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  Watching his every move were Pierre, a Council elder, and Leon, Anton’s father.

  Chapter 3

  Exilon 5

  Pierre and Leon ushered Stephen through the smooth-walled tunnels of the district, their bare feet coping effortlessly with the uneven ground. They arrived at Council Chambers where Elise waited for them. The soundproofed chamber space was normally quiet, peaceful. A large bookcase separated the room, jutting out from its centre, and contained books about Indigene history as well as more interesting ones from the surface about human history. Tucked behind the bookshelf, a single mattress lay on the floor. Pierre often used the space when he needed to think; sometimes he slept there.

  But that day, the energy inside the room was far from peaceful; the unease and agitation was palpable and increased with each unspoken word. The group size remained small, as it had done when they agreed to send Anton and Stephen to Earth. They listened quietly as Stephen recounted his journey from start to finish. He could sense that Leon wanted to ask about Anton, but Leon didn’t interrupt him and Stephen was grateful for the extra time to formulate his thoughts.

  As he told his story—the fight to get out of the docking station, the hijacked space craft, his encounter with Bill and Laura—the sequence of events became clear to the small group. He relayed the information obtained from Laura about the Indigene’s creation, the genetic experiments to create their race and the World Government’s earliest plans to destroy them that correlated with the explosions thirty years earlier. Pierre and Elise were silent, but Stephen could see a small flicker of disbelief in Elise’s eyes. Pierre cupped his chin with a curved hand and nodded considerately.

  Leon’s face, already dark and expectant, didn’t change much when Stephen relayed news of Anton’s capture. Stephen was careful to emphasise Anton’s vital role in helping him to escape.

  ‘It’s obvious what we need to do,’ Leon said. ‘We must devise a rescue plan.’

  Pierre nodded vigorously; Elise seemed quieter than usual.

  ‘Their behaviour is predictable. This is a good thing,’ Pierre explained to her, but her dour expression only deepened.

  Pierre turned to Stephen. ‘Have you any idea where they have taken Anton?’

  ‘No, but the humans I made contact with have promised to investigate his whereabouts,’ he said. ‘I gave Bill Taggart a communication stone so we can keep in touch.’

  Pierre’s shoulders relaxed and Stephen noticed the elder’s energy for a fight marginally slip away.

  Elise’s reaction to this information was different. Fear bubbled to the surface and forced her to voice her concerns. ‘Was that wise? We’ve no guarantee they’ll cooperate in any way. Their race is destructive. They might be playing you.’

  ‘I trust them, Elise,’ Stephen stated as a matter of fact.

  ‘So do I,’ said Pierre, turning to face her. ‘And for a while, I thought you did, too.’

  ‘That was before Anton was captured.’ Her mood turned darker, more erratic. Her eyes sought Stephen out. ‘How can you trust them so easily? The stone will lead them straight to us, if they figure out how to use it properly.’

  Stephen’s eyes widened; he’d never seen her lose control of her emotions. Then he sensed her burrowing deep into his mind and probing his personal thoughts. ‘Please, stop,’ he whispered. He tried to remain calm but she had unsettled him. ‘Don’t go there, not now,’ he pleaded, his voice cracking, tears forming.

  Elise backed off and dropped her eyes to the floor. ‘I’m sorry. It’s what I do.’

  He regained a little composure and swiped at his moist eyes. He spoke to Elise. ‘I was left with no option but to trust them. They know as much about us as we now know about ourselves. We need them as allies.’ Pierre nodded as Stephen continued. ‘It can only help to gather as much information about their government’s most likely next move. Bill and Laura risked as much as I did by making contact in the first place.’

  Elise lifted her eyes and said nothing. While her face looked as serene as usual, her eyes were still troubled. She stared at him with a new intensity that forced him to look away. He put up a barrier so she couldn’t get inside his head again.

  Pierre watched his wife with equal concern before turning to Stephen. ‘What was it like, their planet called Earth?’

