by Alex Scarrow
He turned back round to watch Nathan Collobie - one of Mason’s lab technicians - taking tissue samples from the bodies on the floor. Nathan was the ideal person to sequester from the Department of Genetic Analysis. He was a good technician; a very reliable and conscientious worker. But, most importantly, he already knew enough to be a security risk. It made sense then to continue using him, rather than bring in some other genetic technician to collect the tissue samples. The fewer loose ends Deacon was going to have to deal with when this was all over, the better. So, Nathan was along for the ride, like Leonard, until this little job was done.
Deacon watched as the technician worked. Nathan was in his late twenties and thickly-set. He wore fashionably baggy, bright colored clothes that sensibly blended in with the predominant fashion-paradigm on this world. He did a far better job of passing anonymously than Deacon did, with his distinctive dark tailored suit. He had to applaud the young man for that.
He moved with quick precision, producing a sterilized sampler bud from a hip-mounted pack and dabbing it delicately in the pool of blood beside the last of the four bodies splayed across the living room floor. He put the blood-tipped bud into a small plastic container, sealed it and then wrote the name and details on the lid:
Daniel R. Weston: biological father of candidate Imogen S. Weston.
He looked up at Deacon after he had finished. ‘I’m done, I’ve got all of them.’
‘Good. Add their samples to the others and have them sent back to the lab to be analyzed.’
‘Yes sir,’ replied Nathan casting another queasy glance around the room, the signs of their recent handiwork splashed in crimson across the walls and floor.
‘Why don’t you go into the kitchen and make yourself some coffee, Nathan?’
The technician nodded with obvious relief, and left the late Weston family’s lounge for their kitchen. Deacon watched him go and felt some sympathy for both him and Leonard. This was an unpleasant business. But there simply wasn’t the time to carefully take each candidate and its family’s DNA and wait patiently for it to be deconstructed and thoroughly scrutinized before being able to press on and locate the next potential candidate on their list. They needed to be dealt with now. Unfortunately, doing it like this meant a few innocents would die along the way.
Deacon was now certain that Mason’s creation was one of the names on the list; one of the sixty-three fetuses returned to Harpers Reach that Mason had personally been involved with. But he couldn’t relax until he had samples from all of them, and their immediate relatives, taken back to the lab to study. Mason’s handiwork would hopefully be in there somewhere, and once the candidate had been correctly identified, and he had made his report to the Administration that the child was dead…the crisis would be over.
However, there was always the chance that he’d made a mistake.
He could have picked the wrong world on which to start his search and the candidate even now, on the other side of the universe, might already be on the move, carrying out Mason’s apocalyptic errand.
He just had to hope Harpers Reach was the right planet to have come to first. Certainly the city beyond this window was the kind of environment in which the candidate child might head towards to stay lost for some time. This place fitted the profile. If he were Mason, he would have almost certainly chosen a Paternity Request from this world.
He turned towards the three armed men standing silently near the doorway, awaiting his orders. ‘Make it look like a robbery. Make a mess, break some things, take some things.’
The three men nodded and set about the task. The authorities in New Haven didn’t amount to much more than a poorly organized, predictably corrupt, civic council. He could do anything he wanted in this city and their local law officers wouldn’t be able to touch him, not after he waved his ID at them. But, for now, a little discretion would probably be wise. Time was of the essence, and he didn’t want to waste any of it having to explain himself or confirm his supreme authority here to some local law enforcement monkey.
He watched the men as they coolly and systematically trashed the habi-cube, which Deacon had to admit, was one of the nicer abodes in this crappy little city, perched as it was, high atop one of the more desirable towers. And the Westons had seemed like such a nice family too, as he’d talked to them, introduced himself and politely asked if their daughter was home.
Pity.
He looked towards Leonard, who stared at a tray of crystal marbles that had been knocked off the coffee table onto the carpeted floor by Mr Weston as he’d fallen. The young lad’s lips fluttered ever so slightly as he rapidly counted them over and over. That was how the young lad seemed to deal with situations he found unsettling; to focus on some tiny detail and quietly quantify it.
‘Leonard?’
He looked up, muttering to himself, ‘fifty-two marbles….fifty-two marbles, on the floor.’
‘It’s okay Leonard, all the nasty business is done here now.’
He nodded, ‘yes, Deacon.’
‘What name do we have next on the list?’
Leonard pulled out his data tablet. ‘Quin, Ellie. We have details on a home address outside of the city, an agri-plot several hours away. But we have a logged entry into New Haven some months ago. Just the child on her own, not the family.’
‘How old is the child?’
‘Twenty. Turned twenty a few months ago. Deacon took several steps back towards the window and looked down at the city again.
Twenty…the onset of adulthood and this creature has come to the city all alone.
He turned to look at Leonard. ‘What do you think, Leonard?’
The young lad nodded and spoke quickly, ‘it could be her, it could be. It fits the behavioral profile we have produced - yes, at the first opportunity, running away from home to the nearest big city, a place full of people.’
‘Yes,’ replied Deacon thoughtfully, ‘this one looks even more promising. Except we might be a little too late. If she’s here in New Haven, she’s already on the run.’
