by Eliza Green
He rushed through his hasty idea. Through the tiny craft windows he saw rows of stacked boxes. Beyond that was a set of double doors that led out.
I don’t know where the control room might be, but you should start through that set of doors. To get through security, you’ll have to play it cool. A part Stephen was certain he himself would fail at. And be quick. I don’t want be stuck with these humans for longer than necessary.
The woman behind him inched forward. He flinched.
Don’t worry, Stephen. I’ll get it done.
Stephen’s lips quirked up as the tension in his gut settled. But only a little.
I’m glad you’re here. He nudged Anton with his elbow. Let’s stick to the rear of the group. If we’re discovered, we use this craft as a plan B.
The line moved; Stephen gestured for the others to pass him. Both he and Anton stayed to the rear, ready to put their hasty plan into action. It was a risk sending Anton out alone, but if the humans were only looking for one of them, now was the perfect time to separate.
In the dock, military humans materialised from behind shipment crates like ghosts and swarmed around the passengers. He’d picked up on their scents already. Why they’d deemed it necessary to hide he wasn’t sure. Bill Taggart had mentioned a Gilchrist and a Deighton. Were they behind this show of force?
Ahead, the military took up new positions behind the docking-station attendants as they scanned identity chips. Passengers gasped when the extra force made their presence known.
Military ushered cleared passengers out through a set of doors to the rear of the dock. Anton had almost reached the attendant. Stephen’s heart pounded thickly in his chest as he watched his friend risk his life for a plan that might not even work.
42
Jenny watched the military hover around Dock 10 from the safety of the cockpit. Just one passenger remained on board: one of the two odd-looking men from before. She walked over to where he stood by the open door.
‘Must be serious,’ she said placing a hand on his shoulder. ‘They don’t usually bring out the big guns unless the person they’re after is a major target.’ The man’s tension forced her hand back. ‘Stand back from the door, let the place quieten down. The military are always itching to use their damn weapons. I’ve seen innocents get caught up in their crossfire. It’s almost like they have to shoot at something or they’ll die of boredom. Wait here a moment.’
She walked back to the cockpit to check with the observation deck. The sound of the craft door sucking closed spun her back around. Her remaining passenger had his finger poised over the door’s control panel.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ She stepped closer. ‘Get away from there. Now.’
In the time it took her to blink once, the man was beside her. A flash of metal in his hand caught her eye; bile rose in her throat. Jenny had sensed something was off about him. She should have trusted her instincts.
‘Who are you?’ her voice barely a whisper now.
The man jammed one end of the metal rod into her back. ‘Erect the force field around this craft, or I will hurt you. It’s a matter of life and death.’
She tensed up against the pressure of the weapon on her skin. ‘For who?’
‘For you, for me.’ He blinked and shook his head, almost as if he couldn’t explain. ‘The reasons are beyond your comprehension.’
Jenny drew on her experiences of transporting criminals back in the day. ‘Who are you? Tell me why you’re here.’
The man shoved her into the cockpit and her seat. ‘I said erect the force field around this craft.’
‘Why should I?’ Her words sounded shaky, weak. She cleared her throat.
‘Because I could snap your neck.’ Could, not will snap. ‘I need you to find a William Taggart for me.’
The name was not familiar. ‘Who’s William Taggart? What’s this all about?’
He jabbed the rod into her spine again. ‘Force field first.’
She knew her odds of survival would be better if she complied. The military personnel had no interest in her or her craft. They were only interested in Bob Harris—whoever he was. She could call the observation deck, but this man’s reflexes were off the chart. She’d be dead before anyone made it to her in time.
Jenny pressed a button on her console. ‘Done.’
‘Find William Taggart.’
The man’s cold tone made her shiver. ‘Can you at least tell me where I should begin?’
‘He was a passenger on the ship I just came from. Find him for me.’
The rod found her rib and she cried out. ‘Okay, I’ll help you, but please stop hurting me.’
The man reduced the pressure. ‘I’m desperate to find him.’
The word “desperate” turned her around to meet the gaze of her assailant.
‘What is he to you?’ His eyes, a strange brown, were wild but fearful.
‘Force field.’
‘I’ll help you. Whatever you need.’ It’s what she’d been taught to say in a hostage situation.
Jenny scanned the ship’s computer and found the name her kidnapper wanted. ‘He’s an ITF investigator. Heading to Sydney. Probably going to the Security Centre, I imagine. Will you let me go now?’
‘No. I need you to take me there, but not now. Someone is working on getting us out of here.’
Jenny sat back with a sigh. The sergeant had promised her this would be a straight forward job. On the verge of adding a third strike to her record, she accepted this could be her last flight.
43
Narrowed military gazes flicked from one person in the line to the next. The craft door behind him sucked shut. A nervous Anton waited, hoping to create enough of a diversion to draw attention away from Stephen. But that was the easy part. Getting Stephen through the docking station’s force field would be much trickier. He hadn’t told his friend he wouldn’t be going with him.
Stephen’s fear from inside the craft manifested like a shiver down Anton’s spine. His friend didn’t trust many. Anton couldn’t let him down.
