White Clay Gods: Book Three of the Disciples of Cassini Trilogy

By Xlibris US

Fifteen teenagers are chosen from thousands to participate in an off-world educational program at Cassini, the first human colony established on Titan. A team of psychologists responsible for their mental welfare accompanies them. When Drs. Kian and Marcela Barret discover that one of the teenagers guardians is a convicted criminal who caused the death of their baby sixteen years ago, Zoe Moore and her team are summoned to Cassini to investigate the legitimacy of the organization funding the program. What they uncover is a network of unethical scientific and paranormal practices driven by the doctrine of a forgotten Russian orthodoxy.

Original Cover Art by Penny de Byl

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499075014

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 by Penny de Byl.

ISBN:            Hardcover      978-1-4990-7503-8

                       Softcover        978-1-4990-7502-1

                       eBook              978-1-4990-7501-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Original Cover Art and Image by Penny de Byl

Rev. date: 10/09/2014

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

623037

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Death transforms real presence into memories. Therefore, kinship demands the return of the deceased, each one being irreplaceable, whereas in an association death brings about an easily replaceable loss. – Nikolai Fyodorov

This book is a work of fiction based on historical, cultural, and scientific facts extrapolated and slightly exaggerated in a search for future truths.

Other books by Penny de Byl

Fiction

Lost Souls

The Chaldean Legacy

Nonfiction

Believable Characters for Computer Games

AI Life: A Star Trek Perspective

Holistic Game Development

Holistic Mobile Game Development

Edited by Kayleen Wood

For Daniel, Tabytha, Kayleen, and my mum.

Prologue

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K atie Timms couldn’t keep her eyes open. Her eyelids grew increasingly heavy as she stared at the candle feeling her body relax into the soft leather couch. Visions of a tropical beach on a warm day played in her head as she imagined herself laying on a towel in the sun. In a seated position with a bolster cushion behind her neck, her bare feet resting on a pillow on the coffee table in front of her. A short intravenous line with a peripheral cannula through which injections could be given was secured with tape, into the back of her hand.

Dr. Myles Baillie, her therapist, sat on a studded brown leather chair opposite sixteen-year-old Katie, guiding her deeper into a trance. He suggested her body was becoming heavy one part at a time, and he could see her adjust her position and flinching as each muscle relaxed.

As he talked, Myles was distracted by the image in the large mirror on his office wall. From where he sat the reflection showed his mahogany office desk at the other end of the room. Numerous framed certificates hung on the wall behind, informing visitors of his psychiatric qualifications. Although the reflection was passive, he knew what lay beyond the two-way glass panel was anything but.

Okay Katie, I’d like to remind you that you can answer my questions by raising your left index finger for yes and your right index finger for no. Is that clear?

She raised her yes finger.

Imagine you are in your favorite place. On the beach?

Yes.

What a wonderful relaxing place. But now I’d like to take you on a journey. Imagine there is a beach house. Can you see it?

Yes.

Okay. Walk over to the beach house. I want you to open the door and go inside. Just inside there is a staircase. It goes down to the basement. Can you see it?

Yes.

That’s great Katie. Let’s take a trip down the staircase. It’s brightly lit so there’s nothing to be afraid of. When I say, start walking down the steps one by one. Slowly. Each step takes you one year into the past. At the top, you are sixteen. Are you ready to start?

Yes.

Okay Katie. Let’s go down two steps. One. Two. You are fourteen. Can you tell me what you did yesterday?

Katie screwed up her face and started rubbing her upper arm. Went to the doctor. Had to have an injection in my arm. It really hurts. My whole arm is dead. She sounded younger. She started shaking her arm as though it had pins and needles, and she was trying to make the feeling go away.

Okay Katie. That’s excellent. Now I want you to let your mind drift outside your body. Become an observer. You know what your body is feeling, but it doesn’t affect you. Katie’s face and arms relaxed and she sank deeper into the chair.

That’s good. Just be an observer. Right, let’s go down four more stairs. You are now ten years old. What are you doing?

Katie tilted her head quizzically. I’m at school sitting in the corner.

What can you see?

My mum is talking with my teacher, Mr. Harold.

