your visit to Earth, sir?’
Stephen stopped and turned around. The attending officer was speaking to him. ‘Is something the matter?’
The officer smiled. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to alarm you. Are you returning from a break? Although I wouldn’t call Earth a holiday destination. You’re better off here, if you ask me.’
Stephen returned the smile, although the attempt felt awkward.
The officer frowned. ‘Are you all right, sir?’
‘Apologies. I am just tired. I am rested from my break, and happy to be home.’
The officer’s frown deepened. Stephen’s stomach knotted up—his language was too stiff; humans talked in a more casual way.
‘Okay, well, have
a good journey.’
He walked on relieved to be home. Something fell out of his coat pocket and he froze.
‘Mr Stipple?’
Stephen turned to see the officer holding one of the cooling packs in his hand. ‘Mr Stipple, I think this belongs to you.’
He grabbed it from the officer’s hand. ‘Oh, thank you.’
‘What is it? Looks like a cooling pack.’
‘It’s nothing. It’s not important.’ He shoved the pack into his pocket and caught up to a group heading for transport that would take them to New London. To his relief, the officer didn’t follow.
With the vehicle in sight, Stephen peeled away from the back of the group and strode towards the flatlands. At a safe distance, he ditched his shoes and pumped his powerful legs. His bare feet glided across the surface and left shallow imprints in the soil. As soon as he’d cleared the immediate area, he dug the chip out of his thumb and crushed it between his fingers. By the time he’d reached his top running speed the gash had healed over.
The communication stone he carried with him should have alerted Pierre and Elise to his arrival back on Exilon 5. He had to reach District Three and warn the elders of the new threats to their society.
The New London streets were eerily quiet, except for a few people out late that night. A wolf howled in the distance. Stephen ran past large parks and grey brick buildings, built by human engineers. The Indigene environs were more accommodating and dynamic, designed to enhance their emotions, and to amplify and control the raw energy from the planet’s various rock types. He couldn’t imagine his elders once living in a city as basic as New London.
A digital library loomed up ahead, its bright pink neon sign testing the strength of his eye lenses. An advertisement blinked overhead: