Sanctuary

Chapter Three

Agent Gabriel Addanc (Agent G)

Resident #667 is strapped to the examining table. Tears stream down her cheeks. As she fights against her restraints, she screams about the merits of true love. She is hysterical. I turn away as the medical team converges upon her. Even though this is my sixth euthanization, I still feel an extreme sense of loss. It's such a waste, but these are the rules. To make an exception would be antisocial. As the procedure commences, I reflect on the unfairness of her situation. Although there were two humans at fault, she will be the only one to pay with her life. Had her suitable genetic match been available, her story might have ended differently.

The second part of this equation waits for me in one of the interrogation rooms. His physiological profile flashes before my eyes. He fears authority. I conjure up an image of a military commander. My body morphs into his shape. My hair becomes cropped and turns the color of sand. My flesh becomes tanned. My features are hard. My clothing melts into a battle dress uniform or BDU. As black camouflage stretches over my wrists, I storm down the hallway.

The man gasps as I slam open the interrogation room door. He looks like many of the humans who live on the preserve. His hair is black. His light blue eyes flash from a face of light brown skin. His biological indicators scroll across my vision. Elevated heart rate, shortness of breath, trembling limbs, and nausea-he is afraid. This is good.

"Mr. Lucian," I thunder. "Thank you for joining me."

The man mumbles something unintelligible. He is unable to look me in the eye. I sit down across from him and fold my hands.

"Mr. Lucian," I repeat. "You have been given the privilege of living out your life in the Sanctuary. We don't ask for much in return. Yet you have repeatedly refused to comply with our only request."

The man hangs his head. I shove away my feelings of compassion. The time for mercy has long passed. The image of his lover strapped to a surgical table spreads out like a virus across the west wall. The man's eyes glisten with tears as he watches her take her final breath.

"You have two choices, Mr. Lucian," I say. "You may join your girlfriend and share her tragic fate, or you will mate with a suitable genetic match. It is your choice. My only request is that you make it quickly."

"Is she?" the man asks.

On screen, two medics lift his lover's lifeless body from the gurney.

"Her genetic matches were paired off with others while she was wasting her time on you," I snap. "With no mate available, we had no choice but to eliminate her. You have 60 seconds to make your decision."

A guttural sob escapes from the man's throat. I turn my back on him.

"Okay," he weeps. "I will do it. I will mate with who you have chosen."

"Excellent, Mr. Lucian," I reply coldly. "You have chosen wisely. I believe a reward is in order. The mate we are about to provide to you is very special. She deserves someone in a position of power. There is an opening in the preserve counsel. You will rise to the occasion, won't you, Mr. Lucian?"

The man doesn't answer. I slam my palms again the table as I lean over him.

"I didn't hear you!" I shout. "Will you or will you not rise to the occasion?" The man starts to cry. I suck in air.

"I can see that I'm wasting my time," I bark while rising abruptly.

"Wait," the man whimpers. I turn sharply on my heel. I assume a position of dominance. My arms are crossed. My feet are hip-distance apart.