Saven Disclosure (The Saven Series Book 2) (13 page)

“What’s this?”

“I doubt they’ll scan our wrists, but we need to at least make it look like we’re bullions in case someone spots something,” he says, affixing another sticky sheet over my skin. This one displays a gold bullion. “That’ll set in sixty seconds. It’s only an image so it’ll be easy to wash off later.”

I nudge him conspiratorially. “You make a great spy. You think of everything.”

He winks. “Told ya I’m the best.”

“Such modesty,” I mutter, smiling.

“Modesty is for losers,” he says, running the tip of one finger over my wrist. “That’s it. We’re all set.”

Butterflies swarm my chest the closer we get to our destination. The Autovee exits the highway and travels for ten minutes until we reach the outer edge of Sector Twenty. The vehicle slows down as we approach a massive high-rise steel wall spanning the circumference of the sector on all sides. A line of police stands uniformly in front of a gate, positioned in the center of the wall. Heavy-duty weapons are slung over their shoulders. Electrified wire loops over the entire perimeter of the wall. A guard dressed in all-black combat attire steps out in front of us, raising a large palm. Jarod depresses the window as he brings the vehicle to a complete standstill.

The guard approaches cautiously. “Name and purpose of visit,” he barks out.

“Chancellor Quinn and Private Assistant Lenor from Nevada. We are official guests as part of the pre-arranged tour of the facility. Here are our visitor passes.” Jarod hands the guard our fake cards.

My heart hammers against my ribcage while the guard inspects the IDs and examines our faces. His gaze lands briefly on my left wrist. After the longest two minutes in history, he returns the cards to Jarod. “Proceed through the gate and follow the signs to the main building. Do not step out of the vehicle until you reach the administrative facility.”

Jarod concurs with a curt bob of his head. He takes the wheel, flipping off the auto-driver functionality. The large gate opens in the middle, doors gliding effortlessly to the left and right, granting our entry. Sitting up straighter in my seat, I prepare myself for our first glimpse of the compound.

The journey is uninspiring the first couple of miles as we travel on a smooth road through deserted barren land. Up ahead, I spot a secondary wall, also manned by a formidable line of police officers. Once we pass through that checkpoint, we are instantly accosted by the sights and sounds of a vibrant city, throbbing with life.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

Jarod cusses as we follow the digital arrow markings on the road. We drive by row after row of storefronts, restaurants, bars, and cafés, and pass throngs of people crowding the sidewalks, laughing jovially. Though it’s only mid-morning, the city bustles with activity, and there’s a distinct party vibe, giving the impression of a city that never sleeps. Flamboyant, thumping music blares from the Commi-Reel, and blinding waves of colorful lights pour out of mysterious doorways.

Humongous digital billboards fill the space above the buildings, advertising all manner of wares. Alcoholic drinks, drugs, cosmetic procedures, and pornographic paraphernalia feature regularly, and my cheeks are inflamed at some of the visuals that accost my eyes. We pass several dimly lit storefronts, with expansive glass windows, where women and men dressed in skimpy clothing perform lewd dances for the eager audience on the sidewalk. Jarod squirms uncomfortably in his seat, and my blush heightens.

We come to a halt at a junction, waiting for the lights to change. A crowd surges forward. Scantily clad men and women prance across the road, hooting and pushing and groping. Several couples slump to the ground in front of the nearest building. Women straddle the men as hands wander up short skirts, grinding and thrusting, oblivious to the obscene public demonstration. My eyes are out on stalks studying the scene. “I think my eyes are malfunctioning,” I admit through my shock.

“That makes two of us. This cannot be happening. What the hell is this place?”

“Lust Central by the looks of it,” I deadpan, though there isn’t anything funny about this den of entrapment. “It’s another illusion.” I draw the most obvious conclusion. “Like Thalassic City.”

“I thought we were going to encounter a sterile compound with research labs and medical testing, not an entire city like this,” Jarod says, exhaling noisily. “Damn, this is seriously messed up.” He puts the car in gear when the lights turn green, and we travel in complete silence the rest of the way.

Eventually the red-light district gives way to blocks of soaring residential apartments, and then we move a little farther out, advancing toward a large one-story red brick compound composed of several interconnected buildings. This is more what we were expecting.

Jarod brings the Autovee to a halt when we arrive in a square courtyard, parking in an assigned space in front of the impressive glass-lined entranceway. Reaching over, he squeezes my hand. “Ready, Chancellor?”

I take a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be, Private Assistant Lenor. Let’s go find my sister and brother.”

As soon as we step into the main lobby, a tall, stout man dressed in an uncomfortable-looking uniform approaches us, requesting our visitor cards. Once we are registered, he guides us to a noisy group waiting in a small auditorium off to the left. We take seats at the back, careful to put as much distance between us and the other visiting dignitaries. Although there are plenty of representatives from the Unified States of West and South America, and there will literally be hundreds of visitors today, we can’t take any chances that someone from Nevada might spot us and start questioning our identity. Adrenaline courses through my veins with the potent danger.

But I don’t feel scared.

I feel alive.

I can’t recall the exact moment I became an adrenaline junkie, but there’s no denying my worrisome excitement.

The auditorium rapidly fills, and Commissioner Williams takes to the stage. “Ladies and gentleman, and special guests from neighboring countries, you are all very welcome here today. On behalf of the president and vice president of the Northern Sovereign States of America, we look forward to showing you around our facility, and our city, today. A high-level overview of the program will be outlined to you shortly before we commence with the tour. The first part of the tour will take you to certain parts of this compound, demonstrating the many ways in which we are progressing research and medical testing. The latter part of the tour will involve a hands-on demonstration that I can assure you will be like nothing you’ve ever witnessed before.” He grins widely, and Jarod and I exchange perturbed looks. I can already surmise the type of hands-on visual he has in mind.

