Elite (Citizen Saga, Book 1)

by Claire, Nicola

  I realised I was running to catch up. Would it always be this way?

  Me chasing her. Her slipping out of my reach.

  The halls were busier once we pushed through into the main corridor, some of the guys noting our exit from the stairwell. No doubt noticing our slightly dishevelled state. I ran a hand through my hair and then straightened my t-shirt, putting myself in order before we entered the tech room. It was with selfish masculine pride I noted Lena looked well ravished, and hadn't thought to right herself yet.

  Harjeet flicked lazy eyes over her ensemble and then turned a raised eyebrow towards me.

  "Harjeet," Lena said in greeting as the man stood up, dressed in his usual D'awan attire, and extended a hand to her. "A pleasure," she added in perfect D'maru.

  "The pleasure, Honourable Carstairs, is all mine," he replied in Mahiah.

  "Always the gentleman?" she asked in Wáitaměi. I had the impression this was standard procedure for them. And the knowledge that they had a rehearsed greeting, a familiar pattern to their banter, did not sit well.

  "Only for you, my dear," he finished in Anglisc, flicking me a knowing glance.

  Was I that easy to read all of a sudden?

  "I gather things are afoot," he said softly, his lilting accent making the words seem too posh, almost Elite in his tone, where he was anything but.

  "The celebration has been brought forward, as you know," I said, taking my position behind Si, and taking back some control of the room. "And Selena has friends who are being held by the Chief Overseer."

  "And you plan to use her relationship with Chew-wen and this development to your advantage," Harjeet declared, calling me out in front of the entire room.

  I forced myself to look at Lena, who was engrossed in blueprints spread across a table before her, and refusing to look me in the eyes.

  "Two goals can be achieved at once," I replied, my voice stilted.

  Damn, I needed to get control of myself or this was going to head south pretty damn fast.

  "I see," Harjeet replied, and I was afraid the astute man did.

  "What do you plan to do to him?" Lena suddenly asked, eyes still on the diagram, finger tracing a section I couldn't quite make out.

  "Kill him," I said, and thank God my voice was once again hard.

  "He'll be well guarded," she pointed out, a reasonable conclusion.

  "Ah, but my dear," Harjeet interjected. "He won't be well guarded when he requests an audience with his wayward ward, will he?"

  Her narrowed eyes came up to stare at Harjeet, the knowledge of how much her deception would be required to pull this off on her face. I was proud of her. She didn't baulk. She didn't show any emotion at all other than understanding. She just held his predatory gaze.

  "Then why are you even here, Harjeet?" she asked, surprising him when others constantly failed.

  The silence stretched, a tangible thing between them, the rest of the room all but forgotten. I noticed Lena didn't trust Harjeet either. The thought was welcoming.

  "To make sure you do it," he finally answered. And now, it seemed, all our cards were on the table.

  She nodded slowly, accepting the threat as it had been implied. Then she lifted tired eyes to my face and for a brief moment the relief that she could still look at me was buried under the anger she let me see.

  "I can take one with me, but they will be tested," she announced. "I should think I could avoid a testing myself, considering my guardian is aware now that I am not compliant. But any guest to accompany me must be a model Citizen."

  Ah, this was a problem I had not foreseen.

  "Alan?" I asked, my eyes holding Lena's.

  "We're all up on our replica doses."

  "You won't pass," she declared, and I knew she was right. Security would be tight.

  "Then we go in as shadows," I suggested. Backing her up from the sidelines shouldn't be that hard.

  "There are some forty extra drones in the Palace as of this morning," Harjeet announced. "I expect the number to double by this evening."

  Fuck! I clenched my hands.

  "Then what do you suggest?" I enquired, looking at Lena still, but asking the entire room.

  "One of you needs to dose up," Lena said, the challenge all in her gaze. "Serenity should do it."

  God, damn it!

  No one volunteered.

  I sighed, rubbed a hand over my face and said, "I'll do it."

  Lifting my eyes to Lena's I saw the first amused smile she'd managed all day.

