by Calinda B
“That’s news to me, but okay. They don’t tell me much.” I feign indifference. “How’s your girlfriend?”
“What?” He scowls. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Right,” I say. “What do you call it?”
“I call it none of your business. Now, would you like to find out why I’m here?” His hands find their way to his hips, making him look every bit like Commander Blüthe.
“Sure,” I say, shrugging.
“When are you out? Tomorrow?” The day after?” As usual, he emanates no vibratory signature. No warmth, no anxiety, no need, no excitement—nothing.
“Today.” I cock my head and narrow my eyes. “Why?”
“Come to my office tomorrow. I’ll send an escort. You are not going out alone, day or night.”
“Oh, right,” I scoff. “Like you’re going to watch out for me? I’m the only one who’s got my back…except for Reve.”
He sniffs in a sharp breath. “I can see that, Miss Borren. In any case, would it be too much for you to meet with me tomorrow? During the day, of course. And with an escort. I vow to never let you go anywhere on this Complex on my behalf without protection.”
My eyes narrow, and I study him. “Uh, sure, I guess. I’ll have to see how I feel in the morning, but if I feel as good as I do today, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
He nods. “Good. I’ll see you then. Eleven hundred hours?”
“I guess. Sure.”
“Get some good rest today,” he says.
“Fine,” I say.
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll call first.”
“Okay, you do that,” I say. As uncomfortable as I was around him before, I want the old Thras back—the man with the charm and winning smile. This formal guy is too much to take. “Anything else?”
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Appears to think for a second. Then he says, “I’m really glad you’re all right. If I could take back the invitation to my office, I’d do it. I’ve berated myself a thousand times for being responsible for what happened to you. I…” His voice emerges strained and tight.
It’s the first sign of any emotion I’ve ever seen on him. A burst of laughter threatens to emerge. I stifle it, and cough, instead.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” With another nod, he turns on his heel and strides from the room.
I’m left with nothing but questions and confusion--and the driving need to escape the Complex, and planet Lorn.
Chapter 16
I’m escorted to Thras’ office by two armed guards, and then told to wait for him.
“Wait here,” one of them says. “Don’t move. We’ll be right outside the door.”
Standing here, alone, my head wrapped in a gray scarf, I’m tense, the way I’d be if I were about to be executed.
Should I sit? Stand here, barely inside the door? Snoop around and see what I can find out about the man?
That thought intrigues me. I sidle toward his desk, keeping my eye on the open door. Knowing the guards are just outside, I have to be as quiet as possible.
A schedule screen rests on top of his glistening desk. I glance at the door. Satisfied no one is watching, I move a little closer to the desk. I crane my neck…and read, Sakhi Borren, eleven hundred hours. Send escort.
I huff out a sigh. That’s nothing interesting. I extend my finger, hoping to swipe it to the next display but when I pivot my head to check the door, there stands Thras. My hand jerks back as if burned.
Damn. Not only is he void of emotional readings, he’s stealthy.
He enters, pressing the controls to the door. It slides shut with a swoosh. He strides to his desk, glances at the schedule reader, and glowers at me. He picks it up and shoves it in a drawer on top of something silvery and circular.
“Good morning, Miss Borren,” he says. “Have a seat.”
My stomach seems to plummet into my legs. This is worse than being caught for stealing grapes. “Good morning, I, uh…”
He folds his hands in front of him on the glass top. He eyes my scarf. “Personal adornment is not allowed on the Complex. Only Uni-issued uniforms. Get rid of the head-wrap.”
“But…” I say, my cheeks in flames, as I sink onto the Smuntine chair.
“Off. Now.”
Swamped with shame, I unwind the long drape of fabric.
He inhales deeply, closing his eyes for the briefest instance.
Is this guy weird or what?
I stare at my nipped off fingernails, horrified at sitting here, being seen like this. It’s one thing to be in a Uni-med bed where you’re supposed to look horrible, but now I’m in citizen territory.
