‘He hasn’t actually sent us anything of use yet…’ Lucas chipped in.
‘Telling us about the UA’s plans to migrate to Mars, isn’t useful?’ Jun’s voice threatened.
Chandra put a hand to her shoulder. He was trying to calm her down, but she wouldn’t be calmed. He proffered stools for them to sit around the table. ‘I think we should be prepared, either way. Kau might be feeding us incorrect information…’ he said carefully.
Jun’s blood boiled; her cheeks fired red.
‘Or… Kau, is being fed incorrect information, intentionally. We need to consider all the options. If Kau is holding something back from us, then what is it?’
Jun relegated herself in the conversation, from participant to witness.
Chandra tapped on the Interface as he spoke, making a flow chart of their options. ‘Option one. Maybe they aren’t migrating to Mars, in which case, we’re focusing our energies in one direction, and they’re exploiting another.’
Jun didn’t feel this was true. The evidence she’d gathered before Kau confirmed it – Wei and Markov’s clandestine tests, all the references of Project Epomenzoic – all pointed in this direction.
‘Two,’ he tapped, ‘maybe Kodi isn’t infected with anything and it’s a bluff on their part.’
It was a relevant point, but not one that they could gamble with. Not if they wanted to keep Kodi safe and alive.
‘Thirdly,’ Jun sensed Chandra’s delicacy in finding the right words, ‘as well as giving us information on them, Kau’s feeding them information on us.’
Jun stood up with force. She couldn’t keep quiet anymore. ‘Think logically! If he’s feeding them information, why hasn’t he told the UA about our bunkers and passages? They wouldn’t need to waste their time with this virus business, and they could just storm in here and take her. They didn’t know about them when they raided before, and they don’t know about them now.’
Jun knew this only served to distract them from their priority and focus – ensuring Kodi’s safety. If they wanted to beat the UA, they had to think like them. Anton, with his bulk and brash, relentlessly hunts down what he wants, by any means necessary. How would he get what he wanted in this situation?
‘Why don’t we send a comm to Kau in the meantime,’ Solo suggested, ‘asking him if he’s found out about the virus, and reiterating that we won’t hand her over…’
There had been some nods from around the table. ‘Jun?’
But her mind had been busy planting tent poles of a plan b. One which would address Kau, as well as help keep Kodi safe. The solution had been simple; it had been staring them in the face as brazen as the sun.
The mini-Interface said the finalised blood analysis was due in less than a minute. The seconds ambled along. Chandra, Kodi, Solo and Batz sat around the table, their eyes glazed over staring at the hand-sized black box, waiting for the light to go green.
When it did, they all seemed to draw breath. Jun touched the mini-Interface to look at the results; it only took a moment for that cautious hope of hers to ebb away – Kodi’s blood didn’t detect any of the viruses they had inputted to the analyser.
Though they might have guessed from her reaction, Jun verbalised what they’d hoped wasn’t true, but were prepared for.
‘Kodi hasn’t tested positive for any of the viruses the Mid-Am contact shared,’ she said, determined to think positively – they couldn’t let the UA win. ‘Which means it’s an unknown synthetic virus. A UA secret weapon.’ She needed to approach it just like any other study when their hypothesis failed – they needed to find another way in.
‘So, we’re back to square one?’ Kodi said, trying to cloister her disappointment.
Before Jun could answer, the alarm squawked, signalling that someone was coming into the bunker. Lucas bounded-down the steps with the fatal urgency.
‘I heard something,’ Lucas said, gravely, reluctant to say any more.
‘Is it something we can use?’ Jun guessed that it wasn’t that kind of something.
Lucas walked over to the Interface, and his fingers glazed the screen and brought up a motion file. ‘You’d better listen to this.’