‘But she may well be running only on instinct. Unless, of course, someone has told her that she should be on the run.’
‘Yes,’ Deacon replied thoughtfully. Leonard had a very good point. If she knew what she was already, if someone had sat her down and explained that to her, she might already be travelling under an alias. As it was, some months back she had boldly entered the city under her own name. Careless. That was going to make it a lot easier to pin her down in New Haven.
‘Leonard, we need to run her details through this city’s transaction database, see where she buys her basics. We might even get lucky and find her name on some O2 bill, or a cube rental bill.’
‘Yes Deacon. I’ll get on it right away.’ Leonard pulled out his tablet to begin the task. His eyes once more darted towards the body of Mr Weston, Mrs Weston, half her head sprayed across the family’s gel couch, the two Weston children lying either side of the overturned toob projector on the floor…and the scattered marbles on the carpet beside them. ‘Fifty-two marbles on the floor…fifty-two marbles,’ he muttered unhappily.
Deacon gave him a reassuring pat on the back. ‘Why don’t you go and get yourself a coffee too, there’s a good boy,’ he said and then turned back to the window to look out once more.
Mason’s abomination is out there somewhere.
This felt like the one. Dammit! He should have started with this one, this Quin child. The other seven candidates they had already visited and dealt with on Harpers Reach had all seemed so very normal, docile, quite unremarkable, just like the vast majority of the emotionally neutered masses out there.
‘I think this Ellie Quin is the one,’ he whispered quietly to himself.
It’s her, all right.
CHAPTER 7
‘It was a great success, Hufty. We landed on the snow in the late afternoon and our passengers loved it,’ she said, then paused the diary as she looked out of the window.
She smiled at
the recollection of them flooding out of the hold, down the ramp onto the snow like a class of unruly children. Later on, after the obligatory fun and frolics with snowballs, they had separated out, and wandered in couples and small groups around the arctic terrain. They had all carried emergency oxygen masks, but none were required.
As the light began to fade, Aaron had emerged self-consciously dressed in Jez’s hand-picked captain’s uniform and a thick, hooded coat over the top, more to hide his uniform, than to keep the evening chill out. He dutifully exchanged greetings and small talk with the passengers who were interested in the shuttle, about flying it and the topography of their world. And then, as the stars and the Veil emerged, and with the last trace of the sun finally absent from the sky, Aaron had produced a metal crate and some packing fiber and started a bonfire that they all merrily huddled around as they stared up, entranced, at the purple night and the golden slash of the Veil.
And Ellie could have sworn there was a moment right then, a passing moment, when Jez glanced sideways at Aaron in his smart uniform and pursed her lips thoughtfully; giving some notion a fleeting consideration.
When they returned to the city two days later, and their passengers had disembarked to be processed through the port’s immigration hall, the three of them had collectively heaved a sigh of relief. The whole trip had taken only four days and they had made a clear three thousand creds for their efforts, subtracting all of the overheads such as the fuel, food supplies and the docking fees at the port.
Ellie un-paused the voice-diary.
‘Aaron gave both Jez and me the four hundred creds we agreed on, and another three hundred creds each as a bonus! Seven hundred creds for a few days work! We’d never find work that paid like that in New Haven if we spent the rest of our lives looking.’
Ellie paused the voice-diary again and set it down on the table. She sat back in the quilted couch and looked out of the restaurant window again at the passing street traffic. In the background, she could hear the Crazie-Beanie track being played. She tapped a finger against her cup in time with the beat and mouthed along with the gibbering Beanie catchphrase, whilst Harvey, sitting beside her, slurped a glass of protein-solution through a straw.
Jez was due to meet them for lunch, but true to form, she was running on Jez-time so was unsurprisingly late. She was out clothes-shopping, and Ellie knew she had probably completely lost track of the time and would show up an hour from now with some hastily concocted tale that would absolve her of any guilt whatsoever.
Ellie took a sip of her drink and then picked up the diary once more. ‘The creds have been burning a hole in Jez’s pocket since we returned. I’m surprised she lasted this long to be honest. I mean, it’s been three days since we got back, and this IS her first shopping-frenzy. But she’s being good. She’s not spending it all.’
In one of her more lucid moments since returning to New Haven, Jez had handed Ellie five hundred creds to look after for her, with the explicit instructions that no matter how much she pleaded and begged once the fever had gotten a proper grip on her, Ellie was not to give her any more of her money to spend. In fact, Ellie had banked that money, and most of hers, in one merchant’s account. Both of them would need to be ID scanned for a withdrawal to be made.
She had kept out a hundred creds of her own money for spending too. She had weakened momentarily yesterday and taken herself down to Baldini’s Bazaar to the stall in the main atrium on the ground floor where she had spotted those wonderful knee-high, turquoise pvc boots. Amazingly they were still there. So, successfully haggling the price down several creds, she had decided to treat herself. She ran a hand down the ribbed side of her lovely boots and smiled.
My little ‘well done’ present.
Ellie felt only the mildest pang of guilt for spending-out on them. She had worked hard on the shuttle trip; she had worked even harder painting the damned shuttle. The boots, therefore, were a well-deserved and belated thank you to herself for being such a good sport over the last few weeks.