  Oh, this should be interesting.

  Chapter 32

  It Was Me

  Lena

  "Trent, you're last the person who should be doing this," Alan said into the stunned silence. I was guessing they hadn't expected their precious leader to volunteer. "I'll do it," the other man offered, reluctantly I was sure.

  "No," Trent argued. "I want you in the shadows, suited up. Coming in when the shit hits the fan with Zikri and Damia."

  "It makes sense," Harjeet agreed, overriding the obvious argument on several of the men's lips. And I wondered just what Harjeet's endgame was. I didn't trust him.

  Hell, I didn't trust anyone here. It was a snake pit and I was slap bang in the middle. But I'd survived worse.

  "Yours will be the more dangerous task," Trent continued, ignoring Harjeet. Possibly because he knew the cunning man was up to something and he wasn't giving him the traction to do it. "Dodging the drones at the Palace," Trent finished.

  "If you believe that, then you really are mad," Si offered from his seat at Trent's elbow.

  "It's the only way," Trent replied, not rising to the bait.

  "There is one other," Harjeet offered casually.

  All eyes turned to the D'awan. It was Trent who replied.

  "And that is?"

  Harjeet looked toward me. "A distraction. The celebration will be televised, no?" I nodded, he seemed to be directing that statement to me. I wasn't sure I wanted to know why. "Then use their system against them. Open the Sat-Loc codes on air."

  "Using their broadcast to do it," Simon said enthusiastically. "Imagine the fallout from that?"

  "The city would be in turmoil," the guy at the back of the room said.

  "And how would that help, Kevin?" Alan asked him.

  "City in turmoil, Cardinal drones in uproar. They'd be pulled from the Palace to contain the fallout."

  "Brilliant," Trent agreed.

  "Have you forgotten the file is booby trapped?" I asked. Their faces fell.

  "I can crack it," Si announced, not quite as assuredly as I would have liked.

  Trent held his gaze, the tech whiz managed to not shrink under it.

  "Lena?" he asked, not taking his eyes off Simon. "The ball is in your court."

  I felt the weight of those eyes in the room on me, except Trent's. He was determinedly looking anywhere but at my face. I turned my attention to Harjeet.

  "Your plan all along?" I asked archly.

  "Honourable," he said with a condescending smile. "I merely wish to offer the best chance of survival."

  I somehow doubted that, but I couldn't put my finger on why. He'd led me to Simon Richards, which in turn had led me to the revolutionaries and Trent. All of which could have helped me scrub Lena Carr. But she hadn't been scrubbed and I was now attempting a rescue mission of my best friends from the Palace, defying the Chief Overseer and burning any possibility of a bridge that might have once existed there.

  In the process he had exposed my world. Removed my blinkers.

  But none of it could have been considered for nefarious reasons. I just didn't trust the man. I didn't need to rationalise it, I just didn't trust him and that was enough for now.

  I looked down at the floor of the room for a moment and gathered my thoughts. No one made a sound, maybe aware I was on the brink of an abyss, and any noise might make me back away from stepping over it. They needed those codes. I needed to get Aiko and Tan.

  Wánměi needed to change. I ha
d no idea if Trent's Wánměi was the way we should go, or if Harjeet had other plans that would come and bite us on the arse when we least expected it. But the Wánměi my father had helped create was broken, damaged, not how it ever should have been.

  Handing over those codes meant more than giving up my one bargaining chip with these people.

  It meant turning my back on an ideal my father had designed. It meant turning away from the path he had built for me.

  Part of me knew that path had taken a sharp turn at his death, and maybe was something other than he had intended it to be. But for a young girl of fifteen, I had believed in him unfailingly. Enough to turn a blind eye when the path I continued to tread weaved.

  I sucked in a deep breath and pulled my t-shirt collar down, reaching into my bra, suddenly finding Trent in front me blocking my view of the room. Or blocking their view of my cleavage. I looked up at him as I withdrew the thumb-drive from its hiding place, saw the way he looked down at me making my breath still. There was something between us, something that might have been different if we'd been in a world where we could trust.

