by Eliza Green
If she stalled him, maybe Deighton might change his mind. ‘If we wake her before the memory transfer is complete, she’ll be too traumatised and we’ll have to start over.’
The edges of Deighton’s mouth turned down. ‘I don’t care about that. Take me to her.’
A nervous Caroline led him back to the containment room. There, Deighton ordered both her team and his security men out of the room. ‘I want privacy.’
Despite her fear of being left alone with the CEO, she dismissed her people with a nod. She led him inside the containment bubble to where Anton and Susan Bouchard lay on beds next to each other.
Susan’s golden hair was already thinning, her pink skin bleaching to a ghostly white. Soon, it would become almost translucent in appearance. The alterations were happening much faster than Caroline had expected. She also wasn’t prepared for the guilt she felt.
Eyes on her former colleague, she searched for a glimmer of the woman she’d worked with. I tried to change his mind, Susan. I’m so sorry. MOUSE’s earlier betrayal still stung her. She’d never trust another sentient program again.
Beside her, Deighton made a little noise of delight. ‘When will she be awake?’
‘Soon I expect.’ Caroline’s next words to the sentient lacked warmth. ‘MOUSE, are the memory downloads complete yet?’ She looked away from what was left of Susan Bouchard.
‘Yes, Dr Finnegan. They finished five minutes ago. Shall I wake her?’
‘Yes.’
‘Get on with it then,’ snapped Deighton. ‘I need to speak with her.’ His gaze shifted to a sleeping Anton.
Caroline had spent enough time with the Indigene to know when he was faking sleep.
If you can hear me, Anton, stay that way. Protect yourself.
Deighton patted Anton’s arm. ‘Nice to see you again, old boy.’
To Caroline’s disappointment, the Indigene opened his eyes. His stare was blank.
Deighton frowned. ‘I had hoped for a little begging, pleading perhaps.’ He poked Anton in the arm. ‘What will you do with this one?’
‘We’ll wipe his memory of his time on Earth, like you asked,’ said Caroline.
‘Wonderful.’
Deighton moved closer to Anton; the Indigene shifted back.
Caroline wished she could take back the weeks of interrogation she’d put Anton through.
‘Did you know their abilities are heightened if they’re exposed to life-threatening situations?’ said Deighton.
The collated data from the other medical facilities made no mention of that. ‘No, I didn’t.’
‘I’m not surprised really. The information you received on the entity was incomplete.’ Deighton poked Anton in the cheek. ‘Danger triggers something inside them, like it does in us. It helps with their survival. But the changes they experience are more widespread and permanent than ours. And by testing on him, you’ve helped to unlock his fear. So thank you.’
His gratitude sickened her. She had traded Susan’s life for what—science, progression? And now Anton would be his next victim.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to make reparations. Maybe Caroline could explain to the board members what Deighton had asked of her team.
The CEO switched his attention to Susan—to the new Indigene. ‘Will the new prototype do what I need her to?’
She shuddered at the word ‘prototype’. ‘Yes.’
‘She’s rousing.’
Caroline left Anton’s side to go to a waking Susan. Her eyes flickered open. Caroline searched for signs of the former lab technician, finding her.
Susan’s gaze sharpened. ‘Joel... Robbie... Where are they?’
‘They’re fine—they’re on their way to Exilon 5 as planned. They won’t remember ever having been here.’ Susan’s gaze softened suddenly; all traces of her slipped away. Caroline couldn’t be sure if Susan had understood or heard her. The new Indigene’s eyes fluttered before opening fully and coming to rest on Caroline.
‘Where am I?’ the new entity asked.
Caroline squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t worry, you’re safe. How do you feel?’
Deighton spat out, ‘How does she feel? What does that matter?’
Caroline dropped the Indigene’s hand. ‘The first few moments can be disorientating. It helps to keep her calm. She’s looking at the world through new eyes.’
Deighton didn’t look convinced. ‘When will she be ready to transfer to Exilon 5?’
‘Very soon.’
