The Clone’s Mate by Susan Trombley

Five

I woke up from an odd—and oddly arousing—dream that I had sex with a giant, humanoid bug. The weirdest part about the dream was that I could recall it had been the best sex of my life, which I suppose says something about what my life has been like up to this point.

I moaned at the recollection of powerful multiple orgasms, swallowing thickly as I turned my head and slowly cracked my eyelids open. I felt groggy, still tired, despite what must have been a long rest, because my body felt like it had been in one position for too long.

Then I realized more about the feelings in my body. Mainly, the feeling that I was restrained, except for my head, which could only rock from one side to the other. I couldn’t lift it far, because everything below my neck was pinned by pressure that felt like a sheet that covered my body and had been pulled so tight that it was almost unbearable.

Panic chased away the grogginess as my vision sharpened and everything around me came into focus. I screamed as I turned my head from side to side, taking in all the machines surrounding me, and especially the one above me—the one that had far too many finger-looking probes with needles on the tips of them. Tubes and wires snaked all around, and there were vials that definitely looked like they contained samples of my blood hooked into a boxier machine near the one that haloed over my midsection with all the stabbies on it.

Other vials sat in the machine next to the blood vials, and these had fluids in them that ranged from white, to cloudy, to clear, with no markings on them that I could read. I searched frantically for any kind of marking on the machines, which fortunately weren’t in motion, though I feared they could kick into gear at any time and start with the stabbing.

When I did find printing on one of the machines, it didn’t look familiar. It appeared more runic, more ancient looking than anything I’d ever seen before. Or perhaps it was completely alien, which was the far greater likelihood.

Oh, I hadn’t forgotten being abducted by Jason and his purple-eyed freak family. I knew that wasn’t a dream. Now I had a bad feeling that the bug sex thing wasn’t a dream either.

On the plus side, I wasn’t eaten alive by the creature that had chased me through the maze. On the minus side, I wasn’t likely to live long enough for a second date.

Not that I wanted one or anything. Now that I wasn’t pumped to the brim with some bug-monster version of an aphrodisiac, I could recall my horror at the creature’s appearance and movements quite vividly. That horror was trumped only by my terror now at being helpless beneath these mystery machines, with no idea what they would do to me once they started moving.

Okay, so I screamed. A little.

Maybe enough that I was hoarse, and my throat hurt. I mean, wouldn’t anyone, in that situation? I think I lost my head, went a bit crazy as I struggled to move. I might have accidentally knocked myself silly by racking my head on the hard surface of the table the aliens had strapped me to.

The pain of that impact shocked me into silence so only the echo of my screams sounded in the chamber where I was imprisoned. To my relief, the machines didn’t suddenly surge to life at any time. That relief was short lived when I heard the distinctive sound of a door sliding open.

I knew that sound well after being chased around a maze by moving doors and walls. I frantically turned my aching head this way and that, but the door that had opened was somewhere past the end of my feet so I couldn’t see it, nor who came through it.

I didn’t doubt that someone did come through it though. Or more accurately, some people, since they were engaged in a conversation with each other, though I couldn’t understand a single word of what they said. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound like any language I’d ever heard on Earth.

It also wasn’t the kind of language I might expect from some monstrous alien creatures. It sounded like it came from humanoid-shaped throats and out of humanoid-style mouths. They made a series of sounds most humans could probably make.

I was guessing then that it wasn’t my alien monster-bug returning to finish the job he’d so rudely interrupted with a shot of his knockout venom.

I wasn’t sure if I should feel relieved or disappointed at this point. There were worse ways to die than orgasming to death. At least, I assumed there were. I sure as hell didn’t want to find out, regardless. Some theories don’t need to be proven, in my opinion.

The aliens approached my table, still chattering away in a very fluid sounding language that would have been musical, if they weren’t evil monsters experimenting on people—and monster-bugs maybe? They both had deep voices that sounded male.

Then I caught my first sight of them, though they both wore masks covering their lower faces. They also wore white robes, and their skin was definitely inhuman despite the humanoid appearance of their eyes. One looked vibrant orange, the other a light pink shade—not the normal pink tone of some human skin, but an iridescent bubble-gum pink.

The orange one had startling blue eyes. The pink one had fuchsia eyes.

