Page 71 of Exiles on Earth
TWENTY-ONE
ELLEN
He left me.
He… walked away without me on a planet where I won’t be able to understand anyone, all alone.
Except I’m not on my own now. After loading Floss into a vehicle on a slate-gray shipyard, I’m accosted by a lady all in silver. She beckons me to her transport, lilting voice singing like a siren.
“Follow All-Mother,” the captain says to me, gesturing toward her. His eyes shine, like he’s finally getting a glimpse of his goddess. “She take care. Speak to her and she learn your tongue, faster than I. It was honor to serve you, female, but now All-Mother, she will give you what you need.”
I swallow hard. What I need is to go home. I shouldn’t have come here. My throat tightens, and I latch it down. No, I’m not going to cry. Ilia’s returned and can finally have a go at the Mating Games he always wanted to do. He’d even said goodbye and wished me well.
It still stings like a bitch, though.
The All-Mother is a tall, older woman, completely silver from head to toe. Her scales are buffed to a shine and she wears asee-through white gown, so she’s basically naked. She has a faint smile on her face like she is in on a joke, but a warmth to her eyes that says she wants me in on it too.
She leads me towards a vehicle which gleams like liquid platinum, its seamless curves reflecting the sun and the shipyard as if it’s cloaked in molten glass. Inside, the air is cool and perfumed, with seats that mold perfectly to my body, and soft ambient lights pulse gently as it takes off with a hum. It doesn’t even feel like we’re flying, merely gliding.
She says something, and I reply. “Hi, I’m El-len. I guess it’ll take you a while to understand me, but apparently my language comes from Trade Standard, so maybe your little head roboty things will pick it up?—”
“Ah, El-len. I’m delighted to meet you. I am known as the All-Mother, but the name my own mother gave me is Shara.” She opens a hatch and pulls out a round object full of amber liquid along with two tall glasses. Pouring the liquid with a scent of strawberries into them, she hands me one.
“I accessed the ship to update my nanites,” she explains as she takes a sip. “You came with the Gerverstock, did you not?” She watches me over the top of her glass, eyes dancing with amusement. Her irises are pale silver, but they’re flecked with all kinds of colors: blue, green, purple, black, even Ilia’s rich brown and gold.
“Yeah. A Gerverstock.” I look down at the shipyard below and catch glimpses of duplicates, the same faces over and over again. About a third of them look like Ilia, with the same brooding jawline and the same shaved head, although Ilia’s hair is growing out a little now.
I sit on my hands, resisting the urge to look around for him. He’s gone to his Mating Games, and I should be happy for him. “Where did you take my dog?”
“Your starhound companion is being taken to our best facility. We have extensive experience assisting these travelers.”
“She’s not a starhound, she’s a sheepdog, and I don’t know why she collapsed.”
Shara gives me a tolerant smile. “A starhound’s first space flight is usually when they are pups, not when they are so much older.”
Okay, still going to insist on the starhound thing. Fine. At least Floss will be in better care than I could provide on the ship, sitting outside her freezer.
The car swoops deeper into the city and hovers over a seething crowd. Hundreds of hot guys, all at peak physical perfection with a myriad of different skin textures and colors, mill right below. Far from scary, this is fascinating. They are all eager to see the other cars hovering nearby, but do so without crowding or shouting, just wide smiles and excitement in their eyes. This world is hot and humid, so a lot of them wear very little, baring waves of abs, chiseled chests, gorgeous jawlines, and thick muscled shoulders.
The ones closest all have different faces, no doubles in sight. “I guess these are True Born sons?”
“That’s right! Is your culture similar to ours?”
I shake my head, biting back my response of ‘This place sounds like a dystopian shithole.’ From the displays of wealth and luxury surrounding us, I’d never guess the planet was the tortured color of an infected red canker sore.
I say, “So, I know I just got here, but what about returning to Earth?”
Immediately Shara passes me a small, square chip. “This is the token of my personal shuttle. You can order it whenever you like to take you to your homeworld.”
“Oh.” It’s that easy, huh? I turn the small, cold chip in my hands. One trip to Earth, where I can pick up the unravelling threads of my farm and try to keep them from completely undoing. I need to return for the lambing season, so the other farmers relying on me don’t lose stock, and sort out the problems withthe planning permission for the barn which will change my family’s fortunes. It’s been two weeks, and it’ll be two more weeks before I get back. A month is a month too much.
Shara winks at me. “Of course, you are also welcome to stay as long as you’d like. This may be your only opportunity to see life on another planet, as I understand your culture hasn’t fully mastered fusion reactors yet?”
“If you say so.” I’m not about to tell some alien what we can or can’t do on our planet, especially because they seem to need our greenery. What difference will a day make, really? And I can watch Ilia succeed, as I know he will.
Still smiling, the All-Mother gestures to the window and it slides down. She waves and the crowd falls into a stunned silence. Guess they weren’t expecting to see her.
But when she beckons, for some reason, I get up and also look outside. The crowd explodes with excitement, pointing and staring at me, a look of wonder on their faces.
