Chapter 22
Exilon 5
Elise had thought of nothing but her own problems for the last few weeks; not even the shame she’d felt for not thinking about Stephen’s well-being could shake her focus. The process of unlocking her buried memories had taken centre stage and pushed her concern for him to the back of her mind. The woman called Elizabeth was far too important for her to ignore. Stephen would have to wait. She was in no fit state to be counselling anyone. Besides, Stephen had Pierre to talk to; she had no one to confide in.
Elise sat up in bed in her private dwelling. Greta, the woman with the auburn hair, had appeared again, and Elise closed her eyes and watched the interaction between Elizabeth and Greta play out in her mind.
‘Elizabeth, dear, it’s me. Where are you going at this hour? It’s so late,’ Greta said coming out of the kitchen.
Elizabeth ignored her and pulled on her coat.
‘Where are you going, Elizabeth?’ A new urgency had crept into Greta’s voice. She stepped forward and grabbed hold of her arm. ‘Elizabeth, Elizabeth, are you listening to me?’
‘Don’t worry, Greta, I won’t be long. I’m just heading to the office to pick up some case files.’
‘Can’t you download what you need from here?’
‘I can’t stay cooped up in this apartment forever. I have to face the world some time.’ Elizabeth studied her reflection in the mirror.
‘But why now? Why at night? What if he’s waiting for you?’ Greta said.
‘I promise he isn’t. They’ve assured me that he’s in custody.’ Elizabeth tidied her hair as she spoke.
‘You can’t be sure of that. Please—let me go with you,’ Greta said.
‘No, I want to go alone. I hate feeling so out of control of my own life,’ Elizabeth said angrily. ‘I can’t live like this. I know you’re my aunt and you can’t help worrying, but you’re smothering me. I want my life back the way it was before.’
Greta was visibly upset by her words.
‘I’m sorry,’ Elizabeth said immediately. ‘I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. You’ve really helped me get back on my feet. You’ve given me a home when I couldn’t face living alone in my apartment.’
Greta touched her face gently. ‘You always have a home here. I just worry—’
‘It’s the nature of the work. There’s always a risk that some of my patients might turn on me.’ Elizabeth buttoned her coat and kissed her aunt on the cheek. ‘I’ll be back soon.’
‘I’ll keep a light on for you,’ Greta said.
Elizabeth pulled the door closed behind her without answering.
She walked quickly to her office block. She carried a knife in her bag now; she had done so ever since the incident. When she arrived at the building where she worked, she scanned her security chip, trying to remain alert to everything going on around her. It was the first time she’d been back since she’d been attacked over a month ago. It was quiet, not as busy and rowdy as it was during the daytime. She couldn’t decide which was worse: crowds or no crowds. Her heart was thumping wildly now as she waited for the door to click and allow her to push it open. Once inside, she quickly secured it behind her.
She walked through the body scanner that was manned by an autobot, entered the turbo lift just beyond the scanning station and pressed the button for Level Three. Several lights were illuminated on the lift panel, which told her that others were also working at that late hour. She stepped out of the lift and walked along the corridor, past the small glass-fronted room where her research assistant, Anna, normally sat, to the office marked ‘Elizabeth Howe MB, BChir, Senior Psychiatrist’.
She entered the room and turned on the light. She shuddered violently—they hadn’t tidied up after the police investigation; the room had been preserved just as it was when she’d last been in it. She set the small coffee table—now without its glass top—back on its legs and straightened the seats on each side of it. She’d sweep up the glass later. Then she righted the large ficus tree that lay on its side, the one she’d knocked over when she’d stepped away from Henry Burke.
She should have seen the signs—she was trained for that kind of thing—but she’d felt sorry for Henry and his tragic circumstances. Each week, Elizabeth had listened to him describe his struggle to stay off the drugs. He often talked to himself when he visited her; his drug habit had made him delusional and psychotic. And each time they met, Henry had asked her to prescribe something to calm his nerves. But she had refused; as a researcher she had been keen to try a new approach with him: to help him overcome his addictions with mind exercises and meditation. Many of her colleagues, who preferred to rely on medication to control their more difficult patients, had laughed at her techniques. Anna, Elizabeth’s assistant, had been the only one to support her attempts at cognitive therapy, and together, they’d worked out a plan for Henry to put into practice. But Elizabeth’s inability—or unwillingness—to see that the alternative therapies weren’t working was the reason Henry had attacked her.
