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