“Let’s get down to business, shall we? As you may have heard, we need to make adjustments here.” He swipes his hand through the air and a holo-screen display appears. He pushes the display until he’s satisfied with the images of maps hovering in the air.
“Here, where?” I ask.
I stare at the diagrams and maps hanging like clouds in the sky.
“The Complex,” he says. “Surely you’ve heard of the rising conflicts. The riots—it’s to be expected,” he says, as if to himself. His gaze skims the ceiling then back to me. “We’re taking measures to stop any uprisings.”
“Measures? What kind of measures?”
That’s what Paki told me about my future if I didn’t cooperate. I swallow, hard, and realize I’m sitting at the edge of my seat. I make no move to relax, anxious about what’s coming next.
“The kind to protect the citizens and punish the criminals. Make no mistake, Miss Borren…” He pierces me with his gorgeous, mixed-color gaze. “No one, and I mean no one will get away with this kind of behavior.”
This new formal Thras freaks me out. A sweaty sheen breaks out along my skin.
“What kind of behavior are we talking here?” I ask, my attention now aimed at my lap. It was so easy to be bold in the Uni-med and talk all tough and trashy to my brother. Here? Not so much.
“I’m sure you know. I have no doubt your brother informed you,” he says. “More of the same. Metas against Humans.”
His words cut through me. I lift my head.
He cracks his knuckles. A vein throbs in his neck.
But there’s still nothing emanating from him that I can sense.
He brings his hand to his lips and strokes them slowly, his eyes peering through narrow slits. He holds my gaze for what seems like a lifetime.
A mixture of impulses storms through my body—things like rage, terror, and acute longing--but they’re not coming from him. They’re mine, all mine.
“So.” He gets to his feet and swivels the display so I can see the maps and diagrams.
Then, he strides behind me and stands, the heat from him warming my back.
My shoulders tighten. At least he has a core temperature. I don’t know whether to sink into his warmth, or lean away from him. Instead, I sit with a rigid back.
“Both the Uni and governing body of Ama Seldova have approached me about unification tactics here at the Complex. I’ve been asked to lead a council of selected Humans and Metas to see what we can do to get back on track.” He leans forward, his body millimeters from mine as he points at one of the maps.
An earthquake shakes my spine. I’m sure he felt it. The fabric of these stupid uniforms is so flimsy, and he’s so close, we may as well be skin to skin. If he asks me why I shivered, I’ll tell him it’s my medication.
“But,” he says, “there will be a Complex-wide vote. The Metas and Humans will decide who is to represent them moving forward. That in itself will be the first act of unification. It will also serve as a distraction to the fighting. People love an ‘us versus them’ kind of game. And, I’ll have a wicked opponent--I’ll be pitted against Talon Wiesner, a ruthless Human politician.”
“Wow,” I say, my eyes closing from the nearness of him.
“We’ll start by campaigning these divisions.” He indicates a couple maps hovering mid-air. “This is where the con
flict is the greatest. We have to contain it before it spreads throughout the Complex. We’ll need a new regime of enforcers to squash the violence. And the election will pull their minds in other directions.”
“So…why am I here then?” His warmth draws my limbs into supple surrender.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he says.
My eyes pop open. “Not to me.”
“You’ll be mine,” he says.
My breath catches.
“Yours?” I say, blinking.
Could he be…?
He withdraws, stepping to my front. The absence of warmth is abrupt, like the window left open to a blizzard. Without thinking, I rub my arms.
Thras allows a puzzled glance to appear, then he kills it with his usual stone-face.
“I indicated to you before that I trust you.” He paces back and forth. “I need an assistant, Miss Borren. You’ll be mine.”
Of course, I think, but the disappointment stings.
“Why me?” I blurt. “Why not Naazira?”
“She’s being used for other things,” he says. He stops, his hands falling to his sides.
“I’ll bet,” I say, my mouth twisting into a sneer.
