Page 63 of Exiles on Earth

This guy has the same build, the same forehead and strong nose, jawline and eyebrows, but he looks at me in a completely different way, like an intruder. Which I am. Beside him are two others who look exactly like Ilia.

Clones.

The ship levels out, and I’d be able to find my feet if the Ilia lookalike put me down. Floss gets heavy in my arms and she lets out a low snarl. He frowns, gaze darting down to Floss, and speaks again.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand–”

He pushes me back against the wall. Terror clenches my throat like this guy does my arms. Putting his forearm across my chest, he fumbles in his belt and pulls out metal handcuffs, glowing their eerie blue.

I drop Floss, who hits the deck, legs scrabbling. The guy frowns at my boobs and says something else, but I can’t say a word.

A huge screech snatches our attention up the corridor. Metal slams to the opposite side of the wall. Ilia stalks out, blood dripping from his knuckles and forearms, lighting the gray walls a malevolent red glow, as if lava pushes up under his scales. He’s swelled in size, the hard muscles of his shoulders and chest twice as big.

He barks something at the man holding me, who immediately drops his grip. I’m not prepared and crumple to the floor in shock. With a blood-curdling yell, Ilia storms up to the group and puts himself between me and them, even though they produce small handheld gun-like things.

Shooting them a final glare, Ilia turns his back to them and kneels next to me and Floss. “Are you hurt? Did he harm you?”

“I’m fine.” Tears sting my eyes. What the hell am I doing?

His comforting arms wrap around my shoulders. “I’ll take you to the captain, and you can order him to turn back using your authority.”

“My authority?” I look at the blood dripping along his arm. I shouted for his help, and he hurt himself badly. He hadn’t had any choice, and neither do these guys.

Ilia nods. “Taking a female against her will is against all our laws, and the captain will be euthanized if he doesn’t comply.”

Fuck. This is horrible.

Ilia continues, “He may be surprised that I’ve escaped containment–”

A shout rings down the corridor, along with a metallic tramp of boots. Ilia pulls me behind him, and I peer out from his side. Three big guys hold long sticks glittering with some kind of filament on the ends and flourish something that looks like a gun. And again, they all mirror Ilia.

“Seems like they are very surprised you escaped containment. Also, escaped? What?”

The first group runs in front, stopping the others and explaining. The second group peer at me, and then they drop their weapons, staring at me. I flush, resisting the urge to hide forever behind Ilia from the other six clones.

Ilia says something, then murmurs, “I explained you’re a female and a native of the planet we just left.”

The Ilia copy I met first does look fairly stunned, hanging his manacles back on his belt with a gray tinge to his scales. He looks so much like Ilia, I hate to see that expression on his face, and when they all get to their knees, my stomach churns.

But then one of them replies evenly, and Ilia gapes. “He said he has strict orders, and you must have come on board under your own free will. Did you?”

“Yeah, I guess I did.” Sneaking aboard to find out what was going on seems like Arabella levels of impulsivity now.

Ilia closes his mouth with a decisive click. “Oh.” He doesn’t ask why, and I’m glad. I’m not sure what I’d say in return.

“Can we… can we get them to stop kneeling?”

Ilia barks something and they scramble to their feet, not looking me in the eyes. I’m surrounded in a blue-purple forest of muscle.

I focus on Ilia. Blood dribbles down his forearm now thatgravity has reasserted itself, his muscles swollen like overripe grapes and his veins laying on top in ropes.

“We have to bandage your arm,” I tell him.

He doesn’t respond, just keeps looking at me. With each breath, his chest and shoulders contract, getting smaller and smaller until he reaches his regular size: still huge, but not bursting out of his skin.

I beckon for his arm. The gash looks awful, and he got hurt because of me. “We need to wash and bandage that. Do you guys get tetanus?”

“I don’t know. My nanites fight diseases I encounter.”