I steal a glance at Law-rah, who looks as shocked as I feel. A part of me wants to be relieved, but I know better.
So does Law-rah.‘There’s a calculation behind this decision, some angle we can’t quite see yet,’she frets.
Samara continues, “Moreover, given the… new fashion for Selthiastock mates as protection against disease, there may be other surprises within clone abilities. I declare that the best way of finding these is to offer clones the chance to compete in their own mating games."
My ears buzz as if the ship I’m on is crash-landing into atmosphere, shaking me down to my bones.
This is huge.
The All-Mother comes forward, watching the Prif with a mixture of surprise and suspicion.
Samara’s friends exchange glances, and I see them each react differently. The blonde nods, as if she can accept this compromise. The Voice relaxes, clearly relieved that Samara took her advice. The second redhead looks positively thrilled at the thought of integrating Earth’s justice principles, a spark of triumph in her eyes. And Imaya, she smiles, as if everything has played out exactly as she wanted, like she’s eager to see what kind of results this next phase will yield.
The crowd continues to murmur, a low hum of reaction sweeping through the tiers.
‘Is this… the first ripple of something new for clones?’I ask Law-rah.
‘The first little crack in the system,’she agrees.
Samara watches me closely, her gaze sharp, calculating, as though she’s waiting for me to make a mistake. And I know, despite the newfound rights she’s promised, that this isn’t over. Not yet.
Beside me, Law-rah reaches out, her thumb brushing against my hand in the smallest, most discreet touch. It’s enough to steady me, to remind me why I’m here, why I endure.
For her.
THIRTY-FIVE
LAURA
Gerverstocks like Iliaload the All-Mother’s sleek black flyer. The ship stands ready to take me, Dom and Shade back to Earth, away from the laws and schemes of the Prif. The very idea of being home again feels almost surreal.
Shara and Samara are here, overseeing the preparations. They’re not quite walking arm in arm, but there’s an ease between them that wasn’t there before.
Samara approaches me with that same aloof calm she always wears, her eyes sharp but unreadable. She's been publicly humiliated; despite her concessions to the clones, I wouldn't put it past her to put a bomb on this flyer and make a wish on the resultant shooting star.
I curtsy to her. “I hope the test of your laws has been helpful. Perhaps enshrining them by writing them down will lighten your workload.”
“It's more work for now, but I can see efficiency benefits.” Her gaze passes over me, snagging on Shara. “I do want to… thank you, human.”
Holy shit. “What for?”
“Reconciling myself and my sister. It has been taxing to be on separate sides of this issue. Perhaps, we can forge a new future together.”
Well, that's pretty fab. Mending the rift between them is a huge added bonus. Maybe things can change here, even for people as powerful as Samara and Shara.
Samara says, “Now, I did offer to assist with the mind-sync. The collars we developed have proved effective at blocking mental wavelengths of Parthiastocks.”
Right back to square one. Great. “That's pure torture for them.”
‘I’ll do it,’Dom's voice whispers. Of course he would.
Her lips twist. “I wasn't suggesting they wear them. My scientists have been working on something.”
I begin, "That's nice, but I don’t?—”
She pulls a small box out of her pocket, pressing a button. It unfolds in her palm to reveal an amber chip on a delicate golden chain.
“The same transmitter as in the collars has been modified to this piece of adornment. Once you put it on, you are advised not to take it off. This ensures the necklace continues to function.”