“Do you have a problem with what I do with my staff?” he asks.
“Only if it violates the Complex code,” I glare at him.
He lets out a small laugh. “Oh, I’ve missed your saucy retorts, Miss Borren.”
I’m confused—I didn’t think he even liked me. “Anything for your amusement, sir.”
His laugh grows louder.
“Such a delight.” He shakes his head and stone-face reappears. His hands resume the death grip behind his back as he continues to pace. “This will have to be kept a secret, Miss Borren. No one, and I mean no one, can hear of this.” He turns to face me squarely. “Especially not your brother.”
I inhale sharply.
“You’ll maintain your regular work hours with the Eleven. After hours, you’ll work with me. And, I may call you into my office when needs require. You mustn’t tell a soul. Not any of your workmates.” The look he gives me is intense, as if he’s about to fit a giant key in my lock and twist it tight.
My heart jitters and jumps, like it’s about to shoot from my throat. “But, surely they’ll be suspicious. They already thought I was getting preferential treatment from you.”
“We’ll make it look like your role in the grafting research requires you to meet with me. I think no one will be the wiser.”
“Okay,” I breathe.
“No one must know. Am I understood?” His lips form a grim line.
“Yes, sir,” I say, my voice all shaky and weird. How can I not share with my brother? Then I recall lying to him in the hospital. I sigh.
“You’ll be given new quarters closer to mine.”
I want to groan and throw back my head, but instead, I stoically nod. “I see.”
And I’ll be despised by the Eleven which will make my life harder than it already is.
“And if we’re lucky, even you might learn a thing or two about getting along with Metas.” He drives home the sentence with a glare. “Do you think you’re capable of that?”
“Who in particular are we talking about?” I say, picturing my controlling dream man.
“While you were hospitalized I heard a lot of gossip about you. I quickly put an end to it.” His jaw works side to side. “People seem to think you’re important to me.”
“I see,” I say, confused to be disappointed. “I still don’t understand why you want me to do the job. I’m sure there are others far more qualified. What about Kipp? Or Daylon? They seem shrewd.”
“You’re my choice, Miss Borren. You’re perfectly capable for what I have in mind.”
Capable. What, like a tool?
“And what exactly is it that you have in mind?” I blurt, before I can reel myself in. “The same thing you’re doing with Naazira?”
I slight smile plays at the corners of his lips. “Oh, Miss Borren. You seem rather preoccupied with what I do when I’m not at work. Would you like to see for yourself?” His grin grows wider. “I could show you.”
My head whips back and forth. “No. That won’t be necessary.”
“Are you certain? You might be surprised.” He lets out a delightful laugh.
Damn, the man is sexy when he’s at ease. Strike that—he’s sexy, period.
“No, sir,” I stammer, staring holes in my lap.
“Pity.” He steps toward his desk, opens a drawer, and retrieves a pile of documents. “This could mean an Ambassador role in the Ama Seldova once the experiment is over. I don’t need to tell you—this is a very important assignment.” He extends the pile of Uni-stamped documents to me.
“You’ll need to sign this confidentiality statement.” He thumbs through the sheets. “Sign here, here, and here. Fingerprints go here.”
I scan the documents, loaded with legal-eze. I read statements like, “This Agreement shall not be construed as creating, conveying, transferring, granting, or conferring upon the Recipient any rights…” and “If there is a breach or threatened breach of any provision of this Agreement, it is agreed and understood that the person signing this agreement shall be terminated and taken into custody for due process.”
Do I even have a choice in the matter?
I pick up a heavy Uni-pen from his desk and pause.
“Is there a problem? This is an outstanding opportunity, Miss Borren,” Thras says. “Isn’t that what you want?”
Why is everyone obsessed with what I want?
I lift my gaze and study him, head cocked. Once more, we share a long stare. It evokes a state of utter turmoil inside.
Finally, I let out a deep, ragged sigh and scribble my name, adding Citizen 22395 at the end.
