by Eliza Green
Stephen had said the concentric rings would light up when it connected with the Nexus. The Nexus would relay any messages the user wanted to send. He recalled how the stone had glowed blue and became too hot to handle when he’d used it on Exilon 5.
‘The connection and raw energy from the Nexus makes it heat up like that,’ Stephen had said. ‘The Nexus turns the stone into whatever you need. You needed a compass, so that’s what it became.’
‘Can it send verbal messages?’
‘Only if a user connected to the Nexus tries to send one,’ said Stephen. ‘Concentrate on the rings. If there’s a message, the Nexus will relay it to you.’
Bill put the stone back and replaced the floorboard and the rug.
He checked his appearance in the mirror and straightened his black tie. He desperately needed a haircut and a shave, but it was the least messy he’d looked for some time. His DPad and ITF communication device found the bottom of his bag. He slung the bag crossways over his body and left the apartment, gel mask in hand.
Half an hour later, he stood outside the ITF office skyscraper in London. Eighteen months had passed since he’d been here and seen his old workmates. Bill swallowed down his nerves as he passed through the environmental field and removed his mask.
A large black entrance door loomed and on the other side he threw his bag on a conveyor belt and walked through a body scanner. The autobot cleared him to enter. He collected his scanned bag and edged closer to the next door. A bout of nerves rooted him to the spot. Losing Isla had changed his world—and him. Now he was about to enter the place run by people who may have helped to kill his wife. The door clicked open when he scanned his thumb.
The wide corridor connecting to the open-plan ITF office looked no different to the last time he’d been there: peeling white paint on the ceiling, the dark blue carpet threadbare in places. The overhead light flickered and he shielded his eyes as they accustomed to the brightness. Offices to the left and right sat on the approach to a set of double doors. The last one on the left belonged to Simon Shaw. The door was ajar. Bill glanced inside but there was no sign of Simon. He ignored a corridor on the left that led to the briefing rooms. One side of the double doors opened automatically for him when he got close enough.
The open-plan office, with its rows of workstations, overused replication machine and digital information board, looked like it had been trapped in a time warp. The male-dominated office had the familiar smell of sweat and testosterone. He recognised some flustered faces, while others were new. As Bill walked to his old desk, one particular voice grated on him.
Halfway there, Bill changed his mind and made a beeline for the coffee machine. On the information board next to the machine he checked the roster. Simon had pencilled him in for a full week’s work, his first proper shift for four months. Up until now, Simon had delivered his work schedule of menial tasks over the Light Box, no doubt to keep him away from other matters.
While Bill and Laura had agreed to keep up with World Government and ESC matters, he had mixed feelings about being back at the ITF. The explosion and Elise’s death had affected him more than he’d let on. He had also learned of his wife’s death and her friendship with the Indigenes.
The voices in the room carried to Bill at the coffee machine. One in particular was louder than the others. Bill turned around to see Dave Solan staring at him while he talked to someone three desks away. A stocky man with a tight buzz cut, Dave was better suited in the field than answering communication calls. But he’d failed the physical exam for military service, and had been assigned desk duties.
‘Like I said, Monty, they’ll let anyone work at ITF these days,’ said Dave.
Bill gave Dave his best fake smile. ‘Busy today I see.’
‘What the hell would you know about work?’
Dave’s animosity towards Bill ran deeper than a non-existent work schedule for the last four months. It had started back when Bill had picked his team to watch the Indigenes on Exilon 5—a selection that excluded Dave. Dave might have done a better job than the incompetent Caldwell, but Bill just didn’t like the man.
Bill turned his back on him and punched numbers into the replication machine. He ignored the office banter and friendly insults being traded behind him. But Dave’s voice—like fingernails on a blackboard—dominated the other voices in the room.
He grabbed a clean mug and set it under the replication unit. The black liquid streamed into the mug and delivered a faint aroma of roasted coffee beans to his nose. He turned around to see Simon Shaw walk through the double doors.