  ‘Strange, oppressive, overcrowded. Apart from the constructions above ground, not similar to this planet. The humans consider Exilon 5 to be their new home. They need it to ensure their survival. The air on Earth has changed so drastically that they have trouble breathing without masks. It’s what’s driving their ambitions to relocate here. I’m concerned that they’ll do just about anything to get what they want.’

  ‘Desperation leads us to do funny things,’ Elise remarked quietly.

  Pierre placed a reassuring hand on his wife’s shoulder. ‘What about co-existence? Do you think there’s a possibility this could all end peacefully?’

  ‘It’s too early to tell,’ Stephen said, sighing. ‘Officially, we don’t exist, and their government hasn’t told the rest of the population about us. My sense is they have no desire to educate them; I’m sure we would be difficult to explain. It would cause too much disruption to their society. Their mindset is fragile in many ways.’

  Leon stepped forward, unable to stay quiet any longer. ‘How many of them did you encounter? Was my son hurt in the struggle?’ Pain was etched into his face.

  ‘Not many, and no he wasn’t hurt. I don’t think they’ll harm him,’ Stephen said, knowing he was not being completely truthful—he had no idea if Anton was alive or dead, or what the humans might do to him.

  As Leon’s face brightened a little, Stephen felt the weight of his guilt lighten. He continued: ‘Outside, there are hundreds of thousands of them littering their streets, and even more crossing the land in their automated vehicles; far more than I had expected.’

  ‘What makes you think you can trust the pair you spoke to?’ Elise asked clinically.

  Subconsciously, Stephen reinforced the barrier in his mind to keep her out. He could feel her searching for a weak point. ‘I would never intentionally put the Indigenes in danger. I trust them in the same way I trusted the child, Ben Watson. It’s a feeling, a sense that there is more to some of them.’

  ‘I never should have listened to you, Pierre—or to her for that matter,’ Elise scoffed, taking a step back from the group. ‘Look at the trouble we’re in now.’

  Pierre rushed to place both hands on her shoulders. ‘Elise, please. We had no choice. I had to trust my instincts when we met Isla, and I thought you agreed with me.’ Elise stayed silent, allowing her husband to remain close. He turned to Stephen. ‘Is it possible the two humans could be wrong about what they’ve found?’

  ‘Of course,’ Stephen said. ‘But I didn’t get a sense from them that they were deliberately deceiving me in any way. I can’t be sure about much but I’m sure that they believed the story. Bill Taggart appeared genuinely surprised at the revelation.’

  Confused, Leon addressed Pierre: ‘Are you suggesting that they might have made it all up?’

  ‘Not them, exactly,’ said Pierre rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘But what if their government knew we were coming and planted the story with the two humans? Was it coincidental that Anton was discovered but not Stephen? They had two weeks to prepare for Stephen’s and Anton’s arrival. We’ve no idea how long they knew about Anton’s false identity.’

  ‘So you think they were hoping that Stephen would return and spread the rumour? For what reason?’

  ‘To create mass panic? To set us up somehow?’ Pierre sighed heavily, looking every day of his one hundred and twenty years. ‘I don’t know yet, but it’s just a theory. The stories may be true but I was warned something might happen. We just need to consider all possibilities at this stage.’

  ‘Warned by whom? By that woman?’ said Elise.

  Pierre shook his head. ‘It’s of no concern. Let’s focus on the matters at h
and.’

  ‘So, what now? Do we tell the others?’ Leon asked. They had all been thinking the same thing.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Pierre said. ‘What exactly would it achieve?’

  ‘I suggest you don’t tell them,’ Stephen said. ‘The last thing we need is for us to be at each other’s throats. Our best chance right now is to stick together—to work together.’

  ‘I agree,’ Leon said. ‘We shouldn’t tell the others until we can confirm whether the story is true or not. We need to focus our efforts on a rescue attempt.’

  ‘I believe the information is true,’ Stephen said to nobody in particular, his mood gloomier than before.

  ‘And Anton?’ Elise said quietly.