We have no choice but to follow the tour until the opportunity arises to sneak off and search for my siblings.

The lights dim as the presentation kicks off. Images of the underwater colonies fill the screen as the commissioner speaks. “Esteemed colleagues, what you will see here today will leave you astounded and full of ideas for the potential it offers. Your government has already entered into discussions with the Saven and our own administration, and the purpose of today’s visit is to showcase how an alliance can be best used to serve your country and your future. Apart from informing your own administration, nothing you see or hear today can be shared with any third party. Containment and secrecy are paramount to the success of the operation and central to the agreement between our nations.” His words are laced with an unspoken threat, and quiet murmurs echo around the room.

“When residents are first brought here,” he continues, as the images switch to show shots of the facility, “they are screened to identify strength of will.” Jarod and I both sit up straighter. This is news to me. I had no idea they could do that. “Those who are pliable are progressed to the next stage, and those who are too strong-willed are sent back home once their memories have been erased.” I had suspected as much based on what Fern and Rylan conveyed.

“Those selected for the experiment are inducted, matched, and assigned living accommodation. Thereafter, they are free to come and go as they please, provided they spend their time getting to know their designated alien mate. Using carefully selected assessment techniques, we identify the most compatible human-Saven coupling, but thereafter, we don’t force the issue because the relationship has to develop naturally. However, we have done everything in our power to create a conducive environment to help accelerate the process.” His simpering tone is repulsive, and I have the strongest urge to run onto the podium and smack him silly. Jarod grips the handles of his seat tightly and I know he’s seething too.

More images fill the screen, accompanied by a myriad of stats highlighting matching rates, percentage of those processed who progress, timelines, and relationship milestones.

“In the last two weeks, we have watched over the conscience transfer of one hundred Saven. They have been closely monitored, along with their human mates, and I’m delighted to inform you that the transfer has been deemed a huge success. This batch of lower-class subjects are currently undergoing final training before we transfer them to the first underwater colony. So far, they have shown no resistance and are happily following orders and commands. This is the future, ladies and gentlemen,” he says, brandishing his arms around like a proud father. “We are at the helm of the most radical societal change our world has ever known. Combined with the influx of natural resources, and strong support from the Saven, our future is looking very bright. When all assigned stars have been successfully subdued, we will have a steady flow of obedient workers to meet our ongoing needs. The overpopulation crisis has been diverted in the process, and we no longer need to worry about limited resources. This program will restore peace and balance to our world and forge a path for greater future advancement.” He beams widely at the audience.

I secretly scan the faces around me. There’s a mixture of expressions on display. Certainly, there are plenty who like the sound of what they hear, as evidenced by the growing round of applause spreading throughout the room. But there are plenty of appalled expressions too.

Not everyone is sold on this. That gives me hope.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Jarod says.

“Me, too,” I whisper.

A few minutes later, the commissioner guides the group out of the auditorium, and we begin our tour of the facility.

We are taken to the main processing area first. It’s like a giant open warehouse with a breezy vaulted ceiling. Thousands of stars are organized in several slow-moving lines, waiting for their turn to be assessed. A narrow, long counter frames the top of the room, manned by a bunch of very serious-looking officials. Behind them sit seven identical men who instantaneously capture my attention.

Interest piqued, my eyes roam over their faces. I can’t detect any distinguishing features. They are the mirror image of one other: cropped black hair, red-rimmed tinted wireframe glasses, and strong angular noses and chins. Even their expressions are a carbon copy of one another—chin up, foreheads pinched in fierce concentration, and lips sealed tight.

Discreetly, I crush Jarod’s hand, subtly gesturing in their direction. His eyes are out on stalks. The commissioner is leading us across the room, talking in a showy imposing voice. My eyes browse the strange men at the back one final time. Suddenly, one looks up and catches my eye. Crunching fear whistles through me as I quickly look away. Dammit. I’m not supposed to be doing anything to draw attention to myself.

I stare straight ahead, as I automatically hasten my pace. The commissioner has reached the doorframe when a hand tugs on my sleeve. Oh, crap. “Excuse me, ma’am,” a heavily accented voice says. I don’t need to look up to know who it is. “Face forward please, ma’am.”

I briefly consider making a run for it, but there’s no way I would make it out of here undetected.

Squaring my shoulders, I attempt to ignore the roaring in my ears as I stubbornly stare at the stranger. He is one of the strange seven, most likely the one I was caught staring at. The lens of his glasses is strangely tinted, a reflective multi-colored glass over a dark base layer that shields his eyes completely. Tilting his head to the side, he stares at my face with weird intensity.

“Is there a problem?” the commissioner asks, approaching us.

“Not a problem, no,” he says without adjusting his probing gaze. “An anomaly is a more apt description.”

What? Why is that word becoming synonymous with me?

The commissioner inspects my nametag, and I have to fight to contain the trembling taking hold of me. “Your identity,” he snaps.

I’m preparing to answer him when the strange man responds first. “B6, sir.” He finally drags his gaze from mine and gives the commissioner his full attention.

“Well, B6. The chancellor is a visiting guest, and I don’t appreciate your scrutiny. Apologize and return to your station.”

You could knock me down such is the strength of my surprise.