Ruthie gives me a faint smile as Sakkar pulls the monitor off her finger. "I guess I'm not surprised. I think I knew something the moment I saw you. In a way, this gives me answers, at least." A big red hand lands on her shoulder, and Kazex is behind her, giving her support. She puts her hand over his and smiles at him.
"Well, this ship is clone central, so you'll always have a home here, isn't that right, baby?" I look over at my mate. There's sympathy in his eyes, and I know it's for me more than Ruthie. He doesn't care about her as much as he cares about how her sadness will affect me.
"I can always use another crew member," Straik says in a guarded tone, and I know he's eyeing just how close Ruthie is with Kazex.
"We'll see," Ruthie says in a soft voice. "I'm not making any decisions yet."
I give her hand another squeeze as Sakkar disinfects the monitor and then approaches me. "Ready for your turn?"
My throat goes dry. I look over at Straik, sudden terror striking me. Am I ready? But my husband is in the room, leaning against the wall directly across from me, and I realize it's so he can watch over me the whole time. He gives me a small nod, as if reminding me that I'm a badass, and I breathe a little easier. I need to know, one way or another. I release Ruthie's hand and hold my finger out. "I'm ready. Let's get an answer so we can move on with our lives."
"Whatever makes you sleep better at night," Sakkar says dryly. He clips the monitor on my finger and then turns to the screen behind him.
A needle punches through the pad of my finger and I bite back a curse, jumping. Sonofabitch, that stung more than Ruthie let on. I frown at my finger, waiting to see if blood gushes everywhere, and then Sakkar makes a noise of consternation in his throat.
Uh oh.
I look up and the information that scrolls across the screen…looks just like Ruthie's did. I can't read his language, but the bars that flow over the screen—the genetic markers—are all distressingly even. Manufactured.
I'm a clone, too. Neither one of us is the real thing.
A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. We wanted answers, and all we got were more questions. "So where's the real Ruth?" I manage between choked laughter. "How come we have pieces of her memory?"
Sakkar glances over at Straik, his body language uneasy. "There could be a number of reasons for that. It depends on how you were cloned, of course. They might be implanting her memories to you in an attempt to fool purchasers, or it could be experimental cloning procedures that we aren't aware of or…" He trails off, nostrils flaring. "Or something else."
"Something else?" I ask sharply.
Straik pushes to my side, nudging Ruthie away from me. He pulls me into his arms and tears the little monitor off my finger. "It doesn't matter," he tells me. "None of it matters. You're still the same female I fell in love with, all right? It hasn't changed a thing."
"I know," I tell him, managing a smile. I lean forward and kiss him gently, because I adore him and how protective he is of me. "I'm okay, really." Strangely enough, I am. This wasn't an answer, in a way, but on the other hand, it's exactly what I needed. I'm not the original Ruth, and it gives me answers to all the questions I had in my head. My husband loves me, and I have a sister-clone. I'm surprisingly good.
"What 'something else'?" Ruthie asks Sakkar. "You said there was something else and got a weird look on your face. What is it?"
The medic clears his throat. "I've heard of host-cloning."
"Sakkar," Straik says sharply. "Don't."
It's clear my husband knows exactly what host-cloning is. I frown up at him and look over at the medic. "Well, now I want to know, too."
"Host-cloning—" Sakkar begins.
"Don't," Straik snaps again.
Sakkar ignores him. "—is when brain tissue and biological matter are removed from the original host and used to replicate it."
"Replicate?" Ruthie asks, voice quavering.
"I swear to kef, I'm going to shove my fist down your throat, Sakkar," Straik growls, holding me tightly against him. "Enough."
"My loyalty is to Lady Ruth as much as you, my lord," Sakkar continues, a stubborn look on his face. He crosses his arms over his chest. "You established that when you married her. I am sharing knowledge. If she wants me to stop, she can tell me."
"I want you to go on," I say immediately, and press my fingers to Straik's mouth. "Continue."
"Host-cloning is frowned upon because it cannibalizes the initial host," Sakkar says, glancing over at my angry husband. He keeps his arms tightly crossed over his chest, his expression clinical. "But there are labs that don't care about the safety of the host, so they figure the sacrifice of one to create ten is worth the cost. As I said, it's an illegal practice."