The Clone’s Mate by Susan Trombley
Eleven
I kept up the charades with green guy as time passed. The effort to understand what he was trying to say, while sending my own communication through gestures, kept me occupied at least some of that interminable time. I wouldn’t say it sped up the crawling passage of days as I waited for whatever fate would ultimately befall me, but it gave me something to do besides navel gaze and daydream about having a studio full of blank canvases to paint.
Green guy was an interesting distraction. At times, he seemed almost friendly and definitely eager to communicate. I wondered how long he’d been in there, and I suspected he’d been a captive for a very long time. I think he tried to communicate how long by pointing at the mechanical claw whenever it passed and tapping his cell wall for a long count.
He didn’t look thrilled that I’d had to shrug my shoulders and shake my head at that one. Still, despite my obtuseness, he continued to make the effort. As did I.
However, there were times when he refused to even look in my direction, unless he was sending me a furious glare. I didn’t understand how he could be so eager one moment, and then suddenly shift into a glaring, scowling demeanor the next. His body language completely changed like his expression, growing stiffer, wings outspreading, fists clenching. Even his toes would extend like he was stretching them.
He remained seated in those times, but it seemed like he really wanted to get up and pace when he was agitated like that.
I could hardly blame him. The cells were small with low ceilings, which was fine for me, since I was only 5’4’’ but the rare times I’d seen him rise to his feet, he had to hunch and couldn’t straighten to his full height.
I don’t know how much time passed, but I was guessing by the amount of times I’d been fed that it was several weeks. If it weren’t for green guy and the activities going on in the warehouse around me, I would have gone legitimately mad, just like some of those poor aliens still pounding away on their cell walls, some of them smearing blood from their destroyed fists onto the clear, slick surface.
Then one day, the claw came for me. It plucked my entire cell off the stack and green guy rose to his feet, pressing both palms against the clear walls of his cell as he stood and watched the claw carry me away. He was in the friendlier mood at that time, and we had been attempting to converse—unsuccessfully as per usual—when the claw came by. Once he’d noticed that it was attaching to my cell, he’d gotten an odd look on his face, then his body went slack, and his head bowed. When he lifted his head again, I saw the coldness in his eyes as they regarded me, a slight smirk tilting his lips as the claw pulled my cell away from his.
I felt those chilly eyes on me as the claw carried me down to the ground level, where another machine pulled one side of it off, allowing me to finally step out of the enclosure.
Right into the waiting arms of those creepy mannequin mechs. Two of them this time.
I followed them obediently, having noted previously that captives that were allowed the privilege of walking themselves to their fate did not do well if they attempted to escape their escort. I had no desire to be shocked to my knees or even killed.
The mechs led me past the room where I’d been previously and took me several doors down from it to another room. This one was as white on the floor, walls, and ceiling as the maze had been with only a table and two chairs in the room. One of the chairs had restraints on it.
I guessed that one was mine before the mech gestured to it. Other than the restraints, it didn’t look remarkable. It didn’t seem to have any signs of electronics that might send shocks through my body. Not that I had much of a choice but to sit in it.
I continued to behave as the mech activated the restraints, locking me into the chair at both my wrists and ankles. Then the two mechs took up positions against the wall behind me, and though they fell completely still and remained silent, I could sense them there. Just waiting for me to make a wrong move.
I tapped my fingers on the chair arm as I waited, humming another pop song under my breath. My mind raced with so many fears about what would happen to me next that I almost sagged in relief when good old Nirgal strode into the room, mask firmly in place, but no longer clothed in a biohazard suit.
This guy had nothing but ill will towards me, but at least he was familiar, and after staring blankly at a white wall for what was a good hour at least, I was desperate to see some color. He certainly made a splash of it as he sank into his seat on the other side of the table.
I’d noted as he’d moved into the room that I didn’t see any wings on him, but his white robe garment was voluminous enough to conceal them. Or maybe they were shriveled like green guy’s wings.
I was now certain—looking at what I could see of Nirgal’s face—that he was like green guy and the other traumatized aliens in the warehouse. Only he looked much healthier, though he was still pretty lean.
“Long time, no see, Nirgie. How you been?” I grinned at him as if I’d been relaxing on a beach for the last few weeks.