She’d always loved her abundance of curly hair, but remembering how Henry had grabbed hold of it had made her want to cut it all off. Greta had convinced her not to. In any case, it helped to hide her nasty scar.
Henry had been muttering to himself that day as he’d slammed her face into the glass coffee table. Flushed with adrenaline, she had felt nothing at the time.
‘Who are you talking to?’ she’d asked, trying to bring him back to reality, back to the present.
‘Shut up!’ he’d spat out. ‘It’s all your fault.’
He let go of her momentarily and she’d swivelled round and kicked him in the stomach, sending him reeling backwards. He banged his head on the wall and slumped awkwardly to the floor. Then she’d reached under the upturned coffee table and grabbed a shard of glass. Security found her crouched behind her desk clutching the glass, her face a bloody mess.
At the hospital, once she’d had her face stitched up, she struggled to tell the police officers what had happened, both because her face ached and because she couldn’t believe she’d allowed things to get so bad. Worst of all, she was disappointed and disgusted with herself that she hadn’t been able to control the situation with Henry in a more professional way.
Now, back in her office again, Elizabeth turned on her monitor for the first time since the incident and scanned her security chip. She jumped—Henry’s thin, drawn face appeared on the screen. She’d forgotten it was the last file she’d had open that day. She quickly closed it down.
Even though the police had assured her they’d picked up Henry Burke, there were plenty of other patients like him who lived on the edge of violent behaviour. The incident had made her anxious and scared. But she refused to live her life looking over her shoulder, waiting for someone else to do the same thing. Thank God Anna hadn’t been hurt during the attack. Elizabeth would contact her in the morning for an update.
There was a message icon flashing on her screen. She opened it.
Fancy a change? New trials are starting tomorrow at the genetic manipulation clinic. Get here early to avoid disappointment.
Elizabeth went to the mirror on the wall and studied the angry red scar that slashed her once pretty face, and now contorted the shape of her mouth. Her looks had made her popular in college, but she had been more attracted to studying psychiatry than boys. Now, as she looked at her distorted face, she felt horrible; Henry Burke had destroyed a part of her she had taken for granted. Perhaps what she needed to do was get her face fixed. If she didn’t have the scar—if she wasn’t constantly reminded of what Henry Burke had stolen from her—maybe it would be a small start to gaining some control in her life. She would pay the manipulation clinic a visit tomorrow.
Elise came round with a start and gasped.
Suddenly the floodgates opened and yet another memory spilled out. She gasped again, this time at the realisation of what the clinic had done to her, how they had used her.
While she didn’t remember the actual moment when they transformed her into an Indigene, she was able to piece together what she assumed were the last hours of her life. They had deliberately misled her about the new trials. She had gone to the manipulation clinic to have her appearance changed, to become a different person. It never occurred to her that she would emerge as a different species altogether, with no recollection of her previous life. And the size of the first generation Indigene population suggested that thousands of humans had been similarly duped.
Elise lay quietly in the dark and allowed the memories of being a human to wash over her: the floral scent of her hair and how soft the curls it had felt when they danced around her face, or when she tucked them behind her ears; her soft warm skin and the way it glowed when she stepped out of a hot bath. She’d looked so different as Elizabeth; her appearance had been important. Elise, the Indigene, rarely gave her looks a second thought.
Elise plucked some dried moss from a small opening in the side of her mattress and rolled it between her fingers. These recovered memories answered so many questions for her. It all made sense now. The comfort she got from speaking to others and her obsession with how the mind worked clearly stemmed from her human life as a psychiatrist. But the new neural connections the Nexus was helping her to form were too powerful for her to handle. The synapses in her brain were changing, growing, and her ability to predict emotions in others and the way she connected with other Indigenes was evolving beyond her control.
Pierre had begun to notice the change in her himself, not least in the way she struggled to concentrate at Council meetings.
‘It’s the extra workload, the additional counselling sessions,’ she’d told him. She hated lying to Pierre but he wasn’t an empath like her. He didn’t understand how draining it could be.
‘Then take a step back, Elise,’ Pierre had suggested.
Elise nodded. ‘I think that’s a good idea.’
