Page 70 of Exiles on Earth

Before I can consider an answer to her question, another Gerverstock leans close to her, whispering.

The All-Mother’s eyes widen. “It seems there’s an alien on your ship.”

“A human, and a female. Do not hurt her,” I warn the other Gerverstocks.

“Has she chosen you?” the All-Mother demands.

My hearts crack anew, and I choke out, “No.”

Her scales glimmer platinum with relief. “That’s good. That could have complicated things.” She snaps her fingers at her retinue. “I’ll intercept her and have her as my guest on the planet. Meanwhile, Parthiastocks, please take him to the start line of the Games. They’re about to begin.”

The Parthiastocks seize my arms, as if there’s no other way they can escort another clone except by arresting them, and march me to the exit.

“I know you can do this,” the All-Mother calls after me. “Try hard.”

A Base squeezes my bicep. “You heard her. Try hard, for the All-Mother.”

They escort me to a short hop flyer and take me toward the center, where a crowd gathers for the Games. I catch them glancing at me, as if trying to determine what makes me special. The city sprawls before me, a gleaming maze of towering spires and suspended walkways, all glittering under the harsh midday sun. Crowds of True Born sons line the edges of the starting plaza, their cheers rising in waves as females are presented in sleek vehicles, symbols of their station and power.

As we land, the Parthiastocks push me out and toward the starting line. I’m not chained anymore, but defeat fills my mouth with ash. I’m still an example, just not a gruesome one, yet. I’m the hope of all clones, brought back here to carve a path for other Tubers.

Yet a scream builds in my chest. I don’t want this.

More cries go up, then a hush. The All-Mother waves from her car above the crowds of True Born sons lining the start line. “What’s she doing here?” “Is she choosing a mate at last?”

As the Parthiastocks thrust me into position, the True Born sons next to me stare. Silence ripples out.

“It’s the clone.”

“I thought he was dead?”

“Convicted of murdering a female.”

A True Born with wild yellow hair pokes the Parthiastock Base holding onto me. “He should be in the Euthanization Center, not here.”

The Parthiastock’s scales ripple. “I have orders from the All-Mother herself. If you contest them, I’ll have to disable you.”

Scowling, the True Born spits, “You clones need to know your place. No female will choose a space goon as a mate.”

“You’re right,” I intone, numbness spreading through my body. It’s folly I’m here. What was I even thinking?

In the crowd, I see a flash of blue-purplescales. Then pink. Then greens. Gerverstocks, Parthiastocks, even the odd Selthiastock, all watching. Staring not at the females out of their reach, but at me.

The Base Parthiastock lets me go. “Do well, Gerverstock, or I’ll euthanize you myself.”

I nod, head heavy, left alone in a sea of males who hate me, competing for a mate I don’t want.

Gasps go up from the crowd as they exclaim, “Who’s that?” “A new species?” “A new type of female!”

The True Born next to me squints upwards. “Does she even have scales?”

Hope surges up my chest in a wave. I scan the sky and spot a hovering silver car above, twice my height away. My gaze locks onto El-len, standing next to the All-Mother, her hands clasped tightly before her. Is she afraid? I can’t tell, but the tilt of her chin is proud, even as her eyes dart across the gathered competitors.

She’s here.

I don’t know what that means yet, can’t think, my hearts pounding as the signal lights flash. The race is about to begin.

But now that I know I wasn’t brought back to die, she is my reason to live.