Bill Taggart walked the tunnels of District Three alone. It had been too long—about six months—since either he or Laura had been in Stephen’s home. Stephen usually travelled to see them in their apartment in New London.
Much had changed in the last eight years, not least his open invitation from Stephen to visit the district whenever he liked. Today he was here on business. Twenty-six cities now occupied Exilon 5; twenty more than in 2163 when he’d last been on the planet working as an investigator for the World Government. The final passenger ship had arrived from Earth in 2165, six years ago, carrying the ten remaining board members. Soon after, the board called time on the alteration programme, and in his role as Director of the International Task Force, a role he’d earned by avoiding an all-out war with the Indigenes, Bill had ordered the transfers from Earth to stop. The board members had taken all the skilled workers off Earth, people deemed worthy enough to live on Exilon 5. Or so they thought.
Not all of them had made it to the last ships destined for Exilon 5. Bill had made sure of that.
He thought about Earth, his home for forty-plus years. Now a distant planet in another part of space. But it would always be a part of him and Laura and they refused to give up on it. Everything had deteriorated there in the last six years. After the last passenger ship departed, criminal factions had come out of hiding and put anyone left on Earth under their control. Bill and Laura hoped that with their help, the underground movement on Earth could change things there.
For now, he must see the interrogations through. Anton had captured a newly devolved female, but before she could return to Earth she must pass his rigorous tests. The female could not be told of Earth’s conditions. She had to see it for herself, to understand what they were asking her to do. They had tried with others, but with disastrous consequences.
Bill had arranged to meet Stephen in the central core, a communal space at the heart of District Three. He waited by one of the teaching areas; an alcove carved into the rock. Three barefoot male Indigenes dressed in white tunics and trousers entered the empty space. But when they saw him they jerked to a stop and dropped into a hunting stance. He felt the familiar brush against his mind as they tried to access his thoughts. He let them in part of the way, as Stephen had taught him, and greeted them silently. They straightened up and with a tight nod resumed their walk.
The Indigenes didn’t embrace human-style formality and custom. No one had met him upon arrival, no one waited with him now. He ruffled his grey hair that complemented his tanned skin. Wearing a black suit covered by a long trench coat, he blended into the Indigene surroundings like oil to water.
Other Indigenes joined Bill in the core but they kept their distance. After ten minutes, Stephen showed up. The Indigenes greeted Stephen by his formal title: Elder. With a grim smile Stephen nodded. By the time he reached Bill, he was smiling.
‘I don’t know if I should be offended that they call me “Elder”. I’m barely older than them, and younger than most. Serena handles her title better than me.’
‘It’s not how old you look, Stephen. It’s that old-man head of yours. They can see the wisdom, the way you present yourself.’
Stephen tilted his head. ‘And how is that?’
‘Why, grumpy, of course.’
Stephen laughed and pressed his forehead to Bill’s. ‘Good to have you down here, Bill Taggart. It’s been too long. The Evolvers miss you. Laura, in particular.’
Laura, with her easy-going nature, had been a hit with the Indigene young.
‘Only because my mind is so easy to read.’
‘Yes, in comparison to ours, it is. Come.’ Stephen walked on. ‘I want to take you to where we are conducting the tests.’
Bill followed Stephen out and to an area west of the core, in a quiet, dark section of unoccupied tunnels and accommodation. Bill pulled out a torch.
‘He shouldn’t be able to detect you. He’s been sedated.’
They walked up to one of the accommodation rooms with a viewing hole in the door; Stephen opened the flap and Bill shone the light inside. He saw a blindfolded male Indigene on the floor curled up on his side, asleep. His hands and feet were bound. Stephen closed the flap and Bill clicked the light off, knowing Stephen couldn’t tolerate the light for long periods. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness again.
They walked to a nearby set of rooms. Bill winced when he heard a female cry out in pain. Stephen stopped at the entrance to one room and Bill looked inside to see her bound to a chair that faced away from the door. Anton and Serena stood behind her chair, just out of sight. Anton peppered her with questions while she looked up at him, confused.
Anton motioned for Bill to enter and mouthed her name at him. He hesitated a moment, then took a deep breath and walked forward. He hated this part the most. The female grunted like an animal in the chair. She must have detected his presence because she sniffed the air suddenly. Bill kept to the edges of the darkened room. He could see she’d had the genetic reversal treatment because she looked more human. But she still had her feral Indigene instincts.
Bill kept his back to her as walked in front of the chair. He clicked on his torch and turned around to shine the light in her eyes. She jerked her head to the side, squeezed her eyes shut, yowled in pain.
Then he began what he had come to District Three to do.
He tortured Isobel.