Elise had taken a step back, but not from the counselling sessions. The new ability to predict emotional responses meant that she could no longer control the influence other Indigene minds had on her. Instead of being able to understand, in an objective way, how an Indigene felt, their emotions completely overwhelmed her and clouded her thinking. She had tried to use the Nexus to control her evolving gift, but it only seemed to accelerate the changes, as well as bring forward a torrent of memories from her past. She had stopped using the Nexus a few days previously.
She thought about Stephen; she had been so selfish in ignoring him since he got back. She tried honing in on his personality signature and after a few moments, found it. As she attempted to get closer, the emotions of other nearby Indigenes were drawn towards her magnetically. She closed her mind off to them as best as she could, while they grappled and clawed to get around the edges of her defences.
When the emotions retreated, Elise sat up in bed. A bout of light-headedness hit her. She lay down again, trying to block the wave of new emotions that clamoured for her attention. She could feel the Indigenes as they walked past her door; each day, peace seemed to drift farther from her reach. She could no longer function around them.
She turned onto her side and pulled the covers over her, but jolted upright when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. She listened intently and could sense someone’s apprehension from the other side of her door.
‘Elise? Are you there?’ a voice said telepathically. ‘It’s me—Arianna. I need to speak to you about Stephen.’
The mention of Stephen was enough for Elise.
‘Come in. Come in,’ she urged.
Arianna tentatively opened the door and tried not to show how uncomfortable she felt at being in her elder’s private dwelling.
She looked at the dishevelled bed covers. ‘I’m sorry, Elise. I didn’t mean to disturb—’ she said telepathically and went to leave again.
‘Please’—Elise held out a hand—‘You’re not disturbing me, but I ask that you use your voice here. Now, how can I help?’
Arianna gave her an odd look as she closed the door behind her.
‘I find it draining to speak telepathically, especially if I’m having trouble sleeping,’ Elise explained. As she studied Arianna, she found herself recalling Anna, her assistant from her human past and in that instant, realised who Arianna’s mother had been. The similarities in the way they carried themselves were now obvious.
Arianna went over to the bed and held out her hand. Elise took it and allowed Arianna to pull her up. Then she held both of Arianna’s hands in her own and tried to focus on her emotional state. Could she use Arianna as a barrier to block the other Indigenes’ emotions? She had to try.
‘I’m concerned about Stephen. He’s not acting like himself,’ Arianna said, standing still.
‘How so?’ Elise said, leaning in towards her. She could feel Arianna’s presence soaking up the other emotions, allowing her mind to become less cluttered.
‘He hasn’t said anything but I can tell he’s struggling,’ Arianna said. ‘He’s been using the Nexus to help alleviate the pain in his head.’
‘Has he confided in you?’
‘No, but he’s definitely blaming himself for Anton’s disappearance. He’s very angry.’
Elise frowned. If he was going through the five stages of grief, he should be experiencing depression now, not anger, she thought.
‘I know that the stories about Anton’s death aren’t true, that he wasn’t killed on the surface,’ Arianna went on.
Elise frowned. ‘What makes you think that, child?’ Pierre and Leon even arranged a small ceremony for Anton to keep up the pretence of his death, but it clearly wasn’t fooling everyone.
‘There are rumours going around that Anton is on a planet called Earth.’
Elise concentrated on Arianna’s thoughts, fighting back the other Indigenes’ emotions. ‘Who told you this?’
‘The Surface Creatures are talking about it. Is it true?’
Elise could sense no malice in Arianna; she was speaking the truth. Her husband had been in such a rush to concoct a story that he hadn’t considered what the humans above ground might be saying. It seemed they already knew the truth about Anton’s whereabouts. This was not good news.
‘How many know about this?’
‘I don’t know how many. Our hunters think the story of his death is too convenient. They’re threatening to take action of their own—they’re talking about trying to rescue him.’
Elise felt a new sense of dread. The false story had been in circulation for months but she’d been so focused on her own problems, so overwhelmed by others’ emotions, that she hadn’t noticed the escalating unrest among the Indigenes. Pierre certainly wouldn’t be happy. He relied on her ability to read others as a way of forewarning him about trouble.
‘Have you spoken to anyone else about this?’ Elise asked.
‘Just Stephen. He said he was going to talk to Pierre about it. But ever since our last hunting trip, Stephen’s stopped talking to me. You should have seen him, Elise. He tore the animal apart. I’ve never seen such aggression, even from the strongest males.’
So Pierre already knows about all this? Why hadn’t he told her? It pained Elise deeply to learn that her husband was keeping secrets from her. She let go of Arianna’s hands. ‘When did you last speak to Stephen?’