His eyes narrowed in a glare, raking my naked form with clear disdain before he spoke. “I can see that even time in a cage has not trained you to behave around your betters.”
“Actually,” I said in a conspiratorial tone as I leaned forward in my seat, “I’ve had an awesome time in the last, what, three weeks or so. I’ve navel-gazed so much I think I saw my spine through my belly. Also, I have a ton of ideas for some art pieces.” I cocked my head at him. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in sitting for me, would you? I have the perfect place for a painting of you. You see, I’m planning on getting a cat when I get back to Earth, so I’ll need a litterbox liner.”
His eyes narrowed to slits, and I figured I’d pushed my luck as far as it would go. “You are infuriating,” he growled, clenching his fingers around his cursed tablet.
Did that man go nowhere without it? I bet he slept with it still clutched in his hands. As much as that image of Nirgal lying in bed, cradling his tablet close to his chest, petting it and calling it his “precious” amused me, I kept the chuckle behind my lips.
He was already getting good and pissed.
“I won’t allow you to derail this interaction, human,” he said in a tone I knew came in a matched set with a snarl, even though I couldn’t see his lips behind his mask.
I remained silent this time, because I had definitely pushed my luck as far as it would go.
He eyed me suspiciously for several tense minutes before he finally spoke again. “It would seem that Subject 34 has not imprinted on you. He shows no signs of deprivation from your absence.” He raked my seated form again with a narrow-eyed glare. “I’m not in the least surprised he didn’t miss you.”
I actually felt a little stung, pun totally intended. I’d built up a bit of a fantasy around Subject 34 being imprinted on me, fated-mate style, and breaking free to come to my rescue, stinging the crap out of all these jerkoffs keeping me captive.
Still, I wouldn’t let Nirgal smirk behind his mask from seeing me upset at the news. I shrugged it off, tossing my head to flip my uncombed, matted hair over my shoulder.
“That’s fine by me. He was a bit too intense for my tastes anyway.”
“In that case,” Nirgal said, leaning forward in his own chair as he set the tablet down on the tabletop, “I would recommend you cease your attempts to communicate with Ilyan.” He huffed in what I assumed was laughter, but it clearly held no amusement because he had the sense of humor of a potato.
Genuinely confused for a moment, I stared at him with wide eyes. “Ilyan?”
He didn’t immediately respond, though he regarded me as if waiting for my brain to make the connections, which it did pretty quickly.
He didn’t have to keep staring at me with that look that said I was an idiot.
“Oh, you mean green guy.” I nodded. “Yeah, I was totally trying to talk to him. He’s not that good at charades.”
He didn’t appreciate my name for my cell neighbor based on the outraged sound he made as he straightened. “Professor Ilyan was a brilliant scientist, until he was ruined by imprinting. I assure you, if you do not like Subject 34’s intensity, you would do well to cease all communications with…,” here he paused and when he spoke again, his voice dripped with contempt for me, “green guy.”
“I don’t know, he didn’t seem that bad,” I mused, mostly teasing, but also a little taken aback by Nirgal’s warning.
The corners of Nirgal’s eyes crinkled, and I just knew he was smirking again behind that mask. “Subject 34 kills his victims for food and self-defense. Ilyan’s fractured side murders for fun. I would keep that in mind if you find yourself contemplating whether he would make a good ally for an escape attempt.”
Okay, that sounded like a very good reason to give green guy a wide berth. In fact, now that old Nirgal told me that, I felt like I had a little bit of an explanation for the sudden shift in Ilyan’s demeanor that I’d seen repeatedly in the weeks that had passed while I was stuck in the cell next to him.
Still, this guy had no room to talk.
“Is that a trait of your species or something?” I asked, narrowing my own eyes and raking him with a condescending look. “Killing people for fun? Like, what are you guys? Sadistic hell fairies from space?”
Nirgal slammed a fist onto the tabletop, startling me enough that I squeaked and jumped in my seat. “I am not a killer!” he shouted. “I do this for science!”
“Duuude,” I shook my head, “you really need to—”
He jumped up from his seat and leaned across the table to slap his hand over my mouth. “Shut up before I have you thrown into… the….”
His eyes widened and he quickly pulled his hand away from my face. “I am not a killer,” he growled as he settled himself back into his seat.
“But, you kinda are, though?” I ventured, raising my tone at the end of the statement so it sounded like a less accusatory question.
