by Eliza Green
Laura offered her hand to the teen. ‘Ben Watson. I’ve heard so much about you.’
Ben hesitated before he shook it.
‘Let’s get you out of here. And cover your eyes until we get to the vehicle.’
She led the way to the exit with Ben close behind her. Bill brought up the rear, grateful to have Laura there. He’d avoided social situations for most of his adult life. But this one he couldn’t escape. He had no idea what to say to the boy whose life he’d ruined to get information on Stephen.
They returned to their vehicle, parked on the side of the station that overlooked a replica of St. James’ Park in London. It was midday and the park buzzed with lunchtime activity. Bill and Laura climbed into the front of the driverless vehicle, with its command console and hidden steering wheel, while Ben, half hidden under his coat, got in the back.
‘Did you move the docking station?’ Ben said.
Laura turned round. ‘No. We built around it.’
‘The last time I was here, the station was in the desert with nothing around for miles. You had to get a bus to it.’
‘Things look a lot different to when you were last here. New London was more of a town than a city,’ said Bill.
He looked at the regal buildings that lined the streets to the side of the park. Beyond them were areas retaining the charm of the old world but with a New London twist. In eight years, New London had gone from a span of ten miles out in all directions from its centre to twenty-five miles in all directions—about half the size of the city on Earth.
‘The architects designed this park and the streets just beyond. What do you think?’ he said.
Ben ignored him and stared out the window. Bill faced the front again; he hated rudeness more than small talk.
Laura gave a command to the car to drive to a location just outside the luxury area of Whitehall. When the self-driving car moved, she nudged Bill with her elbow.
‘Talk to him,’ she whispered.
Bill coughed and turned round in his seat again. ‘Eh, Ben, you probably don’t remember me.’
‘I remember you.’ They boy’s eyes cut to Bill. They looked almost black under the car’s interior light. ‘You got me kicked off this planet.’
‘I didn’t personally get you kicked off—’
‘But you helped. You and that Indigene who I’ve been told is a friend of yours. Maybe you were both scheming together.’
Bill scrambled to defend himself. ‘I was monitoring Stephen. I didn’t know him at the time.’
‘But you used me to get closer. You put me on the government’s radar.’
‘Well, yes, that’s what happened, but I didn’t mean—’
‘To get me kicked off this planet?’ Ben folded his arms. ‘I know. But it didn’t stop you using me.’
‘I didn’t... shit.’ Bill rubbed his jaw. ‘Laura, a little help please?’
But Laura stifled a laugh.
He stared at her. ‘What’s so funny?’
Her laugh bubbled to the surface. ‘I rarely see anyone put you in your place. It’s a joy to witness.’ She turned to Ben, looking contrite. ‘I’m not undermining how things played out back then. But you must know your contact with Stephen was the best thing that could have happened. It led to the formation of the peace treaty.’
‘Didn’t feel like it was the best thing,’ said Ben. ‘I was only eight.’
Laura reached out a hand for Ben. He shifted away from her.
‘I’m sorry for how the government treated you,’ she said pulling back. ‘And if Bill had been in charge back then, it wouldn’t have happened. He’s helped to get you safe passage back to Exilon 5.’
‘Eight years later. And this is my home.’
‘Better late than never.’ The calm slipped from her voice as she adjusted her position in her seat. ‘We know all about what happened to you on Earth, and according to Jenny Waterson your connection with the Indigene Isobel changed the outcome there. You’re a wilful kid, boy—young man. Our government treated you badly, but your positive experience with Stephen changed him and led to you to give Isobel a fair go. Don’t blame Bill for the direction your life took. It’s done. You can’t change anything. You must decide where you go from here.’
Bill stared at the woman he’d asked to marry him more than three times. Time and again she’d refused on the basis of it being an outdated practice. He didn’t know why she’d finally agreed on try four, but for him marriage proved his commitment to her. Listening to her defend his stupid actions, he’d never loved her more.
