'Look,' said Bill. 'I know this is difficult for everyone to hear, let alone discuss. But I'm having trouble understanding exactly where Stephen fits into this.'
He was buzzing. Yet he hadn't had a coffee all day.
Laura sighed. 'As I said, the genetic experiments were carried out long before the planet had even been discovered. From the files, it appears that around 2110, while engineers and ship designers were busy perfecting space travel, the World Government had almost perfected something of their own.' She glanced at Stephen.
Bill looked between the pair. 'Are you seriously telling us...?' He ran his fingers through his hair. 'No.'
'Yes,' said Laura. 'They created a race that could survive on the planet in its original uninhabitable state. They'd given up hope of humans ever living there and without having discovered more exoplanets, they fell back on their contingency plan for the human race. In their mind, the Earth was beyond saving.'
Just as the last piece slotted into place, Bill's hate for the Indigenes vanished. 'So not only did those fuckers create a new breed of human, but they did it without permission?'
'Yes.' Laura's gaze flickered over to Stephen. 'He was designed to be a better version of us.'
'Shit.' Bill let out a breath. But something else caught his attention about the story. 'And what had they planned to do with the regular humans?'
Laura hesitated. 'The government placed our future existence in the hands of this superhuman race. What remained of the human race would be wiped out.'
'Fuck...' Bill knew the World Government were shady, but this stooped to a new level.
Stephen stepped forward, surprising Bill. He'd almost forgotten about the man in the room who'd been unwittingly caught up in a war he didn't start.
'How did we come into existence?' said Stephen. 'Where did my race come from exactly? Please, I need to know.'
Laura continued. 'In the early days, scientists had advertised for human test subjects to join their gene-splicing and manipulation therapy programmes. It was funded by the World Government.'
'Another non-surprise,' said Bill.
'Some volunteered, but many didn't. Without enough test subjects, they had to resort to taking people from the street. The tests succeeded at first, they said. But neither the splicing nor manipulation techniques worked well in those who had inherited genetic diseases from their parents. Their bodies successfully rejected the changes.
'It was through trial and error that the scientists discovered that anomaly. Later on, when they trialled splicing in people of average intellect with clean DNA structures, the results improved slightly, but showed little noticeable difference between the before and after test subjects. It wasn't until they tested those with a superior IQ that the genetic splicing and manipulation worked perfectly with their genes. The work done also had a boosting effect on their brain's ability to learn. Take doctors, engineers and professors. Professions with a high IQ. The tests seemed to supercharge their skills somehow.'
Bill had always suspected there was something different, or special, about the indigenous race on Exilon 5. 'So, there really is a race of super-intelligent beings on Exilon 5?'
'You only have to look at Stephen to know that's the case.'
'What's your IQ, Stephen?' said Bill.
'We don't use human measurements to define our intelligence, but if I was to compare it to your scale, it would be close to two hundred and seventy.'
Bill let out a low whistle. Stephen might still pose a threat, but in that moment all he saw was a man whose history had been torn to shreds. A man who fitted nowhere.
'So, Stephen is fully human?'
'Yes and no. Stephen is less than fifty years old. Am I right?' Laura looked to Stephen who nodded. 'So, essentially he was the product of two superhumans. He's a true indigenous species of the planet. According to the files, those older than fifty would have lived ordinary lives as humans at some stage, since the experiments were only completed.'
Stephen gasped.
'What is it?' said Laura.
'Our oldest Central Council members are well over fifty years old. Are you telling me they were once your kind of human?'
'Yes. I'm afraid that's probably the case.'
He shook his head. 'But it's not possible. They have specific memories of being born, of growing up on the planet, and of a life before the one we have now. How can that be?'
'When the government created the early superhumans, they overwrote their memories with new ones. The scientists rewired the neural pathways so they'd forget their old lives. The government scientists created a new existence for the new race so they'd adapt to the new planet. It worked like a dream as far as I can tell. Because of your age, Stephen, your memories are real. Any memories occurring earlier than fifty years ago are most likely false.'
'So why is the government trying to kill the Indigenes if they are just like us?' said Bill.
Laura paused and pulled the band out of her hair. She ruffled her hair and tucked it behind her ears. 'Their motives appear to have been more innocent at the start. While putting all their hopes for survival into this new race, they accidentally stumbled upon a way to alter the gas composition on Exilon 5. When they realised that the planet could house ordinary humans, they knew one race would be sacrificed for another. When the explosions happened, it wasn't just to terraform the planet, it was to destroy their creation. Somewhere in the files, it's mentioned that neither race could discover the other.'
'Pity for them that we did more than survive. We adapted even further,' said Stephen.
