‘Bill.’ Harvey folded his arms. ‘I was wondering how long it would take for you to come.’ He checked his watch and shrugged. ‘Not too long as it turns out.’
Bill stood on the porch of the safe house where Harvey had been assigned to live and work. Driving through the half-built estate, he’d passed by dozens of workers operating diggers in this latest New London expansion project. On Earth, machines would have done these jobs, but on Exilon 5 sentient programs had been pared back to the essentials—automated cars, drone deliveries and Light Boxes, including some with inbuilt avatars. While the workers got things done at a slower pace than the machines, it gave them purpose.
‘I assume the message on the Wave was meant for me?’
Harvey nodded. ‘A little taste of what to expect if you go behind my back.’
Marcus. ‘I wasn’t making a deal with him. He’s not going anywhere.’
Harvey uncrossed his arms and pointed a finger at him. ‘Neither is my career, thanks to you.’
Bill looked around, gripping the handle of his bag, which was slung cross-ways over his body. The workers were far enough away to give him privacy, but he felt too exposed in an area where known leaders of the rogue groups operated. His only solace was that Harvey was an influential figure in events. His reasons for keeping him on side just doubled.
‘Can I come in? Or are you going to say I-told-you-so on the porch?’
Harvey gestured for him to enter and drawled, ‘Please come in.’
Bill stepped inside the house, basic in design, with roughly hewn floors and beige-coloured walls. It was less of a home and more of a place to rest one’s head. Bill hadn’t meant for the workers from Earth to stay here forever. It was a halfway house, designed to get them accustomed to their new life. In fact, the expansion the workers were building was for them and others who’d arrived on the planet.
Harvey walked into the kitchen and Bill followed. He glanced inside a room off from the kitchen with a dozen monitors. Two men looked up in surprise. Their eyes widened and they hid their faces behind the monitors.
Harvey closed the door over. ‘We’re not alone, as you can see.’
‘I assume that’s where you send your messages from?’
Harvey flashed a grin at him. ‘Gotta communicate somehow. Did you know someone disabled the interstellar wave?’
Bill ignored the former geneticist’s attempts to rattle him, but he kept up with Harvey’s little game. ‘There’s no reason to contact Earth. Everything people need is here.’
Harvey smiled. ‘We both know the Wave serves a function here too. It facilitates private discussions over encrypted channels.’
‘Like I said, no need for it.’
Harvey dropped the act. ‘Look, Bill, I’m not interested in going ten rounds with you. You fuck me over, I’ll get the old team back together, Wave or no Wave.’
‘And Ollie Patterson?’ Bill had met with him once. He’d demanded weapons to protect this very site from the GS humans.
‘Patterson is a yes man. He listens to me.’ Harvey leaned against the counter, eyeing Bill. ‘What the fuck are you doing here anyway? Because you know I only want one thing from you.’
Bill pulled the strap over his head and opened his bag to retrieve his DPad. Before coming here, he’d made a quick stop at an empty warehouse, big enough and central enough to turn it into something special.
He turned the DPad on, activating a grey screen, and held it out to Harvey.
Harvey stared at it, then him. ‘’What’s this?’
‘What you asked for.’
‘I have plenty of DPads.’
Bill shook the screen. ‘Stick your thumb on the plate.’
Harvey flashed him a questioning look. ‘If this is a trick...’
‘No trick.’
Harvey pressed his thumb to the plate. A congratulatory note flashed up. His eyes slid from the pad to Bill. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘You’re the proud owner of a warehouse in central New London. It needs some equipment, but I should have you up and running in a few days.’
Harvey narrowed his eyes at Bill. ‘What’s the catch?’
The time had come to show his hand. ‘I need your help. One of the Indigenes is sick.’
The geneticist smiled. ‘I knew there was something. What do you expect me to do?’
‘I need to understand more about the genetics of the Indigenes.’
‘That’s what Jameson’s for.’ Harvey shook his head. ‘I’m out, Bill. I just want to live a quiet life on Exilon 5.’
Somehow, Bill doubted that. ‘Come on, Harvey. You’re not the least bit curious?’
‘Maybe.’ He paused then shrugged, clearly trying to downplay his interest. ‘What’s wrong with him or her?’
‘Her. A first-generation Indigene. She used the Nexus and collapsed after.’
‘That could be due to age.’
‘She couldn’t breathe. The only thing keeping her alive? Surface air.’
That caught Harvey’s attention. He straightened up. ‘A mutation?’
‘Possibly. We know nothing about the first generation. All that information is back on Earth. But we have the next best thing.’
Harvey paced to the glass door looking out at a porch, a two-seater swing set, and a square patch of grass. Beyond the garden and low fence was Exilon 5’s untamed landscape.
He turned back. ‘When did this happen?’
‘A few days ago.’
‘After Tanya entered the Nexus.’ Harvey concentrated on the floor.
‘What do you know about the self-destruct code that was added to the first generation’s mutation at the start?’ asked Bill.
Harvey looked up at him. ‘I wasn’t the only one to work on their creation.’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘As far as I know, the expiration code kicks in much later. None of the first gens are old enough to die of natural causes. We’re talking another sixty or seventy years for the eldest ones.’
‘And yet we have one displaying strange symptoms. The code is the only thing that separates the elders from the second generation.’
‘Is she the only one to be affected in this way?’ Bill nodded. ‘Then you’re worrying about nothing.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Bill, one Indigene is not a problem. Did anything else significant happen to this Indigene?’
‘She lost her mate.’
Harvey splayed his hands. ‘See? It could just be grief causing this. We only know what we created, not how the Indigenes have further mutated without us. That’s why Charles Deighton was so obsessed with creating a new species.’
Mention of the former—and dead—CEO caused Bill to shiver hard.
Grief or not, this was not normal. ‘I’ve got a feeling something bad’s about to happen and I came to you to ward off any major strike. Will you help me?’
Harvey examined his thumb, the one he’d used to register as the new owner of the warehouse. ‘Kit out my clinic and I can do some research there.’
‘Send me a list of what you need.’
‘What about Jameson?’
Bill frowned. ‘What about him?’
The former geneticist lifted his brows. ‘If this has anything to do with Tanya’s visit to the Nexus, my help might not be enough. You’re going to need his help too.’
That’s what worried him. The problem might be more complicated than one sick Indigene.