MOUSE spoke. ‘I have named her. She has a name. Ask her.’
Deighton leaned in close; Caroline caught a whiff of his sickly sweet smell.
‘What’s your name, dear?’ he asked.
The female Indigene recoiled just as Anton had. ‘Serena.’
‘Serena,’ Deighton repeated, eyes on his creation. ‘Isn’t that a beautiful name, Doctor? It’s derived from Latin. It means tranquil, serene.’
It was beautiful, but all Caroline could think about was the real Susan Bouchard inside, fighting to get out.
Deighton switched his focus to Anton. ‘We’ll erase your memory first. Then you’ll go home with a little gift for one of your people. Would you like that?’
Anton blinked once.
Deighton straightened up. ‘The bastard has it coming. I just wish I could see the look on his face when you give it to him.’
The tight quarters in the containment unit closed in on Caroline. She stepped outside it to get some air.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
Deighton’s sharp tone stopped her in the middle of the room. ‘I’m just getting a drink of water.’ What she needed was to be away from all three of them.
‘Get back in here.’ He clicked his fingers and looked at Serena again. ‘This one’s getting restless. I need you to hold her hand, like before.’
Caroline returned to Serena’s side and held her hand, hoping some of the serenity her name implied would pass to her. But Anton’s wide-eyed expression stiffened her spine. A sudden pressure on her neck winded her. She dropped Serena’s hand and grappled with the arm keeping her in place. A wild-eyed Anton thrashed against his restraints. The pressure on her neck increased. Serena remained in her impassive state, her mind still working out her new brain synapses.
Caroline clawed at Deighton’s sleeve, but the old man wouldn’t let go. He grunted, increasing her pain.
‘Shush, dear. Best not to talk,’ he whispered in her ear. She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t breathe. Her vision blurred as Deighton eased her to the floor.
With the pressure gone, Caroline gasped for air. She looked up to see Deighton messing up his hair and opening the first few buttons of his shirt. Then he undid the restraints holding Serena in place.
‘Guards, I need help! The prototype is out of control,’ he said in a manic tone.
He assessed Caroline, helpless on the floor, and brought his foot down. He kept the pressure even on her neck, long enough for the blackness to swallow her.
26
The double moons bathed Stephen’s sleeping quarters in a gentle blue light. He tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep. Their light, a usual comfort, irritated him now.
At least the pain in his head no longer kept him awake at night, unlike during the day when the stabbing misery stopped him cold. The omicron rock and its soundproofing properties helped to take the edge off his torment, but he couldn’t spend all his time enclosed in omicron. The gamma rock in the tranquillity caves used to glow like embers. That radiance was lost to him now. The omicron vibrated in a new way that played with his vision.
His dreams continued too: scenes inside a large room that he still didn’t recognise. He no longer connected them to Anton—missing for over three months now—but they weren’t his own memories either. Stephen finally admitted there was something wrong with him. Something was altering him from deep within. His aggression accompanied his irritation most days. A new trick was his ability to see the moods of Indigenes as colours
. But the colours were too dazzling, too muddled, for him to understand what they meant.
Elise had said his changes were natural. How could they be when he could barely function?
Inside his quarters, a murmur of voices reached him. The pain in his head bloomed. But an excited rush of thoughts caught his attention. He tuned in just as the voices faded away.
Stephen got up, fighting against the throbbing pain that threatened to floor him. He stumbled to the door and yanked it open. A flurry of voices exited from one tunnel, the Indigenes they belonged to not far from here. He sensed panic from them, as well as elation, concern and confusion—a range of emotions that didn’t fit together. Despite his pain, he followed them down the tunnel.
Each step drained him, slowing his walk to a stagger. The voices of the Indigenes ahead of him grew fainter. They led him the core of District Three. Stephen stumbled into the large open space. A large group had gathered, their configuration tight and controlled. A bright glow surrounded each Indigene, a brilliance that changed colour with their emotions: rust red, yellow ochre, sky blue. Stephen pushed through the back of the group, curious to know what had piqued their interest.
