Salvotor and Dopekh are cute enough. Ruthie and Kazex, too. So much love going on around our ship. I hope that means Ruthie's staying with us. But what if Dopekh leaves? I shove another bite of cake into my mouth, chewing rapidly so I don't cry. I don't want to lose anyone. I want to shove Alice and Helen and Jade onto the Eye and keep tabs on everyone for the rest of my days.
Jade snaps her fingers in front of my face as I sniffle and eat another bite of cake. "You okay?"
"Hormones," I manage, determined not to cry at the thought of Dopekh or Ruthie or Kazex leaving. I realize I didn't hear a thing Jade was saying about the humans being released from the pods and change the subject. "So where's Lord va'Rin's wife?"
Alice wipes her fingers clean, handing the bloody plate to her pet to lick. "Milly said she'd come down for dinner. She's napping. Said this new baby makes her tired all the time."
Another pregnant person? Jesus. "Is there anyone that isn't pregnant around here?"
"Just me," Helen says glumly.
Jade retorts, "You don't want to be pregnant. You just want Mathiras to notice you."
Helen shrugs, leaning back in her chair. "He's bound to at some point."
"Or not," Jade corrects gently. "Just because we ended up with his brothers doesn't mean he's obligated to fall in love with you. These things have to happen naturally."
Helen fidgets, looking as if she wants to leave the table behind. I don't blame her. I'm getting antsy, too, and all the cake in the world can't soothe the need to see my mate again. "Can I see Straik or are they keeping us apart deliberately?"
"Not deliberate," Jade promises. "The boys just wanted a word with him first."
Yeah, I'll bet. I bet that word was four letters and shouted at him a lot.
94
STRAIK
"This is the big problem." Mathiras crosses his arms over his chest and gazes into the window at the end of a hall in the guards barracks. There's several guards on this side of the wall with us, all of them nervous looking.
I expect to see a prison cell of some kind, judging by the inhuman snarls coming from the room, and I'm not disappointed. It's a plain holding room, with no decoration of any kind. There's a simple lavatory built into the wall, along with a sink and an overhead shower spray. A cot is built into the opposite wall, and none of it is being used, because at the far end of the room is a very large cage that's shaking as if it's going to fall apart at any moment. Inside that cage, cuffed to the bars and raging like a wild animal, is a famous—or rather, infamous—gladiator.
Crulden the Ruiner.
Before I can ask, Mathiras looks over at me. "Clone. Yet another from the berth of the Buoyant Star. He represents our biggest problem. Over half of the cargo was cloned. And just like Helen, we don't know how much of their memories they'll have. It's presenting a problem because we can't just unleash dozens of innocent humans and expect them to thrive. They don't have the social skills to know what to do, and while this planet is good for a lot of them, it's not without its problems. Unscrupulous sorts have been known to prey on the humans, and Lord va'Rin has his hands full because more seem to be showing up every day. Homeworld has sent a custodial team to handle the chaos in Port, but Lord va'Rin's guardsmen are picking up the slack." He lifts his chin, nodding at Crulden. "And they really don't like this one."
"I can't say I blame them." I watch as the male shakes the cage, snarling. Drool hangs from his fangs, his mouth distorted around the massive teeth and tusks bred into his kind. He's got an ugly, blunted muzzle, the mane of a praxiian male, the heavy build of a moden, and a few features that make me think mesakkah—like the tail that flicks back and forth with a solitary tuft at the end. His claws are big and nasty and hooked, though, and when he crouches, his back bristles with jagged-looking spikes that jut from his skin. I don't know what race that's from, but it looks dangerous. All of him does. He wears nothing but a torn pair of trou that look as if they're going to fall off of him from abuse, and what look like the biggest pair of stun cuffs I've ever seen crisscrossing his wrists and locking him to the bars. "So why are you showing this to me? I'm not interested in purchasing a gladiator."
Mathiras gives me an irked stare. "I'm showing you because Crulden might be the tip of the iceberg. We might have dozens more clones without memories or socializing. For every Helen, there might be a Crulden. We might be wandering into a situation where there are hundreds—or even thousands—of clones that are going to have no stability, no memories, no nothing. And I'm curious to know just how committed you are to this situation or if you plan on running again."