Ben uncrossed his arms and stared out the window again. ‘I suppose it’s not his fault. Or Stephen’s. But still.’
‘I’m sorry for what happened,’ said Bill. ‘You were in the wrong place at the wrong time. But also in the right place.’
‘Okay.’ Ben kept his eyes on the fast-moving scenery. ‘Where are you taking me?’
‘To your accommodation in New London but we need to make a small stop first.’
The car continued on the road that crossed the boundary lines of the city and travelled deep into the undeveloped, stony wasteland beyond.
Ben looked around. ‘Where are we? I don’t recognise this place.’
One of the designated hunting zones came into view, encased by the faint shimmer of the environmental bubble.
‘Many things have changed on Exilon 5 besides the size of New London,’ said Laura. ‘When you were last here, only humans resided on the surface. That’s still the case, but they now share the land with the Indigenes.’ She pointed at the shimmer. ‘That’s one of the hunting zones—safe areas for the Indigenes to hunt without humans tracking them.’
‘What happens if they go outside the zone?’ said Ben.
‘It’s at their risk,’ said Bill. ‘The Peace Treaty only covers the zones, not the areas outside.’
‘The Indigenes are fast,’ said Ben.
Bill smiled. ‘Yes, they are.’
‘So who runs this planet?’ Ben switched his focus from the scenery to Bill. ‘Are the ITF still in charge?’
‘Yes, and I’m their director. Laura works as my head of communications.’ Laura’s ability to read minds due to her partial transformation years ago qualified her for that role. ‘She’s also our “official” Indigene liaison.’
‘What happened to the World Government? I thought all the board members relocated here after the last ships left Earth.’
‘They did, but they don’t control anything. Not any more.’ Bill concentrated on a group of mountains in the distance. ‘They and a group of individuals live on the outskirts of town—a place beyond the hunting zones.’
‘What, in a new town?’
‘Sort of,’ said Bill.
‘So why don’t they want to rule any more?’ said Ben. ‘They never struck me as the types to give up power.’
‘They still have power, just not the kind you and I have,’ said Laura.
‘I don’t understand.’
Bill sighed; he hated talking about them. ‘The board members and a select group of two hundred people came to Exilon 5 and lived a hermitic life in the mountains. Over the next five years, the board members conspired with genetic doctors to experiment with advanced procedures they’d learned about on Earth. The numbers accompanying the board members whittled down to one hundred. The GS humans live in a place that feeds their advancement.’
‘What’s GS? And where, like on a farm?’
‘GS stands for genetically superior. And no, not a farm. They’re no longer human, thanks to the experiments. They’re like Indigenes, but they’re also not. Their group is evolving at an exponential rate.’
‘Holy shit!’ Ben leaned forward. ‘Can I see one of them?’
‘Not unless you want to die. The best thing you can do is stay away from those murdering freaks.’
3
Marcus waited in the holding area of the passenger ship as just one available spacecraft, carrying about twenty of the one hundred peopl
e on board, shuttled between the ship and the docking station. He and Harvey, travelling under pseudonyms beginning with the letter “C”, were next in alphabetical order to travel on the craft. With the surname Watson, Ben should have been in the last group, but the military had picked him out of line and put him on the first craft. Marcus pressed down his bitter rage for the teenager who, just two months ago, had been under his command. It appeared the boy had friends on Exilon 5.
The spacecraft returned to the hold a short time later and he and Harvey climbed on board. Marcus strapped in tight, remembering the journey at the start to the ship stationed above Earth’s atmosphere. He’d almost decorated the seats with his lunch. The five-minute journey down didn’t feel as rough, but when the craft landed Marcus scrambled to be the first to exit. He would never set foot in one of those things again.
A dozen receiving stations similar to those on Earth beckoned. Marcus entered a different station to Harvey and queued airside for his identity chip to be scanned.
The officer motioned Marcus forward and Marcus passed through the barrier to landside. While he waited for Harvey, he saw a man in his early fifties with greying hair escort Ben to the exit. A blonde-haired woman too scrawny to be Marcus’ type was with him.