Another stab of pain caught him. He stopped. Nobody noticed him. Pushing on, he aimed for where the crowd was at its tightest and where their colours were most concentrated. Groups of Indigenes gathered on the periphery of the area of interest. Stephen elbowed his way through, drawing anger from those around him. Auras transformed from bright yellows to reds. A sick feeling swirled in his stomach.
He stopped a short distance away from the strongest concentration of colours. The voices and thoughts of those around him disappeared but the colours brightened. It merged into a tunnel of colour. That tunnel appeared to lead to the centre of the room. Stephen staggered along the corridor of light, hearing new thoughts he could not hear before: Pierre, both elated and sceptical; Leon in shock. He could see Elise, but she had closed her mind off to him.
A shooting pain shook him to the core. He jerked to a stop and pressed his hands to his head.
‘Somebody get Stephen now,’ shouted Pierre.
He heard that. His heart thrashed against his ribs. Pierre hadn’t noticed him yet, even though he was standing just a few feet away. Stephen tried to locate another signature, another voice he sensed the second he’d entered the core.
The colours around him intensified, blinding him and making the pain worse. He felt around, stumbling over a rough part of the floor. Someone grabbed his arm, keeping him uptight. He opened his eyes to see a worried Pierre. The elder led him to the middle of the room.
A vivid swirl of colour obscured the truth from Stephen. He pulled out of Pierre’s grasp and dropped to his knees. The pain in his head almost broke him.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ said Leon.
‘I don’t know.’ Pierre shook his shoulder. ‘Stephen, talk to me.’
But he couldn’t speak. The powerful force Elise had seen was almost here. In his mind’s eye, a hand reached out for him. It was Elise.
Listen to my voice. Concentrate on only my voice, Stephen.
The tears fell. I can’t do this anymore, Elise.
Let the force consume you. Don’t fight it. It’s a part of you.
The pain, it’s too much.
It will pass. I can see it. You’ll be okay. Trust me, Stephen.
Head in hands, Stephen swayed.
Concentrate, said Elise.
He tried, but the pain sapped every last ounce of his strength. He closed his eyes, and waited for this thing to take what remained of his sanity. Tears leaked from his eyes as faces flashed in his mind—Anton, Arianna, Elise. The dark misery that had controlled him for too long struck out at him.
Almost there. Keep going. I can see it now, said Elise.
He fought against the darkness that was surrounding him and trying to get inside mind. Familiar faces distorted into mangled ones. Stephen shuffled back. ‘Make it go away!’
Elise grabbed his hand. ‘Hold on. I’m here.’
Her contact kept him still, even when the distorted faces snapped and snarled at him. They were upon him now, cutting off his only means of escape. The blackness swallowed him then broke apart, losing its density and shape. The pain and the pressure in his head subsided. A calm replaced the anxiety he’d felt for so long. His body, along with his burden, lightened. Stephen opened his eyes and with one long breath, released the darkness.
Everything had changed, but he was back in control. He could also see better than before.
‘Are you okay, Stephen?’ said Pierre helping him up.
‘I think so.’ His clothes were drenched in sweat. A sea of faces stared at him, but all he saw was a kaleidoscope of colours. Their auras.
Elise hugged him. ‘I knew you could do it.’
Words failed him. He stared at the figure standing behind her. Stepping around Elise, he brushed away the dark, murky colours surrounding his friend.
A smiling Anton stepped forward, hands hidden behind his back. ‘Hello, old friend. They tell me I’ve been gone a long time. Did you miss me?’
27
The journey to Exilon 5 felt longer than the trip Bill had made three months ago. His concern for the Indigenes, but mostly for Stephen, dominated his thoughts. Arranging Stephen’s safe passage off Earth had been his doing and still he’d heard nothing from him. His priority was to warn the Indigenes about the World Government’s interest in their second generation, as Isla had iterated in her letters. But he also planned to ask Stephen if he knew where his wife was. It bothered him that a set of potentially fake government documents was his only source.