‘Good you’re here, Bill. Grab your coffee and follow me,’ said Simon.
Bill was in no rush to speak with Simon. He sipped his coffee while Simon waited for him by the double doors.
‘Now, Bill.’
Bill sighed and followed him into his office. Simon closed the door, and sat down.
‘Take a seat, Bill.’
He sat on the chair nearest the door and rested his bag on his lap. He drank more coffee before setting the mug down. Simon read something on his monitor then looked at Bill.
‘I guess it’s been a while,’ he said.
‘It has.’
‘Conditions have changed on Earth since your Exilon 5 mission. We wanted to give you time to readjust to life on Earth again.’
Bill folded his arms. ‘Four months’ readjustment, Simon?’
‘When people return home it takes time to adjust to the masks, lack of light and freedom. You were away for a year. You needed time to acclimatise after your experience. Some detainees who returned to Earth when you did are on termination watch.’
Bill smiled. ‘So let me get this straight. You thought I might be a risk to myself—that I might consider termination—so you left me alone for long periods of time with no support to give me plenty of time to think about it?’
Simon pursed his lips. ‘We monitored you the whole time.’
‘And now what? No more field work—just me sat at a desk while the public whinges on about their bullshit problems?’ Bill waved his hand. ‘A gross waste of my talents, Simon.’
Simon leaned forward. ‘I am your supervisor, you will obey my orders. Are we clear?’
Bill was about to retaliate, but something in Simon’s tone stopped him. Simon was less combative than other ITF supervisors but Bill had noticed a change in the man since his assignment on Exilon 5. His firm tone made Bill wonder if others listened to their conversation. So Bill acted like the hot-head they thought he was.
He banged his fist on the table. ‘Bullshit, Shaw. I’m didn’t come back here to be a receptionist. Give me something better to do or I walk.’
Simon leaned back. ‘I’m working on it. Be patient.’
‘Patience is for the fucking inexperienced.’ Bill stood up fast, knocking his chair over. Simon didn’t move when he jerked the door open and stormed out.
He kept up the pretence all the way back to the open-plan office where he stormed over to the replication unit and ordered a fresh coffee to replace the one on Simon’s desk.
‘I see Simon’s finally knocked you off your pedestal,’ he said. Bill turned to see a sneering Dave behind him. ‘How does it feel to do a little work, same as the rest of us?’
Bill lifted a brow at him. ‘Is that what you do, Dave—work? Because all I see is a washed-up military hack who’s no use in the field anymore.’
‘Well then, I’m in good company.’
‘Except I’m not an ugly sonofabitch with no chance of getting lucky anytime soon.’
Dave paused. ‘At least I didn’t kill my wife.’
It all happened in slow motion. Bill’s fist connected with Dave’s jaw and sent a shock through his hand. Dave stumbled but recovered fast and threw a counterpunch at Bill that knocked him to the floor. He lay there for a minute, winded and dazed while Dave stood over him. He checked the mobility in his jaw, but other than a sharp pain, nothing seemed broken. Dave breathed hard as Bill got t
o his feet.
‘You’ve got balls, Taggart. I’ll give you that.’ Dave inspected his face in one of the idle monitors.
‘Fuck you.’
‘Sorry, Bill. You’re not my type.’
Bill turned to see Simon Shaw stood at the double doors, watching.
7
Stephen raced down the tunnel that led to the Council Chambers. His head thumped and he was still dizzy after his fall, but his mind hadn’t been this clear in weeks. Sharing Arianna’s memories of her visit to Anton only highlighted the problem with Pierre’s absence. Stephen would knock some sense into the elder and force him to resume his responsibilities.
Arianna shouldn’t be the one to fix Anton. And Gabriel and Margaux were doing their best to lead District Three while facing off against a hostile reception from some. The time for grieving was over. Pierre must become the district’s leader once more.
Stephen hesitated outside the Council Chambers. Activity in the area was quiet; he sensed the others avoided this area. A set of footsteps in the tunnel behind him suggested that Arianna was not far away.
