by Eliza Green
While Laura gave up on her coffee, Bill returned to the kitchen for another. When he sat down again, he asked, ‘Do you think Gilchrist was the one watching you through the camera?’
‘The thought had crossed my mind, but she prefers to reprimand in public. It all seems too cloak-and-dagger for her.’ She turned to face him. ‘You’ve had dealings with her too, haven’t you?’
He nodded. ‘She was at some debriefings, but only as Deighton’s lackey.’
‘Do you think she’d ever go against Deighton?’
‘I don’t know. She does whatever he asks. I think she’s afraid to cross him.’
‘I haven’t met Deighton—and I never want to.’ Laura shuddered.
‘I don’t blame you. He’s a strange man. Is there any talk about him at ESC?’
‘Just the usual—that he controls the World Government board members, not the other way round. Those who’ve met him have said his emotional reactions are off. Does that make sense?’
‘Yeah, he’s more than just plain old creepy.’ Bill drained his mug. The caffeine increased his agitation. He tapped his nail once against the mug.
Laura smiled. ‘That’s what Gilchrist does—taps things with her fingernails.’
‘Does she?’
‘Yeah, usually when she’s irritated about something—or nervous.’
‘Good to know.’
Laura picked up her mug and tried another sip. The face she made drew another smile from him. Her hair was loose around her shoulders; he preferred it when she wore it down. It surprised him at how easy it was to have her here. She was good company. Isla would like her.
‘You don’t have to finish that, you know,’ he said with a grin.
‘Thank God.’ She slammed the cup down. ‘I was just being polite.’
The Light Box sprang into life. The encryption code he’d given to Jenny flashed up on the screen.
‘It’s her—and about time.’ He straightened up and connected the call. Jenny’s face came into view. ‘Captain, I was about to give up on you.’
‘I needed some time to prepare things at my end,’ said Jenny. ‘Hello, Laura.’
Laura smiled and nodded at her.
‘Before we get down to the details, I have one other question for you. I should have asked you when we had dinner the other day, but it didn’t occur to me.’
‘Look, Jenny, we really don’t have time—’
Laura patted his leg. ‘Go ahead,’ she said to Jenny.
‘Your plan is to travel to Exilon 5. How? Won’t somebody miss you?’
‘We have it covered,’ said Bill.
Laura nudged him. ‘Just tell her about the chips. We have to trust her.’
The secret chips. Bill glared at her.
‘What chips?’ Jenny stared at him. ‘You promised me the truth. I said I wouldn’t accept this job without it.’
He sighed. He needed her to accept. ‘We will be using replicated identity chips to leave Earth. The Indigene you met gave me some blanks to use if we needed them. That’s everything, I promise. Now, let’s talk about the details.’
‘Not so fast,’ said Jenny. ‘I want to come with you.’
‘I told you already, that’s not possible.’ The last thing he needed was another person to protect.
‘I come with you or you find a new pilot. Take it or leave it.’
Laura nudged Bill again. ‘Can’t we give her one of the chips? Give her a new identity. We can’t do this without her.’
Bill had to agree; Jenny had backed him into a corner. As he studied the Captain on screen, he detected there was more to her request.
‘Tell me why you’re so keen to come with us.’
Jenny paused a moment. ‘That man who hijacked my craft all those months ago has haunted me ever since. It’s not fear I feel, but pity. I felt his isolation, and desperation, in that cockpit. He begged for my help and I tried to delay him. I’d like to put it right... And if I screw over the government’s nasty schemes in the process, I’m okay with that too.’
Bill didn’t see how he could refuse her. ‘Okay, but I’ll need you to come with me to Magadan to arrange for your new identity.’
‘No problem. When can we leave?’ said Jenny.
‘Give me twenty-four hours to arrange it. I’ll call you.’
‘I look forward to working with you both. Oh, and let’s drop the formalities, Bill. It’s Jenny.’
