Pierre flipped his attention to the finer details of the trip. ‘Anton, give us an update on how you’re progressing.’
Anton’s demeanour brightened; one thing he enjoyed talking about was his inventions. When he launched into full explanation mode, he was difficult to interrupt.
‘Well, thanks to Stephen’s first expedition last week, I was able to improve the artificial skin’s pigmentation. We should be able to blend in better now. I’ve updated and improved the existing air filtration device. It will now work for two full days without the need for power. I’ve devised mobile recharging units that we can carry. It should give us an indefinite clean air supply.’
‘What about getting on the ship?’ said Leon. ‘Won’t the fact that you don’t carry identity chips be enough to trigger a warning?’
Anton smiled. ‘Not a problem. On a recent trip to the surface, I asked one of the mission groups to bring back several identity chips if they could do so without getting caught. They also brought back a security chip from a worker whose thumb had been accidentally cut off.’
Pierre and Elise both stared at Anton.
‘Don’t worry, he was dead at the time. Died in an unrelated accident. Anyway, they won’t be able to pin it on us. There’s a black market for this kind of technology. The humans will blame the scavengers long before we’re ever suspected of the crime.’
Pierre shook his head. ‘Continue, Anton.’
‘I have designed a security chip that should be a decent enough replacement. I’ve temporarily re-routed the tracking device that was embedded in the one we borrowed. They are sophisticated designs and it won’t be long before the chip figures out what I’ve done and will try to repair itself. If it manages that, it’s wired to communicate with a central unit before it destroys itself. Presumably, they will try to locate the chip so they can arrest the human responsible for tampering with it. Just so you know, I disconnected it half an hour ago, so I’ve just an hour to update you before we need to get the real chip as far away from here as possible.’
‘No pressure, then,’ said Leon.
‘None at all.’ Anton smiled, nodding at Stephen. ‘We have the fastest runner among us.’
‘Well, you’d better hurry then,’ said Stephen. ‘It seems as if I’ve something urgent to attend to directly after this.’
‘Anton, why do you also need the identity chips?’ said Elise. ‘Won’t the security one be enough?’
‘Both chips are present in human bodies. Depending on their age or skill level, they may have one or both activated. We know they definitely scan both when humans leave the planet. The computer checks that they’re still compatible and that they haven’t been tampered with. I designed a generic identity chip that the mission group used to replace the ones they took. In theory, the workers they removed them from shouldn’t notice anything is wrong, unless they try to leave the planet.’
‘Is that a likely occurrence?’ said Leon.
‘Unfortunately, anything is possible. I hope to have gone and returned home before they discover any of that. It’s a risk we have to take.’
‘I agree,’ said Stephen.
‘I plan to insert the identity chips in our left thumbs. The security chips that I’ve designed should fool the system as long as the other chip is an original. Stephen will be known as “Colin Stipple”, an underground station operations manager, and I will be “Bob Harris”, road maintenance worker. That’s the information that came back when I scanned the originals into our systems. That’s how the logs will know us when we attempt to board.’
‘Good job, Anton,’ said Leon, smiling.
‘As much as I’d like to take all the credit, I had a little help.’ Anton was referring to his team of scientists.
‘Please try not to get killed out there,’ said Elise.
‘That isn’t part of the plan,’ said Stephen.
Pierre placed a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder. ‘When does the ship leave for Earth?’
‘Tomorrow at noon,’ said Stephen. ‘That will also be the hottest time of the day. It’s going to get uncomfortable and dangerous. We’ll need to keep our bodies fully covered and that’s bound to attract unwanted attention.’
‘Don’t worry about the temperature,’ said Anton. ‘I have cooling packs that we can wear inside the coat. We should be fine until we get on board. Oh, I forgot to mention. We’re going to have to inject our food directly into our stomachs. We won’t be able to eat normally with our filtration devices permanently in place. I’ve modified the synthesised protein packs, so there should be minimal side effects.’
Stephen grimaced. ‘Sounds... challenging.’
‘Well, for all our sakes, you two had better be safe,’ said Leon. ‘So, what exactly are we going to tell the representatives?’
‘Nothing, for now,’ said Pierre. ‘The less they know about this trip, the better.’
‘In the meantime...’ Anton removed the security chip from his pocket and dropped it into Stephen’s hand. ‘Get rid of this, will you?’
19
Tired and anxious about the trip home, Bill took a moment to sit before he left his ITF apartment in New London for what he expected to be the last time. He ran a hand over the stubble on his face. He would use the two-week trip home to Earth to clean up just in time for his debriefing with Gilchrist.
He gathered up his belongings and locked the door. At street level, an automated military vehicle waited to take him to the nearest docking station, located fifteen miles outside New London’s border.
The vehicle travelled quickly through the city. He tried to commit to memory the feel of the place; not just the city and Cantaloupe restaurant, but the entire planet. People laughed as they left the nearest bar together. Sunday strollers walked beneath a strong sun with rolled-up sleeves and smiles on their faces. City parks were packed with squealing children while chatty parents carried picnic baskets. He rolled down the window and dangled out his left arm, soaking in as much heat on his skin as possible. It was then he realised how much the city calmed him, even though it was where the Indigenes also lived. Isla’s death was easier to cope with when he felt calm. He dreaded returning to Earth; a year was a long time to be away.
