Sozen Institute

Chapter 1

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. They also say there is life outside of our own here on Earth. What did they not say? They were already here.

Symone sat transfixed by the advertisement and wondered when would be a good time to broach the subject with Owen. It wasn't the first time the new institute, located ten miles outside the city, flaunted its cutting-edge technology. They showcased new medical practices that guaranteed miraculous results. She felt butterflies take flight in her stomach; a wave of euphoria encompassed her being, new hope blossoming in her bosom. Maybe this was the solution she needed. Previous methods and medications did not bear fruit. She bit her nails and hissed in pain while mentally she traversed a conversation they've had one too many times.

She opted not to mention the institute yet. She reasoned she needed as much information as possible to have a solid foundation before presenting her findings to her husband. Symone predicted heavy resistance. He had given up, but it didn't make him love her any less. Hopefully, she could persuade him to try one last time.

****

She craned her neck as far back as it could go, and on a wispy exhale, she said, "Holy shit. That commercial did not do this building justice." The monolithic structure defied any preconceived idea of architecture present on Earth. All white with chrome accents, she thought it would give off a clinical atmosphere. She couldn't have been more wrong. If they wanted to appeal to the masses by showing they could accomplish what they advertised, this was the way to do it.

All clean lines with a large expanse of windows to let in natural light and well-manicured lawns, no one would hesitate to look to them for their miracle. The interior was just as pleasing to the senses as the exterior. There were plants everywhere; nature seemed to play a significant role in the aesthetics. Symone had a good feeling about this.

"Good day. I have an appointment scheduled for today," she told the stiff blonde at the reception desk.

Her nails drummed a staccato against the keyboard, loud in the silence. "Mrs. Everly. Yes. We've been expecting." Maybe something on her face showed her confusion because the blonde said, "Due to the privacy of our clients, we book no more than two appointments a day. So as not to overlap and avoid information leakage. Do not worry, Mrs. Everly; we are staunch in our commitment to our clients."

No sooner had the receptionist finished her sentence; than a sliding door set off to the side swished open. Out walked, she guessed, her doctor. Impeccably dressed, killer heels and refined bearing. Although, there was something that let everyone know they were beneath her notice, and her presence and expertise were a gift to humanity.

"Hello, Mrs. Everly; my name is Doctor Kynes, and I will be your attending specialist today."

"Hi. I'm feeling very optimistic about this visit. This is my last chance, so fingers crossed."

Dr. Kynes' gaze quickly flicked about Symone's body, "We will see what we can do."

Symone felt thoroughly dismissed after that once over; however, she didn't let that dampen her mood.

****

They reviewed Symone's extensive testing, procedures, and medication over the past five years. But, hearing her years of failed attempts compacted in a matter of minutes; left a sour taste in her mouth. It made the years of trying, seem insignificant compared to the emotional rollercoaster she was only recently recovering from. So to grasp and hold tight with both hands that growing ember called hope, she would willingly jump on that ride again.

With that in mind, she submitted herself to all they required, even some practices she had never seen before. And that was alright with her; she would do anything to obtain her lifelong dream. Lastly, Dr. Kyne drew a vial of blood for testing and an ultrasound, all standard procedures. Symone already knew what she would find. She was as healthy as a horse, and there was no indication why all the past methods had failed. She had her fingers crossed tightly as the doctor entered the examination room.

As Dr. Kynes studied the results, her brows slowly pinched. Then, haltingly she said, "Mrs. Everly, our test results show you are as healthy as anyone can be. Unfortunately, however, for reasons I can not explain at this time, there is an anomaly present in your blood work. Therefore, I request your patience as I present my findings to my superior."

"Yes, of course, whatever you need." Symone's whole body unclenched, releasing the tension she didn't realize she was holding. Good. Something new is good. None of the other clinics found anything remotely close to being the problem. She wrung her hands until the joints ached. Then, just when Symone thought she couldn't take the suspense anymore, Dr. Kynes and another doctor re-entered the room.

"We apologize for the wait. The abnormality Dr. Kynes found in your blood work is so rare you might be one of a kind. Quite frankly, I am beside myself with anticipation. Finally, you have what we've been looking for; you have an opportunity to try a new experimental technique designed with your... exact biological makeup."

Glancing between Dr. Kynes and the doctor, Symone said, "I'm sorry. Who are you?"

"Forgive me; I got ahead of myself." He raised his hand for a handshake, "Director Kynar."

Flabbergasted, "D-D-Director? My results warranted the Director personally introducing himself?"

"Yes. I will be taking over from Dr. Kynes. I am eager to get started, with your consent."

"I'm not sure." Symone recognized belated that he still held onto her hand. She gently extracted her limb from his grasp. As she did so, a slight frown marred his face. He had a gleeful, almost maniac gleam in his eyes. Suddenly nervous and uncomfortable, she attempted to extract herself from the situation as skillfully as possible.

"I'll have to think about it and get back to you."

"That's not a problem. In the meantime, can we draw a few more vials of your blood for further testing?"

There were no outward signs, but Symone could see him salivating to get his hands on more of her blood. She kept her voice as controlled as possible, "No, I don't think so. As I said, I'll think about it."

