"I'm a clone," she says in a dazed voice, her gaze locked on my face. "Straik, I'm not me."
Clone? Is she a clone? Am I a clone? Wouldn't I know if I was a clone? I stare at her, confused. I'm still fogged, but she really does look just like me—a clean version of me with longer hair.
“Yes, you are," the blue alien—Straik—soothes her. "Nothing has changed, all right? You are exactly the same person you were thirty seconds ago."
His words don't work, though. She turns and runs, and Straik follows after her.
I'm left with the strangers around me and a splitting headache. In addition to the headache, panic starts to set in. Bad things happen to humans alone. It didn't take me long to figure that one out. Even though being owned by someone is awful—worse than awful—running away means running from the frying pan into the fire. Anyone that sees a human alone will think we're fair game. I'd be sold again (or worse) before my headache disappeared.
I pull away from the man holding me up, biting back a whimper. I'm alone and vulnerable, and I don't know these men. I don't like how they're staring at me, like I'm something they've never seen before.
"It's all right, Ruthie. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you." The guy at my side speaks again, this time in a firmer voice. "You're joining us on the ship, all right? We're going to take care of you."
"That's what they all say," I mumble, wincing as something lights up nearby and fresh pain stabs through the back of my skull.
A callused, gentle hand touches my chin. "Look at me, Ruthie," he says. "Open your eyes."
"Hurts," I mutter, squinting up at him. "Lights hurt."
"Did they give you something?" a second voice asks. New hands touch my wrist, feeling my pulse. "Languid. Let me look at her eyes."
Then my eye is pried open and that sends another sharp knife through my skull along with a blast of painfully bright light. This time, I can't bite back the whimper that escapes.
I'm immediately released, and the male at my side surges in front of me. "Don't you keffing touch her!"
"Calm down, Kazex." The other voice is surprised. I really should open my eyes to look, but Kazex—the friendly one—reaches behind him and pulls me against his back. I don't need any more encouragement than that. I lean against him, my cheek pressed to his spine, my weight relaxing against his. I cling to his waist, because he doesn't want anyone else touching me. Right now that makes him my new best friend.
"What's wrong with you, Kazex?" another person asks. "Sakkar's just trying to do his job. It's clear she's on something."
"You're scaring her," Kazex all but snarls. "He can check her out but later, when she's feeling better. Right now we need to take her inside the ship and get her somewhere she can feel safe."
"Like med-bay," says the one they called Sakkar.
"No. She's staying with me. I'm not letting anyone get near her."
That sounds fantastic to me. I hold tighter to Kazex's waist. He's not going to let anyone bother me...I hope.
"We're just trying to figure out what to do with her," says another.
The voices cascade over each other, arguing and talking and getting louder by the moment. My headache continues to build, but Kazex isn't moving. He's arguing with the others, still stiffly acting as a shield in front of me. They debate taking me to med-bay again, because Lord Straik will want to know my status. Lord Straik will want me cleaned up. Lord Straik will want me to have fresh clothes.
I don't want to do anything except collapse in a dark room by myself.
"It's settled, then," Kazex says, pulling away from me so quickly that I stumble forward. "I'm taking care of her since I'm the chief of security."
"I don't think it's settled at all," someone else mutters.
Hands catch me before I topple forward, and there's a collective shout of alarm. "Take her to med-bay," one insists again. "Her pupils are dilated and her pulse is sluggish. She needs attention. They probably dosed her with some sort of relaxing agent. We can purge it from her system and do a full work-up on her?—"
"No," Kazex says again, and god bless him for being so stubborn. "We're going to do what Ruthie wants. She's allowed to decide."
I squint my eyes open just a crack, enough for the light to stab at me again, painfully. "Dark room," I manage. "I need to sleep."
"You heard her. She can stay in my room." Kazex scoops me up into his arms and carries me forward.
I whimper again, because I don't like the thought of Kazex laying claim to me. Of anyone laying claim to me.
"It's all right," he says as he hauls me through the ship. His voice is pitched low and soft, his tone comforting. "I know you're scared, but I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You can settle in on my bunk and I'll guard the door. We'll turn out the lights and let you sleep things off, all right?"