by Eliza Green
Isobel smiled at the play between the pair. ‘Okay, sounds like I’d be a fool to miss out.’
‘You would,’ said Arianna. ‘It’s quite the spectacle.’
‘Will you be joining us?’
Arianna smiled. ‘I never miss the opportunity.’
☼
Isobel emerged from the tunnels with the others, barefoot and dressed in dark hunting clothes. She heard no sound beyond the environmental bubble that encased the hunting zones. Isobel didn’t remember anything before the hunting zones and in her eight years she’d never had a desire to hunt.
What was hunting like back then?
‘Before the peace treaty? There were no environmental bubbles and we had to wear an earlier version of the air filtration devices,’ said Stephen, responding to her silent question. ‘The devices last much longer now. Infinite power. Kinetically charged. Our bodies are now the power source.’
‘Yeah the older versions were awkward to use and had a time limit,’ said Anton. ‘You couldn’t eat with them in.’
‘Do you remember back when they only had twenty minutes of air?’ said Stephen.
Anton rolled his eyes. ‘I invented them. I worked night and day to improve the design after I almost died.’ He explained for Isobel. ‘Ignatio, my old superior, and I were out here one night, spying on one of the craft that had brought new equipment. We needed a sample of their goods. Back then we were still figuring out how their stuff worked, trying to make new items, or modify existing equipment for our use. Well, we nearly suffocated on the run back.’
Stephen smiled. ‘You didn’t leave the lab for a week trying to improve the design.’
‘I would have been quicker with your help.’
‘I was there in spirit.’
‘Stephen was too wrapped up in his own work to help anyone,’ said Arianna. ‘He was a workaholic.’
‘Nothing wrong with taking pride in my work.’
Arianna whispered to Isobel. ‘Except when Serena needs help and he drops everything.’ She winked at Stephen.
‘Shhh.’ Isobel startled when Anton’s head whipped round. ‘Listen. They’re close to the bubble.’
The sound was distorted, but Isobel could hear two wolves baying in the distance. ‘Why is the sound so poor in here?’
‘Sound doesn’t permeate the bubble well,’ said Anton. ‘Plus we need to know where the bubble begins and ends. We don’t carry air filtration devices any more, so it’s better to be safe.’
‘Can the wolves survive in here?’
‘Yes. They’re genetically modified creations, like us,’ said Stephen. ‘They can withstand all environmental conditions, including changes in air quality, to prevent against natural extinction.’
‘Come on,’ said Anton. ‘We need to get closer.’
Stephen and Anton took the lead. They branched in different directions. Arianna pulled Isobel along. ‘You won’t want to miss these two hunt.’
Isobel tracked Stephen and Anton, one heading east, the other west. She spotted the pair of wolves sniffing in the dirt. They remained outside the bubble. Stephen and Anton had slowed their approach on either side of the prey. ‘They’ll try to herd them inside.’
‘So they have to leave the bubble?’
‘Only for a minute.’
‘Isn’t that dangerous?’
Arianna smiled. ‘It’s how they prefer to hunt. It adds to the excitement.’
Just then, Anton slipped through the bubble’s exterior that dampened his speed as he passed through. On the other side he sped up, slowed down, dropped into a crouch. The Indigene hunting stance. Stephen copied his move on the other side of the wolves.
Isobel and Arianna got closer to the edge of the bubble.
The wolves jerked their heads up and growled into the black night. Anton evaded their line of sight but the pair, disorientated for a moment, found him. Their shining eyes tracked the approaching Indigenes. Anton lunged at one wolf. It bounced away from his attack.
Stephen signalled to Anton. ‘He’s telling him it’s taking too long,’ said Arianna. ‘They need to get the wolves inside. They won’t be able to breathe out there for much longer.’
The wolves stayed on the edge of the environmental controls and led Anton and Stephen on a chase. Soon, the slippery wolves forced the pair back inside the bubble. Both pulled air deep into their lungs. ‘The wolves know we can’t survive out there, so they’re toying with us. We’re not normally this bad at hunting. We may have to give this one a miss.’
