Page 69 of Exiles on Earth

But without a crew and now, without El-len, what else am I?

Air from my homeworld fills my lungs. I want only El-len’s air in my body, her very breath to be the only reason I go on. Now that I’ve lost her and my purpose, I welcome death.

So I raise my head. Let them see my face, what little defiance I offer. I’m broken anyway, and no torture could hurt as much as the pain already tearing my hearts to shreds.

The Parthiastocks take me through the landing areas to a containment facility. Blue-black Pranastock pilots and copper-bright engineering clones stare briefly before quickly looking away. I’m just a clone under arrest, probably destined for the Euthanization Center. Nothing special. I keep my head held high.

Inside the room sits a figure in silver, perched on a crude bench hastily made from a slab of metal and two engine parts. Surrounding her are other Gerverstock clones, younger cohorts with a green tinge to their sapphire blue scales. They watch me carefully, but none brandish any weapons.

The All-Mother stands as I enter, a small smile on her face. Why her? I thought the Prif had ordered my retrieval.

Despite my surprise, I keep my head held high as I march up to her. I won’t bow, not to any female other than El-len.

“Welcome back, 345961LIA. Or should I say, Ilia.”

I preserve my silence. Whatever she’s brought me back for will become evident soon enough.

She gathers my heavy chains in her delicate hands. “Can someone free him, please?”

Immediately the Parthiastocks who delivered me jump to do her bidding. “You… you asked us to recapture 345961LIA, to bring him back from exile. Have we not fulfilled your wishes perfectly?”

“You achieved the core objective, although I should have specified ‘nicely’.” The All-Mother graces me with a fond smile. “Parthiastocks can be very enthusiastic.”

As they release me, I frown, but I can’t ask why she’sbrought me here. If it’s not to be made into a harsh lesson for all clones, why have I returned?

The All-Mother touches my cheek, sending a wave of shock to harden my scales. Her eternal silver eyes are pools of mercury: beautiful, but probably full of hidden dangers.

“I expect you’re confused, and no wonder. Since your exile, I’ve been poring over records of judgements handed down by Voices for generations. I’ve managed to argue against the horrible verdict placed upon you. Finding a plant on some planet to cure Katyen was always a remote possibility, but one we couldn’t ignore. It was monstrously wrong to convict you of anything based on that.”

My hearts hammer. El-len has said the same thing.

So why had the Prif wanted to dispose of me and my crew?

The All-Mother continues, “Misdemeanors haven’t prevented True Born sons from entering the Mating Games once they’ve secured a place, and so I’ve re-entered you in the Games. The Prif finally allowed it, under one condition.

“A female has to choose you as their mate. If you don’t secure one, I’m afraid you’ll be euthanized.”

A stay of execution, then. I shake my head. “I don’t intend to compete anymore.”

The All-Mother’s scales pale to white. “Why not?”

“I was a fool to think a female would want me.” Even El-len must have felt the truth, and it emphasizes I’m nothing but a tool doing someone else’s bidding.

“Please don’t give up.” The All-Mother’s voice lowers. “When you entered, I celebrated. I’ve been waiting so long for a clone to enter the Games, to try, to dare to dream. I should have known it’d be a Gerverstock to blaze the trail.”

I look away as she speaks, unable to face the entreaty in her eyes. She wants me to take part, something I’d wanted for so long.

But the price I’ve paid so far—my crew’s exile—was too high.

No. My exile allowed me to meet El-len. If only for that, it was worth enduring.

Touching my hand, the All-Mother says, “I promised I’d get you back. Please, you have to try.”

I keep my gaze averted from hers so she can’t see the truth in my eyes. Could I even take part in the Games now when I don’t want to win?

The other Gerverstocks lining the room watch me with interest, but also something like quiet awe. One nods, face shining.

Why are they watching me like that? I’m a convicted criminal and a failure, they should hate me as much as the Gerverstock on the retrieval ship.