Elite (Citizen Saga, Book 1) Page 3

  And that was it. That was all I could do. The blackness encroached as I slowly slid sideways, thankfully landing on my good shoulder as unconsciousness took hold.

  For the first time in ten years I felt at peace. Even though I knew it was artificial and would end all too soon.

  As it happens, it was over far quicker than even I suspected, but then how would I know? I'd been out cold until some enterprising individual pulled my shoulder back into its socket and sent me screaming up off the floor and practically to the ceiling.

  "Easy, Elite," a familiar drawl met my ears. "Anyone would think you're a pansy."

  "Tan," I managed, rolling to a sitting position, sucking in much needed air and gingerly testing the movement in my fingers, wrist and shoulder.

  "Slow rotations," he instructed. "You'll pop it back out again if it's not secured first."

  "I am not wearing a sling," I grumbled. "Where's Aiko?"

  A shadow passed over his hawk-like features. Lee Tan had a long face, hooked nose and very un-Wáikěinese-like blue eyes in an otherwise stock Wáikěinese body. Courtesy of his unknown father. We think he might have been an Elite, but Tan's mother wasn't squealing.

  "She dosed up," he said softly. No drawl. No quip. Just the cold, hard face of Wánměi. I didn't groan out loud, but internally I was dismayed.

  "How long's it been?" I asked, as I lumbered to my feet. Tan hadn't had a chance to bandage my ankle yet, he'd only dealt with the most pressing injury, so the sharp stab of pain when I went to bear weight made me gasp. He immediately wrapped a muscular arm around my waist and helped me back into my sparse lounge.

  Most Elite lived in opulence. I had the requisite luxury, but pared back to a minimalist look. Even then I preferred my home in Wáikěiton. You'd think it was the lack of a Shiloh unit, but it was the bare floors and worn furniture that made my Wáikěiton home so appealing. Overstuffed lush couches, modern crystal lampshades and extravagant marble statues just didn't hold the same desire.

  "Long enough for it to send her into a tailspin," Tan replied, as he lowered me onto the white couch.

  Black and white were in vogue. My hair met that current trend. With so many restrictions in our lives, we embraced colour. The Overseers let us have that one indulgence. Probably because they thought it would keep us quiet.

  Tan turned and retrieved his med bag, pulling out crepe wrap. With all our technological advancement, we still hadn't mastered healing soft tissue injuries. Invasive surgery, however, and anything to do with laser technology, we'd made leaps and bounds in.

  Just my bad luck I'd sprained an ankle and not been blasted in the stomach.

  "Why?"

  "Why do you think, Lena?" he shot back. "She has to test tomorrow or the sPol will pay her a visit. And there's no replica left."

  "She could have had one of mine," I offered.

  "You do enough for us. Besides," he added, deftly strapping my sprain while he talked, "you've got enough on your plate with the celebration coming up."

  Funny how a word could mean something exciting to someone and then something horrific to another. To General Chew-wen it was undoubtedly a celebration. To me it was the anniversary of my father's death.

  "No dodging testing for that one, Carr. You'll have to take a hit or two before the date yourself. You know how the first dose can send you sideways after a long break."

  "I was planning on tricking the system," I half-heartedly advised.

  "Right at the Palace. Nice one. I'd pay good money to see you pull that off."

  It was a thought. Taking Tan as my date. I was allowed a "plus one" to the event. Of course, they expected me to entertain my own kind and not an average Citizen. But there were no Elites I trusted, let alone felt anything stronger than apathy towards. Lemmings. Sheep. Robotic, pre-programmed fauns.

  Safe in their convictions. Safe in Wánměi's doctrine. Safe at the top of the food chain.

  "I'll let you know when my invite arrives," I said with an over-beaming smile.

  Tan chuckled, seeing my act for what it was, as he zipped up his bag and sat back on the coffee table to survey me. His sharp, but disconcerting blue eyes scanned my face, and then impartially my body.

