Free Human by Hayley Camille Page A

its distinctive shape each year. The receiver was constantly upgraded with cutting-edge technology and remained a vital tool for astronomers. Decades of achievement hung in the visitor centre, complete with educational theatres and paraphernalia for tourists. As an added bonus, sightseers could even ogle the giant rotating dish from below, over a cup of coffee and sandwich from the café.
    Primarily, the dish was used to measure the radio energy produced naturally by stars, galaxies and clouds of gas and dust within the universe. Tracking and receiving the data sent by space probes was a minor directive, as well as receiving radio transmissions from space craft during exploration missions. A team of twenty engineers and astronomers lived and breathed its glory, 24 hours a day, every day of the year.
    Neil dropped his polished silver cigarette lighter into his pocket; the engraved nautical helm wheel on its front caught the red afternoon glare. Underneath was a single engraved word, Benjamin. Neil bypassed the straggling holiday makers as they shuffled back to their cars, ready to resume their journeys along the epic Newell highway linking Queensland to Victoria. Neil always preferred this time of day. The sun was setting a rich red across dead-flat sheep paddocks. A hot wind blew through the dry grass toward the distant Goobang Range and kangaroos dotted the horizon. He drew on his cigarette one last time, heeling it on the pavement.
    Dimitri and Cassandra were waiting for him in the observers’ quarters. Dimitri was attacking his laptop with lightning fingers, still trying to resurrect the corrupted files. Cassandra paced the small living room flicking her shower of ebony hair as she turned. Her blue eyes were glued to the monstrous, polished white dish dominating the window frame. She startled as Neil strode in, loudly discarding his overnight bag to the tiles.
    “Chill out Cass,” Dimitri murmured. “You’ll wear a hole in the carpet.” After a wary glance at Neil, the younger man resumed his focus punching keys.
    Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “You can talk Dimi. Christ, passive-aggressive tendencies perhaps?”
    Neil studied the younger man's tense shoulders bent furiously into his work and the sweat shining from his pores. Good.
    Cassandra turned to Neil. “So how did we get in here so fast? I thought the La Trobe team were working on the Pulsar Timing Array.” Her smooth voice failed to hide an undercurrent of apprehension.
    Neil moved to the centre of the small room, demanding Dimitri's attention. “I pulled some strings Ms Chevalier. Damn expensive ones. So you’d both better make this happen. Yanking the PTA team out will raise questions – and piss them off.” Neil's ‘Target of Opportunity’ proposal had overridden scheduled observations, effectively cutting out their competition. The proposal was rarely used. It had been created solely for situations where astronomical events of extraordinary scientific interest cropped up unexpectedly. I’d class this as extraordinary. “We’ve got the Dish for the next 5 days – no questions asked, under the Time Critical Clause – but it won’t last.” Neil scowled, to emphasize his point.
    “Data Proprietary?” As chief number cruncher, Dimitri was all about data security.
    “No deal. Cutting the scheduled observations kills our right to the eighteen-month period of data privacy. Whatever we learn here will be open to the public in seven days. Hell, what does it matter, in a few days it’ll be all over the news, anyway.”
    “ We’ll be all over the news…” Cassandra began.
    Neil met her assumption with silence and a clenched jaw. Correction – I’ll be all over the news. Cassandra’s eyes flashed at the unspoken reproach. Her sycophantic facade returned.
    “So when can we get in there, Director ?”
    As distracted as he was with this mess, Neil still considered watching Cassandra a leisure pursuit. A few days stuck here and she might be