Isobel stared at the wolf that watched her from a safe distance. ‘I have an idea, if I may.’
‘Go ahead,’ said a recovering Anton.
Time to test out her Indigene lungs. If the reversal treatment had worked, she should be as adaptable as the wolves in any environment. She pushed through the bubble and stalked the waiting animals as the pair had done. Her lungs strained with the effort of the new air, and she thought she’d have to abandon her run like Anton and Stephen. But then the pressure lessened and she drew in what tasted like normal air.
She approached one of the watching wolves head-on. It pinned her with its shining gaze and bared its teeth. When the wolf leaned back on its quivering haunches, Isobel pitched one leg in front of the other, head straining forwards, back low. The other wolf paced around, trapping her. The quivering wolf lurched forwards. Isobel grabbed hold of its underbelly and tossed it behind her. She turned to see it land inside the bubble. Stephen and Anton snarled and surrounded the wolf before it had time to retreat.
A sharp pain in her leg caused her to yowl. She spun around to see the second wolf had sunk its teeth into her leg. Isobel grabbed its tail, surprising the attacking wolf enough that it let go of her. She dragged it inside the bubble where it slipped out of her hold and lunged at her again. Arianna sped over and pinned the wolf down. A panting Isobel snapped its neck.
She lay on the ground, her chest heaving, her leg glistening with wolf saliva mixed with her blood. She sat back to see Anton and Stephen still chased after the first wolf.
‘Why haven’t they killed it yet?’
Arianna pulled the dead wolf to a spot away from them both. She sat on the ground. ‘They like to hunt and the animals are too easy to kill. This one’s a rare challenge.’
The animal tried to leave the bubble, but Anton darted in front of it to block its exit. It retreated further inside the hunting zone. Stephen blocked it from going too far. They circled the animal, moving fast when the wolf did. Eventually, it stopped trying to escape and paced in a short circle, baying. Stephen and Anton looked at each other, then at the wolf. Anton created a gap and the wolf took it, running through the bubble and off into the distance. Stephen laughed and Anton slapped him on the back. The pair raced over to where Isobel sat.
‘Who knew you were such a natural at hunting?’ said Anton to Isobel.
She stood up. ‘Why did you let it go?’
Stephen breathed hard. ‘Because there aren’t many of them left. They’re reproducing at too slow a pace in the new biodomes. The peace treaty sets out restrictions on the numbers we can kill.’
‘So I probably shouldn’t have killed this one?’
Anton smiled at Stephen. ‘Nope. But we still need to eat.’
9
A nervous Isobel followed Serena to the docking station at night. Dressed in a clean cream tunic and trouser set, she stared at the dishevelled station with its white tarpaulin cover to the front. Most of the tarpaulin was ripped or hung loosely from supporting metal poles. The light from the double moons highlighted the strong military presence that patrolled with Buzz Guns. A queue had formed outside the station that comprised of a mix of partially and reversed Indigenes. Whatever their reasons for reversal, she sensed the Indigenes’ shock at seeing the weapons.
Isobel clutched the cloth shoulder bag containing her personal possessions and approached the line with caution. But when Serena stopped, she turned around.
‘This is as far as I go,
’ said Serena.
‘You don’t like these humans?’
‘They don’t like me. I’ve been here a few times before. They know what I can do.’
‘Can’t you just influence them to like you?’
‘In the right circumstances, yes. But I’m in no danger here. To use my ability when it’s unnecessary is against my rules.’
‘You have rules?’
Serena smiled. ‘We all have rules, Isobel. I must be particular about how I use my gift. I’m known to these people. Stephen and I are all that stands between the shaky peace treaty and an all-out war.’
Isobel frowned. ‘Are things really that bad?’