Her image disappeared from the screen. Bill and Laura slumped back in their seats.
‘It’s a risk going back to Magadan,’ said Laura.
‘What choice do I have? Like you said, we need her.’
24
Charles Deighton arrived a day early at the Galway Medical Facility. His diary had been filled with appointments he couldn’t get out of; Carol had managed to move some things around. Caroline Finnegan had called him five days ago, said she had some news to share about the test subjects. He’d been too excited to wait and see what progress the Galway team had made.
With his security team in tow, he crept towards the room where the doctor and her team were gathered. His presence put people on edge. It fascinated him how the smallest amount of fear could control anyone.
From the shadows, he observed the normally level-headed doctor work herself up into a state over something. Maybe his Indigene was responsible for her upset. He stayed out of sight, excited by the impending results and enjoying the spectacle. Knowing the tests had been conducted in secret tempered his excitement. At some point he’d have to explain his actions to the board members.
The ordered decisions of the World Government board members frustrated him. They were opposite to his more fluid way of thinking. It exhausted him having to hide his more progressive views. Order, he supposed, had its place. Order helped Deighton to identify predictability in the actions of the board members. Some members embraced his more ‘visionary’ view of the future. But the majority who preferred safer routes posed the biggest threat to his plans for change.
Ignorantia juris non excusat—ignoring the law does not excuse. It was the motto printed on the wall behind Carol’s reception desk. He chuckled every time he read it. How ironic it was, how empty a statement, given the board member’s sanction of programmes that crossed the boundaries of ethics.
Deighton continued to watch the doctor: every step she took, every check she made, the way she tucked loose strands of her hair behind her ear. A likeable person by ordinary standards, but something irked him about her mannerisms. She scurried between monitors at either end of the laboratory. On one of her passes, she scolded an untidy looking girl about something.
Laughter rumbled through him. They were preparing for his visit tomorrow. Yet, here he was. Soon the board members would have their genetic formula. Then the plan to create a new flaw-free bloodline to outlast future environmental threats could begin. Deighton would be part of that plan and bloodline, guaranteeing his future.
If Dr Finnegan was correct in her assumptions, the end was near. But Deighton had more work to do; not all the board members were convinced of his more radical plan—to alter the best of humans and abandon the rest on Earth. He hadn’t quite used the word ‘abandon’ in his speech. He’d worked hard to align his public persona with theirs, the one that shook its fist at humanity’s plight. The overcrowding, the lack of work, the poisoned air—it was a disgrace. Publicly, he would argue: This mess is the fault of our ancestors. Privately, he wouldn’t care if most of the population perished. Humanity could start over with a select few. The board members, however, were against killing people.
They had no problem with altering them though.
The doctor’s death, the one killed by Anton, had shown him exactly where each of the board members sat on the morality scale. Half had prattled on about Deighton’s lack of moral compass; half had listened, intrigued. It had been easy to convince them the Indigenes were dangerous, but now wasn’t the time to slow down. He must cement his radical idea for change to happen.
; The board members were a bunch of windbags. Only one voice mattered: the original, and now deceased, founder of the World Government. His mentor.
Peter Cantwell the Third used to call him an enigma. He liked that idea. Enigmatic people thought outside the box. Ordinary men delivered ordinary solutions more likely to destroy the human population than to save it.
Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad idea.
A sudden crash jolted him out of his thoughts. His eyes went to the untidy looking female assistant. She was on the floor with an empty tray in her hand, surrounded by the cultures it once held.
Deighton looked back at his security team of four. ‘Incompetent bunch. Don’t you agree?’
‘Yes,’ said his lead man.
Sometimes a lapdog was the perfect companion, but not always. People with their own minds and their own opinions intrigued him. As long as those opinions matched his.
‘Come on, while they’re distracted,’ he said. ‘Quietly though, I want to keep the surprise going for as long as possible.’
Deighton inched towards the open door just as Dr Finnegan held out her hand to her assistant. The rest of her team gathered around her.