Last night, Jun hadn’t been able to sleep with the fear that they wouldn’t be able to diagnose the virus, and had no other hands left to play. She had risen early, still preferring to sleep in the tunnel rather than Solo’s mob-home. The perfect storm of actions and words of the past few days, were swirling around in her head. What resources did they have available to them, what specialist skills did they have up their sleeve? If they wanted to beat the UA, they had to think like the UA. Kodi was right. Their virus threat was nothing better than blackmail, and then an idea came to her. Anton’s lack of humanity and his narcissism gave him an ego bigger than his waistline. Though he might not have cared about Odgerel’s files being released into the world, it would be a different story if it was him – his files, his history, his life. What skeletons were rattling around Anton’s closet? Fan intimated there were plenty, and from what she had seen so far, she could believe it. Perhaps they were the kind of skeletons Anton wouldn’t want the UA to know about.
With the urgency of a revolver pointed at her head, Jun brewed the idea. Their last-roll of the dice had to be as dirty as Anton himself. Though it was risky, Chandra could tap into the PSA network and monitor Anton’s home, just like he had with Delphine, and use it to spy on him – footage of Anton saying or doing something that they could blackmail him with. Threaten to release it to the world or just to the UA and put him into disrepute. Jun had fantasised about the dynamite they’d find – maybe Anton had screwed over an associate, or like Jonquil, had a business side-line that bye-passed the UA rulebook. Like a cat pawing a mouse, she’d take great delight in the idea of blackmailing Anton to give them the antidote.
When Jun had talked it over with the group, they’d agreed there was nothing to lose. Despite its risks, even Chandra thought it was a good idea, and he and Lucas had taken turns monitoring Anton’s home. Lucas had borne the first fruit, but from his reaction, it didn’t seem edible.
The Interface flickered on, and Anton’s kitchen beamed on the screen. Though it was the same CMCD blueprint of their home, Anton’s kitchen was glossier than theirs – the counters were slicker, the blinds more reflective. Although every kitchen had in-built equipment, multiple appliances adorned Anton’s walls like over-the-top costume jewellery; opulent rugs embellished the floor.
Jun heard him before she saw him. His voice dominated the kitchen, with that unequivocal pomp and self-importance, just as she remembered.
‘He’s just come home from work,’ Lucas interjected. ‘This was about 45 minutes ago, around 7.30pm.’
Helena, the Whippet, came onto the screen, ‘Hmmm’ she said into her phone, in response to Anton’s thundering monologue.
‘Celeste is ignorant to its significance…’ he boomed, and then he came onto the screen. Jun’s stomach bucked in revolt, but she forced her eyes to keep looking at him.
‘What she doesn’t grasp,’ Anton wheezed and climbed onto a stool, ‘is that we don’t have the time to dick around. We’ve got two years to complete the Phase One migration, not ten. We need to stop messing around with this vanity project, and start cracking the whip to the developers, or I’ll need to crack it myself. Again.’
Jun’s heart caught in her throat – did she hear that right? Phase One was to be completed in two years? The information that Kau shared with them said five. Either Kau was holding out on them, just like Kodi’s P-EP said, or he was in the dark too.
Helena handed a tumbler to Anton, before frantically typing on her phone again. ‘But don’t forget,’ she looked up momentarily, ‘this time of year is difficult for her… you know, with the baby.’
‘Mmmn,’ Anton grunted, and swilled the whisky around before throwing it down his throat. ‘I was going to invite her over for lunch on Sunday, but a plan of mine backfired.…’ He mused at the bottom of his empty glass. He
fished out the bottle from the cupboard above him and poured himself another generous measure. ‘She’s not very happy with me,’ he said and took a swig.
‘You seem more morose than usual,’ Helena said, still punching away on her phone.
‘Mmm,’ he gave the same grunt as before, and threw back the tumbler with the skill of a master bowler. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, we’ve got ten years, twelve at a push, till it’s game-over. If I don’t get that kid back, that’s my buffer gone, guaranteed-success, over…’ he said and chanced a look at her before discreetly pouring out another. Her face was buried in her phone. ‘And we can kiss goodbye to the proposed VIP status and the club suite on Mars.’ He threw the bottle back in the cabinet with a clunk. ‘My problem, is your problem, remember?’ he snarled.
‘I’m working on it,’ she protested, and looked up from her phone with thunderous defiance.
‘So much for the power of the media,’ he heaved himself from the stool and swayed out of the frame. ‘I’ll be in my room,’ he yelled.
