That doesn't match the Crulden of the vids.
They're two different people with the same face. Mine must be a clone. An illegal one, I realize, as he doesn't have the bright red skin that marks him as such. Someone sold Lord Sir a bad clone, and he can't fight as Crulden in the upcoming championship.
The thought sends a burst of excitement through me. It's the answer I've been seeking. Crulden won't be killed that way. Sure, they won't be happy he's a clone, but maybe they'll relegate him to training or practice here, and then we can escape.
It's not him. The realization makes me weak with relief. It's not him. It's not.
I have to let the scientist know so they won't send Crulden off to the championship. I race to my feet, the data pad clutched to my chest, and burst into his office.
The scientist sits back with an expression of pure annoyance on his face, his mouth pulled down into a frown. "Don't you humans have manners?"
I ignore it. If there's one thing being a slave has taught me, it's that the blue guys—mesakkah—think very highly of themselves and very little of everyone else. Instead, I hold out the data pad. "I have to show you something. Crulden can't fight in the championship."
His eyes narrow at me. "What do you mean?"
"He's a clone," I babble. "His skin's not red, but he's a clone. Look. I can show you." I hold the pad out, and with my directions, the scientist replays the video of the fight with the triplets. "Look at the bite," I say. "Look at his hand. They damaged him, but my Crulden doesn't have scars. He doesn't move the same, either. If you watch several of the fights, you'll see it."
"I've seen all of the fights," he snaps at me, angry.
"Well, you missed the obvious, then," I retort. "He's a clone. We have to tell Lord Sir. He can't send a clone off to fight." I try to hide my excitement. This opens up so many new pathways for Crulden. Maybe he can train instead, like some of the older gladiators that no longer fight. Lord Sir's stable rotates fairly often, but we just need a few more weeks to plan our escape. We need Crulden not to be watched twenty-four seven. If he's not locked into a cage—and me with him—we can make a break for it.
The scientist stares down at the pad. "You're right," he says thoughtfully. "We do have to notify Lord Sir." He puts a hand on my shoulder and then quickly draws away again, as if he remembers that Crulden doesn't like other scents. "This is excellent work. I will tell Lord Sir what you discovered. Good job."
I smile, because everything's right in my world again.
My Crulden isn't the monster. He just wears his face.
Before I can rejoin him, the scientist speaks with one of Crulden's trainers and has him pulled into his office for “tests” and “enhancement boosters.” All gladiators deal with that sort of thing, so I'm not surprised. He probably wants to run a few tests of his own before going to Lord Sir with my conclusion, but I know I'm right.
I know they're not the same person, and so I head to the kitchens to prepare a plate of food for him. He didn't eat last night, so he's going to be beyond hungry later today.
He…might also be disappointed, I have to remember. Ever since he awoke, he's been told that he's Crulden, a great gladiator. He's trained brutally for weeks on end, and now he might never get to fight. I can't imagine what that's going to do to him, so I mentally prepare myself to be supportive and loving. Yesterday was a fluke. We're still in this together, and we're going to escape. Even if he's crushed, he'll have to see that it's a temporary setback, and one that's better for our future.
Weird that I'm thinking of “us” and “future” together. But…I can't imagine escaping here and leaving Crulden behind.
As day turns to night, though, and there's still no sign of Crulden, I start to worry. Should I not have said anything to the scientist? It goes against my “flying under the radar” mantra, but I can't let them send Crulden—my Crulden—off to some championship. They're going to expect him to fight at the same level as the other guy. And while my Crulden is swift and lethal and has all the gladiators here sweating bricks, he's not quite the same as the other Crulden.
And I don't want him to die because they think he is.
If they don't send him, Lord Sir will probably be pissed. Maybe he'll sell Crulden off to someone else, and the thought makes me hurt in every part of my soul. Even so…it's not a death sentence, and right now I worry that if he goes to the championship, he won't come back. If he's alive, that's all that matters. I tell myself I did the right thing. I did.