‘About two weeks ago.’
‘Do you know if Pierre has acted on this information?’
‘No, sorry. I can’t be certain, Elise,’ Arianna said. ‘I’ve been too busy looking out for Stephen to notice much else.’
‘Thank you for telling me, Arianna—and for filling me in on Stephen’s condition. I’ve been lax in my obligations. It won’t happen again.’
Arianna nodded but didn’t move. ‘If I could be so bold as to make an observation—’
Elise nodded.
‘I’ve noticed that you haven’t been yourself. Is there something bothering you, something that I can help with?’
Elise shouldn’t have been surprised that another empath had noticed her changing mood, but Arianna’s comment took her aback. It meant that others may have noticed, too. She didn’t want the Indigenes to feel as though she was not in control. Being a valued and trusted elder was of extreme importance to her.
‘You’re kind to offer,’ Elise said. ‘I’m fine. It’s Stephen we need to watch over now. I can sense changes occurring within him. When those changes reach their peak, I can’t be sure he’ll be able to deal with them.’
‘I sense the changes in him, too. I can’t explain what they are.’ Arianna seemed upset.
Elise touched her arm gently; a shock passed from Arianna straight into Elise’s hand. They stared at each other wide-eyed.
‘What was that?’ Arianna whispered.
‘I … I don’t know,’ said Elise rubbing her hand.
She stared at Arianna. She could see it clearly now: Arianna’s mind was meeting her half way. Other Indigenes who tried to get close could only hover in the background like shadowy figures. Arianna’s presence was strong and stood out from the rest in her mind; it was easy for Elise to concentrate on her. She relaxed for the first time in months.
‘I’ve always sensed great empathy in you,’ Elise said. ‘It’s strong. I can see that now. It’s the reason you’ve come to me. You sense that we share something—a common trait.’
Arianna’s voice became animated. ‘Yes, Elise. I … I can’t explain it. It’s this feeling I get when I’m near you. I have always felt drawn to you, like you’re the only one who can help. My mother always admired you greatly—’ Arianna suddenly dropped her eyes to the ground. ‘I’m sorry, elder, I shouldn’t have spoken to you so disrespectfully.’
‘Please, child. Don’t apologise.’ Elise lifted Arianna’s chin with a cool finger and resting her other hand on her shoulder. She could sense Arianna’s strong presence.
‘I see now that I should have come to you earlier with this,’ Arianna said. ‘I thought I could handle it.’
‘Perhaps it’s time we all worked together a bit more,’ said Elise. She would need to speak to Pierre soon if they had any chance to stop the dissent among the Indigenes from escalating.
As she dismissed Arianna from her private dwelling, she couldn’t quell her irritation that Pierre had been keeping her out of important business. Pierre was always trying to protect her. They could be so different at times. Elise found herself wondering if Elizabeth would have chosen Pierre as a husband. Perhaps the humans deliberately paired her up with Pierre when they transformed her into an Indigene. Or had she and Pierre found each other naturally—because of their love for each other? She wasn’t sure.
Her husband, with whom she had been so close, was keeping secrets from her. Yet she was doing the exact same thing with him. She would confront Pierre soon enough. Stephen was her priority now; she needed to speak to him.
Elise arrived at Stephen’s private dwelling in District Three’s northern quadrant. She climbed to the second tier and listened outside his door. She couldn’t hear anything. She couldn’t sense him either. Arianna had told her that Stephen was using the Nexus, so Elise decided to try the tranquillity caves next.
The northern tranquillity cave was busy and Elise battled against the volume of emotion there. She jumped into a vacant hole and connected to the Nexus as quickly as she could; it gave her the power to tune out the emotions and she had a better chance of finding Stephen that way. First, she checked for Pierre’s personality signature—he wasn’t there. Then she searched for Stephen’s. She couldn’t sense him either, so she called out to him.
Stephen’s head swam with thoughts that were not his own. How could he see into Anton’s mind if he was light years away? Anton’s thoughts didn’t seem to make sense. Nothing made sense.
The Nexus was doing very little to make the pain in his head go away, its tendrils hovering close by, unsure of how to deal with his energy. If anything, it felt as though it was making things worse. He could sense the other minds that were connected, visible as balls of energy inside the Nexus; their thoughts came through as murmurs, background noise, garbled and unidentifiable.
