Page 8 of Agrippa's Acceptance

He could do that. “Did you find Elizabeth?”

“No, her trail died in China. But I am sure I will find her soon.” No hint of doubt. Amelagar envied his friend that assurance.

“I will assist you if you need help.” Arakhu turned away. “I have to go on duty.”

Their lack of numbers was one of their biggest concerns. All of them, even the general did triple shifts. While Arakhu walked to the engine room, Amelagar tried to think of the best way to command a female clone to give him a soul.

Chapter Seven

The first morning after Amelagar had discovered her, she opened her eyes and found him standing next to the bed, bend over her, his forefinger tracing her ryhov from her jaw down her neck. Sensation rippled through her body, everywhere the ryhov ran. And it ran everywhere. Swallowing she pulled the covers higher to hide her response to his touch.

He straightened and stopped touching her, but didn’t move away. “I will ask you a question and you will answer positively and truthfully.”

He had a strange expression on his face and he opened his mouth and then closed it and pressed his lips together. It was as if he needed to say something, but didn’t have the courage. Or maybe he struggled how to say it. “Where did you live on Tundra?” He said it in a rush, as if he substituted the words for what he really wanted to say.

She blinked. “Uh … my family were allocated a place in the red zone.” Bitterness settled in her stomach. The clones called it a home, but it was little more than a shack. Clones lived in large mansions that resembled temples, but they begrudged her people the air they breath simply because they prefer to procreate naturally.

“Give more information.”

“Like what?”

“Why the red zone?” He seemed to think about it. “What is the red zone?”

Why did he want to know? Should she reveal so much of herself? “The clones said we were privileged because I showed an aptitude for science and math. They trained me and allowed my family quarters in the red zone.” They made it clear that her family would have quarters there if she toed the line. What if the clones killed her family when they realized she’d disappeared with the stolen ship? Maybe with the cyborgs revolting, the clones won’t have time to worry about her family. Maybe they would even need to employ more real Tunrians if they did not trust the cyborgs. “The red zone was made up of slums, but better slums than the other areas allocated to non-clones.”

Would her family blame her if the clones retaliated against naturals for the ships stolen by the cyborgs?

He stared at her and she wiggled uncomfortably. His stare was so fierce she had a hard time figuring out if he was staring at her or glaring. That glare was the one big difference, apart from their grey color, that was different from the clones.

He spun on his heel and left her staring after him. What was that about?

She opened her mouth to ask the doctor if she could use the bathroom and then she reconsidered. If she started asking permission for every little thing she did, they would expect her to continue doing it. She’d learned that lesson the hard way from the clones. If she hadn’t frequently disappeared into the crawl space the captain would’ve seen her and ordered her to his stateroom. She got up and took fresh clothes from her belongings that the cyborgs had allowed her to keep.

The doctor said nothing, but watched her until she could close the door behind her. She leaned against the door, her heart beating overtime and then she looked at the shower and hurriedly threw off her clothes and got into the bathing stall. After weeks of only washing with a cloth, it was like the luxurious paradise the goddess promised for those who remained faithful. Typical of clones, even the infirmary bathroom was the height of luxury.

She emerged feeling better able to face her situation. She tried not to think about never seeing her family again. It was too horrific to contemplate.

“Eat.” The doctor threw something on the bed next to her. She sighed and picked up the tube. Field rations. It was the one thing, well actually one of many things the clones did that she did not understand. Why develop field rations meant for soldiers when they have never been involved in a war. Except for wiping out the people on Tunria’s moon centuries ago? They built space ships and talked about exploration, but the ships were built for war. There was no mistaking that.

She squeezed some of the paste out and licked it out of the tube and shuddered. It was horrendous. It tasted like rotten vegetables. Back home a temple would sometimes malfunction and produce food that was unfit to eat. Now she knew what they did with the spoiled vegetables. Gingerly she squeezed out some more and forced herself to swallow it. She was going to need her strength.

Two hours later she was about ready to climb the wall. At least while she hid from the cyborgs she’d been able to keep herself busy learning earth languages and spying on the cyborgs.

“I know you have been into more systems than the regeneration unit,” Hamurabi said.

“I … uh—”She should’ve come up with a plausible excuse.

“Do not sit there. Make yourself useful and run a diagnostic of the regeneration systems.” He turned and went back to the adjacent office.

She jumped off the bed and went to one of the computer stations. Maybe if she made herself useful and gained his trust, he might allow her to assist with the new cyborgs they created. The cyborgs she wasn’t to know about. The cyborgs she very much feared were going to come online very, very wrong.

The door opened and Amelagar stepped into the infirmary. He stormed up to her, stood there glaring at her. She got the impression he did not know what to say. Or that he had something to say, but did not know how to say it.

“Do you have offspring on Tundra, clone?” he barked.

“No.” What was it with him and these questions?

Like that morning, he turned and stormed out.

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