‘Not at the moment. On the surface, everything about the treaty is good. But behind the scenes, too many Indigenes feel the humans flout the treaty by building on protected land. Bill Taggart reports there’s something happening on the human side. Some don’t care for how we hunt their animals or that we have hunting zones so close to the cities.’
‘What about the GS humans? They created the treaty, right?’
‘The GS humans have done nothing to calm the humans’ fears. If fact, they’ve distanced themselves from the problem. Bill has stepped in to take charge of matters here. But he’s just the Director of the International Task Force, not a board member, and he meets resistance in that role. Stephen has used his envisioning ability and seen change. Nothing concrete yet to report, but he feels a big change is about to happen.’
Isobel looked at the docking station, then at Serena. ‘I can return after I get to Earth, if you need me here.’
Serena shook her head. ‘You deserve a chance to reconnect with your old life. And this is a one-way trip. Just remember who you’re supposed to be.’
Isobel watched Serena leave, knowing she might never return to Exilon 5. She turned back to the station and joined the end of the queue that snaked beneath the only section of tarpaulin still intact. There was no chat among the newly treated Indigenes, verbal or silent. Isobel hated that the reversal treatment seemed to have muted her ability to telepathically link with others. She’d become overwhelmed with the daily intrusion of others on her mind. But with it gone, she missed the connection. Serena had said the nanoids affected changes differently in each Indigene.
A male Indigene, early forties, stood in front of her in the queue. She attempted to reach him telepathically, but met a wall of resistance. When the line shuffled forwards, Isobel looked down at her scuffed, unlaced boots.
‘If you’ve got something to say to me, then say it.’
Isobel lifted her head in surprise.
The male Indigene turned around. His skin had lost a little of its natural Indigene translucency but not enough to alter his appearance in any drastic way; he still looked Indigene. ‘I can still communicate that way. I just choose not to.’
‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t prying. I think I lost my ability.’ Isobel swallowed. ‘Do you have family on Earth?’
The male gave her a clipped smile and faced the front again. ‘I thought you weren’t prying.’
‘Just trying to pass the time. I’m not used to so much silence.’
‘Well, get used to it.’
She changed the subject. ‘How long have you been queuing here?’
‘About an hour, give or take. The humans are in no hurry to move things along.’ She detected anger in his voice.
Isobel glanced behind her and counted. Twenty-two new Indigenes had joined the queue after her. There were approximately thirty ahead. ‘Is this everyone?’
The male turned around again. ‘Not many are interested in their former lives. It’s been too long for some.’
‘I’m Isobel.’
The male sneered. ‘I didn’t ask.’
‘Well, what should I call you? Or would you prefer if I make up a name? Theo? Ignatio?’
He levelled a glare at her, but she caught a hint of a smile. ‘Johan.’
Isobel nodded. ‘Nice to meet you, Johan.’
☼
The line moved along until Isobel reached the spacecraft. She stared up at the metal container that sparked no familiarity in her. Hadn’t she arrived at this very docking station in one of these? Ten minutes later, she boarded the passenger ship that felt equally as unfamiliar. She stopped trying to force her memories from her transition period from human to Indigene. Maybe they’d return on their own.
From the cargo hold, she watched other groups of Indigenes emerge from similar spacecraft and join their group from New London. Isobel counted one hundred and fifty. With several hundred thousand Indigenes living on Exilon 5, the low numbers proved an equally low interest in the reversal programme. The treatment had been around for a few years now, but not all who’d regained their human memories had returned to Earth. Some now resided in the human cities on Exilon 5, much to the residents’ objections.
Several military humans entered the hold and sorted the groups by their destinations. Two military females herded Isobel’s group along tube-like corridors to their sleeping quarters. ‘You need to stay in your assigned pods,’ one said as her group stopped at a room marked Eleven.
Isobel looked inside the room and saw twelve sleeping pods, four units to each wall, all stacked on top of one another. The higher pods were accessible by a ladder.