Harvey joined him. ‘No issues?’ Marcus shook his head. ‘Good. Let’s go.’
He’d planned on ditching Harvey as soon as he made it through the receiving stations, but with freedom just moments away Marcus had no idea where to go. He followed Harvey to the exit, looking around for the box of gel masks that usually sat by the entrance. But all he found was a shallow dish on a table containing strange-looking eye wear.
‘Where are the masks?’
Harvey picked up a pair of dark eye glasses and pressed them to his eyes. ‘Don’t need them here, but you will need a pair of these.’
Marcus glanced at the bowl of glasses, then at the exit door made of tinted glass that gave the outside world a dark, ominous look. He picked up a pair but didn’t see why he had to wear them. The lack of gel masks and oxygen canisters worried him more.
Harvey approached the door and it opened. Marcus held his breath, not sure what to expect. Fresh air and a brightness to which he was not accustomed assaulted him.
He shielded his painful eyes. ‘Holy shit.’
‘That’s what the eye wear is for,’ snapped Harvey. ‘Put yours on.’
Marcus put the glasses on without complaint. The heat on his skin felt strange, but nice; he was used to a much colder climate on Earth. But it didn’t take long for that feeling to switch to discomfort. The heat reminded him of the old food replication terminals where the air conditioning couldn’t cope with the numbers.
He walked on but something jerked him to a stop. ‘What the hell—?’
Harvey pulled him back to the entrance and nodded at a car that Ben Watson was getting into. ‘I know the man and woman with the boy. I don’t want to see them right now.’
‘What, the skinny bird and the jackass?’
‘The very same. I have a past.’
Marcus never doubted that for a minute; Harvey Buchanan didn’t strike him as a pushover. Yet, on Earth, Marcus had power while types like Harvey kept a low profile. It encouraged him to learn more about the weaknesses of the man who claimed to own Marcus’ ass.
Marcus dropped his idea to ditch Harvey. He would play along for a while, get a feel for things and see where he fit in this world.
The sun felt like it cooked him from the inside. He draped his arm over his face. Even with the eyewear in place, his eyes pinched. At least the air tasted fresh. He pulled new oxygen into his lungs—not as pure as the canisters the criminal factions used, but good enough.
The vehicle carrying Ben and the pair Harvey avoided pulled away from the parking spot next the station. Harvey emerged from his hiding place and walked to the same parking area, where two buses were parked. Marcus took in the rolling, green park the station overlooked. It reminded him of Astoria Park in Brooklyn, the place where Gaetano Agostini had run his operations.
Marcus followed Harvey, who approached the first of two buses. A sign on the front of each read: Processing.
A woman with a DPad waited by the first bus. ‘All passengers will be taken to the detention centre for processing, medical care and assignment.’
‘Detention Centre? Assignment?’
That wasn’t part of the deal. Marcus had agreed to a new face and a better life.
‘We have to blend in,’ said Harvey. ‘We can’t exist outside of the system. ITF rules. Everyone must be useful in society.’
‘So what kind of assignments are we talking about?’
Please don’t say cleaner. It had been his old job before he worked for Gaetano Agostini and he had hated every fucking minute of it. He’d been someone important on Earth. No way would he start from the bottom.
‘Whatever they need. Mostly construction jobs. There’s a lot of ongoing work, a lot of undeveloped land.’
The line moved forward and Marcus shuffled with it. ‘I didn’t agree to this, Harvey. I have no interest in being a lackey here. I’ve got skills. Management and such.’
Harvey leaned in close to his ear. ‘Lesson one: Keep your mouth shut. You’re not supposed to be here. I had to pull strings to activate your identity and put it on the grid. Don’t fuck it up for yourself. And don’t call me Harvey in front of the officials.’
