The Whisper of Stars

by Nick Jones

  Nathan stared back at her, his eyes glassy.

  ‘What happened?’ He was shaking, too. ‘What the hell did you just do to me?’

  ‘Do you know how dangerous a body relocation is?’ she asked, her anger a welcome way of ignoring her fear. ‘What the sentence is if you’re caught?’

  Nathan’s face transformed from upset to completely shocked in an instant. He spaced each word in his response. ‘How do you know that?’

  How do you tell someone about a device when you don’t even understand it yourself?

  ‘The Histeridae reads minds.’ It was all she could think to say.

  Nathan stood, his legs threatening to buckle, and backed away from her. ‘Jesus,’ he said, the panic clearly building. ‘Are you doing it now? Are you in my head now?’

  Jen had to know the truth, know that she could trust him, but the guilt was sitting heavily within her already.

  ‘Nathan,’ she said, trying to calm him down. ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘You know my name!’ he screamed, stumbling back against the wall.

  ‘Yes. And a week ago I would have arrested you on the spot for mind relocation and body swapping.’ She paused and realised with some certainty that before this was over she might need to do the same. She might need to relocate, to body swap.

  It was a sobering thought.

  ‘Whatever that thing is, it’s not right,’ he said.

  Nathan was obviously struggling to accept what had just happened. She could understand that. The Histeridae could do incredible, dangerous things. Invasive things.

  He continued, ‘There’s one thing you seem to be forgetting here. Something you’re missing.’

  ‘And what’s that?’ Jen replied.

  ‘After what you’ve just done to me, how am I ever going to trust you?’

  Chapter 32

  ‘Explain it to me again, Doctor?’ Zitagi asked.

  The doctor looked uneasy. He walked across the room and took a sip of water. He had been in charge of the Government-funded medical facility for over two years, and in all that time he had never once met anyone from upstairs. Now, suddenly his entire department appeared to be doing her bidding. Projected in front of him was an image of skull and brain with red dots, spread like a virus, showing recent activity.

  ‘When used, the weapon leaves a trace on the victim’s mind.’ He paused, knowing his words would have dark consequences. ‘There were signs of something unusual here, but nothing we could use.’

  ‘How long did it take him to die?’ she asked.

  ‘Seven minutes.’ The doctor sighed. ‘It must have been hell.’

  Zitagi flicked the lights back on and faced him.

  ‘Hell is where we will be if we don’t find a solution to combat this threat.’ She fixed her stare on him. The doctor knew it was pointless discussing the options; he just needed to do as he was told.

  She stepped towards him. ‘We need this information.’

  The Doctor nodded. ‘Yes, I understand, but if we do another extraction there is no guarantee it will give us any more data.’ His throat clicked as he swallowed.

  ‘Prep the second subject.’ Her voice seemed almost jovial. ‘I have every faith in you.’

  The Doctor felt his stomach curdle. The patients had been brought in yesterday: Government agents, exposed to some of kind of new mind weapon. That was all they would tell him. Initially, aside from some cuts and bruises, the agents appeared to be in good health. Both had been shot with an energy pulse round, but the effects of those wore off within hours.

  Their brain scans, however, told a different story, revealing evidence of some form of neural attack. The weapon – device, whatever it was – had left a clear imprint. It was unlike anything the Doctor had seen before, but a second scan revealed something even more surprising: the imprint was fading. His initial fascination had turned to horror when the woman ordered an immediate mind extraction in order to harvest the information.

  ‘The person who did this to them is a terrorist.’ Zitagi spoke quietly this time. ‘We have to understand how it works. Sometimes that means collateral damage. Hard decisions.’

  The Doctor understood. He had heard this lecture before. Leave the hard decisions to the people who were cold enough to make them.

  ‘The way the brain is accessed,’ he said. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. Yes, I can see a consistent pattern, but all this is new…’ He trailed off.

  ‘It’s better if you don’t think too hard about it. Your job is to extract the data and then focus on the challenge ahead.’