What about?

I can’t quite hear. Something about me having to leave. That they can’t teach me anymore. The young girl started to look agitated.

Myles reminded her she was just observing the events and to distance herself from the emotions. Once again she relaxed.

Let’s continue down the stairs. One, two, three, four, five, six. You are now four years of age. Myles watched Katie carefully for any reactions, but the teenager remained calm, eyes closed, breathing deeply.

Seven, eight, nine, ten.

Katie slowly retracted her legs from the table and lay on the couch in the fetal position, arms wrapped around her legs. Myles moved over and knelt down by her side. He firmly stroked the bottom of her foot. Katie’s big toe lifted upwards and her other toes fanned out. He turned to look at the large mirror.

On the other side, two men observed the scene as it took place inside the consultation room.

What’s he doing? the larger of the men asked.

Checking for the Babinski reflex. It only occurs in babies, and disappears by the age of two, the other replied.

Myles returned to his chair.

Katie, can you still hear me? he asked.

Yes.

Katie I need you to remember you’re just observing. You are now a baby, correct?

Yes.

Try to remove your awareness from the body. Remember you are still on the staircase. Can you see the next step?

Yes.

Can you take the next step?

A worried expression appeared on her face.

No.

Why not Katie? Why can’t you go down?

There’s a door.

Can you open the door?

No. It is locked.

Katie. Listen to me. Beside you is an axe. Can you see it?

Yes.

Pick up the axe Katie. Use it to break open the door.

Is it working?

No.

From behind the two-way mirror the big man spoke again. Why doesn’t he just get her to imagine up a key?

Because her subconscious mind needs to break through the barrier. She needs to be in control and undergo ego strengthening from the breakthrough. It’s called Silent Abreaction.

Come on Katie. Hit it again. Hit it harder, Myles encouraged.

Katie lay fully extended on the couch. Myles could see her fists were clenched at her sides.

It’s not working. The axe is just bouncing back at me.

Myles once again glanced at the mirror and then moved over to his office desk. From the top drawer, he removed a syringe full of clear liquid. He took it back over to Katie and injected the contents into her arm via the cannula.

Almost immediately her fists unclenched and her body went limp.

Myles sat back down in his chair placing the syringe on the coffee table.

Katie, can you still hear me?

Yes.

Katie, I want you to take that axe and hit the door with all your might.

It’s working! the girl exclaimed calmly.

Keep hitting the door Katie. You must break it down.

The girl was silent as though at peace and asleep.

Katie, where are you? What has happened to the door?

It’s gone. I’m on the other side.

Yes, cheered the smaller of the men on the other side of the mirror, so loudly Myles heard. We’re through.

What was in that syringe? the big man asked.

Lactuca virosa extract. Just a little something I picked up from Marcela Barret.

Chapter 1

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R unning as fast as his long skinny 17-year-old legs would carry him, Jeremy Wakefield raced up the street and hurdled the garden gate. As he burst through the door, he lobbed his school bag at the ground. It didn’t come to rest until hitting the hallway wall.

Shoes! shouted his mother from the kitchen, knowing he’d neglected to take off his trainers at the front door before tearing up the hallway.

Shit, he thought stopping halfway to his destination. He slipped off his shoes without undoing the laces and flung them toward the door where they landed haphazardly, ready to trip up the next visitor. In his socks, he slid the rest of the way to the kitchen on the polished timber floor.

Mum, Mum. You’ll never guess what? he said excitedly, a smile beaming from ear to ear.

Knowing her son well, Mary Wakefield assumed his exhilaration was due to the installation of some new piece of technology at his school. When the school had first installed their virtual reality basketball court, she could hardly get Jeremy to come home. The hi-tech court allowed kids to play off against computer controlled opponents, and projected versions of children playing from a distance at other schools with the same system. It wasn’t the sports’ side that impassioned Jeremy as much as what could be achieved with the technology. He’d spent hours with the non-tech savvy gym teacher, showing him how they could make the system project virtual characters for other purposes, from theatre productions to roller hockey.

Mum?

Yes. What is it Jeremy?

I’m going into outer space! he exclaimed, starting to bounce on the spot.