Their pointed ears extended just above heads covered with long hair that they had tied back. I had no idea precisely how long since I only saw them from the front. The colors of their hair appeared to coordinate with their alien skin tones.

Yup, they were space elves.

Evil space elves, by my estimation, seeing as I was unwillingly bound to an operating table of some sort.

“Hey, uh, maybe there’s been a misunderstanding,” I said in a hoarse whisper as the orange one came closer to my head. “I think you might have the wrong girl.”

Blue eyes shifted to my face, and I couldn’t read the expression in them as he studied me, but they looked as cold as their color. Then the orange alien reached towards my ear, and I flinched reflexively as his long, slender finger pressed something that had been attached to it.

And perhaps within it, since whatever he did, I felt a strange buzzing inside my head.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to activate the human’s translator?” the pink one asked as it joined the orange one near my head.

“I refuse to speak any of the ape-blood’s ugly languages,” the orange guy said to the pink one, before his cold gaze shifted back to me. “Human, I agree you are the ‘wrong girl,’ but that is irrelevant at this point. You pose a mystery we intend to solve.”

“Hey, I like mysteries,” I said desperately, nodding my head. “I’ll answer any questions you got and see if we can get to solving mine. No problem. Although,” I wriggled my shoulders a bit, though they weren’t moving far under the blanket thing, “I find it much easier to think when I’m not strapped to a fucking operating table!”

Okay, a little bit of a freak-out there. I mean, the surprised blinking of the orange guy at my sudden shout at the end of what I’d intended to be a very calm and convincing statement was almost worth it. But I realized I probably wasn’t helping my case or convincing anyone to unbind me.

“Look,” I said after a few deep breaths as both aliens’ eyes narrowed on me, “I think we got off on the wrong foot, here.”

“You do not appear to appreciate the position you’re in, human,” pink guy said in a tone that made me certain he had a smug, condescending smirk under that concealing breather mask.

I nodded again, craning my neck to focus my desperate eyes on him, trying to ignore the fuming orange dude who glared icicles at my head. “I assure you, the whole ‘strapped to a table’ thing is definitely sending a clear message.” I glanced at Orange. “Not saying I ‘appreciate it’ per se, but I’m not doubting the position I’m in.”

Orange made an impatient sound, lifting a hand to halt any further words from Pink. “You are not our focus, human, but Subject 34’s response to you has raised questions—and concerns.”

“Subject 34?” I swallowed through a lump in my throat, still feeling the rawness of it from screaming mindlessly earlier. “You mean the bug-guy?”

Despite the seriousness of my situation, I felt a blush burn my cheeks as I realized these bastards had watched the whole show. The last thing I needed to be feeling right now was embarrassment.

Mr. Pinky Pants huffed in what sounded like outrage. “That ‘bug’ is superior to you in every possible way, you primitive dullard.”

Oh yeah, he was a real peach. I could already tell we were gonna be good friends.

“Really?” I asked, fluttering my eyelashes as I affected an innocent expression, because damned if his tone didn’t bring out the worst in me. “That would make him doubly superior to you then, I’d say.”

“Why are you engaging with the primate?” Orange asked Pinky Pants, impatience heavy in his tone. “Do not be drawn in by its games.”

Look, I’m not saying I wasn’t still scared enough to crap myself, though I didn’t think there was anything left down in the old gut locker, but whenever I encounter uptight, arrogant asshats like these two, it’s hard to keep my mouth shut. I’m an introvert, sure, but I’m not a masochist. I’ll tell a creep off in a heartbeat if it will make them go away and stop fouling up my airspace with their sheer crappiness.

“Look here, elf boy, shouldn’t you be back in the North Pole, finishing up those toys for Santa? Why don’t you zip it and let the adults in the room have a conversation?” I glanced around in an exaggerated fashion, still struggling to lift my head off the table. “Oh, wait, looks like I’m the only adult in the room, so I guess I’ll just have to have a conversation with myself. That way I won’t need to dumb myself down to communicate with you two.”

“Can we terminate her already?” Pink Bastard said, gesturing towards the boxy machine at my side as my blood froze. “We already have all the samples we need.”

The fact that his tone held no emotion told me it was time to stop playing around with these two—and stop underestimating how deadly they were, just because they looked like escapees from a children’s cartoon.