  But we weren't. So I ignored it. Even as I watched him close his eyes in disappointment at my choice. Then open them again as I placed the thumb-drive in his palm, wrapping his fingers tightly around it.

  "Make it mean something," I whispered, just for his ears. Make that night and everything that had transpired since then worth the sacrifice for these codes.

  The loss of my identities.

  The loss of my blind innocence.

  The loss of my father all over again.

  The loss of my dear friends.

  I was going in to rescue them, but I had no doubt the chance of success was slim. I had to hope that something good would come of this night. I had to pray that Wánměi at least would win.

  I turned and left the room, not wanting to listen to the excitement that had arisen when Trent handed the thumb-drive over to Simon.

  Footsteps sounded out behind me, but I ignored them in favour of reaching my bedroom door. Spending the next few hours ensconced in my little sanctuary did not sound as appealing as it should. But the rooftop held demons, and the tech room was a snake pit, and the rest of this place - an abandoned power station on the edge of a forbidden piece of our land - was full of revolutionaries, related in some way to my father's death.

  I needed to be alone.

  "Lena," Trent said behind me, my hand already on my keypad entering the lock code. I moved to shield his eyes automatically, and then let out a defeated sounding laugh at the futility of that act.

  "What?" I snapped, not looking back.

  "Thank you," he said simply, words I so did not want to hear.

  "Thank me after you've survived your Serenity Tab and we're clear of the Palace with our lives."

  He chuckled, sending tendrils of electricity through my nerve endings. I spun and glared up at him, arms crossed over my chest, defiance in my stance. Daring him to make me feel that electrifying sensation again.

  His laughter faded, but not the humour in his eyes. They glanced down at my top and he smiled.

  "You know," he said conversationally. "I rather liked the idea of fishing that damn flash-drive out of your bra myself. You ruined all my fun."

  "What makes you think you would have stood a chance?" I demanded, anger in every word.

  He ignored it, just leaned a shoulder against my door frame, way too close, way too casual, way too attractively.

  "Oh, I don't know. I think if I hadn't stopped us up on the rooftop I would have made it to second base."

  "I let you steal first, there is no way I would have given up second."

  "Lena," he scolded, suddenly right in my space, chest to chest, hand wrapped up in the strands of my hair, lips trailing over my feverish skin on the side of my neck. His hot breath tickled my earlobe as he whispered, "Take a Serenity with me. Find out why our forefathers enjoyed the tablet so much. I guarantee, you'll offer up second and third. Maybe even deliver a home run."

  I pushed back hard against his chest. He let me, taking a step back with a cocky grin on his face.

  "Never," I managed, my voice way too shaky.

  He lowered his eyes, shook his head and let out a long breath of air.

  "I have a habit of stuffing up with you," he admitted quietly. "I'm not sure why. I'm usually more suave than this, but there's something about you that makes me lose every brain cell I've ever had."

  I blinked, surprised at the honesty of his words.

  "My apologies," he murmured, and then spun on his heel and walked away.

  It shouldn't have felt like I'd lost something. But it did.

  I turned to open my door and found Carla at the end of the hall, unashamedly watching. Great. Just what I needed. The jealous ex, because there was no way she hadn't sampled what had just been offered to me and I'd stupidly turned down.

  "You think you're too good for us, don't you?" she said, eyes hard, voice level. Her composure was creditable. I didn't trust it for a second.

  "I'm not here to entertain your boss." I saw the flicker of annoyance at being reminded of her status. She was not in charge here, her admonishments meant nothing.

  "He's only humouring you," she advised, walking slowly closer. My door clicked open, but I didn't walk inside.

  "Believe what you wish," I replied. "I'm not interested."

  "I've seen the way you look at him. Elite wanting to slum it."

  I laughed and shook my head. "Carla. That's your name, isn't it?" I was aware my tone was indifferent. I was using every Elitism I'd been taught. "I'll let you in on an Elite secret," I whispered, leaning closer as though about to offer a gem. "We're not as fixated on you as you think."