Oh, you’ve programmed that sports’ system to make astronauts. That’s nice, she said, taking a freshly baked tray of gingerbread from the oven.

Noooo … Jeremy whined, disappointed at his mother’s inability to pick up on his exuberance. He grabbed a freshly baked cookie and juggled it between his hands, willing it to cool. Real outer space. Like on one of those tourist shuttles.

Mary looked at him suspiciously. Really?

Yeah. I got chosen. I’ve got a letter here somewhere, he muffled with the hot biscuit in his mouth, while patting at his pockets. Hold on, it’s in my bag.

He scooted back down the hallway and brought his schoolbag to the kitchen, where he emptied the entire contents onto the bench. Pencils, paper, a tablet computer and a half eaten apple splayed out onto the surface. He searched through the pile then clutched at a crumbled up piece of paper before offering it to his mother. Here. Look.

Mary read the letter.

Dear Mrs. Wakefield,

We are pleased to advise that your son Jeremy has been chosen to represent the young people of earth in the first off-world school science field trip. He was chosen from a field of over two thousand highly gifted students to take place in this historic event. The excursion will see Jeremy join fifteen of his peers in a six-month expedition where he will receive one-on-one tutelage with world-renowned scientists in exobiology, terraforming and organic engineering.

One of our mission representatives will contact you soon with more details and dates for an upcoming parent information evening at our headquarters in Sydney.

Congratulations on Jeremy’s inclusion in this program.

Regards,

Rhonda Fielding

Executive Education Officer.

The letter was printed on pristine white paper. In the top left-hand corner was a green logo that consisted of the earth encircled by a fern leaf with three little people standing across it. Beneath the logo was written Everjein Enterprises.

Mary was taken aback and didn’t know what to say.

Do you know how much it costs to fly on those tourist shuttles? Hundreds of thousands. Oh Jeremy, we can’t afford that type of money, she said disheartened.

You don’t have to Mum. It’s all expenses paid, he gleamed.

Again Mary was gob smacked. Flights into outer space were usually only available to the very wealthy or specialist scientists. Since Jeremy’s birth, she’d watched the space race progress rapidly. In almost every case the news had been dominated by breakthroughs made by Everjein Enterprises. Their innovations in traveling speed and in space builds were astounding. Mary would never profess that she understood it all, but it seemed to be progressing as fast as the technology boom in the 1980s, almost half a century ago.

With all its success, Everjein Enterprises had also had its fair share of setbacks and controversies. Every other week it seemed to be in the press. If the executives weren’t being accused of corruption or unethical practices, there was some incident with their off-world habitats. Mary shivered as she recalled the devastation of five years ago when the space station decompressed and over one hundred people were killed. At the time, the Space Exploration Commission tried to play down the event, citing human sacrifice as a necessary precursor to progress, reminding antagonists of the 20,000 plus deaths resulting from an amphitheater collapse in Italy in 27BC and the more than 100,000 fatalities from the 1986 Chernobyl nuclear plant explosion. The Commission made the point that deaths in outer space had only claimed a relatively small number of lives. In fact before space tourism really took off in the late 2010’s, only 18 astronauts had been killed including a re-entry parachute failure in 1967, a shuttle decompression in 1971, the seven crew members who lost their lives in the 1986 Space Shuttle Challenger disaster and the seven in the 2003 Space Shuttle Columbia disintegration.

All of a sudden she felt pangs of hesitancy and doubt, thinking about her son travelling into space. Was this what the mothers of all astronauts felt? It was a tight knot in the pit of her stomach that could only get worse should she agree to let her son go. She wondered what the mothers and fathers of the other fourteen children were feeling and what concerns they would have.

Do you know anyone else who’s been invited to go? she asked.

Yeah, there’s a couple from the lower grades in my school. I don’t really know them, he answered, through the depleting gingerbread.

Well let me think about it, Mary said.

Aw, Mum. I’ve gotta go. You don’t get chances like this all the time.

Mary knew he was right. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. She just couldn’t bear the thought of her only son, her only family, away from the earth where she couldn’t protect him. It had been hard enough letting Jeremy go on a class excursion to Tasmania last year. At least then she could have jumped on a quick flight from Sydney and been there the same day if he needed her. But outer space? There was no question. She wouldn’t be able to follow.