‘The plan was that we’d come back to New Haven and rest for a few days then do it all again. But there’s been a change of plan,’ Ellie said, struggling a little not to smile too much as she spoke.
‘Aaron needs to take the shuttle across to Harvest City. There’s a faulty component on Lisa that needs to be removed and a new one fitted in. According to Aaron it needs to be done over there because it’s a lot cheaper…but also, there’s another reason. He’s going to see if we can extend the license on Harvey.’
She cast a glance down at him. The logo on his forehead was beginning to change in hue, very slightly…but enough to show that he was fast approaching the last few weeks of his life.
‘The company that engineered him are also based there, so whilst he’s in Harvest, he’s going to apply for a renewed license, and an extender-serum.’ She patted Harvey’s bald grey head affectionately and he, in turn, looked up at her with his expressionless, beady black eyes.
‘But the great news Hufty, the really great news, is that right on the flight path to Harvest City is home. Good old plot 451. He’s going to drop me off, right outside the farm on the way there and pick me up on the way back!’
Ellie felt her cheeks flush with joy. Not only was she going back to spend a few days with her family, but Jez, curious to see what farming folk looked like, had invited herself along too.
She sighed. This was going to be a truly wonderful stopover. There was so much that she wanted to tell her family about and in turn, so much that she wanted to show Jez. Over the last few months, she had tried to explain to her what the farm looked like, how it worked, the sort of chores she used to do, what her Mum and Dad and Shona and Ted were like. But, she suspected, her confused gabbling had done little to enlighten her friend. Well, now she was about to see it all for herself. And, despite the fact that there wouldn’t be a shop within several hundred miles, Jez seemed like she was genuinely looking forward to it.
Ellie looked out of the window once more, savoring the warm glow of satisfaction and contentment. She realized that she couldn’t remember, ever, feeling this fulfilled, this happy. Even though she was still probably a year or two from having enough money to finally claw her way off-world and explore the great big universe out there, she was at last off the starting blocks and on the move towards that goal. And that’s what really counted - that she was at last moving in the right direction. It was the standing still, the getting nowhere, that got her down.
She had a suspicion that many, many years from now, when she was an old woman she would look back at this moment. Sitting here, right now, in the window seat of this greasy-spoon chop-shop and looking out at the dreary tide of people passing by…she would one day realize that this was the moment when she knew for certain that it was all going to turn out all right in the end.
Savor the moment Ellie, savor it.
She nodded at the wise words of advice from herself. Dad had once said ‘life goes by faster and faster with each passing year. If you get a chance to pause it every now and then, do it. Pause it, and just enjoy the view for a few moments.’
This, Ellie decided, was definitely one of those moments to pause.
It was then that she spotted a face in the crowd; a vaguely familiar face studying her intently from across the street. A moment passed as their eyes locked, and then the face disappeared behind a cluster of moving pedestrians and was gone, almost as if it had been erased by their passing. She sat up in her chair and pressed her face against the window, looking for it again.
There had been something familiar about that face, but she couldn’t place it; a man, an old man, but gone now, like a puff of vapor blown away in a strong breeze.
‘How odd,’ she mumbled. ‘Who was that?’
‘Missss Eh-leeeee?’ Harvey whispered quietly, looking up at her curiously.
‘Oh it’s nothing Harvey…I Just thought I saw someone I knew.’
*
Aaron checked the nav-display a
nd shouted back over his shoulder towards the girls, ‘it should be coming up any time soon ladies!’
Ellie and Jez scrambled forward to get a view as Aaron hit a button on one of the control panels and the windblast shields outside slowly wound up with a noisy whine. All three of them shaded their eyes and winced as the bright sunlight spilled into the cockpit. Below them was nothing but the ever-present orange clay mud, punctuated with sharp shards of rock.
‘How far are we from Ellie’s place?’
Aaron consulted a display, ‘we should see it up ahead some time soon. That is, if I’ve got the right co-ords. It was plot 451, Ellie?’
‘Yeah, that’s right.’
Jez squinted. ‘Hmmm, I see nothing but sand and rocks.’
‘That’s home alright,’ Ellie shrugged. ‘But we should see a large rocky outcrop soon.’
‘Large? How large?’ asked Jez.
‘Well, not so much large….but big enough you won’t miss it.’
They silently scanned the flat horizon racing towards them, and then finally Aaron spotted the slightest bump ahead of them. ‘That it?’ he asked, pointing.
Ellie smiled, ‘that’s it. The only thing close to resembling a hill in the area.’
‘Okay here we go!’ said Jez, ‘a week on the ol’ farm!’ she announced with her rendition of a prairie accent.
‘Crud, Jez, we’re not that bad!’
‘Just kiddin’, farm-chik.’
Aaron dropped altitude by a hundred feet and they skimmed the ground. ‘Here we go girls. You got your things ready?’
Ellie felt the strap on her shoulder. Her bag contained the presents she had brought from New Haven, her diary of course and the things she needed for the next few days. A change of clothes, toiletries, would all be at home, just as she had left them in her own habi-cube all those months ago.
