The Clone’s Mate by Susan Trombley

Thirty-Eight

As pleasurable as our time together was, my mates and I weren’t allowed to simply bask in our happiness. We had so much to do to assimilate into the community in order to leave the shielded portion of the settlement. Not only were there tons of digital paperwork to fill out, counseling to attend, educational seminars to endure, but we were also offered job training for potential future employment.

My Iriduans were initially offended at the idea that they needed any more training, least of all coming from a species they considered inferior—yes, they remained arrogant, and I doubted I’d ever change that and wasn’t even sure I wanted to. However, their desire for more knowledge overrode their initial feelings of superiority, and they ended up diving wholeheartedly into various studies regarding Earth and humanity.

That they would become research scientists seemed a given, and they already had employers lining up to hire them, even in this isolated settlement. Because of the diverse knowledgebase and skill set of this asylum settlement, the results of the work performed here was used all over the world as well as in other places in the galaxy. The same held true whether it was within the agricultural domes, the medical centers—where geneticists were eager to hire my mates, the educational centers—where many of the asylum seekers shared knowledge of their people and worlds, the food production centers, and even the art and media center—where I was offered a dream job, and I would finally be able to support myself with my creativity.

I was intimidated at first, especially since the only real evidence my new employers had of my skill was a handful of sketches that I’d made while a captive. Subject 34 had managed to save all the ones he’d taken from my sketchbook, stowing them somewhere under his plates during all the crap we’d been through since then.

It had been 34 who shared the sketches when one of the directors of the art center had dared to approach him in the intake center and asked if he would consent to modeling for some of their projects. I didn’t even know he still had them until he returned home from the intake center and told me that the people who smelled like my art stuff wanted me to “do art” for them.

My initial project was to paint some murals around the settlement to aide with moral and improve the aestheticism of the various structures, and I leapt into the challenge wholeheartedly. My mates admired my sketches and the digital canvasses I created for references.

But what they really found intriguing was a canvas I felt inspired to do for our own home.

It was a gritty alien landscape. One I’d never seen before in person, but still very familiar to me. Once, I’d tried to paint this vision from one of my most surreal dreams, and I’d failed.

Now, the paint flowed from my brush onto the canvas as if it were doing all the work for me. I knew exactly why I’d failed before. I’d tried to create something I didn’t have yet in my life. I’d tried to create a vision of hope and anticipation, even in my darkest dream, when I had lost both and had yet to find them again.

Now, mixing the colors was easy—all the shades of orange and beautiful blue, the different shades of black, the vivid spot of green. I knew the colors I wanted to see on that canvas well now and could mix them in my sleep.

I had almost finished the canvas when I heard my mates return home from the medical research center. All three of them spent much of their time there now since Subject 34 was also convinced to help out humanity and the Akrellians in return for our sanctuary here. His ability to create beneficial compounds not found in nature was priceless to the researchers.

I left the porch where I’d found the best light to paint when the house informed me that they’d returned. When I entered the living room, my Iriduans were fighting over a large shipping box. As I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest, they dropped the box and came to me at the same time. I considered it progress that they didn’t fight over who got to kiss me first.

Once all our greetings were complete, my two Iriduans returned to the box while Subject 34 and I looked on in bemusement. They got the package open, crowing in victory as they pulled out bags filled with colorful fabrics and several mystery boxes.

Another fight ensued over one of the bags, and Nirgal ended up successfully wrestling it away from Ilyan. Then they grabbed all their prizes—which they refused to explain to me, despite my repeated questions—and raced to their respective rooms.

Ilyan was the first to return, and he had changed from his jumpsuit into khaki slacks and a custom-made, button-down shirt that had slits for his wings. He wore loafers on his feet with no visible socks.

He was adorable as he strutted back and forth, showing off his new clothes, and I had to hide my grin at the fact that the outfit was remarkably similar to one his favorite character—a human, no less—wore on the old detective show we watched together in the evenings.

I understood now why they’d been so excited about the package. We’d been wearing jumpsuits for a lifetime, it seemed, and my Iriduans didn’t like that style of outfit much, though many of the residents of this settlement preferred the simplicity of the uniform-like one piece. We’d all placed orders through the shopping app provided by the house. It even showed us on a full length mirror an overlay of the outfit over our reflections to help with our selection. I suspected some of my clothing was in that shipping box, but since they’d taken it all, I’d retrieve it later.

