The Clone’s Mate by Susan Trombley

Twenty-Two

Ilyan shot to his feet like a rocket when Subject 34 stung him, his eyes wide, his shriveled wings flickering, a shout on his lips.

He gripped the wall with one hand to steady himself as he turned an angry glare on 34. “Stop doing that!”

To my relief, his eyes, though a little wild from what was probably some kind of adrenaline shot, didn’t look cold and remote. I took that to mean the scientist was in charge, not the killer.

Then Ilyan’s gaze fell upon 34’s burden. He sucked in a pained breath, his features pulling into a scowl.

“Is that Nirgal?” he said in a low voice, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

“I think they were trying to fracture him,” I said, drawing his gaze to me.

He made a low growling sound in his throat as he glanced back at Nirgal. “Curse the Spinner and all her threads,” he said in a voice shaking with fury. “Such a thing is monstrous!”

“I’m glad we can agree on that.”

He eyed me again, his gaze sweeping me from head to foot. Fortunately, he kept any critical comments he might have had to himself, and I couldn’t read anything in his expression, but he didn’t exactly have much room to talk. At least I had clothes on. I had to keep my eyes well above his waist, and it was difficult not to accidentally catch a glimpse.

“We will have to see if they were successful in their efforts,” he muttered, shaking his head slowly as his gaze returned to the mess in Subject 34’s arms.

A mess I still refused to examine too closely. I worried that Nirgal was too still, barely a sound coming from him, and even that was only labored breaths that seemed far too weak to sustain any living creature.

“We have to find a doctor or something!” I insisted, turning my full attention to Ilyan. “I had 34 revive you because you’re the same species as the people running this place. I was hoping you could tell us how to get out of here before they purge the joint.”

“They’ll have shuttles,” he murmured, one hand stroking his chin, which—despite his dishevelment—was free from any kind of stubble. “Some of them were likely deployed as soon as the alarm went up, but there might be a few available.” He glanced at Nirgal, his lips pulling into a deep frown that also creased his verdant brows. “They should have a healing tank on board. I can only hope it will be enough to help him in the state he’s in.”

“He said you were a friend of his.” My tone held sympathy. I couldn’t even look at Nirgal right now, and I was still technically his enemy.

I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to care about him and have to see him in this state.

Okay, so maybe I could kinda imagine what it felt like, but I wasn’t dwelling on that kind of stuff right now. We still needed to escape this place.

Ilyan huffed but didn’t comment, instead turning to face the corridor where the activity around the room had died down. Apparently, the other Iriduans had collected or destroyed everything they’d wanted to in that lab, because they had moved on to other doors down the way.

“I can probably override a shuttle’s lockout,” he said as he began moving in a direction away from the warehouse.

Subject 34 made a grumbling sound that I hadn’t heard from him before, and it looked like he debated tossing Nirgal over his shoulder the way he had Ilyan in order to pick me up again to carry me. I held up both hands to stop him from putting that thought into action.

“I can move pretty fast when I’m motivated, 34.” I started after Ilyan, calling over my shoulder, “and I’m definitely motivated right now!”

Fortunately, both Ilyan and Subject 34 could read the symbols on the signs as we passed through the corridors, because I was totally lost. The place was almost as much of a maze as the one they put their test subjects in. I followed both males as they raced to our destination, which I really hoped still had at least one shuttle sitting around, gassed and ready to go.

Given the amount of death around every corner in this facility, I got the feeling not many of the Iriduan scientists had a chance to escape.

“How long until they purge this facility?” I said between gasps for breath as I raced on Ilyan’s heels.

I struggled to keep my eyes fixed on his shriveled wings and not the weird appendages below them that coiled right above a very nice, naked green ass. I would not check out the hot alien while we were running for our lives. Especially not since I loved another alien altogether.

I had no idea what was wrong with me. I’ve always been a one-man kind of girl, with eyes for no one else when I was in love. That probably explained why Michael was able to hurt me so badly. He took my devotion and unfailing loyalty for granted and left me with nothing but heartbreak.

I chalked up this weird attraction to Ilyan to an affection I’d gained for him during our captivity. He’d literally kept me sane while I was trapped in that little box, which was kind of ironic given his own state of mind.

They found the shuttle bay and Ilyan managed to hack into the door control panel with ease, which had my brows lifting in surprise. Nirgal had said Ilyan could escape almost any kind of prison, which had led to him ending up in that little and uncomfortable cage next to me. Still, I would have thought an advanced alien species would have better security.

It occurred to me as we entered the shuttle bay that Ilyan hadn’t answered my question about the bombs about to drop on our head. I parted my lips to ask again how long we had, then my jaw dropped as I took in the shuttles.