Much to my relief, Orange shook his head, holding up that staying hand again. “We don’t know yet if 34 has imprinted. Killing her at this point would be counterproductive.”

“We used the cure on him,” Pinky Pie hissed, turning fully towards Orange. “He should no longer possess the imprinting genes.”

Orange returned his chilly gaze to me, studying my face for a long, tense moment, before allowing his gaze to trail down my body.

Despite the presence of the blanket, I had a bad feeling he saw every naked inch of me, all squashed flat against the table. Not that I relished being naked even when gravity was the only thing pulling on me.

“If he didn’t imprint, then we can’t explain why he chose to mate with her instead of kill her like he did the others.” His focus returned to my face, and by the tone in his voice, I suspected his lips would be pulled in disgust. “Why else would he show interest in mating with her?”

“Oh, that’s a low blow, man,” I said, bizarrely hurt, even though I didn’t give a damn about the opinion of these two assholes.

I didn’t need to travel across the freakin’ galaxy to have my looks insulted. I could get plenty of that right at home. In fact, if I really wanted to be a masochist, I could just post a picture of myself online.

“You forgot to call me old, and remind me repeatedly that I’ve hit the wall,” I growled.

“She does make a point,” Pink Dick said, his tone thoughtful now. “She is not at her most fertile age. Her scent signature would make the lessening of her fertility clear to Subject 34.”

Orange guy studied my body dispassionately again. “Kiari had this female’s ovaries pumped with rejuv while in stasis to repair the deteriorated condition of her eggs and develop new ones. She planned to breed her on the Rim for more human slaves. Her hormone levels are nearly returned to her most fertile phase.”

“Wait… who is Kiari?” Panic had returned to overwhelm my outrage and disgust with these two dickwads. “What the hell do you mean, with all the ‘ovaries’ and ‘breed her’ stuff?”

Orange chuckled as he regarded me with those hatefully dismissive eyes. “Kiari had plans for you and the other humans she’d harvested from Earth. Fortunately, we captured her and her harem and a nice collection of useful subjects. You,” and here he glanced at my body again, “were not so useful to us, but we kept you around anyway, figuring we’d find a purpose for you eventually.”

“I’m guessing that purpose won’t be to bring peace between our people,” I said bitterly, trying to wriggle my shoulders again.

“Well, look at that,” Pinky said with sarcasm so clearly dripping from his tone that I was surprised the translator didn’t just add “sarcasm” as a tag to the end of the words it spoke in my head. “The ape-blood is so clever.”

“I have some questions for you, human.” Orange picked up what appeared to be a smooth, flat tablet and held it in front of him, his gaze shifting from it to me, then back as he swiped his fingertips over it. “That is the only reason we are speaking right now. If you would prefer to end this interview, then stop wasting our time and answer them quickly and accurately.”

“And what happens to me after that?” I demanded, my heart thudding as my skin broke out in a cold sweat.

It turned slippery against the blanket thing pinning me down, so I suspected that my restraint wasn’t made of absorbent fabric.

“That depends,” Orange said thoughtfully, now staring down at the tablet rather than looking at me. “If 34 has imprinted on you, we must destroy him, which makes you of even less use to us.”

Pinky gasped, then turned a fuchsia glare on Orange. “We have years of work invested in 34! You can’t just—”

“Do you recall the last time we allowed an imprinted athraxius hybrid to live?” Orange said to Pinky in a hard tone without even looking at him. “It’s a pity, but it must be done. We cannot risk a repeat of the Thrax incident.”

“We can try to use the cure again,” Pinky said in a desperate tone, “we’ve heard that sometimes it requires reinoculation.”

“Hm,” Orange looked up from his tablet to meet Pink’s eyes. “That is a possibility, I suppose, though we can’t be entirely sure of the side effects. The ‘cure’ nearly killed him when it rewrote some of his genetic code. We still can’t pinpoint exactly what it changed before it deactivated.”

He returned his gaze to me as my own darted from one of them to the other like I was watching a tennis match, only in this case, I had a feeling my own fate depended on the outcome. I just wasn’t sure who I needed to win, because I had no idea at all what the hell they were talking about.