‘Are you okay, Felicity? You’re all fingers and thumbs today.’
Deighton’s excitement tickled his stomach.
The Galway team still hadn’t noticed him but the girl, half way up off the floor, certainly did. Her eyes grew large when Deighton grinned at her. She lost the doctor’s hand and hit the ground again with a bump.
‘Oh for goodness sake, Felicity.’ The doctor held out her hand again. The expression on her assistant’s face stopped her. She wheeled round.
‘What the f—?’ Dr Finnegan slapped a hand over her mouth.
Deighton feigned surprise, then smiled slowly.
The Galway team shuffled back—he had that effect on people. The doctor’s wide gaze flicked between Deighton and his security team. The girl got to her feet, unassisted.
‘Oh, don’t worry about them,’ he said nodding at the four security men. ‘They won’t bite.’
Finnegan dropped her hand. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Deighton. We weren’t expecting you today.’
‘So I see, my dear.’
She straightened her lab coat and tidied her hair. ‘I mean, we aren’t ready for you yet.’
His smile dropped away. ‘What do you mean you aren’t ready for me?’
The doctor glanced around the room. ‘Hold on.’ She rushed over to the monitor where a large data stream was displayed. ‘MOUSE, bring up the two sets of DNA.’
‘Doctor, there’s only one set,’ said the sentient.
‘No. Bring up the young boy’s DNA too, as we discussed.’ Her smile was forced. ‘I want to show it to Mr Deighton.’
Deighton narrowed his gaze. ‘When your assistant contacted me she said there was only one compatible match.’
‘Yes, but further analysis showed that the boy’s DNA might be a better fit.’ Her voice shook. ‘He’s younger and his IQ levels are very high.’
‘Fine, show me what you’ve got.’
‘Dr Finnegan,’ the sentient interrupted.
‘Not now, MOUSE.’
‘But there’s only—’
‘I’ll talk to you later, MOUSE.’ The doctor pointed at her assistant. ‘Felicity, mute the sentient program, please. I need to speak to Mr Deighton with no interruption.’
Felicity scurried over to a control panel and hit a button.
‘Both compatible subjects are sedated for the moment. I’ll take you to them now.’ The doctor motioned him towards the door. ‘I’d like to talk to you about the preliminary results we’ve had with a partial merge. While the woman’s DNA structure looks better on paper, the boy’s is cleaner and will accept the changes faster.’
‘After you, Doctor,’ said Deighton, waving her on. He instructed his security team to stay put. ‘This won’t take long.’
The doctor took him on a detour to the hydroponics bay where she introduced him to a gardener. He shook the labourer’s dirty hand, even though his place in society was beneath his. Then she took him on a circuitous walk around the upper floors—all a clear attempt to stall him. Deighton zoned out when the doctor reamed off a list of medical terms he didn’t understand. He nodded as she spoke, feeling his patience wear thin. Results were all that mattered but he would endure a little small talk to get them. While she rambled on, his mind drifted elsewhere.
Before Deighton’s career had taken off, he’d discovered a love for adventure, danger and almost getting caught. Everyone who mattered knew all about the World Government’s reputation for getting things done. It was why Deighton had enrolled on one of their management training courses. There, he’d met Andrew Cantwell, the son of the chairman and Deighton’s mentor, Peter Cantwell the Third. When he’d sat with Andrew one lunchtime, he’d come prepared with the knowledge that the World Government was looking for a Chief Executive.
‘My father’s pushing me to apply.’ Andrew had sighed. ‘He has me doing this ridiculous management course. He thought it would be a good stepping stone.’
‘You don’t want to do it?’
‘It’s not about what I want. My father usually gets his own way.’
‘I’m sure it wouldn’t be as bad as you think.’
‘It would be a disaster. I’m not a leader. I’d rather be an engineer, or architect. I prefer the detail-oriented stuff.’
