Genesis Code, (Book 1, Genesis Series)

Chapter 53

Stephen's attempts to board the passenger ship to Exilon 5 had gone smoothly, thanks to Bill's contact. The authorities weren't looking for another stowaway, and so far, his stolen identity chip hadn't alerted them to his presence on the ship.

Dressed in his blue suit, he sat close to a group of humans in the ship's recreation room. The sound of chatter echoed around the space. Curious eyes sought him out. His skin crawled at his forced proximity to these strangers. Their musky odours irritated his nose.

Without Anton on board the ship, Stephen second guessed every decision he made. Should he stay out of sight? Should he sit out in the open so as to not draw attention to himself? After three days, he finally realised his best defence was not isolation but company.

The rim of the black Stetson he wore irritated his skin. He sat on his hands to stop himself from adjusting it. Fiddling with his hat would only draw attention to the parts of his arms where the silicone skin had fallen off. The brown contact lenses felt heavy in his eyes. His filtration device strained to deal with the purified air on board the ship. Ironically, the Earth he'd left behind—the oxygen-starved air and the grey skies—felt more like his old planet before the changes.

Two men three tables over picked a fight with each other. Stephen moved to a table further away from the action. Others followed. Two officers carrying Buzz Guns entered the room. The air crackled with electricity and Stephen's static eliminator got hot as it absorbed his body's static and the new electricity from the officers' weapons.

While the officers broke up the fight and handcuffed the main instigators, Stephen thought about Anton. He should have done more to help him. Now he was prisoner on Earth and Stephen was returning home a free soul. He pulled his jacket tighter to counteract the chill creeping up his spine and through his already-too-warm body.

The static energy flattened the minute the officers left the room. Stephen retreated to his sleeping quarters—the only place left where he felt safe. There, sleep continued to elude him inside the dark coffin-like structure that was his sleeping pod.

The passenger ship glided through the blackened space and Exilon 5 drifted into view. Stephen joined others at the viewing window and looked out at his home he hadn't seen for two weeks.

Exilon 5's surface appeared strange from space, almost alien and, for the first time, he could see the extent of the building works on the planet. Six minuscule blots on the landscape represented each of the human cities. Roads connecting the cities left tracks in the earth like blood-filled veins. Areas of recently disturbed land meant only one thing: they were preparing to transport more humans to Exilon 5.

The ship arrived in the dead of night. Stephen was grateful to have both cover and cool air for the final leg of the journey to District Three. The cooling packs inside his jacket that had helped to regulate his body temperature were no longer effective. He felt too warm and uncomfortable in his restrictive human clothes.

He waited in the ship's hold to board a spacecraft destined for New London. During the craft's descent to the planet's surface, he planned his escape. Minutes later, it hovered above the magnetised landing plates at the docking station where he and Anton had begun their journey.

The passengers filed off the craft. Stephen tempered his need to run. The slower the line moved, the more he wanted to break out of his human pretence. His pulse beat against his chest when an officer ahead scanned the passengers' identity chips.

What would be the fastest way out of the station? He could make a run for it, but then his pretence would all be for nothing. The line inched forward. His breaths shortened as the device in this throat struggled to filter the docking station's air. The humans' heartbeats sounded like a runaway train. Their thoughts just muffled sounds.

Keep it together, Stephen.

He had to stay calm, not only for his own sake but for the Indigenes. Keeping to the plan would help Anton too—if he was still alive.

He passed through the identity verification area. The alarm stayed silent and he released a breath.

'Did you enjoy your visit to Earth, sir?'

Stephen stopped and turned to see the attending officer looking at him. 'Is something the matter?'

'I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to alarm you.' The officer smiled. 'Are you returning from a break? Although I wouldn't call Earth a holiday destination. You're better off here, if you ask me.'

Stephen returned the smile, although the attempt felt awkward and unnatural.

The officer narrowed his gaze. 'Are you all right, sir?'

'Apologies. I am just tired. I am rested from my break, and happy to be home.'

The officer frowned. Stephen's stomach knotted up—his language was too stiff; humans talked in a more casual way.

The officer looked bemused. 'Okay, well, have a good journey.'

A relieved Stephen moved on, but froze when he felt something fall out of his coat.

'Mr Stipple?'

He looked back to see the officer holding one of the cooling packs in his hand. 'Mr Stipple? I think this belongs to you.'

Stephen grabbed it from the officer's hand. 'Oh, thank you.'

'What is it? Looks like a cooling pack.'

'It's nothing. It's not important.' He shoved the pack into his pocket and followed a group to an area where the transport for the city of New London waited. To Stephen's relief, the officer didn't follow.

With the vehicle in sight, Stephen peeled away from the back of the group and strode towards the flatlands. At a safe distance, he ditched his shoes and pumped his powerful legs. His bare feet glided across the surface and left shallow imprints in the soil beneath him. As soon as he'd cleared the immediate area, he dug the chip out of his thumb and crushed it between his fingers. By the time he'd reached his top running speed the gash had healed over.

The communication stone he carried with him should have alerted Pierre and Elise to his arrival back on Exilon 5. He had to reach District Three and warn the elders of the new threats to their society.

The New London streets were eerily quiet, except for a few people out late that night. A wolf howled in the distance. Stephen's mouth watered at the sound, but he kept going past large parks and grey brick buildings built by human engineers. The Indigene environs were more accommodating and dynamic, designed to enhance their emotions, and to amplify and control the raw energy from the planet's various rock types. He couldn't imagine his elders once living in a city such as New London.

A digital library loomed up ahead, its bright pink neon sign testing the strength of his eye lenses. An advertisement blinked overhead:

GET YOUR DPAD DOWNLOAD OF

NEWLY DISCOVERED CHAPTERS

IN EXILON 5'S HISTORY

How much did humans know about the bastardisation project that created the Indigenes? The building projects hinted that things were set to improve for one race on Exilon 5, and it wasn't the Indigenes.

He reached the New Victoria Maglev station and the tracks, and followed the well-worn path back to the door of District Three. The decontamination procedures began. He clawed at his neck while he waited, sick of the filtration device controlling his breathing and tired of the artificial skin that changed him into something he was not.

The door took too long to open. He jammed his fingers into the door's crevice and forced it open. Inside, he yanked the filtration device out. His Stetson fell to the ground and he kicked it away. He tore the jacket and shirt from his body. His fingers clawed at the silicone skin stuck to his face and arms. Clumps of the pigmented membrane fell to the floor, while the rest clung to his clammy skin in great ugly patches.

He was home.