  All three Indigenes turned to look at her. She was unusually still. There was a strange look in her eyes and her demeanour suddenly seemed out of place. Pierre squeezed her arm. She didn’t respond.

  ‘We have to tell the others something,’ Stephen said eventually. ‘They’re going to notice Anton’s absence.’

  ‘Then we say he died in a hunting accident,’ Pierre suggested.

  ‘They’ll find that hard to believe,’ said Leon.

  ‘I know, but do you have any better suggestions?’

  Leon shook his head.

  ‘Then that’s the story. It’s the best we can offer them right now.’

  Chapter 4

  Elise excused herself when Pierre, Leon and Stephen began to discuss a rescue plan. She headed to her and her husband’s private dwelling in the eastern section of District Three. She arrived at a large circular area, where doors to various private dwellings were arranged around the circumference at three levels. She bounded up the uneven steps to the top level and opened the metal door to the right of the stairs.

  She closed the door and lay down on her thin mattress, filled with dried moss and soft materials the humans had abandoned on the surface, and felt the coolness of the stone floor seep through and chill her skin. But the cold did not comfort her the way it had done on so many previous occasions. The room, an appropriately sized space for two, suddenly seemed to close in on her. The smooth omicron walls and rounded ceiling shuddered around her, as if they too weren’t happy with the way things were. Quiet and still, she closed her eyes and thought about Stephen’s return. She was certainly glad to see him and upset that Anton had not made it home, but news of the Indigene’s true beginning in life both frightened and confused her.

  She turned onto her side and faced the wall, sinking into the soft mattress and tucking her arms beneath her. She recalled the woman—Isla—and the warnings she had carried with her. But she hadn’t been privy to details of any experiments, yet Stephen had been able to find out so much more with little effort. Why had it been so easy for him? She wasn’t sure which frightened her more; that the news was real, or a planted story that Pierre was so willing to believe. Should Isla ever have been trusted?

  Elise sighed deeply, becoming more listless the longer she lay there. As she saw it, the Indigenes had two choices: either they did nothing and put in jeopardy the very existence of the Indigene race, or they fought back, thus revealing their location and their enhanced abilities.

  She shifted onto her back, feeling her stomach rumble low and long. She realised she hadn’t eaten anything for days; she’d been far too worried about Stephen and Anton. She crossed one leg over the other at the ankles and rested her hands lightly on her stomach to stop the noise. The space was not entirely soundproofed and she heard someone approach and stop outside her door. She sensed it was Pierre, but she could not pick up what he was thinking. She turned her head and listened. His feet blocked the low light that normally seeped under the gap at the door’s base. She could hear his hand on the door handle. He hesitated. A few moments later, the low light returned. Under different circumstances, she would have opened the door for him, but she was in no mood for his company and grateful he felt the same.

  Overwhelmed with mixed feelings about the news of their origin, Elise curled onto her side and pulled her knees up as far as they would go. She thought about Anton and how his capture tied into the information Stephen had relayed. Her head told her it was nonsense, a bunch of lies aimed at breaking apart their race’s solidarity. Her heart told her it was true and her fingers stroked her cool arm as she idly wondered how it would feel if it was warm like the humans’ arms. She shook her head and snatched her fingers away in disgust. She wasn’t human. She was an Indigene. Their race was unique.

  But something nagged at her.

  The Indigenes’ capabilities set them so far apart from the humans there was no way the news could be true. New, better skills were beginning to emerge in their most recent generation: Stephen’s unmatched speed; Anton’s ability to see inside the humans’ inventions. Was it true that they descended from the human bloodline? How much did the humans already know about their younger generation?

  Her thoughts drifted to a more immediate concern: the knowledge the humans could gain from Anton; his abilities, their history and location. She hated to admit that Pierre and Leon were right. No matter what the truth was, Anton must not be tricked into revealing too much about what he could do. She wished that Pierre had sought help from the other districts, instead of going it alone. Her stubborn husband. Just because she and Pierre presided as the most senior elders over all the districts did not give them the right to keep others in the dark.