The vehicle pulled up close to the docking station a few miles outside of the city. Bill stayed inside the cabin for a moment. Set in the flatlands, the station was sparsely designed, compared to the cutting-edge style of the ones on Earth. A large prefabricated cabin served as the main building which passengers walked through to get to the spacecrafts docked on the other side. White tarpaulin hung outside the main doors, shielding the sun from sensitive eyes. The passenger ship waited in orbit for the travellers to arrive.
The temporary feel of Exilon 5’s docking stations had Bill thinking about the World Government’s transfer programme; they were well behind on their quotas. The new lottery arrangement had increased the transfer numbers. But twenty billion people remained a wildly ambitious target given the slow pace of planning and developments on Exilon 5.
He stepped out of the vehicle and was faced with three queue options; the layout had changed since he’d last been there.
One was marked “Detainees”. Officers armed with deadly Buzz Guns hovered close by. The second line was for “Workers”, many of whom appeared to be engineers and labourers returning to Earth for work reassignment. The last line was labelled “Other”.
His previous feeling of calm had been replaced by irritation caused by little sleep. Bill pushed his way to the top of the worker’s line, much to the annoyance of those queueing.
A young officer stood on guard at the head of the queue. He moved to block Bill’s path.
‘Hang on a minute! Where do you think you’re going? Can’t you see there’s a queue behind you?’
Bill stopped and reached inside his shirt pocket. He pulled out his credentials and held them within inches of the young man’s face. ‘I am a high-level employee of the World Government.’ He nodded towards the
waiting craft. ‘I’m scheduled to travel today on the passenger ship.’
‘Well, there’s still a queue, you know, and I have to process all these people first. They’ve been waiting for at least a couple of hours.’
‘Tell me your name,’ said Bill.
‘Uh, Officer Ridge.’
‘Well, Officer Ridge, I know there’s a queue. But I’m on official business, you see. Orders from Gilchrist and Deighton. Would you like me to call one of them? Have them confirm this?’
The officer pressed his lips together and studied his DPad.
An eerie silence descended behind Bill as people craned their necks and stood on tiptoes to catch a glimpse of the action.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ said the officer, fumbling with his DPad.
The crowd behind him was audibly disappointed.
The officer ran a shaky finger down the passenger manifest. He turned the clipboard around to face Bill. ‘Place both thumbs here.’
His name and clearance flashed up on the screen. ‘Investigator William Taggart, International Task Force,’ the officer read out loud. ‘Ah yes. I’m afraid it seems you’re in the wrong queue.’ He looked relieved. ‘You need to be in the ‘Other’ queue, over there.’ He pointed to a large white tent, where just ten people waited, and promptly turned his back on Bill.
Bill headed for the correct queue, dreading the two-week journey home.
20
Stephen and Anton stood in the queue, observing the people around them. Stephen stood stiffly, eager to avoid contact with any of the humans.
A stout man in front talked to the tall man beside him.
‘Definitely could have stayed for a lot longer. Going home again is shit,’ said the stout man.
‘Yeah, I know what you mean,’ said the tall man. ‘Guaranteed sunshine during daylight hours. The ability to breathe without wearing those stupid masks? Remind me why we’re going back there?’
‘If we don’t, the gov’ment will track us down anyway and we’ll never be able to return here. Let’s not give them any reason to leave us behind—’
A man charged up the outside of the queue, knocking the stout man’s arm as he passed. The officer ahead stopped him. Anton became agitated.
The stout man grumbled. ‘What the hell? Did you see that? He just pushed right past. Someone thinks he’s more important than the rest of us. Needs to be put in his place, that one.’
An argument unfolded between the officer and the queue-cutting man. Stephen and Anton listened.
The stout man straightened up with a new interest. ‘Oh, forget what I just said. Looks like there’s a fight about to happen.’ He tried to make himself taller. ‘What’s he saying now, man? I can’t hear ‘em all the way up there. Crap, I wish we was closer so we could throw a proper ear on them.’
Even his taller friend was struggling to catch anything meaningful. He stood on his toes to get a better view, relying on the mumblings ahead of him to piece the conversation together.
Anton helped him out. ‘The man is telling the officer that he’s not going to queue and he wants to pass now.’ Stephen shot Anton an angry look.
Anton shrugged. ‘Sorry, they were irritating me.’
The stout man turned around. ‘Er, thanks.’ He gawked at Anton’s appearance.
His tall friend craned his neck towards the front. ‘Looks like the kid’s about to crap himself.’
The stout man twisted to the front. ‘What’s happenin’ Ger?’
‘Ah, it’s all over. The officer backed down already.’
‘Without a fight? What a baby.’ The stout man glanced at Anton again.
Stephen was about to admonish Anton, when he noticed his friend’s agitation increase.
‘What?’