Helena waited a moment, till she opened the cupboard door and silently brought the whisky bottle Anton had been drinking, to her lips. She swallowed and looked to his absent stool. ‘You can choke in there for all I care.’ She replaced the bottle and picked up her phone instantaneously.
Lucas stopped the feed. They all looked at one another in silent reverie. They’d lost more than their blackmail bargaining chip. Any time they took a step in the right direction, a blockade came up and forced them back again. “Twelve years at a push till game-over.” He could only mean the habitability of Earth.
‘Lucas, keep listening in on Anton, there might be something yet that we can use,’ Jun said, and broke the seal of silence. She couldn’t give up on Kodi.
‘Don’t we need to talk about this?’ Lucas said, imploring everyone else. ‘The reduced timings… what that means?’
Chandra smiled; his intent was reassurance, but it was limp and bleak. ‘We will.’
‘Let’s speak to Kau first, find out what he knows, but for now…’ she said with more intention than she felt, ‘we carry on as business as usual.’
When Kau had first told them about the migration plan, she hadn’t stopped to feel sentimental about it. There had been too much else to think about, and it had still felt some time away. But now at the prospect of win or lose, life as they knew it would be over in 12 years, at the most, what were they fighting for?
She looked around at the solemn faces. Batz had pulled Solo towards him. His eyes were closed in earnest; hers were open, furrowed with anxiety. Lucas looked to the exit, but couldn’t bring himself to move, playing with his knuckles, but no popping came. Chandra and Kodi looked down to the floor in heavy reflection.
And then, her heart ached and pined for Kau. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, she hadn’t brought him into the world for this to happen. With the powerful instinct she knew that only other parents felt, every fibre of her burned with a determination that Kau must not be left behind.
Whatever happened, he needed to stay alive, and if that meant Mars and the UA, then so be it.
CHAPTER 33
Saturday 20th May 2062
11 hours to hand over Kodi
‘Kau,’ Anton laughed, as though his name was a punchline. ‘What tricks have you been playing?’
Kau’s blood iced; Anton couldn’t know, could he? And compared to the bombastically colourful tricks from Anton, Kau’s paled in comparison. When Kau read the comm last night, telling him about the Earth’s reduced timelines, the words snatched the breath from his chest. It had been worse than he’d thought; than he’d been told. The Earth wasn’t supposed to have given up on them yet. But he couldn’t let Anton realise that he knew, it would be a fate worse than death. He would need to play it calm and keep playing his game.
‘Tricks? What do you mean?’
Anton’s office at home was positioned exactly where his father’s office was, but that’s where the similarity ended. Where his father’s workspace was pared back, Anton’s was cluttered. Awards, maps, an illum wall with old formulas and recommendations; it was claustrophobic, just like Anton’s office at work. But this time, there was a single Pix on the wall, Anton smiling next to a man and woman. They were smiling right back at him. Kau had never seen Anton look like that before. He was slim, his eyes weren’t sunken with flesh, his jaw defined and strong. And he was smiling. Anton never smiled, a genuine smile of…joy. It was always sly or snide, victorious or self-serving. Kau walked away from it; Anton wouldn’t thank him for prying.
Anton wheezed behind his desk – decorated with a marble-wedge top – and forced some pills into his gullet, chased with water. Missing in action were his ringed-with-sweat shirt, and sharp-tailored trousers. In their place he wore a bright blue polo shirt with khaki shorts. Without the starched armour, without the UA atmosphere, Anton could pass for a normal human being. Almost. He fidgeted around for something in a drawer. He wasn’t his usual collected self.
It was early on Saturday, and they were back to business, but time had obliqued of late. Anton, Kau suspected, was probably always working in some guise. Working and drinking; drinking and working, one always on the periphery of the other, but never wholly consuming, at least not yet.
‘You’re getting nowhere fast. Whatever your tactic is, it’s not working,’ Anton smiled, one which said that on some level, he was enjoying this. ‘Walk with me,’ he said, and heaved himself up from behind the desk.
