Page 68 of Exiles on Earth
“A… hobby?” The word translates as a selfish pursuit.
“A passion, then. Something that makes you, well, you. You should show that in your Mating Games. Let them see your personality. It’ll help you stand out.”
Her words hit me like a physical blow. Personality. The reminder of how I’m just one of thousands—identical in form, purpose, and function—gnaws at me. What makes me different? What could ever qualify me to stand out, of being chosen, of being hers?
But her happiness, her enthusiasm, is a light that pierces through the darkness of my thoughts. It fills me with a fleeting but profound joy. Meeting her, knowing her, and standing beside her, even for this brief moment in time, is worth any price—even the one I’m destined to pay.
“I’m glad I crashed onto your barn,” I say truthfully.
Her laughter rings out, warm and bright, bouncing off the sterile walls of the hydroponics unit. Despite the weight crushing my chest, I can’t help but smile in return.
I’ll treasure every second I have left with her.
All too soon,we hover over Oloria.
The crimson planet with its yellow poles looks harsh compared to Earth’s lush greens and blues. Bright blue stripes on Oloria mark what remains of our seas with pleasure beaches lining the shores, but the vast majority of the land mass is a parched patchwork of desperate hydroponics and soil trials.
El-len presses her nose to the plascrete glass, wonder in her face. I long to capture the image somehow, every dip and swell of her curves, the pure amazement in her expression at seeing a new-to-her planet.
“That place looks like it’s hurting,” she murmurs. She glances up at me. “Where do you live?”
I point to the southern hemisphere, where gray boils dot the planet’s tortured surface. “I was grown in one of those. I live… lived in space, and on the planets I explored.”
Now, I should tell her goodbye. I have a whole speech prepared, and now is the moment to distance myself from her.
Behind us, the two Parthiastock Bases bring in their Apex, ready to arrest me. While El-len kept me by her side they couldn’t touch me onboard, but we’re landing and they’ll take me to whoever ordered my retrieval.
I don’t want her to see me in chains. I want her last memory of me to be walking away of my own free will.
Even though leaving her tears my hearts out.
Hands shaking, I stare only at her, face illuminated red as the planet fills the viewport. The crease at her brows signals concern, but she’s strong, and she’ll be safe on Oloria. She’ll be going home soon and this will all be a distant memory for her. And while I’m not worthy of them, I will treasure my own memories.
I focus only on her as the ship bumps into atmosphere, my arms out ready to catch her, should she fall. And when it levels out, I place my hand on her shoulder.
She looks up at me, her joy tearing at my hearts. “Look at this! Isn’t it marvelous?”
“Yes,” I say, with eyes only for her. Now. I have to do it now. “El-len, I… I hope you find a mate worthy of you.”
Her gaze flickers with confusion. “Pardon?”
I take my hand from her shoulder even though everything inside me screams to stay, forcing my practiced speech out. “I hope you find your heart’s partner who will lavish you with the happiness you deserve and loves seeing your dreams come to life.” My throat sticks on the words. Someone will make El-len happy; it won’t be me, and I won’t be there to see it.
“What are you saying?” Her confusion turns to hurt. Then she glances below at the blue-green city rapidly coming into view, the last Milagrove tree at its northern edge. It’s the females’ conurbation, Progress, decadence surrounded by clones’ districts. “Oh. I see.”
What does she see? Without facing me, she can’t see my hearts break.
The shuttle lands, and I hang my head, hands trembling, desperate to reach out and hold her one last time.
But behind me the Apex approaches, sending a searing command into my mind. ‘Come now, or be contained here.’
‘I’ll come.’ But it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
Taking one last gulp of her air, I try to face my fate. It’s over. “Floss will be taken care of. Go to her, and… goodbye, El-len.”
I don’t wait for her answer, turning on my heels and walking to the ship’s exit. The Apex and his Bases follow, and as soon as I’m out of the room, they produce manacles and a veralash, blue filament glowing faintly.
A Base shackles me, snapping the betrillium closed around my wrists. The rest of the Gerverstocks wait by the exit, the door repurposing and reforming into a gangplank with a fluid hiss, and the captain sneers at me as I’m led past. He’s never failed his crew, never sent them to exile, and he rightfully hates what I portray: an incompetent Gerverstock.