*

Hey Connie. How are things on Cassini? Bet, you and Cam, love the new place and shiny new hospital. The photos you sent are just amazing, Marcela said, looking into the camera of her computer monitor.

The English born doctor of plant biology and horticulture was recording a message for her best friend, Constans Rijners. She’d been working with Constans, the blonde haired, Dutch, psychiatrist, for over fifteen years. They’d first met during Everjein’s initial off-world preparation project, Biojein. During that mission, they’d had to work in a hermetically sealed habitat in Antarctica. The goal was to win an international tender to build the first human colony on Titan, Saturn’s largest moon.

Marcela was in the process of packing up her laboratory for transport to Everjein’s facility on Titan to join other colleagues, including Constans. In her procrastination, she thought she’d send Constans a message from her office on Akkadia.

Akkadia was a space station that orbited the sun, halfway between Mars and Jupiter, on the other side of the asteroid belt. It had first been built to act as halfway point between earth and Titan. At the time the station was constructed a journey to Titan would have taken close to seven years. However now, with the advances in space propulsion, the trip from earth to the station only took thirty hours, and Titan another day and a half travel.

Due to the vast distances between Akkadia and Titan, Marcela couldn’t chat with Constans in real time. Messages that traveled at light speed took almost an hour and a half to be delivered. That would mean a three-hour wait for any return message.

Marcela continued her recording. I can’t wait to see everyone again. The shuttle from earth is due to pick me up in two weeks. If there’s anything you need me to bring from the station just send me a message. I might even be able to put in a special request to earth for supplies. But don’t worry ’cause I’ve already ordered a ton of chocolate. Anyway that’s all for now. Hope you’re keeping that ex-husband of mine in line. Talk soon. Bye. Marcela waved into the camera before hitting the send button.

She heard a knock at her office door and looked up to see Andre Carlyle craning his neck through the door.

Hi girl. Wanna grab some lunch?

Sounds like a good idea. She walked over to him and without warning flung her arms around his neck. I’m going to miss you so much.

Me too.

You mean so much to me you know, she sniffed.

I know. I know. I feel the same. Now get off me before I start crying, Andre said, choking back the tears.

Andre was Akkadia’s veterinarian scientist who looked after the large array of animals kept in the station’s zoo. The animal habitat had been setup with money from a multi-million dollar grant from not-for-profit Earth Preserve. The organization’s goal was to obtain and maintain a complete genomic record of all life on earth. In the event of a catastrophe, lost species could be restored via cloning. The main facility was kilometers underground in the Mexican desert where huge cryostasis chambers were employed to preserve biological specimens. Akkadia had been used as a backup repository. Akkadia’s zoo also had live animals from all over the earth. The facility had been setup with differently zoned climates, including a polar biome that housed a large, but friendly polar bear named Snooks.

Over the years, Marcela and Andre had worked on a number of collaborative projects combining her expertise in plants with his on animals. They’d experimented with transgenics and had numerous successes creating animals with plant like traits and vice versa. Through their work, they had become good friends. Initially Constans who’d had designs on Andre was quite jealous of Marcela’s relationship with the animal doctor, until she’d found out he was gay.

You have to promise to message me every day, he insisted.

I promise, she said taking his arm, and not looking behind at the chaos in her office as they went to lunch.

*

Thank the gods it was almost 9pm. Dr. Myles Baillie found his days harrowing enough, but Thursdays were the most tormenting. Now he’d finished with his last patient, he could go home. Not that his empty apartment was any more inviting than his consultation room. It was just that there were fewer ghosts there.

Ever since he’d agreed to work with the patients the Space Commission was sending him, life had taken on a different meaning. The kids he’d been seeing in his psychotherapy practice were indeed troubled, and what the doctors at the Space Commission were asking him to do bordered on unethical. He had to admit they were paying him handsomely for his services. As long as he could stay on the right side of the psychiatrist’s code of professional conduct he’d be okay.

I’ll see you tomorrow Janice, he said as he waved goodnight to his receptionist.