For a brief moment, his face twisted into something wholly not human but wiped clean the next moment.

"Of course. Until next time Mrs. Everly."

****

For the next couple of weeks, nothing was amiss. Symone wasn't sure contacting the clinic was a good idea. There was something about the last exchange that rubbed her the wrong way. Owen remained blissfully unaware of her trip; if he noticed the funds missing from their shared bank account, he didn't mention it. She was content to carry on as if her visit had never happened until the pamphlets and phone calls started.

Symone arrived home and noticed the mail stacked on the kitchen table. She shuffled through the envelopes until the blue pamphlet of the clinic caught her eye. Without a moment's hesitation, she ripped and then discarded it. A few days later, while having dinner, the phone rang. The receptionist requested when she would like to schedule her next appointment. As politely as possible, Symone told her she would call when she was ready and to please not call again.

"Who was it?" Owen asked once she retook her seat.

Dredging a smile, she said, "They had the wrong phone number."

"Hmmm."

Since then, the pamphlets and phone calls persisted incessantly. Eventually, Owen discovered one of the pamphlets. One evening Symone found him seated at the kitchen table, waiting.

She sensed something was wrong and tried to circumvent whatever it was. "Hey honey, how was your day?"

"When were you going to tell me?"

"I don't know-"

Like a sledgehammer, his fist came down hard, making her ground to a halt.

"DON'T! Don't lie to me. How could you go behind my back? You went to this clinic we know nothing about. We could have discussed this, researched, and planned together."

"I-I-I knew you wouldn't have been open to it. You wanted a break, but I wanted to keep going. I thought once you saw there was a chance, we-we could finally get pregnant then—"

Owen held up a hand, "But you didn't have the decency to tell me about it first. I was thinking about your mental state after so many failures that we needed a break. We had time; we still have time to make this happen."

Breath stuttering, she rasped, "I'm sorry."

"Just, let me look into them. Maybe find other couples or someone who received treatment from them. If it looks positive, then we'll go. Together." Owen kissed her good night. Later that night, he enveloped her in his arms. She knew then that all was right again.

****

Unfortunately, the phone calls, messages, and mail never ceased. It's been more than a month, and they showed no signs of tapering off. Then one day, everything stopped. They were relaxing at home when the doorbell rang. Owen opened the door expecting the pizza they ordered twenty minutes ago. Before he could slam the door, the pair of bulky men bulldozed their way into the house. Owen managed to shout, "RUN!" just before he was knocked unconscious.

Symone scrambled off the couch, almost tripping over her own feet, barely dodging the hand grabbing for her shoulder. She vaulted over furniture and skidded around corners to evade grasping hands. Until she spies Owen's lifeless form sprawled on the floor in the entryway; the site elicited a scream worthy of any horror movie. But her shock-induced paralysis enabled the invaders to catch and subdue her. The last thing she saw before the void of unconsciousness closed in; was the other assailant hefting Owen onto his shoulder.

****

Symone groggily came to and clutched her head. Spying through slitted eyes, she took in her surroundings but promptly shut them again a moment later. Her head was spinning a mile a minute.

"Don't worry. The effects should not last much longer."

Despite feeling vertigo, she focuses on the person. Like a coin spinning then eventually settling, the person's blurred outline and features resolved into sharp clarity.

"Director Kynar? What the hell is going on, and what did you do!?"

"All will be revealed shortly. For now, just rest until your body metabolizes the drugs."

"I don't want them later, tomorrow, or in the next hour. I want answers, NOW!" Symone felt vulnerable laying down and attempted to sit up. No dice.

"I would not risk moving at the moment. Our biology is virtually identical, but I am not 100 percent sure of any other adverse reactions you might have to the drugs.

He was right. Planting face first on the floor by trying to move was not on the list of methods to getting answers. But I didn't want him touching me either.

"You gave me drugs and, by all appearances, kidnapped me out of my home. Assaulted my—" She scanned the room, looking for the familiar shape of her husband. All the while, Kynar stood there observing her reaction. "Where's Owen?"

He smirked, "As I said, Mrs. Everly, all will be made clear. I suggest you get some rest." He turned for the door to leave.

"No! Where's Owen? What have you done?!"

Ignoring her, Director Kynar proceeded out of the room and headed towards his lab, but not before hearing Symone vomit violently.

When Kynar returned, it could've been an hour or two, possibly the next day, Symone didn't know. Unfortunately, they either had a monitoring device hidden in the room, or she was predictable. The two linebackers that kidnapped her advanced into the room and subdued her.

While thrashing wildly, she said, "Let go of me!" But they managed to strap her down with sharp and efficient movements.

"Calm yourself." He waited as Symone's erratic and volatile behavior lessened. He continued, "Now that we have that out of the way. Are you ready to listen? However, I must warn you. Any further outbursts will result in me gagging you. What we need you for does not require your full co-operation, although that would be preferable."

Symone held her lips tight as she took large controlled breaths. But, otherwise, she didn't respond.

Kynar smiled widely, politely, like they were having brunch and not him having his brutes strap her to a table. "Excellent. So, I have good news and... well, bad news. Which would you prefer first?"