A dozen military eyes scanned the faces in the queue. One set of eyes lingered on him for too long. He held his breath; adrenaline set his hands to shake. The military man looked him over, his interested gaze flicking between Anton and the person behind him. Anton rounded his shoulders and tried to look bored, hoping to look like less of a threat.
When the man’s interest moved on, Anton straightened up with a sigh. His new artificial skin had passed the human test, but the identity chip would soon reveal who he was to the military. Colin Stipple: a road worker from Exilon 5 and of no interest to them. The pilot had only flagged one fake identity: Stephen’s.
Anton drew in new air, in an attempt to slow his pounding pulse. At the top of the line, the attendant motioned him forward. Anton placed his left thumb on the DPad. The name that flashed up sent the military into frenzied overdrive. Bob Harris.
He’d mixed up the chips.
Strong arms grabbed him and tried to force him to the ground. Anton stumbled and the military tightened their hold. His speed got him out of their constraints and to the doors to the rear of the dock, before they knew what had happened.
The air crackled with a new energy that nipped at Anton’s skin. The static eliminator he carried in his pocket heated up. He rubbed away the sensation on his arm and scooped up a utility knife lying next to a collection of boxes near the exit. Anton crashed through the double doors, chased by ten military humans.
Down a long corridor, up three flights of stairs, and on the other side of the docking station, he found the right room. A sign on the door read: Observation Deck and Control Room. Sensing the confusion of his pursuers like a shiver, he knew he had a good lead on them. He burst into the room, shocking the people inside, and quickly wedged the door shut from the inside. He counted twelve humans; not so many that he couldn’t deal with them. None of them carried weapons.
That was a start.
Screens ahead of
him showed images of the docking station he’d just left and the craft he needed to get through the security force field.
A young male in uniform stared at him with a mix of curiosity and shock. A good a place to start as any. The military would be here soon.
Anton shot over to the young male and looped an arm around his neck. With the tip of the utility knife, he prodded the young man’s neck.
‘Drop the force field around this station,’ he said.
An older man stepped forward. ‘Who do you think you are, coming in here and threatening my staff? Let the young lad go before you get into serious trouble.’
‘I’m in charge now.’ Anton snarled. ‘And I said drop the force field.’ The young man tensed up beneath the knife.
‘This is my station,’ said the man in charge. ‘Now drop the knife and we’ll forget this ever happened.’
But Anton couldn’t leave.
He needed to show them he was a threat. Nicking the young man’s neck, he swapped him out for a female. Anton threatened her with the same knife. Gasps filled the room, and he knew it was his speed that had surprised them.
‘What the hell are you?’ said the man in charge.
‘That craft.’ Anton nodded towards the viewing screen showing Dock 10. ‘It needs to leave. Drop the force field.’
‘Why would I help you? You’re threatening my staff.’
‘Because I could kill you all before you had time to move.’
The man hesitated. Anton had already shown them he was no ordinary threat.
The leader shouted over to the communications operative. ‘Drop the force field.’ The operative moved to the nearest control panel and manually shut off the field.
He then nodded at the screen. ‘What’s on that craft that’s so damned important to you, anyway?’
Anton smiled. ‘You have no idea.’
‘If anything happens to the pilot, you’ll wish things played out differently today. I promise you that.’
A man wearing a uniform dripping in accolades peered out from behind the man in charge. ‘You won’t get away with this, you know.’ He wagged his finger at Anton. ‘You are trapped here, you fool. You won’t last two minutes when my men get here.’
Anton ignored the threat and spoke to the leader. ‘Contact the craft and tell them they can leave.’
With a nod at the communications operative, who then muttered a few words into a microphone, the craft rose and exited Dock 10 with Stephen on board. Anton released a soft sigh. Right on time, the military broke down the door. He shot over to his first victim. The young man covered his neck with his hand. Anton chuckled at the move. In some small way, he understood Stephen’s obsession with Ben, but not his aversion to all other humans.
‘What are you?’ asked the young man.
‘If I knew that, human, I wouldn’t be here.’
A sudden discharge of electricity set Anton’s teeth on edge. He slumped to the ground as the military surrounded him.
44
An exhausted Bill slogged through the public entrance of the Earth Security Centre and headed for the turbo lift at the far end of the foyer. He side-stepped the crowds of eager recruits gathered to hear the history of the building from trained guides. The dazzling glass ceiling panels caused him to squint. Its reflective pigmentation transformed the grey world outside into a blue wonder—another pretty lie that masked the problems on this planet. But the only thing on his mind that day was his debrief.
For things to go his way, he needed to command Gilchrist from the outset. Lose control and respect, and Gilchrist would surely stick him on traffic duty. If he could convince her that the mission could be salvaged, she might keep him on as lead investigator.
A blonde woman walking his way caught his eye. Her guarded expression concerned Bill enough that he raised his defences. A year away was long enough for him to forget this planet, but not his enemies. Had Larry Hunt got wind of his return? Was she a distraction?
Bill stared at her, not seeing the usual distraction techniques—a flirty smile or a lingering look. Maybe it was her hurried step or the trace of fear on her face. Or maybe he’d lost his edge and couldn’t tell anymore.