He stiffened and his chilly blue glare grew even colder. He picked up that damned tablet and looked down at it in a dismissive fashion. “If you are done, I would finish this irritating meeting.”
I exaggerated my actions as I looked around the room. “Oh, that’s what this is.” I shook my hands in the restraints. “I was a little confused for a moment. We weren’t allowed to lock our employees into their chairs during the meetings I ran. In retrospect, it probably would have made them pay more attention. But then, the cops would have to get involved, and the lawyers, and it’d get messy, you know.”
I watched his fingers tighten on the tablet until I was sure it would have cracked if it were one made by humans. I couldn’t help grinning, even though I knew I was digging a bigger hole for myself. I was already doomed. Why not go out in style by pissing Nirgie off until he totally lost his shit?
I wonder what his superiors would do if he jumped up out of his seat and beat me to death with that tablet. Probably nothing, so I should quit messing with him.
“You are so… fortunate,” he said in a tone that suggested he spoke between gritted teeth, “that we still require your presence to further our experiments.”
I nodded. “I feel really fortunate, ya know. Like I just won the lottery.”
He sighed and sat back in his seat, returning his cold glare to me. “Do you ever think before you speak?”
I shrugged with some difficulty, given the restraints. “Sometimes, but lately, I just figure why bother? You plan on killing me anyway, probably after tons of torture, so if I can get you pissed off enough to kill me quickly, yay for me.”
“I don’t arbitrarily kill subjects,” he growled. “Everything I do is for—”
“Science.” I nodded quickly, cutting him off. “Heard you the first fifty times. Now, what do you plan on doing to me next? Because me and green guy, we have a date for a game of charades, and I’d rather not miss it.”
He stared at me in silence for a long time, meeting my eyes like a cat trying to assert dominance. I glared right back at him.
Damned if I’d be the first to turn away.
I almost crowed in victory when he finally returned his gaze to his tablet, conceding our little stare battle. “The fact that Subject 34 did not appear to imprint upon you makes his behavior towards you even more mystifying.” He glanced up with a frown drawing his brows together.
Unlike when 34 had a couple lines between his brows, I didn’t want to smooth Nirgal’s with a gentle finger. I wanted to slap them flat with the palm of my hand. Hard.
He must have noted my gleeful expression as I thought about doing just that because his eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he darted a glance towards my restraints. “Though it is a relief that he isn’t imprinted, we still can’t be certain whether he must be destr— What are you staring at?”
His frown lines had deepened, and I studied them as if they held the secrets of the universe. My eyes almost crossed trying to focus completely on the space between his orange brows.
He lifted a hand to touch his face before he caught himself and quickly lowered it again. “Stop that!”
“Hm,” I blinked as if coming out of a trance. “What was that you were saying?”
He drummed his long fingers on the table beside his tablet, and I could hear his heavy, angry breaths behind that bulky mask.
This was too fun. I really should stop before I pushed him too far.
“We are going to return you to Subject 34. If you can manage to restrain yourself around him, we want you to attempt to communicate with him.”
“Hm,” I said, glancing up at the corner of the room thoughtfully. “And… what do I get out of this, again?”
“You won’t be tortured slowly and painfully,” Nirgal said in a huffy tone. “That’s what you get if you cooperate.” His gaze took on a disdainful look. “And only if you can control your baser urges long enough for us to gain any real insight into Subject 34’s thought processes.”
“You know, Nirgie,” I grinned when he stiffened at the nickname, “that would be a lot easier if I had some clothes to put between me and 34, because I gotta tell you, even then, it’s gonna be pretty hard to resist all that sexy mojo he’s putting out.”
He remained silent for a long moment, and I wondered if he was speechless with rage right about now.
“Of course, if you just want to look at me naked, I suppose….”
“Gah!” He leapt to his feet, gesturing to the mechs with one hand while clutching his tablet in the other. “You’ll get your clothes! Just do as you’re told and flap your mouth at Subject 34 instead of us, you irritating, frustrating…grrr!”
He literally growled, then spun on his foot and stalked out of the room, clenching one hand into a fist as his other gripped that fucking tablet. I’m pretty sure it was his crutch. I imagined how he’d panic if it suddenly went missing, and I grinned again at the thought.
