An endless list of documents appeared on Laura's monitor, including various memos sent between the World Government and its subsidiaries about security matters. While some issues were minor, others looked more serious.
A blinking folder on Laura's monitor caught her eye. Booth numbers and names flashed up beside files and disappeared: booth one, her frenemy in booth ten, booth sixteen. She considered leaving it for someone else, but it looked like a local folder that was not part of the shared network.
She ignored it and continued to select files from the shared pool.
Twenty minutes later, the folder icon still winked at her. She thought about asking others about it, but her warning not to speak to anyone stopped her. Instead she looked around at the dozens of heads, low and impassive, and listened to the sounds of fingers gliding over touch-activated monitors.
This place was too much. She stood up and tugged at the neck of her uniform. The man from booth ten watched her as she logged a bathroom break through her monitor. A clock flashed up on-screen and a two-minute countdown commenced.
In the bathroom down the hall, she splashed cold water on her face, allowing it to drip down her neck where it soaked into her collar. She leaned against the steel-top counter and stared at her reflection. She took down her messy blonde ponytail and redid it. Her green eyes were missing their usual sparkle. Her pale skin looked even more so under the harsh lights. Her clothes hung loosely on her frame. She'd lost weight, and it didn't suit her.
Laura leaned towards the mirror, trying to find the girl who'd been enthusiastic about working at the ESC. But all she found was a tired face and a dull set of eyes. She dragged her weary thoughts back to the transfer to Exilon 5, but the longer she stayed at the ESC, the more she risked losing herself. Usually a vitamin D shot pulled her out of her funk, but right now she couldn't be sure it would do anything other than gloss over the edges of her pain.
Laura patted her face dry with her sleeve and returned to her workstation to find the folder was still there, unclaimed. She continued to select files from the common list that populated faster than the team could claim them.
As Laura processed the other files, the ominous folder continued to flash.
Her curiosity got the better of her and she clicked on it. A folder labelled 'Private' opened to show nine documents, all with the security tag 732-554-ITF-TGT. Several had the prefix "to be re-filed" attached.
She opened the first document and scanned the contents; the name Bill Taggart repeated throughout. She guessed the TGT on the security tag stood for his name. ITF, it explained in the document, stood for International Task Force. She read on. Words like "Exilon 5", "investigation" and "meeting" caught her attention as she scoured the document for the clearance level. The document appeared to be a preliminary report sent a week ago. About two-thirds in, she found the hidden clearance level. She closed the file, tagged it and ran it through re-encryption.
She opened the files sequentially. The documents labelled "for re-filing" contained both video recordings and notes. Unsure of how to file a document with more than one element, she broke the cardinal rule.
'Video and text together in the same file,' she said to nobody in particular. 'Do I tag together or separately?' Her pulse raced at her infraction.
The room fell silent. She pushed up from the desk and looked around her. The woman from booth sixteen who handled Level Eight information stared at her.
'Together,' the woman said.
'Thanks.' Laura dropped back down into her seat. She found the clearance attached to the video file, simply titled "Examination" and tagged the two files without bothering to read the text.
It wasn't until she had opened the sixth document in the list of nine—labelled "to be re-filed – 732-554-ITF-TGT"—that she paid closer attention. Inside, the file had a different name: "Autopsy of Species 31".
Her breath caught in her throat as she put everything in the files together. The words "Exilon 5", "investigator" and "meeting" developed context, but she was unsure of how "meeting" connected with anything. A meeting with whom? Species 31, perhaps? Did the alien autopsy pre-empt a meeting? What if the meeting hadn't gone according to plan?
She speed-read the document, tempted to labour over its contents, but she didn't want to attract Brett's attention or anyone else who may be watching. Regardless, key phrases caught her eye: "translucent skin", "photosensitive eyes", "discovery of object lodged in back of throat and nasal cavity".
What am I looking at?
She straightened up in her chair and looked over the top of her booth to find Sixteen watching her. Laura's skin flushed and she concentrated on her monitor.
This information couldn't be public. She would have heard about a race living on Exilon 5. Her chest tightened as she remembered the beady-eyed man's warning. What we retain puts a target on our backs. So learn the rules fast.
She still had no clue about the other rules.
Was she a target now? No, not if the Taggart files had been left for her to process. But as she was learning, this place was not what it seemed. Her inner voice warned her to be extra careful.
She ignored it and opened the remaining files.