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  “What will you do?”

  “Whatever I need to. I won’t have my business and your future condemned by those who know not what they do. However they choose to justify their actions.”

  Dalton nodded. The way his dad was looking at him was unnerving. “I guess you can only go with the truth,” he said.

  “Yes, the truth.”

  There was silence and Dalton forced himself to stay still and not fidget.

  “Well, I’ve got the Academy in the morning.” Dalton took a step towards the door.

  “That bike you crashed, was it the one I bought you for your last birthday?” his father said.

  Why was he asking that? “Ah, yeah, but it’s totalled.” It was now, anyway. Pip had helped him smash it then Riley’s contact, Sun, had arranged for some false Senate reports, even some faked footage on a road near the Ocean estates.

  “Pity. Call the company tomorrow, choose another one. Unless you’d prefer a car. I can arrange a permit.”

  “No, a bike’s better.”

  “Good.” His dad went back to eating.

  “I’m going to bed,” Dalton said.

  “Son …”

  Dalton stopped, one hand on the doorframe.

  “You don’t believe that Rogue Waver, do you?”

  “Why would I?”

  There was an odd expression on his father’s face, one Dalton would almost call regret, if he didn’t know better. “We don’t know each other well enough any more, do we, son? Perhaps you have doubts. I don’t know.” He frowned slightly. “I’m sorry for that if you do.”

  Sorry? Dalton was thrown, his mind blank. He had never heard his father apologise. Ever.

  “It’s all right.” Jebediah waved a hand. “Go to bed. We will talk more again.”

  “Okay,” Dalton managed to force out, but his dad had already turned his attention back to his plate.

  Dalton left the kitchen, feeling like he was balancing over a crater on one leg. Questions, confusion, uncertainty played in his mind, clouding his reasoning. He walked through the great room, barely seeing it, but passing the lift he stopped, and went back.

  A narrow stand and table for coats and assorted bits and pieces stood to the left of the lift and on it was something he’d not seen earlier. A silver holo com. It hadn’t been there before his father came in.

  Dalton checked briefly over his shoulder, but he could still hear the clink of cutlery against his dad’s plate. He picked it up.

  It was surprisingly old and definitely made of real silver. Rare. Etched above the controls was the Curtis and Co emblem of two ornate intertwined Cs. The lock was a simple code pad. This was clearly his father’s personal holo. Dalton had glimpsed it before and never thought much of it, but now with Jebediah’s odd questions it seemed too good an opportunity to waste.

  He checked the kitchen again then entered his father’s birthdate. Nothing. He tried his mother’s, his own, his father’s antique car registration number, but nothing. What could it be? The variables were too great. It could be a random string of numbers, but something told him it must be special to his father. Something unique. Dalton’s breath caught. Could it be? He entered the numbers of his brother’s birthdate, but nothing happened. He ground his teeth and was about to put it down when an idea struck him. He tried the date of Chris’s death. The holo controls lit up.

  Heart thudding, Dalton activated the index. None of it was coded.

  There was a title, DS. He clicked on it and a set of blueprints sprang up in three-dimensional holo. There was Earth and a dozen, no more, high-tech outer atmosphere satellites arranged in orbit above every continent on the planet. Some were marked by a set of numbers, others by letters with no explanation of what they meant. Was this a Curtis and Co project? He’d heard of something big the company had been working on to do with water and the distribution of it from Titan – was this it? But it seemed odd if it was. He rotated the images, spinning the three-dimensional Earth around. One of the satellites was much bigger than the others, five times the size. He accessed its attributes. It wasn’t a satellite but a station. It appeared anchored to orbit at the edge of space above Newperth nearer the pole. There was no name on it, but he could clearly see a docking hatch. It could be the command station for the satellites, but what was it all for?

  The sound of a chair being pushed across the floor came from the kitchen. Dalton powered the holo down and put it back in the exact same position on the hallstand, then he ran back to his room. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his hands shook as he switched off all the lights and got into bed. What was his father up to?