Goodnight Dr. Baillie. Only five more days to go! she exclaimed.

He stopped on his way to the door and leaned on her desk. I know. Can you believe it? Who’d have thought I’d be going into outer space.

We’ll miss you around here. Janice looked teary.

Oh, you’ll be fine, he said dismissively. Dr. Tompkins will do an excellent job filling in for me.

Six months just seems like a long time, she sighed.

It’ll be over before you know it. Probably go way faster for me though, he beamed. I just hope I don’t get space sick.

You know you don’t do yourself any favors, Duty Sergeant Lynda Wilde said, addressing the wildly dressed gypsy woman standing in the reception of the Melbourne Metropolitan station.

What are you talking about? Gwen Page asked.

Dressing like that. It’s a little cliché for a psychic isn’t it?

Psychic Detective thank you, she corrected putting her hands on her hips.

Well, whatever you are, jeered Lynda. You really believe in this stuff?

You don’t I take it?

Not really. Haven’t seen a case yet solved by … um … whatever it is you do.

Parapsychology.

Yeah right. But I guess someone must, otherwise you wouldn’t be here right?

Gwen nodded. She was used to the skeptics in her line of work. When meeting such people it didn’t matter how she tried to defend her profession and back it up with the successes she’d had, they just didn’t want to know. However, it was ironic how the same people who would swear blind that spirits, telepathy, mediums and other such things were bogus, could so easily be scared of the dark and wouldn’t be found dead having to spend the night in a supposedly haunted house.

You can come in now Ms. Page, Lynda instructed, buzzing open the security door to let the psychic into the back of the station.

Lynda ushered Gwen down a long corridor and passed a number of open plan work areas where uniformed and plain clothed police were working. When they reached the far end, Lynda knocked on the door of the room labeled with a plaque that read, Meeting Room 3.

A middle aged slim man answered the door with a smile. He wore a crumpled white shirt with purple pinstripes, a brown tie and matching brown corduroy pants. His black hair was combed back revealing a short widow’s peak.

Hi, Gwen?

Yes.

Dr. Arden Bradford. Please come in, he said after shaking Gwen’s hand and thanking Lynda for bringing Ms. Page.

As she entered the room, Gwen saw a prominent looking gentleman with thick grey hair wearing a smart grey suit. He was sitting on the other side of a large table surrounded by eight chairs. Arden introduced him as Peter Willows, General Secretary of the Space Exploration Commission.

Thank you for meeting with us Ms. Page, Willows said, leaning across the conference table to shake hands. Have a seat. It was gracious of the Met to provide us with a meeting space for the interviews today. The decorative metal coins of her belt jangled as her whole body shook under Willows gusto.

Gwen took a seat and insisted the men refer to her by her first name.

If you don’t mind me saying … Gwen, you are the first psychic we’ve spoken to today, who actually looks like one, Arden laughed.

Gwen gave him a wry smile. She knew she wasn’t the only psychic detective they were interviewing today. Although law enforcement internationally tended to deny the use of psychics, when it came to investigations Gwen knew more were contracted to help solve cases than the public was led to believe. Of course, there was the fair share of charlatans in the business that gave her profession a bad name but there were also those who were highly skilled. Gwen didn’t like to blow her own trumpet, but she considered herself one of the latter.

So how may I be of assistance Mr. Willows, Mr. Bradford?

Gwen, we are in need of the services of … how can I put this? Someone with your supposed abilities, Willows began.

Supposed? Gwen had identified another skeptic.

Yes, we require someone who can act as a medium, Arden added.

Gwen sat back in her chair. Well, I don’t think I can help you there. I thought you were after a parapsychological investigation of a crime. I’m afraid I don’t do the whole contacting dead relatives thing. She stood up to leave, considering her trip into the city to have been a waste of time.

Arden and Willows swapped stern expressions.

Gwen, if you’d just hear us out, Arden insisted, gesturing for Gwen to retake her seat.

After considering both men, warily she sat down.

As you may well appreciate Ms. Page, others who proclaim to have skills in your profession simply do not. We’ve met with a number of people this morning who all assert they have psychic abilities, but none with the track record you have, informed Willows. At least with respect to forensic investigation. And while it is true we aren’t after an investigator as such, undoubtedly your skills are transferable to other spiritual pursuits?