Marcus almost blurted out to Harvey that he was full of crap, and that he’d never work for him. But Marcus accepted the rare opportunity handed to him to live with a new face and a new identity on a world where no one wanted him dead. Carl, that backstabbing piece of shit, wouldn’t have made it this far. His choice to side with Gaetano probably got him killed.
Couldn’t have happened to a nicer asshole.
Marcus owed nothing to nobody, least of all Harvey. But he’d play along for now because, for all his ambitions and ideas, this world felt alien to him. To familiarise himself with his surroundings, he had to trust people who knew the lay of the land. He could fake it with Harvey. Or should he say John Caldwell.
‘Okay, John. Whatever you say.’
Harvey patted him on the head. ‘Good boy.’
4
Please stop for two minutes.
Stephen ignored Serena’s thoughts in his head and paced inside the Council Chambers in District Three.
Serena switched to her voice. ‘Stephen!’
‘What if he doesn’t remember me?’
‘Of course he will. Why wouldn’t he?’
He stopped pacing. What if the boy won’t forgive me?
Serena pressed her forehead to his and replied to him telepathically.
It was a long time ago and he’s a teenager now. He’s just survived one of the worst moments in Earth’s history. How could he not be happy to see you?
That thought unsettled Stephen and he wore out the same section of floor again. Shelves decorated one wall, filled with books Pierre had collected during his time as elder. Since Pierre’s death eight years ago, both he and Serena had carried on the elder’s tradition and collected enough books to fill several shelves. Stephen stopped at a bookcase and picked up one of Pierre’s books, hoping some of the elder’s wisdom lingered and might transfer to him.
His scientist’s mind shook off the idea. Pierre and his wife Elise had both been killed by Charles Deighton. Elise had been killed by an imprint of the late Deighton who had inhabited Anton’s body and taken over his mind. Now, no traces of the pair remained. No afterlife existed as they had once thought.
Stephen frowned at the book in his hand, then shook his head and laughed. ‘Look at me, a Council leader and scientist no less and I’m terrified of what a teenager thinks of me.’
‘It was a crucial time in your life. He was important—a catalyst in the relationship between the Indigenes and the humans.’
I treated him no better than a dog.
Serena smiled. Throughout history, dogs were considere
d man’s best friend. Maybe that’s a compliment. She held out her hands. Do you want me to work my magic on you?
She referred to her ability to influence the people around her, to make them think and do what she wanted. She could also calm a room, similar to how Elise, an empath, used to when she was alive. His friend Arianna had taken over the position of most powerful empath in the district.
‘No, I must deal with this my way. I can’t take the easy way out. I need to face him.’
‘Okay, but whatever happens, I’ll be with you.’
Stephen gently gripped the sides of her head and pressed his forehead to hers. ‘As you’ve always been from the moment you came into my life.’
Serena had shown up in District Three at the same time Anton had returned home after months in human captivity and with a bomb set to kill the Indigenes. Elise had called Serena an Indigene in her own right, but an anomaly that required further investigation. That investigation had led them to uncover what she was—a human scientist whose DNA had been merged with Anton’s—a second-generation Indigene—to create a new Indigene. Not only could Serena control other Indigenes but also the Nexus—the place that healed their bodies and enhanced their natural abilities like telepathy and influence, and Stephen’s “reader” ability.
After Pierre’s death, Serena had chosen a life with Stephen over a return to her human life.
‘And I’ll be here as long as you still want me.’ Serena’s eyes cut to the open chamber door. She stood back. ‘They’re here.’
Stephen’s heart pounded fast in his chest. He wasn’t ready. When would he ever be? His meeting with Ben Watson eight years ago had gotten the boy extricated to Earth. Most of the boy’s life had been spent under the control of the criminal factions who’d taken over after the World Government had abandoned the planet in favour of Exilon 5.
He breathed in and out deeply; it did little to calm him. ‘How can I command an entire district, but I’m terrified about meeting one boy?’
Serena touched his arm. ‘Because you had a connection with him, albeit it a fleeting one. He represents who you used to be and who you have become.’