He continued to watch the woman with green eyes and pale skin. Then she looked up. Her eyes widened. That’s when he caught a flash of a warning as she passed.
He shook away the moment and arrived at the turbo lift that took him down to Level Seven and the boardroom. With clenched hands, Bill followed Gilchrist’s personal assistant inside the boardroom. He had prepared for a full board member turnout that included Deighton. But three people had shown up, not the ten or more he’d expected to see. Gilchrist sat at the top of the long table, while Suzanne Brett and Simon Shaw, his boss from the ITF London office, sat on either side of her.
As if Gilchrist had read his thoughts, she said, ‘There won’t be anyone else joining us. This is a closed debriefing. The board members will be informed in due course about the outcome of today’s meeting.’ She gestured to a seat at the other end of the table.
Bill took it, glad for the distance from the others. But he wondered why Deighton had not come.
Gilchrist clasped her hands on the table. ‘Let’s begin. We’ve received your files from both meetings and reviewed the evidence. But now I would like to hear your version of events.’
Bill settled his nerves a little before launching into the rehearsed details. He recounted his orders to the military personnel not to approach the target on week one. He kept the anger out of his voice as he explained how their advances after the first meeting had jeopardised the investigation. He mentioned Caldwell and Page by name and their subsequent chase of the alien to the New Victoria Maglev station. What he didn’t mention was his own pursuit. Page and Caldwell had already filled Gilchrist in on the detail, but neither knew he had come face-to-face with the Indigene called Stephen. He would keep it that way.
The trio sat in silence. Brett and Shaw nodded. Only Gilchrist asked the occasional question to clarify. Were Brett and Shaw there for show, or as witnesses? After fifteen minutes, he summarised making sure to highlight the progress made.
‘Where do you think we should go from here?’ said Gilchrist.
Bill had given it a lot of thought on the journey back to Earth. ‘It’s likely the Indigene won’t risk surfacing again for some time. I suggest we wait.’
Gilchrist arched a brow. ‘Wait?’
‘Yes. A week, a month, and track them when they finally resurface.’
‘Is that it?’
‘No. My team and I have a list of people on Exilon 5 who’ve made inadvertent contact with the Indigenes before this. My plan is to talk to them and get a different angle on our investigations. It also appears the Indigenes prefer to hunt at night and have surfaced in locations we are familiar with.’ The video with Dr Jameson came to mind. ‘It wouldn’t take much effort to set up vigils in the wastelands between the cities, to catch them there.’
He knew the solutions he’d offered were weak, but he’d suggest anything to get back to Exilon 5. It was his best shot at finding Isla.
Gilchrist rested a finger on her lips ‘You propose some interesting solutions. But I’m not sure we have the time, or personnel, to waste on mere chances we might find the aliens.’
To his disappointment, Shaw and Brett nodded. He assumed that at least Simon Shaw, his ITF boss, would back him. Bill scrambled to defend his position.
‘Look, whatever you decide, I want to stay on this investigation.’
Gilchrist leaned forward. ‘It’s not about what you want, Bill. It’s about what’s best for this mission.’
His thinly veiled calm slipped away. ‘With all due respect, Ms Gilchrist, I am what’s best for this mission. And you can tell Deighton I said that. Just give me another chance. Let me pick my team this time and—’
‘There was nothing wrong with your team. Your poor handling of the situation led to the breakdown of communication. Mr Deighton is aware of your
abilities, but he doesn’t like failure, not when it relates to a threat of this magnitude. We must get the situation under control.’
Bill said nothing; outbursts got good investigators assigned to traffic duty.
‘Thank you, Bill.’ Gilchrist stood. ‘We’ll take your points under consideration. We’ll be in touch as soon as we know how to progress.’ She smiled, but her words lacked sincerity. ‘Head down to the docking station when you’re ready. Grab the next craft to your accommodation here on Earth.’
‘Where am I going?’
‘Washington. Mr Deighton has asked that you stay close to headquarters. He may need to call you in at short notice.’
Bill stood to leave. He glanced at Simon Shaw, who refused to be a man and look him in the eye.
Back in the turbo lift he punched the wall. Gilchrist didn’t even let him defend his place on the mission.
At least he wasn’t being fired. When the heat died down a little, he would try to talk his way back on to the investigation and convince Deighton of his value.
Bullshit, Taggart. You fucked up. This is the end.
45
An epiphany hit Jenny as her craft lifted high into the skies with her illegal passenger on board. She was done with living in fear. She was done with the authorities telling her what to do, how to live. So what if her actions led to dismissal? Starting from the bottom wasn’t the end of the world. Eleanor had done it, she could too.
But the thought of losing a steady wave terrified her as the craft hurtled towards Earth, over the docking station in Sydney. Could she start again? Her life recently had been one long drawn-out drama. Deighton had it in for her. So did Gilchrist. Maybe she should restart her independent business and become her own boss again.
The stranger in the seat next to her looked ahead. His posture was stiff. The wide-eyed look told her his life was in tatters, like hers would be soon.
‘What happened to you?’ she asked him.