  CHAPTER 5

  Rosie crept from the room leaving Gillian asleep, the stolen stylus hidden in her fist. She went to the bathroom, rubbing her face as if she was half asleep for the surveillance, but once inside she ran to the second last shower stall. Her muscles weren’t fully healed from the pulse blast and she almost fell trying to get up onto the wall. She grit her teeth against the pain and forced herself up. She half expected the inactive stylus to be gone, but it was still there. She put the ceiling square back into place and then compared the two.

  The stylus she’d stolen from the doctor yesterday was different from the operative’s. She didn’t think the medical one would access the surveillance, but if she was clever, she might be able to alter it so that it would. Rosie took out the surveillance transmitter from the operative’s stylus and eased the back off the medibay one. There was a tiny slot that might fit the transmitter. She carefully slipped it in. It didn’t quite fit, but it was making contact and its operating light was still on. Conscious of time ticking away, she shoved the remains of the inactive stylus in the rubbish disintegrator, then went to the surveillance hub by the bathroom door and slid the tip of the medibay stylus into the access plate. The display panel above the plate lit up, and she swore. The stylus accessed it, but its use would be limited.

  She’d been hoping to be able to loop the surveillance along the way, using it like the jammer Riley had once given her to hide herself from the camera eyes. But the best she could do was to suspend the surveillance. And this meant that every time she used it, a fault would be recorded, and that could trigger an alarm or some other automated response. She bit her lip. She didn’t have much choice. She only had a day before the meeting with Sulawayo and she’d be in a better position if she knew more than she did now – which was basically nothing. Plus, the implant headaches were getting bad again. She couldn’t risk blacking out like she had before. Not here. There was nothing for it. Try the stylus now or lose the chance. Cowards don’t make the Academy. Her aunt’s voice was an echo in her mind.

  Rosie scrolled through the controls and suspended the surveillance for the bathroom and hallway outside. Forty-three minutes. She waited, nerves on edge, but no alarm sounded. Get going, Black!

  Rosie set a countdown timer on the stylus to keep track of the time then ran out the door towards the iris. From here she could get into the main hub. She suspended surveillance in the hall, cafeteria and vestibule that led to the operatives’ wing. Three minutes should be enough to get her to the door that led to the medibay.

  The iris opened with a low swish, peeling back into its frame to reveal the vestibule. It was dark and empty. Rosie ran towards the cafeteria. Her muscles pulled and ached with every step and a sharp pain was developing behind her left eye where the implant was. She rubbed at it, seeing coloured spots for a second. Don’t think about it, keep going. She forced herself forwards, blinking hard to clear her vision.

  It was dark among the tables, the only illumination from moonlight shining through the windows. The vestibule beyond was lit by the glow of the lock on the iris that led to the operatives’ wing. To the left of it were the doors that accessed the yard, and further along on the right was the hallway and iris that led to the medibay corridor.

  She’d reached the iris when she heard the first sounds of trouble. From the other side of the iris came the clump of heavy
footsteps and a raised voice. It couldn’t be coincidence. They must have been alerted to the surveillance changes.

  Trying not to panic, she suspended the surveillance on the other side of the iris for five minutes then opened it and sprinted down the hall past the closed doors she’d seen with Sulawayo. She figured she had a few minutes before the operatives came this way. Hopefully. With any luck, they might see the suspended surveillance as a glitch. There were four more doors between her and the medibay. She might get a clean run.

  No. There were more voices in the corridor up ahead. She swiped the opener of the closest door and slipped in. It was dark and empty. A desk or table pressed against her hip. She waited, listening, desperately counting down the minutes of surveillance suspension left. Barely two.

  Booted footsteps walked past and a man spoke. “You check the caf. It’s probably some goddamn lizard. Crawled into the system and got stuck. Remember what happened last time? I’ll see if there’s–” His voice cut off at the beeping of a com.

