Bright Star (5 page)

“One lifetime wasn’t enough,” the clone—Phae—continues. “And so Blasius was provided with my frozen embryo in a tub. At least that’s what he told me. He died ten years ago.”

“Since then you’ve been completely alone?”

He nods with a frown. “Why is this bothering you, Prince? Is it wrong?”

I put my hand on his cheek. He startles a little when my palm meets his skin. “Yes, it’s wrong. But it isn’t your fault.”

Now I know what happened to him. He’s a clone, but not trained. No one taught him to be a soldier, to be aggressive and to hate, and that’s why his eyes are so kind. It’s not true what they say, that feelings are genetically eliminated from clones. This is probably part of all the bullshit that rich people pretend to believe—the conditions of the Amazon rainforest aren’t so bad, the climate situation is not as dramatic as it seems, clones are inferior beings and genetic engineers make them born without feelings.

I am outraged, and I feel ashamed for the human race.

Not that I was any different once. Perhaps my father was right, after all. The suspended animation has freed me of all the shit in my blood, but there was a lot of shit even in my brain.

I say, “It must have been hard for you.”

His eyes fill abruptly, like those of a child. “I know that Blasius was just a clone, like me, but I don’t care. I consider him my father.”

“And you were just a kid of nine, ten, when you remained in this place all alone. My god. Do you hate me for this?”

He winces. “Hate you? I can’t hate you. It would be like….” He struggles, trying to express a concept with a too limited vocabulary. At the end he sighs and looks up into space through the glass in the ceiling.

“To hate you would be like hating the stars. You are a mystery too great for me to be able to hate you.”

Suddenly my heart aches.

E
VEN
THOUGH
his skin is warm and his cheeks are slightly flushed, Prince continues to say he’s cold, so I keep holding him. Now that he’s awake, I’m not sure I have the right to communicate with him. I try to remember if Blasius said anything about it, but I don’t think Blasius even considered such an absurd idea. We have always taken for granted that Prince would never even suspect our existence.

Suddenly terror fills me. Do I seem horrible to him? Probably yes. All that talk about soldier clones makes me suspect I disgust him. I don’t understand this thing about the soldiers, though perhaps it explains why earlier I was cursing Corp for not providing me a weapon to protect Prince. Many of the things Prince has just said are beyond my comprehension. But it doesn’t matter. I’m happy just to talk to him.

Anyway, Prince doesn’t behave as if I disgust him. Instead, he continues rubbing against me and touching me, and I’m not prepared for this. Damn, I wasn’t prepared for anything that’s going on. My length aches in my pants. What if Prince realizes this? I’ll die of shame.

He doesn’t disgust me, that’s for sure. He’s so fragile, vulnerable, that my chest hurts in concern with every breath. I can’t take my eyes off his delicate skin, and his lips seem so soft that something inside me melts just looking at them. I am reminded of one of the mysterious words Blasius used, petals, and I know Prince’s lips are petals, although I don’t know what petals are. The silk of his hair enchants me. He even has something silk-like on the line of his chin, thin light hairs, and I shock myself by fantasizing about stroking my lips against it.

And then his eyes, huge and dark green, with those pale strands sailing in them. Prince’s eyes are so hypnotic I could drown in them, and when he returns my gaze, my stomach turns upside down, and I feel like I’m drifting in zero gravity.

To me, he’s mysterious. I don’t understand his actions or his words any more than I understand the stars, or Outside, or the why and wherefore of it all. His very existence is a mystery to me. But his inaccessibility also fills me with melancholy. It’s sad I shouldn’t even exist for this amazing creature, when he means everything to me. I don’t have the right to want to grasp his mystery, yet it happens.

Yes, Corp, there must be something wrong with me.

His hand leaves my cheek—I die of relief and regret at the same time—and settles gently on my chest. “What happened, Phae? Why am I awake?”

I die again. He’ll get angry for sure.

“I’m sorry. Corp kept talking about this emergency protocol, but I didn’t know what it was.”

He tilts his head slightly to look at me from under all that hair, narrowing his eyes. “Corp?”

“He who created Ship. He asked me if I wanted to start the emergency protocol and I said yes. But I never imagined the emergency protocol was your awakening.”

He frowns and starts to open his mouth—his painfully beautiful mouth—but something behind my shoulder attracts his gaze. Prince’s eyes open wide in amazement and dread.

I know what he’s seeing.

A crescent of Alien Ship rises from the slice in the ceiling. It grows to fill the glass, flows, covering us, flows on and on, and finally begins to disappear on the other side.

“Phae?”

His tone is scared, trembling.

I can’t lie to him. I’m his servant, after all. “Alien Ship. They found us. I tried to ask for help from Earth, but Corp continued to say the channel wasn’t available, or something like that.”