  "So? Did you get it?"

  "Have I ever failed?"

  He shook his head, a worried expression marring his striking face. "That's what I'm afraid of, Lena. You push so hard, one day it's going to be too much for the system to ignore."

  I shrugged my shoulders, wincing slightly at the dull ache that lingered in my injured side. I could take a painkiller; one thing Wánměi was good at was drugs. But I avoided them, like I avoided Elite parties.

  "What else is there to do?" I asked instead.

  Silence met my words. A statement I had often said before, but somehow it held weight right then. Tan sat still, not a muscle twitching, just held my gaze with an intense one of his own.

  "And you plan to do what with it?" he finally asked, but I got the impression it was not what he really wanted to know.

  I wondered if he was scared I'd bring danger to their door. He and Aiko harboured enough trouble helping me out from time to time. He worried for his sister, as much as he worried for me. But it was a different kind of concern. If he had to choose, Aiko would win. That didn't hurt me, if I'd had a brother or sister I would have felt the same.

  But there was just me.

  I had to ensure, though, that if my pastimes came under Overseer scrutiny the Tan siblings were clear of the fall-out. It was my choice to play the system. My gamble to take. Not theirs.

  "I haven't decided yet. An opportunity will present itself in due course," I declared convincingly.

  "I'm sure it will."

  "I may even have a buyer already," I offered, checking the outline of the thumb-drive in my vest.

  "Really?" Tan asked, eyebrows raised.

  "Competition at Wántel. They were too slow, of course."

  "Of course," Tan said doubtfully. "Did they see you?"

  "Couldn't avoid it, but I wouldn't have registered in iRec."

  "And now? Should they have reordered your image."

  "You are no fun, at all," I offered, a little more tersely than I'd meant.

  Tan lifted his hands, palm up in defeat.

  "It's your neck on the chopping block, Elite."

  Yeah. Yeah it was.

  Chapter 4

  This Woman, This Elite, Might Just Be The Death Of Me

  Trent

  "You're not going to believe this," Si announced, barging into my quarters without knocking.

  I could have complained. Thrown a fit and a fist. But everyone knew I wouldn't be entertaining. Not this close to the celebration.

  It was about the only time I didn't.

  "What have you got?" I asked, laying the vid-screen I'd been using down on the side of my bunk.

  "She walked into her apartment on Parnell Rise an hour ago. Plain as you like. Then simply disappeared."

  "What do you mean, disappeared?"

  "Her Shiloh went offline."

  I whistled. "Impressive."

  "I want one," Si advised.

  "One what?"

  "One of her."

  I snorted. "She'd eat you alive."

  "And you, boss?"

  "I just want what she's got in her hot little hands. She probably doesn't even know what it's for," I added, not believing that for a minute.

  "Yeah. And I'm General Chew-wen's long lost son," Si offered, then spun on his heel and left.

  I stared after his back, watching his natural blond hair flow out behind him. A rebellion that cost him his freedom on the streets. One look at his unapproved haircut and sPol would eliminate him. No questions asked. No warning. Simply put a bullet in his head and then check if his hair was real. Just as well Si never left the hub.

  I scrubbed a hand down my face. I was too tired to deal with this shit. Too worn out. Too disillusioned. Too trapped. What I wouldn't give to board a freighter and sail away to anoth
er world. What I wouldn't give to know that other world actually does exist, and not just a figment of a disgruntled Citizen's fervent imagination.

  My father had a lot to answer for. My current dilemma top of the list.

  I needed to get that flash-drive. Everything counted on it. But first, I needed to know more about the Honourable Selena Carstairs, and just how the hell she managed to ghost the system like she did.

  I stormed off the bed with renewed purpose, and strode into the tech room, finding Si with his feet up on the desk flicking through pictures of our quarry.

  He knew me so well.

  "Talk to me," I demanded.

  "Twenty-five years old, daughter of the late Honourable Calvin and Laura Carstairs. The last surviving descendant of the Carstairs line."

