His gaze moves over the borrowed tunic I'm wearing—Straik's tunic—and my sleep-rumpled hair. I can pretty much tell what he's thinking, but I just keep on smiling.
"I can't leave my post," the a'ani says with a shake of his head. Before I can protest, he taps his wrist. "Is Dopekh available? The human needs an escort to mess."
"Dopekh's on repairs this morning," replies another voice. "I'm sending Jerzec your way."
"Got it." He taps his wrist again and nods at me. "Someone will be here shortly."
"Thank you." I beam at him. "What was your name again? Since it seems like I'm going to be here a while, I need to start remembering names."
"Aithar," he says, with a polite nod. "Comms."
I wave a hand at him. "Ruth. No official title. Captive, I guess."
He shakes his head. "Not if you're not in the brig. You're Lord Straik's guest." He glances at the room I just came out of, as if implying a lot more.
Right. Lord Straik's “guest” it is, then. "Have you worked here long, Aithar?"
"One standard year." He shrugs. "I'm the newest in the crew. The last comm chief retired."
I want to ask if he was a clone, too, and where retired clones go, but it seems a rude thing to jump on. I keep things to small talk, or try to. "Where did you work before?"
Aithar gives me a puzzled look. "Work? I was a slave." His lip curls slightly. "I was a grunt in a factory satellite, chained to my workstation. I kept it running smoothly and my owner eventually figured out that I was more intelligent than the task he had me set at, so they gave me an education chip and put me up for sale to make a profit."
I swallow hard. "I didn't mean to pry."
"It's not prying." He straightens. "Lord Straik bought me, and the moment we got on the ship, he took my cuffs off and removed all slave trackers from me. Said if I wished to work for him, he needed a comms specialist, and if not, he'd give me credits so I could start over somewhere new. He's a good captain, and good to the crew. We'd never betray him."
I'm sure that pointed little comment is for my benefit, but I'm less interested in betraying Straik and more about the whole clone business. "When you worked in the factory…I'm curious…did you always know you were a clone?"
He shakes his head. "Not always, no. I figured it out when new employees arrived and two of them had the same face as me and red skin."
Right. Helen had red skin, too. Maybe I'm not a clone because mine isn't red. I'm a little relieved to hear that. "How did you feel when you realized that you were all clones?"
Aithar shrugs. "Like a missing piece clicked into place."
I bite my lip. I haven't had that click, but that doesn't mean anything. "Do you feel…different now that you know you're a clone?"
He arches a brow at me, a half-chuckle escaping him. "How would I know? I've always been a clone."
Excellent point. A clone would feel the same as any other living, breathing person. "I'm sorry if I'm asking a lot of questions. I'm just curious."
Aithar glances down the hall as another clone—again, with the same face and only slightly different hair and uniform—heads in our direction. Has to be Jerzec. I study Aithar, and I notice he has two hoops in his left ear, and his features are slightly wider than Dopekh's. I'll have to remember that. I won't think of them as copies, just…identical twins. And you can tell identical twins apart from small differences.
"I understand your curiosity and your fear," Aithar says in a low voice. "You're new and you're not sure if this place is safe. If everyone's lying to you because freedom seems too good to be true. But I promise you that fear goes away. You'll realize Lord Straik means it when he says you're free, and even though he's a corsair, he's a good male with a strong sense of honor. You'll see."
For some reason, that makes me feel a lot better. If I'm a clone, I'll just…fucking deal with it, like I deal with everything else. "Thanks, Aithar. I appreciate it."
41
STRAIK
I wake up with a crick in my neck and the realization that Ruth has crept out while I slept.
Immediately, I jerk to my feet, tossing the blankets back down on the floor. I'm still in my pants, so I shove my feet into my boots as I head for the door. Have I been tricked? Were all the hugs just to catch me off-guard? "Computer! Where is Ruth?"
"Ruth is in the engine room," the AI tells me cheerfully.
Kef me. I race out of my quarters and down the halls, desperate to get to her before she can do any harm. Of all places, the keffing engine room. I storm past several confused crew members, but there's no time to yell at them. I'll do that later, when Ruth has been safely contained. I'm so angry that I let my guard down. I let hugs and kisses distract me. My mother would laugh hysterically at how foolish and trusting I've been, and the realization makes me grit my teeth as I fly down the ladder toward the engine rooms, skipping the slower elevator.