‘I think I recognise him,’ said Anton in a low whisper. He was pointing at the man who was arguing with the officer. ‘From the restaurant. He was the one sitting at the table by the window when I was recording those scenes for you. He looked point-blank at me a couple of times.’
‘Do you think he might recognise you now?’ said Stephen.
‘No, he didn’t pay me much attention. Seemed distracted by something. Do you think he could be involved in the surveillance on us?’
‘I’m sure of it. He was sitting in a café last week, the one located across from the bus stop.’
As Officer Ridge spoke the words, both Stephen and Anton committed the name to memory: Investigator William Taggart.
21
Bill boarded the craft that held just twenty other World Government employees. He didn’t recognise any of them. He moved towards an available seat and pulled the restraints tight across his body, remembering how rough the last journey had been. The trip took less than ten minutes to reach the outer perimeter shield.
The passenger ship was orbiting fifty miles above the planet’s shield. It was a mile high from base to tip and two miles long; a tubular core ran through its entire length. The front section was rounded like the early rocket ships. Circumnavigating the core was a trio of wheel-like structures, attached via interconnecting tubes or “spokes”. The wheels’ housed sleeping pods, while the tubular core allowed the crew to run the ship without coming into contact with the passengers. It carried an electrical charge and did not need propellants to navigate it, although a standard amount of fuel was carried on-board all the ships. Powered by a Faster Than Light drive, the ship used the slipstream between planets and harnessed their natural magnetic fields to navigate a path home. The fields exerted a force against the ship’s electrically charged exterior to keep it on course. Solar wind power enhanced its top surfing speed. The World Government continually challenged their engineers to improve on the journey time of two weeks. Bill read somewhere that they’d already developed a prototype FTL drive that could do just that.
The craft docked successfully inside the main hold of the ship. Bill disembarked and waited in line. He felt his dwindling energy push and pull at him. He wanted two things: an easy registration process and a chance to get some rest.
There were two sleeping options on board: Dormant or Active. Actives were housed in sleeping quarters in the rim of one of the wheel-like structures. Dormants were placed in suspended stasis in sleeping pods for the entire trip. Located in a separate wheel, their vitals were continually monitored throughout the entire journey, and an hour before arrival, they were revived with an anti-stasis serum containing a large dose of multivitamins and a barely legal dose of Actigen.
An attractive female officer waited up ahead as the high-level officials formed a queue. She hummed a tune as she ran a finger down a list. ‘Not too many on board, I see. We’re already off to a good start.’ She smiled at the waiting group. Her gentle face and warm eyes won over the all-male group. ‘Looks like I got the easy list. I’m assuming everybody has been on-board this type of ship before?’
They nodded.
‘Good. But I’m going to need to run through everything once more. Protocol.’ Looking up from her DPad, she launched into the rules and regulations from memory.
‘The journey takes two weeks. There are two accommodation options available to you. Option one, you can stay in normal mode, during which you will be provided with sleeping quarters and have access to a fully stocked kitchen. You will be charged for your stay and board. Option two, you can avail of one of our sleeping pods. You will be fully sedated and sleep-suspended until you arrive at your destination. You will not need sustenance during your animated suspension, but you will be administered with a nutrient pack upon revival. The cost of option two is less than option one, of course. All expenses will be recorded on your identity chip and the information stored at the World Government headquarters until payment has been recouped. Is everyone clear?’ The group nodded again. ‘Now, I need you to line up on the left-hand side, and when you reach me, please state your accommodation requirements.’
Bill kept his eyes on the attractive officer as he moved forward. When it was his turn,
he placed his thumb on the DPad and said, ‘Option one. Sleeping quarters.’
The registration officer’s smile sent a burst of warmth through his core. He heard Isla’s voice.
I might have to keep my eye on her. Looks like I’m not the only one vying for your attention.
Bill pushed away his feelings of guilt. Nobody could ever replace his wife. He felt himself sway.
‘Are you all right, sir?’ The officer placed a hand on his arm.
‘Yes, I’m fine. Just need sleep.’ He felt like a stupid schoolboy with a crush.
The officer smiled again and nodded. ‘Don’t worry about it, sir. It’s more common than you think. You’ll feel right as rain in no time.’ She let go of him and gestured for him to pass.
Bill arrived at the sleeping quarters he’d been assigned and noted the dozen individually sized units that ran along the wall. He punched in a code for one of them, climbed in, closed over the side-flap and locked it. The accommodation was basic but the last thing he wanted was to be under for two solid weeks. Besides, he needed the time to prepare what he would say at the ESC debriefing. Without the files that he’d already sent to the Security Centre, he’d have to prepare his argument from memory. The only things he had in his possession were his clothes, some personal items and his recollection of yesterday’s events.
He tried not to think about what would happen when he got to Earth. Would he be fired? That was a strong possibility. Would he be reassigned? Even more likely.
Sleep called to him and his head edged closer to the pillow.
What he needed most was to get back on track and continue in his search for Isla.
22
The previous morning, Laura had made an overdue call to her mother. It was the anniversary of her father’s death; four years since he’d taken his life. Fionnuala always got depressed around this time of year. But her mother, a dramatist at best, still always managed to make the day about her, about what she had lost.