  She pulled back, scowling, realising she'd actually believed I'd had something worthwhile to impart. And that I would have told her it.

  "You really are an Elite bitch," she growled.

  I smiled. "Whatever," and pushed open the door to my room, purposely turning my back on the woman, showing her just how much of a threat I thought she was.

  "Fine then," she said over my shoulder. "But you're missing out on a hell of a ride. The last time Trent took a Serenity Tab he didn't let me sleep all night. The man's got stamina, but fuck, get a Serenity on him and he's a machine."

  I couldn't help smiling at her pathetic attempt to get to me. I schooled my features before I turned around to slam the door in her face.

  "He would have taken it by now," she said, holding my gaze with a sly one of her own. "He has to, or he'll be compromised by the time you both attend the celebration tomorrow night. So, my bet, he's gone straight from here and dosed up."

  "And this concerns me how?" I asked, idiotically engaging her when I should have just shut the door as I'd planned.

  But I was an Elite. Superior. Above her sordid games. Or so I thought.

  "I know the combination to his room," she said loftily.

  "Great," I managed, my face like crystal, a good knock and it would shatter.

  "And in his state he'd welcome me with open arms." She smiled. It didn't do her any favours.

  And then she waltzed away with a skip in her step.

  I shut the door slowly, blocking out her cheerful hum and the urge to make sure she didn't go straight to Trent. Then looked at my empty, barren, sparsely decorated room. The only thing providing a hint of vibrancy was the poster Trent had scrawled across and slipped under my door.

  I walked on weak legs towards it, reached out a trembling hand and picked it up, reading the words again, trying to still the images I'd fabricated in my mind of Carla and him.

  It really does exist. And it's called Lunnon.

  I sank down on the bed and traced his penmanship, then set about committing to memory every single detail of the city beneath it.

  It helped. For a while. But when I finally fell fitfully asleep, the poster under my hand beside me as though I continued to trace its wonder in my dreams, my imagination had free re
in.

  And it wasn't Carla I imagined in his arms, while he floated on a Serenity induced cloud.

  It was me. And I couldn't escape it. I don't think I wanted to.

  And by the time I invited him onto the home plate, I wasn't sure if it was me under the influence of a ration dosed narcotic or Trent.

  But I did know I wished it wasn't just a dream.

  Chapter 33

  Let's Have A Word With The Elite

  Trent

  I hated Serenity. I despised it. Even while I sank into the oblivion of its embrace.

  It had been ten long hours since I took it and I still wasn't free from its grasp. Reds and golds and vibrant greens were no longer flashing before my eyes, but my movements were sluggish, not rushed. Complacent.

  I fucking hated this drug. I sucked in a deep breath of air as though that could blow the lingering effects out of me. Glancing around the room, I noted the padlock I'd placed on the door. Old school, but it worked. I'd been caught out before by Carla, I was determined last night to avoid that experience again.

  Of course, if I'd had a bad reaction to the dose I'd have been up shit creek without a paddle. But it had been a risk I was prepared to take. Carla had been eyeing me strangely when she stormed back into the tech room.

  I allowed myself a moment or two to imagine a certain other woman agreeing to be locked in here with me last night. Enjoying the psychedelic trip I'd just been on. I wouldn't have put up a fight, that's for sure. But I was thinking I'd screwed up on that front. Again.

  I checked the time. Sighed. And then stumbled out of bed, feeling like my feet were dancing on clouds. More than once I felt the floor give out from under me, the clouds not as solid as my body would have liked. I blinked at my image in the mirror, noting the pupils were as big as fucking saucers and my skin had a sheen of perspiration over it.

  At least I wasn't too pale. A shower had me feeling marginally better, but I was still coasting through the bedroom as though I had all the time in the world and not just a few hours until the celebration began. There was so much to plan, to get ready, and I'd spent almost half a day zoned out and chasing rainbows in the sky.