She still refused to answer. However, as Kynar explained the situation, her body broke out in a cold sweat, fine tremors racked her body, and bile threatened to flood her mouth.

According to the Director, the quirk in her genes prevented her from conceiving from practically anyone on Earth. Though he promised there was a way, just not in a way she would like. And to ensure her reluctant co-operation, Owen was currently held in a highly secured area. However, the icing on the proverbial cake was the endless expanse of black with candlelight twinkles sprinkled liberally throughout. Houston, we have a problem.

Symone's best course of action was to play by their rules, eat what they wanted, dress how they wanted, exercise when they wanted, and act appropriately. An honest-to-goodness routine, no deviation or variety, like fatting a pig for slaughter. At every opportunity, they conducted a well-being assessment. And with every test, their excitement grew more palpable.

Based on the number of tests, Symone suspected months had passed, and things were coming to a head. After one of her numerous tests, Dr. Kynes and Director Kynar held a whispered conversation in an attached office to the examination room. Symone inched her way near the door left ajar.

"These numbers are at optimal levels. We should proceed with the final stage as soon as possible."

Hesitantly, Kynes said, "Director, should we not wait until later? After all, we do not know if her body will reject—"

"Dr. Kynes, need I remind you what is at stake here? All our tests prove this will take. Her body metabolized our medications and food. We cannot fail! She is expecting a satisfactory outcome."

"Yes, Director."

"Now..."

Before he could finish, Symone backed away from the door. Usually, one of them always stayed with her while the other ran the tests. This instance was the only time they left her completely alone. Knucklehead one and knucklehead two were not in attendance until called. Symone figured this was the perfect opportunity to locate Owen. Her behavior finally paid off. Sleeping through the entrance, she darted left, hightailing it in the opposite direction of her room.

Finding Owen shouldn't be hard. Her assumption of the ship was of an average size house, based on the areas she was permitted. But she had skidded around too many corners for that to be accurate. Just when she was about to give up, something caught her eye. Unlike the others that blended with the wall seamlessly, she wouldn't have known it was there; this one had a vague red outline. She hoped red didn't mean here what it meant on Earth, no entry.

Even so, she didn't waste any time feeling around the door; there had to be a trigger or something. Tears of frustration stung her eyes as her wandering hands skimmed along an embedded panel. Symone heard a click along with a hiss and watched as the door retracted. The access panel read, SERMA KHALANTHI, ACURI MORDEEP.

Symone didn't question her fortune or the mysterious error in the system as she descended the stairs. As she moved deeper into the unknown, her breath fogged the air. She imagined ice crystals forming on her lashes as her muscles cramped. Along the way, lights illuminated her path until a long corridor was revealed. At the end was a tank, and inside was her husband, floating in a viscous liquid. Like tentacles, tubing encapsulated his body. It seemed nowhere was left untouched.

"Oh, Owen," Symone said through a throat tight with emotion. Gently she placed her hands against the glass. "What have they done to you?"

At that moment, an alarm pierced the air, seeking entry to rattle her skull. She had never heard anything like it; protecting herself, she covered her ears as best she could, but it didn't matter. Slowly a dense fog rose from the grates in the floor, gradually suffocating her. Her vision tunneled, chest constricted, and her extremities numbed until oblivion drew her down.

****

"My Queen, we are..."

"Yes, yes, yes. When can..."

"We can proceed..."

"I want a viable..."

"By the time we reach..."

"No more delays. I've waited..."

Groaning, Symone regained consciousness like a diver swimming towards the surface after moving through the dark depth of the ocean. Accompanying the wakefulness, she felt like she'd been run over by a freight train or a boxer used her body as a punching bag.

"Ah. It looks like our runaway patient is back with us," the Director said. "I would not try that again if I were you."

Croaking Symone said, "What happened? Why do I feel like this?"

"The surgery went well. In a few weeks, we can try insemination. If that fails, we can proceed the more natural way. But I am getting ahead of myself. Forgive me. This is the closest we have come in years."

"Y-y-you what?!" Symone dry heaved and struggled to catch her breath. "You performed surgery? On m-m-me? Insemination? Ohmygodohmygodohmygod."

Eyes narrowing to slits, he said, "I would advise you to calm down. Though I would hesitate to use it. I will knock you out again."

Silently, tears streamed down her temples to soak into her hair and then the bedding underneath.

"Your dramatics is unwarranted." He turned as approaching footsteps drew near.

Symone stared sightlessly at the ceiling. What was one more person in this messed-up situation?

"Mrs. Symone Everly, I would like you to meet Queen Khalanthi. She has deemed you worthy to meet and bear her offspring."

As the Director spoke, Symone regarded the newcomer. She was resplendent, poised, and not a hair out of place. So entranced was Symone that she didn't register the last part of the sentence until it was much too late. When the Queen turned to face Symone, her world was turned, flipped upside down, yet again. As if staring in a mirror, she saw her face looking back.

Smiling benignly with calculating eyes, Khalanthi said, "Hello, Symone, and welcome to our home world, Kysar. We have a lot of work ahead of us."