Suddenly a single female voice came through. It was stronger than the others and Stephen tried to block it out. But it wouldn’t go away. It shrilled unnaturally, echoing inside the Nexus as if it was in a large tunnel.
‘Where are you?’ it called out.
He shook his head. He couldn’t be sure what was real and what false anymore. So many voices.
‘Stephen, I need to speak to you.’ The voice was clearer now.
Why was someone calling his name?
‘Stephen—please—I know you can hear me. Please try to concentrate on my voice.’
He recognised it now, even though the Nexus had deformed it.
‘I’m here,’ he answered cautiously. Elise had never connected with him inside the Nexus before.
‘I can’t say much here because others are listening. Can you disconnect? We need to talk in person.’
‘I can’t. I need to stay.’
‘Please, it won’t take long. Meet me outside the Gathering Room.’
The pain in Stephen’s head worsened and he was reluctant to leave the Nexus. But he had no choice. Elise, an elder, was giving him a direct order. He disconnected slowly, letting the pain in his head find its own level, and made his way to the Gathering Room.
Elise quickly ushered him inside. The Gathering Room was soundproofed and used for elder and Council meetings. It had been the place where Stephen had relayed details of his meeting with the human boy, Ben, to the group. Currently, the large space with a raised platform at one end was unoccupied.
Elise turned to face him. ‘Arianna came to see me. She’s worried about you—as am I.’
Stephen became defensive. ‘Why did she do that?’
‘You haven’t been yourself. I know you’ve been struggling to manage a pain in your head. I’d like to help you. We can control it together. I can help to guide you through your loss.’
Stephen shook his head. ‘Arianna shouldn’t have spoken to you. I’m fine. There’s nothing to worry about, Elise. I have everything under control.’
‘When did you notice the changes?’ Elise asked gently.
‘I don’t know—when I left Earth, I guess,’ Stephen said. ‘But the pain’s manageable. It comes and goes. There’s no problem.’ This was partly true.
‘I understand you’ve spoken to Pierre about the changes that are happening to you. Why haven’t you chosen to confide in me?’ Elise asked.
Stephen laughed. ‘I needed a general perspective on the matter. You empaths are far too emotional for my taste.’ His reply was laced with contempt and it surprised him that he meant every word.
Suddenly the pain returned with full force. He angrily clutched the sides of his head and squeezed his eyes shut.
‘Stephen, please let me help. I hate to see you like this,’ Elise said. ‘You might be surprised to hear that I’m also experiencing changes.’ She reached out to touch his arm but he pulled it away.
‘You can’t help me, nobody can. This is my punishment.’
‘For what? For Anton’s capture?’ Elise’s voice got louder. ‘Damn Pierre and his stubbornness. Listen to me—you aren’t to blame for that.’
‘That’s what Pierre said. So why do I keep seeing things from inside Anton’s head, watching what he sees, feeling what he experiences. I’m not being allowed to forget what I made happen.’
‘I have a theory about the changes you’re experiencing,’ Elise said.
‘What kind of theory?’
‘That they’re quite natural and connected to your survival.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I think something inside us changes when new threats arise. Your mind altered when you lost Anton, when you experienced the most severe stress. And the humans are threatening our survival again. Don’t you see? We’re simply evolving to help us deal with the new threats.’
Stephen shook his head. ‘That doesn’t explain how Anton can connect with me.’
‘That’s just it,’ Elise said. ‘I don’t believe Anton is connecting with you. I think some latent abilities are awakening in you to help you cope with the situation. I don’t know which abilities—or if it’s an entirely new one or a progression of one you already have—what I do know is that fear and threats to our survival affect our minds as well as our bodies and I think our minds are going through a rapid process of evolution under these new threats.’
Stephen stared at Elise for a moment, and gently shook his head. ‘You can’t trick me into believing this is something other than my punishment, my guilt. I know how I feel. It doesn’t feel like change. I can see—’ There was no point in trying to explain. Pierre hadn’t been interested in his theories. Why would Elise be any different?
‘See what?’ Elise asked leaning in closer.
‘I have to go. I need to use the Nexus. The pain’s getting worse and the Nexus sometimes helps to take the pressure off,’ Stephen said backing away.
Elise didn’t try to stop him. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘No. Just leave me alone and tell Arianna to mind her own business,’ Stephen called from the far side of the room and rushed out the door.