  Elise sat up in her bed—it wasn’t giving her the usual comfort—and leaned her back against the wall. A different, soothing vibration passed from the wall to her back. She closed her eyes, her stress instantly halved by the sensation. Sometimes the district knew exactly what she needed.

  An hour later, Elise awoke with a start, realising she’d fallen asleep in her upright position. She was feeling anxious again and instinctively began to wring her hands, a sign of her increasing inner turmoil. Controlling her anxiety levels was becoming an issue for her. She blamed the changes occurring within her, the increase in her perceptive capabilities that went beyond that of an empath. She had tried to speak to her husband about it, but his cool reaction only made the hand wringing worse. Instead of offering her support and compassion, he was rational, logical, and so she kept her concerns to herself where they remained bottled up. Pierre was a practical soul, too quick to blame the changes she was experiencing on her natural affinity with the rest of the Indigenes.

  ‘Your overwhelming compassion for others is clouding your judgement,’ he had said. ‘You’re sacrificing your own well-being for their comfort.’

  ‘This is different,’ Elise had argued. ‘I feel as though I’m gaining a deeper understanding of how my gift works.’

  But Pierre dismissed what she said and paid no further attention. What Elise had omitted was that she seemed to have acquired a new skill: the ability to predict emotions. Whenever she relaxed her mind, she could sense brand new neural pathways developing in her brain where they hadn’t existed before. That had nothing to do with compassion, she told herself.

  Sensing an Indigene’s mood was what empaths did; seeing and predicting an emotion was new to her, something she hadn’t thought possible. If she concentrated hard enough, she could see the trigger that elicited the emotional response in another Indigene, like a flash of light. This was definitely a new aspect of her basic empathic abilities and it was transforming her into someone she didn’t recognise. But how could she prove it? Only hard evidence would convince Pierre that her abilities had changed, that she was now able to predict emotions. Would he laugh and tell her it was easy to plant suggestive thoughts in others’ minds? Her concern returned as Anton’s face popped into her mind. If her skills were evolving, how were his abilities manifesting in captivity?

  Her mind wandered to thoughts about her appearance, her smooth, translucent skin, her lack of hair. Physically, the Indigenes differed from each other in height and body type. Elise was shorter than Pierre but lean and strong, in contrast to his more muscular appearance. Acc
ording to their historical records, which dated back ten thousand years, the Indigenes could live to one hundred and ninety years of age. Their cell structure had the ability to regenerate and kept them strong for as long as they lived. Their DNA contained a self-destruct code that would switch off the cell’s ability to regenerate. Organ failure would come first and without warning. When they were ready to move beyond the physical plain, the code would terminate the cells like an aggressive cancer. The body was just a vessel. They were all connected. Their souls would live on in others of their species. That was what they believed; it was part of their culture. It was what Elise believed—until she heard Stephen’s report from Earth.

  Was it possible that the Indigenes had begun in a different way to what they’d been led to believe? Had humans designed a self-destruct code and embedded it in their DNA when they were created? She had not witnessed an Indigene death; she only assumed she had. When she thought about it more she realised she’d only read about it in their history books. Elise cradled her head in her hands. Desperate for a change of scenery, she left her private dwelling.

  As she walked the long, rounded tunnels that connected the larger areas to each other, she ran her hand along the smooth rock face, feeling the slight inconsistencies with her fingertips. The strip of low lighting that clung to the base of the tunnel walls guided each step she took. The floor was uneven—tilted at an angle and rough underfoot—so that unwelcome visitors would have trouble maintaining their equilibrium. But for her and the other Indigenes, the floor posed no difficulty as her feet glided lightly over the surface. She often walked the tunnels until her feet ached and her back hurt. Afterwards, she would sit quietly in her private dwelling and disperse the pain to other parts of her body. Pierre approved of her walks; she was approachable and easy to talk to, and presented a friendly Council face to the others. He encouraged her active participation, but she kept her true motives hidden for maintaining contact with others. Connecting with a mix of ordinary and undeveloped Indigene minds provided her with a better understanding of the psychological changes that were occurring within her.