With all due respect Mr. Willows, no single psychic has such generic skills. Clairvoyance is just one type. Just like everyone has the five senses of sight, touch, hearing, smell and taste, the field of ESP is comprised of a similar set of psychic versions. For example, clairvoyance is seeing, clairsentient - feeling, clairaudient - hearing, clairalience - smelling and clairgustance – tasting. She folded her arms across her chest.

So what type of skill does a medium have then? asked Arden truly fascinated.

Claircognizance.

Clear Knowledge, announced Willows translating from the French.

Gwen nodded in agreement impressed by Willows’ understanding.

And you Gwen? Where do your skills lie? enquired Arden.

I have clairvoyant and clairsentient abilities, Gwen declared.

So you sense things by seeing and feeling? Arden asked.

That’s right.

So you can’t hear spirits then? Arden continued with his questions.

Yes. But it’s more than that. I have the ability to sense and read details about an object’s history by coming into contact with it. It’s called psychometry.

But you do this with people too, right?

I have. But not often and I have never had a direct conversation with a spirit.

Arden looked questioningly at Willows who had a pensive expression on his face.

Your call Doctor, the big man indicated.

Ms. Page. I wonder if you wouldn’t mind undergoing a test for us, Arden suggested.

What kind of test? I don’t do parlor tricks Dr. Bradford, she said defensively.

Oh no, nothing like that.

Gwen considered the men cautiously.

We’d like to take you to Sydney for the weekend. All expenses paid. There’s someone we’d like you to meet.

Sydney? Well, I’m not …

Trust me, if this works out it will be very lucrative for you.

Gwen raised an eyebrow at Arden. Lucrative? How lucrative?

Willows took out his business card, scrawled a figure on the back and slid it across the table. Gwen, without picking it up could read the number. She hoped her mouth wasn’t hanging open as she thought about all she could do with that amount of money. Psychic detective work didn’t pay that well and jobs were few and far between. With this amount of money, she’d not have to worry about working again for a very long time.

So … if I come to Sydney you’re going to pay me this much?

No … we are going to pay you that much if you pass our test and agree to work for us.

Gwen sighed understanding she’d have to jump through some hoops for them.

Okay. When do we leave?

*

Dr. Kian Barret sat at his desk musingly looking at its electronic touch sensitive tabletop. On it was displayed a young man in his late twenties with thinning red hair, a mass of freckles over his unusually white skin and a large toothy smile. Below the image was written Dr. Peter Jones, 28, Embryologist, John Hopkins. He swiped at the image and text replaced the picture providing Barret with the man’s curriculum vitae. Dr. Jones certainly had impressive credentials. He’d studied medicine at Yale and gone on to add a Ph.D. from John Hopkins. Last year he won the Wolfe Prize in medicine, the third most-prestigious medical award after the Nobel Prize and the Lasker Award. The Wolfe Prize had been awarded for his innovative and critical contributions to the understanding of chromosome structure and behavior in DNA resequencing for transgenesis in human embryos.

As Barret was an accomplished embryologist and obstetrician he knew Dr. Jones’ award meant he’d discovered how to successfully integrate traits from one living organism into another of a different species, namely human. For such a young man, this was quite an achievement. He knew that his ex-wife Marcela and the veterinarian, Andre, on Akkadia had been experimenting with transgenics on plants and small animals, and had much success. Experimenting on humans, however, was an altogether different ball game as there were many legal restrictions surrounding the ethics of such work. Where once restraints had been placed on human DNA experimentation and resequencing, the laws were becoming more relaxed. In the late 2020’s, when it had been revealed that DNA resequencing of a fetus in the womb could eradicate disorders such as Huntington’s disease, cystic fibrosis and muscular dystrophy, the floodgates had opened to allow laboratories with special clearance to begin experimentation. Barret’s interest in human transgenics had begun long ago when he was the lead scientist for Everjein’s Biojein project. Tasked with developing a protocol to speed up human reproduction by shortening the gestation period, he’d been able to produce fully-grown babies, from conception to birth in four months. His method had involved the use of human growth and other hormones that were injected into the mother. Transgenics at the time were illegal.