  ‘Challenge?’ he asked nervously.

  ‘Yes. Doctor,’ she replied, her tone somehow managing to emphasise his lowly position in the overall hierarchy. ‘You are going to figure out a way of blocking the device. So it can’t be used to harm people again.’

  He frowned, his mouth hanging agape.

  Zido’s face returned to its default granite state and the Doctor knew then that the conversation was over.

  ‘Just find a way to block it.’ She walked towards the door and, without looking back, added, ‘You’ve got two days.’

  Chapter 33

  The following day, as the late afternoon sun bleached through Thomas’s apartment, Jen watched Nathan’s fingers flash over a holographic keyboard, filling a projected screen with lines of code. He was obviously still upset and the mood was heavy.

  ‘You need to accept this connection,’ he instructed, accessing her mind augmentation.

  Jen saw the request. Admin level. The last time she’d seen one of those was during the set-up procedure six years ago. Everyone had some kind of mind implant. Hers was standard, a small network chip that enabled her mind to access the world and all its devices.

  She accepted.

  ‘Try using it again,’ he said without looking up.

  She attempted to access the local network and shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

  He pressed a small cube in the centre of the table and the floating screen and keyboard were gone. ‘Okay. It’s disabled.’

  ‘Do I need to get it physically removed?’ she asked nervously.

  Nathan stood and stretched. ‘No. I’ve disabled all connections. They can’t locate you unless you actually jump onto a network.’

  ‘What about the Hibernation chip?’

  ‘That’s passive. It literally gets used once a year to knock the brain into Hibernation. They can’t use it to track you.’

  There’s a lot about that chip we don’t know, Jen thought, but decided to keep that to herself for now. He was probably right. She doubted they could track anyone with it, but they were using it to search minds. How was she going to tell him that?

  Nathan began snooping along Thomas’s bookshelf. He picked up a book and leafed through it angrily. He had every right to be upset. The experience of mind searching had been a profound one, for them both. Getting to know a person was supposed to take time, a natural process that humans accept and understand. The Histeridae short-circuited that entire notion. And she hadn’t just seen inside his mind, she had felt his pain, his grief, his love. Perhaps the biggest problem of all? It was one-way. He hadn’t felt or learnt anything about her. It was an unnatural invasion and had left her with a lingering and consuming sense of guilt.

  ‘Thank you,’ Jen offered. ‘For bringing the Histeridae here safely, for disabling my comms.’

  He looked at her blankly. ‘You’ll get used to it eventually, by the way.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Being cut off.’

  It would take some time to adjust. Mind augmentation was everywhere, the only way to access some devices and networks. She removed her contact lenses and felt disconnected, alone.

  Nathan picked up a photograph of Thomas. ‘How do you know him?’ He turned the picture towards her. ‘Ex-boyfriend?’

  ‘Er. No,’ Jen mumbled, caught off guard. ‘Well, kind of.’

  Nathan shrugged again; he was doing a lot of that. She watched as
he continued nosing around the room. There was so much she wanted to ask but decided to take things slowly. She needed to gain his trust before bombarding him with questions about his wife or the procedure.

  Body swapping. Did he really understand the risks? Perhaps he did. She had felt his determination and loss, those feelings still fresh in her mind. His mind relocation seemed to be holding well. No signs of splintering. That was good. And, he had managed to disable her network chip. He might just be useful after all.

  ‘Where did it come from?’ Nathan asked, staring at the Histeridae, its shiny surface radiant in the early evening light, its magic drawing his attention ever inward.

  ‘I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,’ she replied. ‘Nathan. Listen, I am sorry.’

  He nodded blankly.

  ‘Really,’ she said, more firmly this time. ‘But I had to be sure.’

  ‘It was a violation,’ he snapped at her, shuffling his feet, embarrassed. ‘Sneaking about in someone’s mind. It’s not fair.’

  ‘You’re right.’ She was almost pleased to get a response, even if it was anger. ‘I won’t do it again.’