  "That would give her privileges others wouldn't receive," I offered.

  "A healthy stipend, for one," Si agreed. "Gotta look after the old families."

  "Lest we lose our way," Kevin added from the back of the room, where he spent most of his time, headphones on, listening in on sPol and iPol communications.

  And offering the odd sarcastic remark when called for.

  "So what's she doing playing cat-thief?" I mused aloud.

  "Could she be working for Chew-wen?" Si offered.

  "We have to assume that's possible," I acknowledged, however it didn't ring true. "But why would Chew-wen need to obtain that programme in such a way? Wouldn't he just demand Chen hand it over?"

  Silence met my words.

  "She doesn't make any sense," I said.

  "None of this makes any sense," Kevin offered.

  "She still at home?" I asked, and Si spun to stare up at me from his chair. A mischievous look on his face.

  "sPol hasn't picked up on her Shiloh as yet. Wanna play Cardinal?"

  "It's been a while," I said with a wry grin.

  "I'll tee you up," Si announced, a wicked glint to his eyes. "Just remember why you're doing this," he added over his shoulder, as though an afterthought.

  "What the fuck does that mean?" I snapped, falling for the trap way too easily.

  I was jumpy. On edge. In no fit state to play an Elite and get away with it.

  And yet, there was nothing that could stop me from going ahead with this poorly thought out plan. I wanted to face this woman. I wanted to look in her eyes and see if she resembled her father.

  I wanted to test her.

  Push her.

  Then maybe break her.

  And only then would I offer the hand of friendship and determine if she could be used to further our goals.

  Damn, I was more like my father than I cared to acknowledge. But rogue Elites were not to be entertained without due care.

  And if she was like every other Elite out there; superior, drugged, complacent and Wánměi minded, then I'd simply take the file she stole and move on.

  Nothing was more important than obtaining the codes to Sat-Loc. Getting sidetracked by an Elite was not in the plans. Our futures depended on me staying focused. Revenge, or whatever the hell this burgeoning obsession was, could wait. I had to remind myself she was a rogue Elite and nothing more.

  "You know what it means, Trent," Si replied reasonably, breaking into my turbulent thoughts.

  And I did know what Si meant. But I was so not going there with him tonight.

  "Just tee up the profile. I'll be in my room getting dressed."

  "Sure thing, boss," I heard him say as I stalked out, suddenly fit to throw a fist into a wall.

  I needed to get my head in the game. I needed to deal with this woman, stay focused, obtain those codes, and crack Wánměi's security stranglehold. Blow the whole thing sky high.

  And then maybe I'd call on Carla or Li Na or that sweet little thing down in the noodle shop. The way I was feeling right now, though, none of them appealed. And that realisation made me halt in my steps halfway down the hall to my room.

  I'd never gone for elegant and sophisticated, which I could only assume this Elite woman was. They were all refined and genteel, breathing that rarefied air up there, although her dive off Káitech could hardly be called the height of decorum. But brunettes who frequented Wáikěiton were more my style.

  The rogue was blonde. Actually, I think she might have been pure white. I flicked my vid-screen on as I walked into my room, swiping until I found the images Si had saved of her on that roof. I narrowed my eyes and cocked my head, enlarging the frame until I had a close-up shot of her tied back hair.

  An appreciative smile spread my lips. Aside from the obvious rebellion against model Citizen hairstyles, the Elite had died her hair in a somewhat socially acceptable, but entirely in-your-face colour combination. Pure white with black stripes.

  "A fucking zebra," I muttered through a small chuckle, as I donned the Cardinal uniform of cream pants and shirt, gold epaulettes and buttons, highly polished black shoes, with the flowing and distinctive red cape down the back. I checked my image in the mirror, running my fingers through my own messy dark hair. It could do with a cut. I was borderline tempting the sPol, another week and I wouldn't be compliant either.