'He's right,' said Laura. 'The first superhumans who relocated to the planet resembled us, but were more primitive in behaviour. Their skin was as sturdy as it is now, but their outward appearance was more like how you and I look.' She addressed Stephen. 'I imagine it was the years of living underground that altered your DNA and made your appearance what it is today.'
'Yes. The toughened skin,' said Stephen. 'But how?'
Bill could see Laura was exhausted. He touched her shoulder to reassure her; he felt her shaking through her clothes. 'I know this is a lot to explain, but please continue. We need to know everything.'
She nodded. 'The genetic manipulation involved experimentation with other species' DNA. Animals, mostly. Think of the toughened exterior of a rhinoceros, for example, or the night vision of a nocturnal animal, or the regenerative properties of a lizard. They tried various permutations to alter the human code so it would mimic the more interesting properties of some animals.'
'What do they plan to do with us?' said Stephen.
'I don't know. They can't carry out any more explosions on the surface, not with a few transferees already living on Exilon 5.'
'What then?'
'I don't know. Look, I got no idea of how this would play out. All I can tell you about are the facts on the micro file.'
'Sorry for pushing you so hard,' said Bill, glancing at Stephen. 'We both appreciate what you've done here. Do you still have the file?'
'Yes. I thought about getting rid of it, but for some insane reason I kept it around. It's yours if you want it.'
'This transfer you speak of,' said Stephen. 'When did it begin?'
'Around twenty-five years ago,' said Bill. 'Why?'
'And when did it slow down? Far fewer of you have since settled on the planet.'
'I don't know exactly. A few years ago. Why, what are you thinking?'
'Well, it seems to correlate with the time that the military captured some of our young. Could it be that their plans have changed?'
'Anything's possible,' said Bill.
'So what's our next move in all of this?' said Laura.
'For one thing,' said Bill, 'it's not safe for us to stay here. Laura, you must come with me. Leave your apartment, your life behind.'
'What? No, I... I have a job. A career. I can't just leave it.'
'If they find out what you know, you won't live long enough to enjoy it.'
'You don't understand. I need to get on the transfer list to Exilon 5. If I disappear now, I lose that chance.'
'I expect all future transfers will be placed on hold, anyway. There are more pressing issues at play here. You need to decide which side you're on.'
'I'm on this side, of course. Why can't I stay where I am? Wouldn't I be more useful to you if I was on the inside?'
Bill couldn't see how it would work. She'd be in too much danger.
'I must return to Exilon 5,' said Stephen. 'I need to tell the Indigenes what I've learned here. We have much more to fear than I'd first anticipated. We must be ready for when they come.'
Compassion replaced the anger in Bill's heart. 'Of course. Getting you safely off this planet is our first priority.'
'I have another favour to ask of you, Bill,' said Stephen. 'I didn't come here alone. My friend Anton was captured so I could escape. I need you to find out if he's still alive.'
'If the World Government has him, he may not be.'
'I'm prepared for that. But I would still like you to check.'
'I'll see what I can find out.'
'Thank you.'
Bill ran a hand through his hair and stopped to touch the bump that remained after his fall.
'How's your head?' said Stephen.
'How do you know about...?' He paused as he realised. 'That was you?'
Stephen gave a small smile. 'Actually, it was Anton who convinced me to help. I'm glad I did now.'
A yawn caught Bill by surprise. He'd been so tense about his return to Earth and meeting with Gilchrist that he'd pushed the exhaustion away. This heavy input of new information let it all back in. 'Do you mind if I take a quick nap on your bed?' he said to Laura.
She nodded. 'Take all the time you need. But before you go, there's something else.' She went into her bedroom and returned with three envelopes.
He looked at them, puzzled. 'What are they?'
'Letters from your wife.'
He stared at the envelopes then at Laura. 'Where did you get these? What do they say? I mean, did you read them?'
She shook her head. 'I was given them the same time as the micro file. I can't decipher them. They're coded, I think. Just take them.' She shoved them closer to his hand.
He grabbed the letters from her, swallowing back a lump in his throat. 'Wake me up in an hour. We can't stay here.'
Bill closed the bedroom door behind him, clutching the envelopes to his chest. The truth had drained the anger from him. He still had questions and he didn't know if he could trust the pair in the next room, but he was certain of one thing: the Indigenes were not his enemy.
He kicked off his boots and lay on the bed. The envelopes felt like an extra weight in his hand. He brushed his fingers over the tops of them, brought them up to his nose and took a sniff. It was faint, but he thought he could smell Isla's perfume.
Was he ready to read his wife's innermost thoughts? Was he ready to hear she was in danger, or to believe the letters were his last tangible link to her? She was still alive. Without the discovery of a body, he could continue to believe that.
Bill turned onto his side and hugged the letters close to him. The tears fell as his eyes drooped from the effort of keeping them open.
He needed to rest. He was sick of fighting.
But he knew the fight was just getting started.