He’d had a long time away from his research work since he became CEO of Everjein following the death of his former employer, Thomas Burlington. The running of the company had left him little time to spend in the lab. But now that they had Cassini, their new habitat on Titan with a spectacular hospital and research facility, he’d appointed an executive manager to run the business so he could return to his first love; medical research.

He now found himself mulling over applicants for the many employment openings they had for doctors at Cassini. From what he was reading about Dr. Peter Jones, he certainly would make an excellent addition to the team.

Barret felt his cuff communicator vibrate. Looking at the small display on the slim silver band around his wrist, he could see that Cameron Grayson, forensic scientist and his best friend, was trying to contact him.

Cam. What’s up? he said, pressing the cuff to accept the call.

Feel like a game of tennis later?

Sure. Anything to get me away from reading resumes. Don’t tell me Constans has let you off the leash, he chuckled.

Yeah, very funny. Don’t let her hear you say that.

Geez I can’t tell you how many people’s profiles I’ve looked over today.

How’s it going? Found some good ones?

Quite a few, yes. Looks like we might need to bring up two shuttles from earth just to fit everyone in the next trip.

He heard Cam laugh.

Well, you could always change your mind about all the school kids. Replace them with some real scientists.

Yeah right. Like I need Peter Willows on my back. He insisted we needed to … reach out to the community, mentor the next generation, bullshit … bullshit. You know how overbearing he is. But if you’d like to contact him and tell him it’s a bad idea I won’t stop you, Barret grinned.

I think I’d rather put up with a bunch of teenagers, said Cam.

Good choice.

*

Gwen could not believe Willows’ and Arden’s generosity. She had been picked up at the airport by a limousine and conveyed to The Westin in central Sydney, where she was given a spa suite. They had arranged to meet Gwen in the hotel restaurant for dinner, after which she’d be given … the test.

Not wishing to disappoint them with her attire for the evening, Gwen had opted for a long flowing red velvet dress with crisscross ties up the back and draping, Queen Guinevere type medieval sleeves. She wore her waist length blonde and red streaked hair loose, letting it fall naturally into soft ringlets down her back.

Walking into the restaurant, she found Willows, Arden and two others, already seated at a large round table. Arden introduced the middle-aged man as Dr. Myles Baillie and the teenage boy as Joe Little.

Arden purposefully withheld information about Myles profession and the inclusion of Joe at the table. He didn’t want to influence any future conversations with Gwen by giving her too much information. If anything, he assumed Gwen would take Myles and Joe as father and son, not in their real capacities of therapist and patient.

As she shook the boy’s hand, she felt an abrupt jolt of electricity shoot up her arm and dissipate down her back. She did her best to hide the reaction. Understanding the psychic energy was coming from the boy she tried to interpret the feelings. It was a muddle of rage, confusion and hopelessness. Not unusual from a teenager, but she also sensed a horror the likes of which she’d picked up before, from items belonging to murder victims. In her mind’s eye, she had flashes of a digital clock with a cracked face submerged in water.

Closing her eyes, the terror of death overwhelmed her. She felt anxiety and bewilderment, futility and loss. While she perceived the feelings came from the boy, they didn’t belong to him. She could sense they were repressed and locked away.

Arden shot a knowing glance at Willows when they witnessed Gwen’s reaction. Myles nodded at Arden before pulling the boy back into his seat and breaking the connection between Joe and Gwen.

Nice to meet you, Gwen said, smiling sweetly pushing the feelings back and taking a seat. She stared at Joe for a short while, looking for the anguish she expected to find in his face. But there was none.

A waiter quickly approached her placing a linen napkin on her lap and asking if she’d like a drink, then he took their dinner orders. She ordered an orange juice, not wanting to impair her psychic abilities with alcohol before taking the test, and the grilled calamari salad. The three older men ordered steaks and Joe asked for fish and chips.

So Ms. Page, Arden tells me you are a psychic investigator, Myles led into the conversation.

Yes that’s right Dr. Baillie.

Both agreed from that moment to address each other by their first names.