‘When it’s time to eat, make your way to the recreation room where we will provide you with nourishment.’ The military female pointed to a sign on the wall that read Food. ‘The way is well marked. Don’t wander off.’
‘Change out of your clothing and put these on,’ said the second female officer, pointing to a pile of clothes on the floor. Isobel picked up a grey World Government uniform. ‘We have no use for them any more, so you’ll wear them now. Don’t leave your sleeping areas without a uniform.’
The pair closed the door on Isobel’s group of ten Indigenes. Isobel looked around at the others, wondering about their experiences, but they climbed straight into their coffin-like sleeping pods. It saddened her that the social aspect of Indigene life no longer interested them.
She picked a sleeping pod above an empty one and climbed inside. It clicked closed and the noise of the outside world vanished. In the light-starved environment, Isobel’s vision returned, although it still wasn’t at full strength. But she could see enough.
She closed her eyes and thought about what waited for her when she returned to Earth. She tried to picture Alex’s face. It was an old memory, but the face felt more familiar each time she recalled it. In her strange surroundings, it also comforted her. Her husband, three years older than her, worked as an ESC security officer. Did they have children? She couldn’t remember any.
A new memory found her, one where she stared at her reflection. Her hair was swirled into a neat bun on her head. She could see Alex behind her, slipping on a black jacket and fixing a bow tie. He slipped in behind her and helped with the zip on her long, flowing dress. She touched the coral sequined gown, liking the way it felt on her skin. She loved him touching her. A quick kiss on her neck made her smile. ‘You look beautiful tonight.’ He turned away and continued dressing. Then she noticed fresh scratch marks on his arm.
‘What happened to you?’
Alex pulled his sleeve down sharply. ‘Nothing. The hazards of working with artificial intelligence computers, I guess.’
Of course. Alex also worked maintenance on the Artificial Intelligence computers for the ESC. But his excuse coupled with his sedentary desk job made no sense.
‘Who do you think will be there tonight?’ memory her said.
‘The usual. Gilchrist, Deighton. It’s an important function.’
She loved parties, but she hated how Charles Deighton always made a beeline for her. Or how Daphne Gilchrist stared at her as though Isobel had no place among the elite. But she put up with the attention to support her husband. That, and she enjoyed the lifestyle.
The memory faded as Isobel grew tired. She fell asleep with the memory of Alex’s bright blue eyes and
deep smile.
Isobel woke to the sound of a klaxon in the corridor. She opened her pod a sliver before slamming it shut when the wailing pierced her ears. When it stopped, she got out of her pod and dressed in her new clothes. The other pods in the rooms were closed. She couldn’t tell if the others had already left. Wearing the grey uniform of the World Government and her scuffed black boots, she followed the food signs and found the recreation room. The lights briefly illuminated her journey before plunging the corridor into darkness again. She slowed down when she heard verbal murmurings of people and Indigenes in a room ahead. A military man appeared suddenly at the entrance to the room, startling her.
‘Blood is on the left. Regular food on the right.’ He didn’t look at her.
‘Okay.’
Isobel stood at the entrance to the room packed with tables and chairs in the middle and a counter with different foods on either side. The Indigenes who looked more human sat near the human food, while others, more Indigene-looking, congregated in a standing-only space. Isobel caught the sharp, tangy smell of the synthesised blood pouches on the left counter, different to the rich earthy smell of real blood. Only a handful of changed Indigenes had chosen the human food, which, to her, smelled rancid. Isobel entered the room and joined the queue for a blood pouch. While her human memories were returning and her skin regained its opaque appearance, she still had an Indigene appetite. Anton’s injections at the time of her capture had masked the changes happening within her. But now she was settling into who she would become.
A military male with a hardened gaze stood behind the counter. Isobel held her hand out for a blood pouch, flinching when the male slapped it into her open palm. The looks from the other personnel had not escaped her attention either. Similar to how the doctor and his medical staff had acted during her reversal treatment.
