Big had hated his job. Dealing with unruly guests speaking to him as if he didn’t have emotions or thoughts. Occasionally he’d been attacked, unable to really defend himself. Clones were only permitted to gently subdue violent offenders. It was against the law for a clone to hurt a human. Even an out-of-control drunken one who thought it would be fun to attack a clone to see if they bleed red.
They did.
Humans seemed to resent him even speaking to them when they needed to be reminded of rules they were breaking or were caught sneaking into areas out of bounds. Some of the guest complained when they were confronted by him, and he’d be punished. It was all bullshit. Big had just been doing his job. If he had ignored the infractions committed by guests, he’d have gotten punished for that, too. It was all about pleasing the guests. Even the asshole ones.
The humans living and working full time on Clone World, the ones in charge of assigning his duties, weren’t any better. They treated clones the exact same way as they did androids. None of the ones he’d known had cared if the punishments they’d dealt out were reasonable or just.
Life had been utterly depressing on Clone World for Big. Every year, it had grown worse until he no longer felt any happiness. To watch other clones in similar jobs suffering along with him hadn’t been a comfort. It had made it worse. But his fate would have been instant death if he’d ceased to perform his assigned duties. Perhaps it was part of his programming to have a strong will to serve…or maybe it was just sheer determination not to give up.
Then, one of his friends had come up with a plan to escape, with the help of a rare human living on Clone World who had been sympathetic to their plight. For once, he had felt hope. They had a new option. To leave. Freedom.
It had been frightening for Big to think of leaving the only life he’d known, what he’d been created to do, but anything at that point would have been better. Six of them had used their skills, access to the docking area, and knowledge of the planet to get off Clone World with the help of a human.
Big cut off those memories and focused on securing the crates of plasma in his cargo hold. Gemma sat belted in, silently watching him. He worked faster, wanting to get the shuttle far from the transport. The vessel’s onboard computer was still broadcasting an auto distress signal. Not only was his life in danger, but now hers as well.
Gemma was from the year 2020. He muttered a curse. It would probably be helpful to do research on that time period to see exactly how much the world had changed since her source material’s death. He’d also have to keep a very close eye on her mental stability to make certain she didn’t try to end her own life. The transition from living human to clone would be drastic. He refused to lose her. She hadn’t asked to become a clone.
He also admitted, deep down, that he ached for companionship.
He’d been alone for almost two years. When he and the other clones had first escaped Clone World, Fig and Free had scouted possible locations for them to live. The mining station they’d found was remote enough to avoid being detected but close enough to the travel path from Earth to Clone World, making it possible for them to raid transports for the plasma they needed to survive.
They’d been lucky to find the location. Fig and Free were hacking geniuses and had downloaded information from an old freighter they’d discovered floating dead in space a few weeks after their escape. They’d docked with it, hoping to find food or other supplies. It had been abandoned for nine years. The logs stated the main engines had blown from age, the crew had gotten rescued by another ship, and they had just helped close down a mining operation on a moon.
The six of them had been happy together at first, working together to make the mining station livable, excited to be free. But clones were made to work, to stay busy, and they grew bored after just a few months, getting on each other’s nerves. Then a few arguments had occurred over stupid things.
His closest friend, Blade, had been the first to leave their group, after their failed attempt to rescue some humans.
Big would never forget that day. Few ships came to their section of space. Getting a distress signal had surprised them all. The six of them had argued the intelligence of exposing their existence to humans. It was too dangerous. Humans really feared clones who defied the rules. They viewed them as dangerous and unstable.
The majority of their six had decided not to risk their lives. A human would never do the same for them. Clones weren’t valued or viewed as real living beings.
Then a woman’s voice had come over the communications, pleading for someone to come to their rescue. She’d mentioned three of the seven crew were women—and it was instilled in male clones to be protective of the opposite sex. None of them could ignore that voice or the urge to attempt a rescue.
In the end, they had been too late. Their clone security team had boarded a private luxury cruiser that had drifted far from the normal travel lanes, only to discover the human crew had suffocated to death due to a faulty air circulator. They’d been eight hours too late. It had emotionally devastated all of them.
Blade had taken it the hardest, seeing those dead humans. He decided to stay aboard the damaged vessel, once he’d made repairs. They’d argued with him, but his mind had been made up.
Big felt just as guilty for not saving those humans faster, and he understood why his friend wanted to distance himself for a little while. He’d assumed after a few months, Blade would return. He’d been wrong.
The remaining five of them had sworn to never make the same mistake of ignoring distress hails in their sector again, the risk to their existence be damned. No one wanted to see more dead females.
The next distress signal had come from a transport with a damaged engine. They’d docked to the ship to give aid. Instead of the clones being met with gratitude, the humans had tried to kill them. They’d had no choice but to defend themselves.
All four human males ended up dying, refusing to cease deadly aggression.
Another of his clone friends had left their home afterward, taking that transport. Ram needed time alone to recover from the emotional scars of having to kill to survive.
Big had experienced it again and again, with stupid humans panicking and giving them no choice but to kill in self-defense. It had devastated the clones. One by one, the others had left their home base after those tragedies, until only Big remained on the station.
He’d understood their need to travel, to explore, but it wasn’t an urge he’d shared with them. He liked remaining in one safe location. The raids on Clone World shuttles were a necessity, not a challenge.
Big heard from his fellow freed clones from time to time. They seemed to be doing well, if living as pirates could be considered as such. They spoke via communications, but one of them had gone silent almost a year ago. He secretly feared Blade might be dead.
Big pushed the last container and followed it. He was glad that Gemma had remained safely belted in her seat. He sealed the door before pushing the plasma crate against the wall and strapping it into place. The last of the cargo was secured.
“Can I get up now?” Gemma reached for the belt release.
“No. Stay strapped in. I’m going to reestablish gravity in a few minutes. I don’t want you to fall. I just need to check the ties on all these containers to make certain they don’t shift and break. It’s faster to do without gravity. These crates weigh just over four hundred pounds each. I’m strong, but it would be a strain when dealing with so many.”