Have you been involved in any case we might have heard about? Myles asked.

Gwen thought through the numerous investigations she’d undertaken in order to pinpoint one that would highlight her credentials. Given they were also having dinner she didn’t want to horrify them with details of any gruesome murders she had worked on.

Do you remember the disappearance of Timothy Harrows a couple of years ago?

Willows, Arden and Joe shook their heads. Myles cocked his head to one side in thought.

Oh, yes I think I do, Myles started. He went missing after a night out with his friends in Sydney. He was only a teenager, right? Hold on, wasn’t he getting married or something?

Yes, that’s him. Barry Hart. He was twenty-two and went missing from Kings Cross, she began, checking she had her audience’s attention. He was out on his bucks’ night with his friends. After a drunken party, they put him on a bus to Melbourne … or at least that’s what they thought, and that’s what they told the police. Of course, his bride was beside herself. The police could find no record of Barry on any of the buses that had departed for Melbourne that night.

Gwen took a sip of her orange juice.

I received a personal call from Barry’s frantic fiancé, Kim, a couple of days later. She pleaded with me to help. Of course, I told her that I only work on crimes involving death and usually require an item of clothing or a possession of the deceased that was on them at the time of death. I’d never worked on a missing person case and didn’t think I could help her.

Joe was eagerly leaning across the table staring at Gwen. She could see he was into her story. The other men looked intrigued but were playing it cool, not giving anything away by their body language, sitting back in their chairs.

So? Did you help Kim? asked Joe fervently.

Gwen nodded in the middle of a swallow. Reluctantly I did.

Reluctantly? asked Myles.

Yes. Because I’d not worked on a case like this before. But Kim was insistent. The next day she even flew to Melbourne from Sydney to meet with me. She brought Barry’s pillowcase with her. Unwashed mind you. she laughed softly.

Did it help? Did you find him? Joe enquired.

Well … Gwen continued, not wanting to give the entire story away. After I held the pillowcase I got the sense of a man who was still alive but in great pain. I suggested he had red hair and a tattoo on his forearm. I wasn’t sure if the man I could sense was Barry, so I asked Kim, who up to that point had said nothing. She confirmed that Barry had red hair and a tattoo. Focusing further on the pillowcase I sensed Barry was trapped somewhere in a vehicle of some kind in thick bush or forest on the side of a steep hill. I also felt extreme cold like early morning frost or snow.

And so you told the police where to find Barry? Arden asked.

Gwen sat back in her chair. Well no, I didn’t have specific details. I couldn’t give them a map reference. But … Gwen raised a finger before anyone else could interrupt. I’d given Kim hope and she took the information to the police insisting they search further. The police started looking into other buses that operated from the same terminal. As it turned out, Barry’s mates, in their drunken stupor, had put him on the wrong bus and he’d immediately fallen asleep on the back seat. He’d ended up on a tourist bus going into the Blue Mountains. It was a sole operator company, and no one had reported the bus missing. Apparently it had been heading up to Wentworth Falls in the Blue Mountains. It had been snowing and the bus driver couldn’t handle the road. The vehicle had careered off the road and down a steep embankment. The driver and all but three passengers were killed. Barry and his fellow survivors were pinned in the wreckage.

Wow. That’s so cool, Joe said sitting back into his chair.

Very impressive, offered Myles.

Willows and Arden nodded agreeably at each other.

After they’d finished dinner and the plates had been cleared Willows gave Arden his approval to start the formal part of the evening. Arden took out his flexiCom™ and tapped away on the screen. Gwen was feeling nervous. Not because she wasn’t sure of her abilities, but because there was potentially a colossal windfall for her should she snag the job. She wasn’t ruled by money but couldn’t deny, having it would make life a whole lot more comfortable.

Now Ms. Page, we noticed you got a reading from Joe here when you first met.

Gwen blushed not knowing if she’d given something away that she shouldn’t have by reacting to the boy’s energy the way she had.

We’d like for you to tell us what you sensed from … about him.

Gwen took a deep breath and held it in for a while to calm her nerves before exhaling loudly through her mouth. She looked across at the quizzical expression on Joe’s face as he waited to hear her