  ‘It’s personal stuff.’ He frowned hard, not ready to let it go. ‘My wife. My feelings.’

  Jen sat quietly, allowing him to vent, finding herself agreeing with him.

  ‘I had a friend,’ she said eventually. ‘A colleague. His name was Jim McArthur. I trusted him completely, had known him for twenty years, and all that time, he was working for them. The Histeridae showed me that. Without it I would never have known.’

  Nathan walked to the window and stared out at the street below. ‘Still doesn’t make it right though, does it?’

  ‘No. It doesn’t.’

  There was silence for a while.

  ‘Can I ask you a question?’ Jen knew she needed to be gentle, to tread carefully. ‘What was your wife’s name?’

  Nathan stared at her suspiciously.

  ‘I just want to try and do this properly,’ Jen offered, ‘Start again. Get to know you the normal way.’

  She watched him. It seemed like he was physically preparing himself to talk about her. It was a long time before he spoke.

  ‘Katherine,’ he said. ‘Her name was Katherine.’

  ‘And do you think you could tell me what happened? What she was investigating?’

  ‘I kind of figured you already knew everything.’ He tapped the side of his head sarcastically.

  ‘I stopped the minute I knew I could trust you.’ She waited, seeing his defences lowering. ‘Just start at the beginning. You told me she was investigating something.’

  ‘Yes.’ He spoke slowly. ‘Links between the Government and Baden Corporation. She had a nose for that sort of thing.’

  ‘What did she find?’

  ‘She’d had a tip-off. Some of the early deals were suspect, huge sums of money. She started digging – she was good at finding that stuff.’ Nathan smiled, but there was an obvious pain. He swallowed and continued. ‘A few weeks before they killed her, she managed to get a reporter to talk, all off the record, fragments of information, rumours. That’s when she first heard about the Histeridae project. She was convinced she was onto something.’ He rubbed his hands up and down his face. ‘She was right.’

  Jen nodded. ‘Mac told me the same thing. The Government own Baden. Did you know that?’

  Nathan shook his head.

  ‘My father’s research started it all, helped Baden develop the Hiberchip, and now they’re searching us when we hibernate, using the chip to read our thoughts.’

  Nathan continued to shake his head.

  ‘What?’ Jen’s voice was higher than she expected.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he replied. ‘But you sound like a crazy conspiracy theorist.’

  ‘I do.’ Her thoughts turned to Callaghan. ‘But it’s true. I’ve seen it. Search echoes. They’re monitoring our thoughts, searching us, and it’s all linked to Hibernation and the Histeridae.’

  ‘And Baden.’

  ‘Yes. And Baden.’

  ‘What about data privacy?’ Nathan countered. ‘The Symbiosis Act? How the hell could all this go unnoticed?’

  ‘If they’re all in bed together then the policymakers create their own rules, they cover their tracks. Think about it; after the troubles, the UN were given exclusive powers of governance. Within years we had identity cards, new immigration laws, travel permits, neural facial recognition, you name it.’

  ‘Why though?’

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why do it? Why search? The world’s going to shit – why do they want to know what we think about it? What difference does it make?’

  Jen sighed, it was a good point. ‘People were scared. Maybe the UN just saw their chance to make some new rules. ‘“We need to make the word safer.”’ She was mocking a political debate. ‘“Protect ourselves against the global threat.”’

  He nodded towards the Histeridae. ‘So, it’s served its purpose, then hasn’t it? The Hiberchip was developed, and now it’s searching away. Why do they want that thing back so badly?’

  Jen said, ‘It’s still a weapon, and they don’t fully understand it.’

  ‘Maybe they want to destroy it. Cover their tracks,’ Nathan suggested.

  ‘Maybe.’

  Now it was Jen’s turn to stare out the window. She stood and looked down on the City, a curious feeling growing inside her. She had never believed in fate, or destiny or any other manmade attempt to make sense of the world. Yet, the events that led them here were accompanied with a sense of interconnectedness; some strange, hidden meaning. The Histeridae, her father, Nathan’s wife. A thread, perhaps linked.