He looked down at a plate of rotting meat outside the door—the kill he and Serena had risked their lives to catch. He ground his fists into his side.
Arianna caught up with him. ‘Stephen, wait.’
He glared at her. ‘What?’
‘Let me speak to Pierre. If you confront him feeling like you do, you’ll regret it.’
‘I won’t sit by and watch others risk their lives. This district is falling apart and Pierre must face up to it, not hide away. We need him.’
‘I didn’t tell you everything about my visit with Anton. Let me speak to Pierre first. I can talk him round.’
Stephen ignored her and yanked on the cord that protruded from a sealed hole in the door. It activated a bell inside the soundproofed Chamber.
‘Stephen, this is a bad idea,’ said Arianna. ‘At least wait until you’ve calmed down.’
He pulled the cord again, so hard that it broke in his hand. The last of his patience vanished as he kicked the meat plate away. The door creaked open a little.
‘I told Gabriel no visitors,’ whispered Pierre through the crack in the door. A flurry of his thoughts hit Stephen.
Leave me alone. Go talk to Gabriel and Margaux. That’s what they’re here for. They’ll know what to do.
Stephen pushed against the door and strode past a shocked Pierre. ‘Gabriel and Margaux need you. That’s why I’m here.’
The ripe smell inside the Council Chambers assaulted Stephen. Pierre had locked himself away for too long. A bookshelf halved the rectangular space. On the far side of the shelves sat a mattress, surrounded by items that Stephen recognised as belonging to Elise. Pierre had turned the space into a shrine.
Stephen glared at his remaining elder. ‘Why are you still in here?’
Pierre glanced at the door, where Arianna waited. ‘Tell her to leave. I don’t want visitors.’
‘Tell her yourself. She needs you. We all need you.’
Arianna stepped inside and Pierre turned away from both of them. ‘I need time, Stephen—I need to figure everything out.’
‘I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I made Gabriel and Margaux feel welcome, and kept the peace where I could. We’ve kept up our ritual hunting practices to show the military on the surface their bomb hasn’t affected us.’
Pierre waved a hand. ‘Keep doing all that.’
Stephen spun Pierre around to face him. ‘But what happened to Arianna is a step too far.’
Pierre’s eyes grew large. ‘What happened to Arianna?’
‘She went to see Anton on her own and he almost killed her.’
‘No, he didn’t, Stephen,’ said Arianna stepping closer. ‘You’re exaggerating.’
‘I’m not up to leading this district. Give me some space.’ Pierre tried to usher Stephen and Arianna out the door but gave up when neither moved.
‘I’m not here to negotiate,’ said Stephen. ‘Things have reached a head in the district. You’ve sat in here for close to four weeks now. It’s time you came out and faced reality.’
‘Please leave him be, Stephen,’ said Arianna. ‘He needs time to grieve.’
‘We’re all grieving!’
‘Listen to Arianna,’ said Pierre. ‘We’ve all been through hell and you’re not thinking straight. Do you visions still bother you? Is that why you’re really here?’
Stephen shook off his anger and straightened up. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. You need to listen.’
Pierre turned away. ‘Why should I listen to you? What do you know about anything? You’re too young to understand what’s going on.’
His anger returned and he shoved Pierre hard. Pierre hit the bookshelf and the force knocked several books down on Pierre’s head. Stephen stood over the crumpled body of his elder. Then he heard Arianna leave.
Pierre stared up at Stephen. Clear fluid leaked out of a gash on his forehead and dripped into his eyes. He wiped it away as the gash healed.
‘Did I get your attention?’ said Stephen, shaking with rage. ‘Wake up, Pierre, and look at what’s happening in your own district. You haven’t helped matters by keeping secrets from the other elders about the human attacks. You withheld the truth about Anton’s disappearance, only to have him return home with a bomb. Gabriel and Margaux came here to help—not take over. So far you’ve offered them no support.’