Thras nods, gathers up the documents, and puts them in his desk drawer. He presses his thumb against the drawer and the whir and clink of a lock sliding into place issues forth.
He presses the center of his palm and says, “Klevon. Deacon. Miss Borren is ready to be shown to her quarters.”
I stand, whirling toward the door and then back to Thras. “But I…my things…my brother.”
“What did you just sign?” Thras asks me, back to his formal, stern self. His hands sweeps the air, erasing all the diagrams and maps.
“A confidentiality agreement but…” My mind is racing, frantic to get word to my brother.
“And what did you agree to?” he says.
“To not tell anyone. But he depends on me. I cook for him every night.” I’m flooded with guilt, hurt, and fear. I had no idea I’d be moved so soon.
“He’s a big boy, Miss Borren. There are cafes everywhere, plus, he’s been given the same stipend as you, am I right?” He gets to his feet, standing with formality.
Should I salute, asshole?
“Yes, I guess, but…”
“No buts about it. Any idiot can heat a pre-packed meal.”
I bolt to my feet. “You don’t know what we’ve been through! He depends on me!”
Thras lifts his eyes to mine and gives me a cool, assessing glare. “You may not discuss anything with your brother. Not a thing. Do you hear me?”
“Yes,” I snap, rage pouring from my eyes.
How can I cook for him and not share anything?
“Good. You’re dismissed. I have other concerns to see to today.” He drops his gaze and studies something on his desk.
I guess the escape plan has taken a turn.
Like my near-rape assault, like the war, like living on the streets with Reve, my life has been transformed again by things I don’t agree to, things out of my control. Is there ever any choice to my life? If there were, I’d be running away with my dream stalker to destinations unknown.
Chapter 17
A violent lighting storms flashes in the distance as I gaze out the window of my new dwelling, waiting for my brother to unleash his storm. While it’s a stark desert environment outside, it beats t
he monotony of our gray and white surroundings. Reve’s voice through the holo-image is icy-calm, yet the rage is evident.
“I see,” Reve says. “Your whole team got a promotion to new lodgings. Why couldn’t you tell me before I made an ass of myself outside your door and had to be escorted by segif-toting guards to my floor?”
“It happened so fast,” I say, squirming inside my rather luxurious surroundings. “I didn’t have a chance to call.”
“Uh-huh,” he says. “So you got out of the Uni-med yesterday morning and this evening you’re living somewhere else. And your entire team of Eleven got promoted on the same day. I don’t believe you. On the way to your floor I passed those two Meta assholes on your team, Kipp and Daylon, emerging from their apartments. When I asked where you were, they said they hadn’t seen you since before your attack.”
“I can explain,” I say. “I have dinner for you,” I add, hoping I have supplies.
“It’s kind of late,” he says, but I can hear the hesitancy in his voice. Food always wins with Reve.
I open the Uni-cooler in my spacious Smuntine, glass and concrete kitchen.
Good. Greens and indistinguishable ground meat.
I pull a few food items out and place them on the counter. “Your meal is waiting.”
“All right,” he grumbles. “Where are you?”
When I tell him, he grouses. “Oh, right. You’re in a suite now. Fucking hell.”
“It wasn’t my idea!” I blurt.
“Who’s was it, then?” he asks.
I fall silent.
“Did I lose you? Sis? Sakhi? Are you there? Hey, talk to me.” He pauses, waiting for me to answer.
I’m completely tongue-tied. There’s nothing I can say to him that won’t incriminate me.
“Damn, she’s being weird,” he mutters, before disconnecting.
A short time later, a whooping alarm sounds in my room. It sounds like the kind of bomb alerts we heard on Wreston during the P-extinction war. Instinctively, I crouch in the corner.
“Citizen 22395…intruder alert. Citizen 22395…intruder alert. Citizen 29143 is attempting to breach your living quarters,” a voice booms through my room.