  “That’ll be Pria,” a woman said. “I’ll see you later.”

  Footsteps passed the door, then the man spoke again, so close, Rosie jumped. “Pria, what’s the report?”

  Rosie faintly heard a mumbled reply, then the operative said, “Right, yeah. No. I’ll check the hub here, force it back on if it’s off. Yep, out.” His footsteps continued past her door and back the way she’d come. As soon as he got to the surveillance hub, he’d know it wasn’t a lizard. Rosie forced herself to wait for a count of twenty then opened the door. She glimpsed his back as he rounded a corner, and as soon as he’d gone she was out and running. Three doors, two, one. Frantic, she shoved the stylus into the lock by the medibay doors, her fingers shaking as she swiped the controls to the surveillance and suspended them inside, then activated the lock.

  It felt like her lungs were in her throat by the time the doors swished open.

  She almost couldn’t believe she’d made it. The ambient light from the equipment provided enough illumination for her to see. And there was the machine that might be able to download the files from her implant. Its glinting orb hung over the operating bed like an enormous flower. She wanted to go to that first. If the implant degraded and she lost the information stored on it she’d be screwed, probably in more ways than one, what with the possibility of death and all. And the machine might allow her to save the information to a chit. But then again, it might not and people were counting on her to find out what she could about Helios.

  She’d given herself fifteen minutes in here, but with the operatives alerted, she couldn’t count on it. She had to work fast. She ran to the holo on the back wall. It hadn’t been powered down but it was locked. She inserted the stylus.

  Welcome, Doctor, the screen lit blue with the message and Rosie’s breath came a little easier.

  She tapped straight into the prime Enclave grid. It was sectioned. She selected Alpha’s sector, but a message came up: Authorisation Denied. She swore. Of course, it couldn’t be that simple. The top operatives’ sections were out of the doctor’s authorisation. Becoming increasingly frustrated, Rosie was forced to reduce her search to the doctor’s communications, orders and projects.

  She scanned for any mention of the MalX, or Pantheon, Riley or even Sulawayo and other key phrases. The doctor had been busy, streams of messages went back and forth from him to Alpha and to an unidentifiable network in Newperth. Helios contacts there perhaps? She was proved right when she found a request for lists of supplies.

  Then she found something odd. It was small and she almost missed it. It was a message to Alpha.

  Re: MalX protection requests.

  Alpha. I fail to see why you have repeatedly denied me the equipment I’ve been asking for over the past month. I cannot be expected to work effectively if I am hampered like this. Despite our remote location, staff here are still at risk of contracting the disease and our stocks of protectant serums are running low. Since the closure of all but one other Enclave, there must be plenty of stock available. I have heard our stores were cleared before the Senate and UEC forces obtained entrance to those facilities, so I must assume the goods I require are stored somewhere, and see no logic to your reasons for ignoring my requests. There must be a stock pile of goods. Please either have them shipped to me or allow me access to them. Failure to do this only leaves these remaining operatives and zeroes in peril.

  Dr Bree.

  It was dated two weeks ago. Rosie re-read it, then searched for Alpha’s reply. As yet there didn’t appear to be one. But the closure of other Enclaves? Did that mean there were only two Helios Enclaves left, this one and another? Was Helios that vulnerable now? This was news. People needed to know.

  She navigated out of the doctor’s files and searched for a com line to the outside. She was taking a huge risk.

  She found the com point, tapped in her aunt’s private address, and swiftly composed a message Essie could decipher.

  In the copilot seat. All controls are green except for navigation – position undetermined but terrestrial, no borders crossed. Target vulnerable, only two left in play due to elitist forces. Continuing to advance.

  She hesitated. She really wanted to say something about her dad, to tell her aunt to make sure he was all right, to send him a message and let him know she was okay and that she missed him. But if the message was detected, it would only draw attention to him. He was already so vulnerable and the thought of something happening to him … She sent the message, crossing her fingers it would get there.