The white, bright, recreation room on the passenger ship was half full. A low buzz of conversation filled the space. He sat with Laura and Jenny Waterson at one of the tables. His plan had been for them to stay out of sight. The maintenance robots had scuppered those plans, scheduling visits to the sleeping quarters at odd times.
Bill removed his DPad from his bag and scrolled through the list of contacts on Exilon 5 he planned to use if he couldn’t locate Stephen. He also checked the location of his replica chip. If the World Government were tracking him—which he was certain they were— the chip would put him in the Outer Hebrides, off the west coast of Scotland. Anton’s capture would have revealed the existence of the replica identity chips, but not that Bill had copies of his own. Laura’s encounter with the camera in ESC suggested she was being watched. How much either organisation really knew remained a mystery.
The car chase through Magadan still bothered him; too orchestrated to be a coincidence. Was it a warning from the World Government or something else? The ITF hadn’t bothered with him much since his return to Earth. And Deighton seemed more interested in Anton’s capture than in reassigning him. Given Bill’s knowledge and experience, he’d expected the CEO to find a better use for him.
A thought hit him and he dropped the DPad. It clattered on table. Both Jenny and Laura looked up at him, curious.
The answer was staring him in the face. He was useful—as a friend of the Indigenes. The car chase had been staged, to disguise the World Government’s interest in him, in his knowledge of the race on Exilon 5. He picked up the DPad and returned it to his bag. Both women frowned at him, their expressions demanding an explanation. He shook his head. He would tell them later, in private. And they both knew better than to ask.
An infobot entered the room and announced that the food specials would be posted on the board in the next hour. Jenny perked up at the announcement. She’d never been on a passenger ship before; everything must be exciting and new. Bill wished he still had that feeling. Not much excited him anymore.
‘I still can’t believe I’m here,’ said Jenny.
‘Trust me, the novelty will wear off fast,’ said Bill.
Laura’s unsettled gaze tracked the infobot out of the room. She shifted with every noise and movement around her. She looked ready to get the hell out.
‘Have y
ou travelled on the ship many times?’ Jenny asked Bill drawing his gaze away.
‘Enough to know I’m sick of it.’
‘I can understand that. Doing the same thing can be a little monotonous.’ Jenny frowned at her thumb, where the replica chip had been inserted.
‘Is it bothering you?’ said Bill.
She looked up. ‘What? No. Just a slight tingling sensation, that’s all.’
‘Yeah, me too.’
It had been awkward returning to Magadan with Jenny, especially after the car chase and attempted shooting on his first trip with Laura. He’d rehearsed his excuse for Harvey Buchanan before offering the geneticist another blank replica chip as payment—a chip he’d claimed not to own. When Harvey strong-armed him into handing over a second one, Bill had obliged. Without the mark of the host’s blood, the chips were useless anyway. And given that Harvey had let him go, he clearly hadn’t figured that out yet.
The recreation room triggered his last memory of this place. He’d lost control with a concoction of coffee, Actigen and not enough sleep. But on this journey, he was back in the driving seat while Laura was slipping off the rails. Her moods, quick changing and severe, were due to a lack of Vitamin D. He’d dismissed her earlier warnings about them, but given her current state he probably should have insisted she travel in stasis. She’d brought with her a limited supply of Vitamin D and Actigen. Without enough medication and none on the ship above what was required for life-threatening emergencies, Laura’s moods had worsened. So far, she’d managed to control her irritable outbursts, but the longer she stayed off the Vitamin D, the worse her moods became.
Bill was grateful he wasn’t alone to deal with it.
‘How much longer to Exilon 5?’ Laura’s eyes were wide, but not so wide as to alarm him. The shot of Actigen she’d taken two hours ago seemed to do little more than make her edgy.
‘A few days,’ said Bill. He’d avoided talking to her; every conversation between them had turned into an argument. Now, with the maintenance robots forcing them to interact, he kept the chat light between them.