  For this morning though, it would be enough. I didn't expect this Elite woman to check my appearance too closely. She'd be too worried about a Cardinal presence to think clearly at all. No one likes a Cardinal to turn up on your doorstep, and the Honourable Selena Carstairs was breaking more than a few Wánměi laws.

  I grabbed the ID card and contact lenses from Si's outstretched hand as I walked past, fully dressed and mind back on the game. His eyes remained steadfast on the screen displaying the rogue Elite's apartment complex. Slipping an earpiece in and testing its efficiency, I was out the door without a backwards glance.

  In less than an hour I would be face to face with this woman. And then I'd know who the hell she was.

  Selena Carstairs was an anomaly. In a city that prided itself on strict rules and harsh punishments, she was one mistake away from termination... and somehow that made me feel more alive.

  Who the fuck are you, Honourable Selena Carstairs?

  And why did I want to look into her eyes when I figured that out?

  This woman, this Elite, might just be the death of me.

  She'd not be the first to try.

  Chapter 5

  I Was Betting It Wasn't Pretty

  Lena

  Music rang out from a Mosque down the street. Uplifting and serene. The call to prayer. I slid through the early morning crowd, managing to place weight on my strapped ankle without making it obvious I suffered an injury. Tan was good at what he did.

  Tipped down heads, placid looks on their faces, thumbs tapping away in hyper-speed over touchscreen cellphones. It was an image of Wánměi I despised. No one talked anymore. Not even in Citizen zoned Muhgah Keekee.

  I shouldered my way through the distracted and insular throng, expecting cries of dismay when my body hit that of another.

  All I got was a vague, "Apologies, Citizen." As though they had walked into me.

  Well, it was debatable. With their heads down and propaganda filling their earbuds they could just as easily have been the one to collide with me. Despite the fact that I was purposely going against the flow.

  I tamped down my agitation. With the night's haphazard activities, and near miss with the Cardinal that came to call, I was a hairsbreadth away from doing something to attract the sPol. I frowned as I turned down Olive Grove, dodging slow moving delivery trucks, mothers with strollers, and a group of young men smoking their daily cigarette ration. Signs overhead flashed advertisements for drugs and alcohol.

  Be a model Citizen! Drink Haldor's XXX Beer.

  Be a model Citizen! Slip a Serenity Tab tonight.

  Be a model Citizen! Breathe easy with Tyger Menthols.

  And the usual Wánměi message of, Have you been a model Citizen today?

  It was always an assault on the senses, and my intelligence, coming to Muhgah Keekee. But my contact here was the best at what he
could do. He also needed the cash. Three kids to feed and a wife dependent on Serenity Tabs. Even the replicas couldn't compete with her needs.

  The Overseers would have you believe we live in a consumer's society. The choice of what to partake in was limitless. As long as it was addictive and on their list of approved indulgences. Their spin on this controlled pimping was that they tested the safety of each item to enter Wánměi before allowing it on the streets. The fact that the products were heavily taxed and helped fill the coffers of the Elite was irrelevant.

  Or at least not mentioned in the state-wide advertisements.

  My father said humanity entered a long period of self-gratification some thirty years before the Uprising started. We consumed enormous quantities of illicit substances and abused our bodies for the sheer enjoyment it brought us. The need to own the best, the biggest, the most impressive product became an addiction in itself.

  Society almost crumbled. And then General Chew-wen offered a solution. Government regulations and checkpoints, keeping the good people of Wánměi safe from over indulgence. One thing led to another and before you knew it the borders closed. Internet was restricted. Contact with the outside world ceased.

  Families were suddenly separated, their communications monitored, censored, if allowed at all, by the military, who soon became known as the Cardinals. The government took a revised approach when the public baulked. The new structure gained all the support it needed.

  Elites.

  The "haves" ruled in favour of Chew-wen. The "have-nots" were given free samples of product they'd been denied while the debate raged on. Within weeks, they were hooked. And the Overseers were born.

  Thirty years of supposed peace reigned.

  Then the Uprising.