  ‘Why did you start all this?’ she asked him.

  ‘To find out who murdered my wife,’ he answered easily. ‘And then…’ He stopped himself, frowned and clearly changed what he was about to say, ‘Find out the truth.’

  ‘I think they’re the same thing. The reason people keep dying is to hide the truth.’

  Nathan stared at the floor and shrugged. A few minutes passed. He seemed uneasy, agitated. Here was a man who had started with a single objective: revenge. He had almost said it. Find out who murdered her and kill them. Now it was muddied, confusing, multiple threads threatening to distract him from his goal.

  ‘I won’t stand in your way,’ Jen said carefully, acting on her hunch.

  Nathan looked up. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘If we find out who murdered her, I won’t stop you.’

  Nathan took a long, deep breath. ‘Thank you,’ he said finally.

  Jen didn’t take that lightly. They could take her badge and set her on the run, but deep down she was still a police officer. And yet, here she was telling Nathan that she wouldn’t stop him enacting his revenge.

  Adaptation, she supposed. It would be necessary if she was going to live through this.

  ‘One will lead to the other,’ she said. ‘I’m sure of it.’

  ‘And then what?’ Nathan replied.

  She turned to him, realising that for the first time in as long as she could remember, she was glad for some company, thankful that this strange man, who had appeared out of nowhere, was going to be part of all this.

  ‘Nathan, I think it’s up to us to blow this whole thing open,’ she said, her determination returning.

  The vague hint of a smile crept along the edges of his lips. ‘Where do we start?’

  Mac’s words echoed back through her mind.

  ‘Whatever it is, however deep it goes, it started with your father but it ends with Baden.’

  ‘You said your wife managed to get someone talking. Someone who knew about the money, the dirty deals.’ Jen placed her hand on his shoulder. ‘We start with the Baden Corporation.’

  Nathan nodded and then said, ‘By the way.’

  Jen looked at him quizzically.

  ‘Happy Christmas.’

  Chapter 34

  The search team were close. Owen Powell gripped t
he cold railing and peered over the edge of the metal walkway. The water below was rising. Soon the tops of the data servers would slip beneath its silky black surface. He estimated its depth to be about twenty feet now, the rotating yellow security lights only just visible below the surface.

  ‘For God’s sake, get me out of here,’ he screamed at a panel on the wall, his eyes darting frantically around the steel chamber. A voice answered, young and filled with confidence and reassurance.

  ‘Mr Powell, we are working to locate you. We’ll find you.’

  Powell made a sound in his throat, an involuntary childlike whimper that scared him even more. How the hell did he get himself into this? A leaking server room deep underground. He found himself staring at his expensive shoes, felt the sweat on his back soaking into his perfectly pressed shirt. He was going to drown in here, locked in, alone. He was the fucking CEO, for God’s sake. He was important.

  ‘Sir?’ The voice again.

  ‘I’m here,’ Powell replied. Where else would I be?

  ‘Sir, I need you to look above the door and confirm which server room you are in.’

  Powell looked up at the large stenciled letters above the thick steel door.

  ‘457B,’ he screamed, ‘I’m in 457B.’

  Something below him groaned, the sound of steel complaining. It was the kind of sound he associated with ships cracking in two, or submarines about to implode. He leant over the balcony again to see a sudden belch of water and steam followed by a rush from one corner to the other, creating a swirling, pale green foam on the water’s surface. The main lights blinked out and the security lights kicked in, bathing him in a hellish red. He imagined himself floating silently in the freezing water, those red lights magnifying his terrified expression, eyes wide open, mouth agape, a bubble dancing from his nostril.

  ‘Get. Me. Out of here.’ The desperation and pitch of his voice was increasing.

  He heard the distant sound of men and machinery and drilling. Perhaps they were opening the door manually, by force. How long would that take? His mind offered images of his family, his wife. His life outside of the company, one he knew he had ignored. All these years, given to Baden, seemed so pointless now. For what?