  Now to the machine that might allow her to extract the information from her implant. She turned it on. Was there enough time to investigate it? She checked the holo index for instructions. The dull ache behind her eyes worsened. There was a lot of technical information she didn’t understand and she began to panic. There had to be a way.

  Helios had made the implant, surely their machine could access it. She gritted her teeth against the ache in her skull and ran through the basic operations of the machine and powered it up. The orb glowed blue and the myriad points of light inside it began to rotate. She approached it, her palms sweaty, mouth dry.

  Had Riley done anything to it that might block Helios tech from accessing it once it was in her? The failure of Alpha’s manacle seemed to point to that, but still she had to try. Rosie wished she knew how to contact Cassie in Gondwana.

  She picked up the fine temple patch of wires that connected to the arm of the machine holding the orb and pressed the patches carefully to her temples. They adhered immediately and a flood of energy swept over her. She staggered, falling against the bed beneath the orb. Her vision dimmed and it felt like someone was running cold electrified fingers over her scalp and down her spine. She stifled a scream. The implant. She could feel it reacting, tightening. This wasn’t right. Terrified, she ripped the patches off and leaned, gasping, against the bed.

  Tears of frustration filled her eyes. She didn’t know how to do this. Her head was throbbing and a scary tingling pain ran alongside her lower spine. Had she done more damage, degraded the implant further? There was no way to tell, and no time to wonder about it. Operatives could be here at any moment to check on the surveillance. She pushed herself off the bed, ran for the door and shoved the stylus in the lock. The hub near the door showed that the surveillance was back on in the hall again. Had an operative done that? Hands shaking, she forced it to suspend for five more minutes, praying it would be enough for her to get back to the iris, then she pushed open the door and peered out. The hall was still empty and she ran, sprinting up the corridor, leg muscles shaking and unsteady, sticking close to the wall for support.

  She didn’t get far.

  Without warning, her vision blurred and a wave of dizziness sent her to her knees. Her sight darkened at the edges and a flurry of information appeared as the implant opened, transforming reality to green tinted words and numbers. She tried to command the implant to slow down, to organise the information. The pain increased, b
ut things slowed, and the spinning information became clearer. Words began to make sense. She had no idea of whether this was her doing or if the implant was operating on its own.

  Gliese. Equinox Gate. Population Control. They were the names of files.

  The Population Control file unfolded with a sensation like serrated wings brushing her skull. A concertina-like display of information spun open. The first was about the MalX dated around the time Riley’s parents had been unknowingly working for Helios.

  Latest population statistics show the planet’s inability to withstand any more growth. In fact, we have already gone past the tipping point. Clearly, there are subsections of the population which are better retained, and others which are superfluous. To ensure the continued viability of the human race, it is imperative those most suitable are protected and those who have least to offer are sacrificed for the greater good. The development of this disease and its cure will enable us to target those groups unsuitable for the longevity of our race, and protect those who can enhance it. Its release should be carefully timed to ensure we have a vaccine for those viable specimens and we are developing a delivery system which will control that release. (See additional plans.) The vaccine will then be made available to those most worthy – at a considerable fee. This MalX and vaccine release must be timed to coincide with the successful completion of the Equinox Gate wormhole in order to control traffic off world. Aspects that determine a person’s viability to receive the vaccine are as follows …

  A tearing pain ripped through Rosie and the information collapsed, the words dissolving in a bright stream of green light. The implant closed with a sudden snap, taking the pain with it. Rosie was aware of cool floor under her cheek, her thudding heart. She opened her eyes. Everything was dim and blurry. She pushed herself up against the wall. All she could make out was the vague length of floor and wall, the hall. Thankfully, she was still alone. She staggered to her feet and checked the timer on the stylus. There was now only thirteen minutes left on the surveillance suspension she’d put on the hall near her room. And the operatives could have switched it back on by now.