Page 73 of Exiles on Earth
She says, “His mission record is exemplary, he never fails to accomplish the task, and he always brings back useful plants for our world. Sometimes animals as well.”
My heart twists. “He’s gonna make some lady very happy,” I manage to say.
“Only if they give him a chance.” She dismisses the information with a swipe of her hand. “For your context, females look at him and see a generic adventurer clone, born in the thousands. They have yet to appreciate what sets him apart, what sets them all apart, and that’s why I’m so pleased he’s entered this year’s Mating Games.”
How could anyone look at the man running beside me and not recognize the determination that sets him ahead of the others? I recall how sad he seemed on the ship. Was he doubting himself?
“Everything here keeps telling him he’s too small, he’s nothing, his dreams don’t matter,” I point out. “He fights it anyway.”
“Yes, I’m glad you share my sentiments. We should cheer him on.”
I nod, not able to say any more. Can I really watch while someone else gets to walk away with him? It’s what he wants.
She leans forward, long arms wrapping around her knees. “Now, on to you, before we reach the site of the Games in the compound called Sanctuary. While you’re here, you have full access to the comforts of the complex. You’re not restricted there in any way, so long as you take a bodyguard outside the walls. This is simply because the clones outside have not seen a female and they will likely stand in your way just to see you. Believe me, it gets old very quickly.”
How can she be using Earth slang? Her nanites must be latest issue, or whatever the term is.
She lays a hand on my leg. “You are tired but excited, I can tell. I’ll show you to our rooms, where I will stay with you. The second trial, the interview portion, begins in a few hours. You’re welcome to dine, rest, explore, whatever you’d like, but you would be an honored guest at the interview segment.”
I nod just as the transport goes through a tunnel. In the darkness the males shone as bright spots of color, flashing like a nightclub behind us, but I can pick out Ilia’s steady red alongside me. Bright sunlight at the end of the tunnel makes me squint, and then I gasp as we drive out of it.
A huge lake of sapphire-emerald water sparkles at me in front of us, a cliff opposite cradling it within its sloped sides. Built into the rock face soars a glass structure, like a living plant sculpture clambering up the sheer face. All I can do is boggle at the architecture and engineering on display. No wonder Ilia didn’t want my primitive ass. He hadn’t said anything nearly so nasty, but I have eyes—I can’t measure up to Shara, or to this.
The transport dives smoothly into the waters, beautiful blue-greens surrounding us. The vehicles follow a track with soft lights on either side, and then we approach glass foundations with stacks of colored items inside.
“The archives,” Shara says, leaning close and enveloping me in a scent of soothing chamomile. “Information storage. Over there are our raw materials for the manufactories onsite. Ah! The farm.”
I whip around but it passes too quickly, and I can only catch a glimpse of the bright yellow of canola seeds as we zip past. Ilia swims next to us, face locked in a grimace as he keeps level with my window. He twists from side to side like a fish, giving me a full view of his honed torso on one side and his rippling back on the other. Each powerful kick slams him forward and his armsclaw at the water, propelling himself alongside me with each stroke. He’s working hard to keep level with us.
Level with… me? No. Bad heart, to keep hoping for myself. He wants one of his own kind, and he deserves a mate. How could anyone not want this guy?
The vehicle sluices out of the water and Ilia runs alongside us again, water sliding down the peaks and valleys of his body. We drive to the cliff-compound, sunlight filtering through the rich plant life growing up the side of the huge glass skyscraper.
I stare as the car comes to a stop, softly lowering to the ground with a whoosh that ruffles the grass around us. Shara opens the transport door and steps out, holding a hand back for me. I take it and stumble out into the humid air, clumsy human that I am.
Ilia pants next to us, resting his hands on his thighs and gasping for air. When I come out he straightens, still breathing hard.
“Are you… okay?” he asks, water dripping down his neck and along the veins bulging in his biceps.
“Yes. Are you?”
His gaze rakes over me, my heart fluttering, before he nods. “Perfectly.”
The doors to the building open and women pour out. Tall and lithe like Shara, they come out with big smiles and attention all on me. They all wear long robes with their arms bare, and many have long hair roped around their heads and shoulders. They’re dressed to kill, and I’m in my rancid rumpled jeans and fraying shirt.
Lovely.
They speak rapidly to Shara, who smiles and talks back, putting her arm around my shoulders.
“Everything alright here?” I ask, stomach somersaulting.
“They’re very interested in you,” Shara says.
Splashes drag my attention to the shore, where more menpull themselves from the water. They stand dripping, smoothing their hair, settling their scales and staring at the females. More than a few of them glance my way, eyes alight with interest.
Ilia makes a rumbling noise deep in his throat, and the women finally notice him and the other males. Their smiles become much more clinical looking at the guys gazing hungrily right back.
“Come, Ellen,” Shara says. “Let’s get ourselves situated and allow me to show you our rooms.”