Both Ilyan and Nirgal hadn’t wanted me around when they’d picked out their new clothes because they wanted to “surprise” me.

I was vocally admiring Ilyan’s new outfit when Nirgal strolled into the living room, wearing skinny jeans that clung very nicely to his leanly muscled legs and small but shapely ass. My mouth went dry as I stared at him, noting the leather biker jacket over white tee-shirt and the heavy boots on his feet. His black hair had grown enough to curve over his brow and cast appealing shadows there. He still felt self-conscious about how short it was though. The black striping on his visible skin looked like edgy tattoos.

As much as they ragged on each other, Ilyan never, ever made fun of Nirgal for his hair or his stripes. That was one of the best indicators that they were friends. As wicked as my green guy could get, he wouldn’t be downright cruel on purpose to those close to him. He knew Nirgal’s feelings about these topics and so avoided them.

He did, however, have no problem mocking Nirgal’s new clothes.

“What are those trousers?” Ilyan asked, eyeing Nirgal’s jeans with an expression of disgust that was completely transparent.

He was totally going to buy himself a pair. I could already tell.

Nirgal swept his hand down his body like a game show hostess. “They are called ‘jeans,’ and they are a marvelous human invention. They show off my superior body very nicely for my mate.”

Ilyan huffed, but I could see that he felt a bit deflated since his khaki pants were on the baggier side. His wings sagged as he glared at Nirgal. “I suppose it’s appropriate they’re called genes, since they make it clear you need new ones. Did you inherit those scrawny legs from your mother or the srenrikas she mated with to spawn you?”

Subject 34 made his amused chittering sound even as I choked back laughter, swallowing it to shake my head at Ilyan.

Once I managed to speak without laughter in my tone, I chided him. “Now, Ilyan, don’t make fun of Nirgal’s body! He has very sexy legs.”

Nirgal’s chin lifted as he glared at Ilyan. “You hear that, pond-skimmer? I have sexy legs.” He struck a little pose that had me giggling, though I covered my mouth to muffle the sound.

“My legs are far nicer than yours,” Ilyan said with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I don’t need to flaunt them like a mate-baiter.”

Nirgal’s glower told me Ilyan had dropped a stinging insult, though I didn’t always understand their cutting remarks to each other. Their reactions gave me context.

I held up both hands before Nirgal could reply, because even though their sniping was the norm, they were both looking less excited about their new clothing than they had been when they’d come out to show it off.

I didn’t want that at all!

“All right, no more insults from either of you! You both look extremely handsome, especially with your new outfits. I love them, and the styles definitely flatter your beautiful bodies, though you both will always look best when you are naked in my bed.”

I wanted them both to be happy, and I especially cherished the moments when my mates—displaced from their lives and careers and their entire world and culture—found things to love about their new home and family and adopted culture.

My words definitely had the desired effect of heading off their insults, but it also got their attention focused in a very different direction and both sets of eyes dilated as they switched their focus from glaring at each other to staring hungrily at me.

“34 look best,” my monster mate said with conviction, waving a lower hand as if brushing aside the other two. “Not need clothes like fancy soft meats.” He tapped his chitin-plated chest with his upper hand as he crossed his lower arms. “Already handsome.”

Before any of us could respond, 34 followed this up with sweeping me up in his arms and racing away from the other two, carrying me to my room as I laughingly protested.

My Iriduans were not as amused.

“Hey! Bring our mate back, you poacher!” Ilyan shouted.

“I knew I should have dumped your test tube, you queen snatcher!” Nirgal yelled, his voice closer as both males followed on our heels.

34 slammed my bedroom door in their faces, ignoring their angry pounding as he locked it and then tossed me on the bed.

As 34 caught my ankles and tugged me to the edge of the bed, his facial plates open so I could see the predatory look in his eyes as they fixed on me, the door panel vibrated from my Iriduans trying to break in.

“34 hungry, Rhonda.” He grinned wickedly. “Time to eat.”

I would have to return to admiring my Iriduans’ outfits soon, but there was no reason we couldn’t take a snack break. I would make it up to them.

I looked forward to it!