Pierre scrambled to his feet, and kicked away the books on Indigene history scattered on the floor. ‘Gabriel and Margaux are looking after matters.’ He dusted down his white elder robe. ‘So are Emile and Marie from District Seven. Between them, they have everything under control.’
Stephen smiled. ‘Emile and Marie never turned up—it seems we’re not worth the trouble. And I’m not sure how useful Margaux is. She can barely handle the pressures of this district. She invades the Evolvers’ thoughts and roots around for their secrets, just like Elise used to do.’
‘The district can look after itself. Our people just need time to heal. What happened weeks ago was traumatic for everyone. If I return to duty now, I’ll only serve as a reminder that Elise is dead.’
Pierre’s excuses added fuel to Stephen’s rage and he pushed the elder again. Pierre staggered backwards, visibly shocked, but remained standing. Stephen struck out at the elder with his fist and knocked him to the floor a second time. Pierre crawled forward and got to his feet.
Stephen stared at his closed fist. Had he just hit an elder? He was about to apologise when the elder charged at him, knocking him backwards into the open Chamber door. Stephen slid down to the floor. He winced when he pressed his fingers into his ribs.
‘I think you broke something.’
‘Come on, stand up and fight me.’ Pierre was panting. ‘That’s what you want, isn’t it?’
‘No, it’s not.’ Stephen got to his feet. ‘I wanted to get your attention.’
‘Well you have it.’ Pierre came at him again but Stephen was ready. His side-step sent Pierre straight into the stone wall. The elder dropped to his knees, and panted.
Voices came from outside. Gabriel appeared at the door first, followed by Arianna.
‘Stop them,’ she said, ‘before they kill each other.’
Gabriel chuckled. ‘No need. I think they’re done.’ He held a hand out to Pierre. ‘What were you in your former human life, a punching bag?’
Pierre reluctantly took his hand. Gabriel pulled him to his feet. ‘It’s been a while, Gabriel.’
‘Too long. We’re doing a terrible job of keeping order out there. For some reason your district wants you.’ Gabriel poked Pierre in the chest. ‘Can’t think why.’
Pierre squared up to him. ‘You want to fight me too?’
Gabriel laughed. ‘As much as I’d love to go ten rounds with your arrogant self, how about you focus that newfound energy on something more positive?’
‘Like what?’ Pierre straightened his elder robes.
>
‘Arianna has something to tell you.’
‘Stephen told him I met with Anton,’ said Arianna.
‘She feels responsible for what happened to Elise,’ said Gabriel, ‘as if it was somehow her fault she couldn’t sense what Anton was about to do. So she went to see Anton to pick up from where Elise left off—to separate Anton from the imposter inside his mind. And it’s not just Arianna risking her life. Others do every day when they hunt.’ He pointed at the door. ‘Without you, they’re lost. They refuse to listen to me and they won’t accept Margaux.’
‘Nonsense. You’re both doing a fine job.’ Pierre brushed dirt off his robe.
‘How would you know, shut up in here? It pains me to say you’re a good leader—a self-centred, egotistical one perhaps—but a good one, even if you failed to keep the elders in the loop. Elise balanced out your flaws, but you can still be an excellent leader without her.’
Pierre stopped fixing his robe.
Gabriel grunted. ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Your wife was passionate about this district. Why not honour her memory by showing the Indigenes how much you’re prepared to fight for them?’
Pierre looked at Stephen who glanced away. He still felt bad for hitting an elder.
‘How about you change the mood in here?’ Gabriel shuddered. ‘You could cut the tension with a knife.’
‘I’m sorry, Pierre,’ said Stephen looking back. ‘I should never have hit you. You have a right to grieve. What happened to Arianna infuriated me, but I should have controlled my temper.’
The elder nodded. ‘I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have let my own needs hinder what’s best for this district. I imagined life going on as normal—Evolvers preparing for their next class, hunters planning the next kill, you in a lab working out how to stay one step ahead of the humans. But if I’m being honest, I had no idea what happened in this district, even when Elise was alive. She dealt with the emotions while I dealt with the practical things.’