Anton opened the door and veered them outside, and Kau put on the baseball cap he’d taken to wearing to protect his scalp. Anton’s garden was more substantial than theirs at home, despite the UA’s supposed democratisation of homes. There was an out-house at the end of a lush-green square. It was the first patch of green grass Kau had seen in a long time. It would take an insane amount of maintenance to keep it looking as fresh as it did – intermittent canopies and constant irrigation at the least; it would be a dedicated project. Surrounding it was a metre-and-a-half deep border of foliage. Plants with crinkled leaves like saluting hands; bushels of lozenge-shaped white, purple and orange grouped conspiratorially, and there were sprawling ferns and lush-green palms in between.
‘Perk of the job,’ Anton winked. ‘I only have the grass out at weekends,’ he said, and pulled the out-house door open.
Inside, a three-metre wide wall of oceanic splendour greeted them. Kau had never seen an aquarium like it. The piercing blue water shimmered with fish; shocks of orange streaked with blue, flashes of silver and sunny yellows splashed with black. There were boulders of reef clumped in one corner, rail-thin reeds in the other. It was magnificent. The rest of the inside was like a lumberjack’s cabin, exposed wood, grand rustic-carved chairs and rawhide draped on the floor and walls Kau’s stomach turned.
Anton opened an old wooden trunk on the floor near the aquarium and pulled out some rattling containers of pellets and bloodworm.
‘You can help me feed them,’ he said and abruptly threw a box at Kau’s chest.
A couple of days ago, the idea of Anton looking after anything except his self-interests would have seemed absurd, but after Kau’s conversation with Celeste yesterday, perhaps Anton wasn’t the cut and shut sadist he had him down for.
‘My aquarium,’ he said, basking in its splendour, ‘is where I come to get away from it all.’ He walked up to it so his head was almost flat against the tank, and Kau half wondered if he might stroke it or something. With Anton, you never knew which side of crazy you were going to get.
‘There’s a Yellow Longnose Butterflyfish,’ he said and pointed to a striking, yellow paddle of a fish. ‘I have Wrasses and Angel Fish, Cornets and Damselfish…’
They were stunningly ornate and beautiful; each one distinctive with intricate features and silhouettes.
‘You have to be considered when creating a community – aquariums can be fragile ecosystems. Saltwater fish like these can be more aggressive…territorial. Usually, they only sh
ow aggression towards their species. The others,’ he shrugged his shoulders, ‘they tolerate.’
‘See him there,’ Anton pointed to an electric blue one lingering in the corner. ‘He’s a Male Cortez Damselfish. In the wild, he’s a filial cannibal. He eats his own eggs,’ he said, relishing in Kau’s repulsion. ‘Not all; about 25%. It’s an adaptive response to eggs that don’t provide enough benefit to warrant their existence.’ He glowered at Kau.
‘The other 75% go on to thrive, but that 25% he deems aren’t good enough and aren’t worth it,’ Anton snapped his fingers. ‘He recycles them. They’re rules to live by,’ he said, and patted Kau’s shoulder.
Kau needed to talk his way out of here, fast. ‘Kodi…’ he started, but Anton grimaced at her name. ‘The girl. She isn’t at the Ghetto. They won’t tell me where she is.’
Anton seemed to contemplate this, and rustled some pellets in his hands, pinching them between his fingers, and torpedoed them in the water. ‘It’s not good enough,’ he said, and then dropped the rest in like grenades. The yellow paddle and striking blue darted for the food, skimming the surface and diving away in perfect synchronicity. Then two more shot up, then another, and then another. ‘Just find her.’ Anton’s bear claw scooped some more from the container.
Kau tried to appease Anton by confirming that he was going to the Ghetto that morning; after all, that’s what Anton wanted to hear. It was true, he did plan on going, though not for the reasons that Anton thought. He was going to tell the truth, and finally give his mother the mementoes she’d asked for. But he would have to go unmanned, he said, arguing that bringing Police only strengthened the Ghetto’s resistance.
Kau could tell Anton didn’t like it, but that he was also desperate to get Kodi back.
‘Very well,’ he said, and turned to walk away, but thought twice. He gave Kau a look that would menace even the unshakeable zen of Chandra. ‘But just remember, what would you rather be, the 75% or the 25%?’
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