Deighton had sidled up to him. ‘Maybe we can be of benefit to each other.’
Ten board members had been recruited to cover a different part of the world. Only one position remained to be filled—the most important one in Deighton’s mind. Andrew had been a quiet, timid, fellow who disliked making waves. He’d seen why Peter had pushed for his son to become CEO. But if all they wanted was a figurehead, Deighton could pretend to be one.
Andrew, an agreeable fellow, had coached him for the interview. Peter Cantwell’s endorsement to the other board members had won him the role of CEO of the World Government.
An ethereal voice knocked Deighton out of his thoughts.
‘—the nanoids have added the additional genes to the young man, doctor. The changes are holding steady.’
It was the sentient program speaking. When had it been taken off mute?
The tour was over, apparently, and he and the doctor were standing in the medical bay. At the back of the room was a containment bubble similar to the one he’d used to hold Anton. This one had two beds inside it. Lying on them were two human hosts: one a young male, the other an older female, both blonde. He ordered his security team to wait outside and closed the door.
The sentient continued, ‘But I think I should mention—’
‘Thank you, MOUSE. That will be all.’
Dr Finnegan cut off the sentient for the second time. His body tingled in that way it often did when he was about to correct a course of action. ‘Is there something I should know?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘My sentient is just eager to get moving, as am I. We’ve worked flat out to get to this point.’
Deighton fixed the doctor with his best stare. ‘So you’re saying the boy is a better fit than the older female?’
‘Yes.’
‘Fine, proceed with the—’
‘Mr Deighton,’ said the sentient. ‘I need to tell you something.’
Dr Finnegan went to speak but he raised his hand. ‘It’s a persistent little thing. Let it say what it wants.’ The doctor visibly stiffened; a tingle of excitement hit him again.
‘Mr Deighton, the doctor has misled you,’ said the sentient. ‘The woman is the best candidate, not the boy. We should proceed with the woman. It makes no sense to use the boy. His DNA code is weaker. He is not the best candidate.’
Deighton turned to the doctor. Her cheeks flushed pink. Liars disgusted him.
‘I assume you can explain.’
‘Yes, I can. I apologise—’
Deighton waved her words away. ‘I don’t want to hear yo
ur excuses. Prepare the female subject now.’
He waited with the doctor in the lab while the sentient prepared the female for the change. His security team remained in the corridor outside.
Ten minutes passed, during which the doctor checked the screens at the monitoring station. Finnegan spoke to him again. ‘The woman has received the extra genes.’ She sounded weary. ‘We must keep her under until we’ve uploaded her brain with new memories.’
‘I don’t have all day to wait.’ Deighton’s impatience with her wore thin. ‘We’d be finished by now had you not tried to trick me.’
Truth was he would wait for as long as it took. His own health problems depended on this new creation working.
An urge to deal with the doctor’s delay gnawed at him.
‘Give me ten minutes,’ she said. ‘I’ll come get you when we’re ready.’
‘I’ll be in the kitchen.’
His security team accompanied him, and, at his command, stayed outside.
Deighton sat down with a sigh and closed his eyes.
Decades had passed since the creation of the first hybrid. Now Anton’s baseline data would advance their research by ten years. Deighton hoped the new faces around the board table would make his job of pushing change easier. His idea to cherry pick the best of Earth’s population to live on Exilon 5 had not been shot down yet. His idea to eliminate genetic abnormalities and create the perfect high-functioning race was still viable. Naturally, the board members had included themselves among that special group.
But Deighton had sanctioned the creation of the latest prototype without the board members’ knowledge or approval. Not only to address his health concerns but to show them what could be achieved. What better way to convince them than to show them a walking, talking example.
They would come to accept his latest proposal.
Because it was the only solution.
25
Caroline collected Deighton from the kitchen. He looked up at her. His eyes were glassy and he appeared dazed. Then his gaze sharpened suddenly and he stood up.
‘Is she ready now? I want to see her. Wake her up.’