“First, we should determine if 34 is even imprinted, and if so, why it happened, given he was supposed to be cured after artificial affliction. The flaw could be with the exposure process rather than the cure.” He jerked his chin in my direction. “I will question the human female to see if we can gain any useful answers, though I don’t have high hopes. Then we will put her back in with 34. If he can harm her, he is likely not imprinted on her.”

“What?” I said, struggling fruitlessly again. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but if you doubt that bug thing can harm me, you should take a look at all the places it stung me!”

Both chuckled in a condescending way that almost made me forget how terrified I was with my outrage.

Orange tapped the surface of his tablet, his gaze fixed on it instead of me. “Subject 34 can create a venom that could kill you instantaneously and painlessly or draw out your death in the most agonizing way possible. I assure you, if he intended to harm you, you wouldn’t be here to whine about it.” He glanced up at me again, and the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, which made me think the bastard was smirking. “Although 34’s thought process lacks civilized nuance. He thinks in primal terms that our species long ago abandoned. What we consider ‘harm’ is far different from what he considers harm. He likely doesn’t consider stinging you to pacify you harmful to you, so can still do it if he imprinted on you. Indeed, he could likely do far more to you than an imprinted Iriduan could even think of doing to their mate.”

My breathing was labored at this point, and it didn’t seem like I could drag in enough oxygen with my chest bound to the table so tightly. I felt lightheaded as more sweat made my naked skin slip and slide against the blanket.

“Look, I don’t want to die, or be hurt, or even see the bug- uh—this Subject 34 again! So, maybe we can make some kind of deal, you know. I have money,” I lied, “and precious works of art,” I continued to lie. “Maybe we can do some kind of exchange for my freedom?”

Orange glanced at Pink, his eyes still crinkling in the corners. When his gaze returned to me, the crinkles had smoothed out. “I assure you, human, you have nothing. Even if we wanted your ‘money’,” Pink huffed in condescension at this, “or your ‘art’,” I could hear the sneer in Orange’s tone, “your world is not the same one you left years ago. I sincerely doubt anything you owned there remains intact.”

My eyes widened with my shock. “What do you mean, ‘years ago?’” I rocked my head from side to side, moisture pooling in the corners of my eyes to drip down my temples. “How long,” I swallowed thickly before I could continue speaking, “how long has it been since I was taken from Earth?”

Orange regarded me with his chilly eyes, and I just knew he was taking pleasure in my distress. “I would say approximately ten ‘Earth’ years have passed since Kiari harvested you. Much has changed for your world.” This time, his tone sounded angry. “The Akrellians now control it.” He spat out the unfamiliar word that didn’t translate as if it tasted sour to him.

“Ten… years?”

I couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to. The very idea that ten years of my life had simply vanished seemed almost worse than waking up on the operating table of my alien abductors. “Why… why don’t I remember…?”

Pink sighed with impatience. “I thought you told me not to engage with the primate, Nirgal. She’s clearly too ignorant to understand such simple concepts as ‘stasis’. Why waste your time explaining?”

Nirgal seemed to agree with Pink at this point, his eyes sharpening as he regarded my devastated expression. “Tilhur is correct. I have wasted too much time speaking with you when there is much work to do. Subject 34 is supposed to be the pinnacle of our achievement here. With the cure we obtained at great cost and effort, he will be unstoppable and invulnerable to our enemies.” He raked my body with a hard gaze. “But only if he is truly cured.”

“The cure worked on Ilyan,” Tilhur said defensively, clearly not wanting Subject 34 to be destroyed.

Nirgal made an odd hissing sound, raising one hand sharply to cut off any more words from Tilhur. “Ilyan is nothing but a fractured shell. The ‘cure’ has only prolonged his suffering. Now, be silent. You are distracting me with discussions we can have later. I must interrogate this female so I can make a decision about what to do next.”

Tilhur crossed his arms over his chest, shooting a glare my way before turning abruptly away from the table. “I’ll run the samples then and check on 34. He is currently dormant, as you insisted.”

“Activate his chip when you are done drawing samples from him, will you?” Nirgal said distractedly as Tilhur stalked out of my sight. “I don’t want to waste time waiting for him to come around before we reintroduce the human to him.”

Based on the sound of the door sliding open, then closed, Tilhur left the room. I wasn’t sure whether it would have been better to be left with the pink bastard or this orange one, but I was certain I was screwed either way.

And not the kind of screwed that led to multiple powerful orgasms.