They were far nicer than I had expected for a mere research facility. I’d thought they’d be boxy and utilitarian. Instead, they were sleek, sideways teardrops that shimmered in the bright lighting of the bay.

There were only two of them, but we only needed one, so we were golden. The ceiling above us had been retracted already and the bay had a few more empty slots, which probably meant at least some others had escaped.

Ilyan didn’t hesitate to rush towards the nearest shuttle. Subject 34 sent me a questioning glance, and I nodded for him to follow, then remained close on his heels, avoiding any close looks at what he carried.

I feared that Nirgal couldn’t take much more of this. I’d never seen anyone in such a terrible condition before. He literally wasn’t recognizable, and flesh had been flayed from his body in multiple places in addition to all kinds of terrible and chilling lacerations and bruising that spoke of unimaginable suffering. I had no idea how Ilyan had recognized him. Perhaps it had something to do with his coloring, or the black markings on his limbs, face, and torso that looked like tiger stripes.

Markings neither Ilyan nor the other captive Iriduans had on their bodies, making Nirgal’s distinctive.

“Do we need to worry about any kind of security on this ship?” I asked to distract myself from thinking about Nirgal as Ilyan messed around with a panel on the sleek side of the shuttle.

The hull of it towered over us. The thing was the size of a small passenger airplane, if it was smooshed into a teardrop shape with a lotta of junk in the trunk and a short, pointy nose.

“If we don’t give the right codes, the security satellites will shoot us out of the sky,” he answered with calmness I definitely didn’t think was warranted given his words.

“Uh, maybe it would be better if we went out into the wilderness instead.” I glanced around at the bay, noting that none of the other escapees had made it this far yet.

Or maybe they were aware that they needed a special code phrase to get past the killer satellites.

“If we do that, we might not outrun the blast, and Nirgal will surely die without immediate treatment,” Ilyan snapped, clearly finally feeling the pressure.

Maybe Subject 34’s adrenaline shot was wearing off. I glanced up at the shielded eyes of my lover. He looked supremely calm, not in the least bit shaken by our escape.

The monster-man had literally just performed brain surgery on himself, so I had no idea why I thought he’d be losing it at this point. Still, his serene demeanor reassured me as Ilyan managed to get the shuttle to manifest a doorway in what I’d thought was a smooth hull. The opening was so tightly sealed that I couldn’t see the seams until the door slid open.

A ramp of steps unfurled from the shuttle and Ilyan raced up them, gesturing with one hand for us to follow. Subject 34 waited for me to enter, then his heavy steps bent the ramp as he followed me.

Nirgal started moaning just as we entered the shuttle and I took my first look around the interior. I glanced over my shoulder just as Subject 34 stung him and his body sagged in 34’s lower arms again.

“He’s still alive, at least,” I said without trying to conceal my worry.

“Not for long if we don’t get him in the tank.” Ilyan gestured for us to follow him as he headed down a narrow corridor of the disappointingly utilitarian interior of the pretty teardrop shuttle.

It was the size of a small plane and looked like one on the inside. Still, there was some kind of healing tank that looked a bit like an iron-lung. Nirgal fit completely inside it, head and all.

Ilyan muttered something to Subject 34 before leaving the tank room, which I guess was a med bay, though it was so tiny that I couldn’t even fit into it until Ilyan left because the tank itself and 34 took up all the available space.

The Iriduan headed towards the control room of the shuttle, telling us over his shoulder to sit tight and keep an eye on Nirgal.

“What about the code to get past the satellites?” I asked nervously.

“I’ll figure something out.” He waved away my concerns flippantly.

“Uh, Ilyan….”

He paused in the corridor just outside what I took to be the door into the control room of the shuttle. When he turned to regard me with lifted brows, his expression questioning, I bit my lip, debating whether I should speak my concerns aloud.

Time was ticking away. We really didn’t have the luxury of doubts about our allies. Still….

“Are you gonna be… okay?” I asked, meeting his eyes and hoping I didn’t see them suddenly shift into that cold, hard gaze.

“You’re worried I’ll lose control to my fracture?” he asked mildly.

I felt relief that he seemed unoffended by the concern, nodding without a verbal answer.

“I believe he will remain dormant during this escape,” Ilyan said with a confident tone.

Then he turned his back on me, slapping his palm to the door panel. As I turned back to the tank, I heard him say something else that raised the hair on the nape of my neck.

“Yes, I don’t think Ilyan will reawaken anytime soon.”

I jerked my head around to look at him, but he disappeared into the control room, the door sliding closed behind him. He smirked as he turned to face me, just before the door cut off my view of him.