Prince’s eyes grow huge. “Aliens?”

I nod. “Aliens.”

He pales. All the color disappears from his lips. “Please, tell me it’s a joke. No one has ever found evidence of alien life.”

“Well, then we have found evidence. Alien life exists, I assure you. They are on board.”

His face turns gray. He starts to tremble again, so I tighten my arms around him, massaging his back. I don’t know if this can calm him down. Certainly it upsets me. “Look, Prince, we have no reason to believe they want you, right?”

“Me?” He jolts in shock.

“I’m reassured, really. At first I thought they were looking for you, but if you don’t know aliens, it’s likely they don’t know you either. With their instruments they have probably perceived not us, but the energy source of your sarcophagus.” It must be so, because otherwise the aliens would be here, but I am careful not to say this. I caress his arm. “I saved you just in time, Prince. They found your sarcophagus empty. I think they entered only out of curiosity, but Ship has been completely cleared out. They won’t find anything. Maybe a little rations in the storerooms, and uniforms, but I don’t think uniforms can interest them. They won’t even be able to wear them….”

“Did you see them?” Prince almost shouts.

“Listen,” I say, rubbing his arms. “They’ll explore Ship and find it empty, and then they’ll leave. What we need to do is stay hidden here until that thing stops orbiting around us. Does this seem reasonable?”

“Pretty much,” he admits. He tilts his head again to look at me, narrowing his eyes. I find that attitude charming. “In any case, we can’t do anything else.”

True.

“When they are gone, we’ll try to contact Earth again,” I say. I thought to reassure him by mentioning Earth, but his eyes become distant and sad. Yet Blasius was convinced Earth is a nice place.

“Hold me, I’m cold.”

I do what he wants—I’m his servant—even if it hurts. I hug him. He rests his cheek on my bare shoulder. This kills me a little.

I don’t like what he said. Someone shut him in the sarcophagus against his will. I can’t imagine anything more terrible. I think if someone tried to hurt Prince, I’d fight him to the death or die in the attempt.

“Yes, this is perfect,” he moans against my shoulder.

I realize I started to stroke his hair. I blush, even though he doesn’t seem angry.

“You are terribly gentle, Phae.”

This makes me smile. “How else would I be to you?”

This time it’s him who laughs. “No one ever stroked my hair like this. No one ever had the kindness and respect you have toward me. Do you believe me?”

I don’t know. I can hardly believe it. And he said he didn’t remember anything. If he doesn’t remember, how can he say no one has ever treated him like this? Maybe he’s just confused. Surely,
I
am confused.

He rubs against me. For a sizzling moment, I perceive the sweetness of his lips on my bare shoulder. My heart kicks up.

“For sure, nobody has ever been kind to you. Right, Phae?”

His voice is unusually deep in saying it.

“Blasius was kind to me,” I state, my mouth dry and my heart hammering in my ears.

“Yes, of course. But I meant another sort of kindness.”

He raises his head from my shoulder and looks at me, but I really don’t know what he’s talking about. His eyes are pretty and sweet. He touches my cheek. “You’re trembling again. You mustn’t be afraid of me.”

I try to smile, but probably the expression on my face looks more like a grimace. “It’s not that I’m afraid of you. It’s just… just….”

I close my eyes for a moment. Not even in my wildest dreams did I find myself in a situation like this. Often I dreamed of Prince waking up, and also being kind to me—I blush in shame at the memory—but I never thought he could be so human. So incomprehensible, yes, but surprisingly friendly and gentle.

I take a deep breath. “It’s just that I don’t know if I can talk to you, or touch you. I don’t know if this is within my duty.”

His gaze softens. “It is,” he concludes.

I look at him suspiciously. “Sure?”

“Do you
want
to touch me, Phae?”

“Oh, yes!” I blurt out, before realizing perhaps the answer may seem irreverent. “I mean, I want you to be okay. But is that okay? The King who will marry you is okay with this?”

Prince stiffens in my arms. “Do you see him here, Phae? No, he’s not here. He’s not even born yet, whoever the asshole my father sold me to is. And is your duty to take care of me or of him, Phae?”

Oh, shit. I made him angry. I bite my lips. “I’m sorry. I’m just a clone, but I want to do the right thing for you. I’m your guardian angel. I have to take care only of you. And okay, yes, you scare me.”

Prince raises his eyebrows. “Do I disgust you?”

I can only shake my head. My eyes fill and a lump grows inside my throat. I’m going to die of shame confessing this to him, but how can I lie to my Prince?

“I have this strange desire about you,” I admit, looking down, trembling. “I don’t know what it is. I know only that when you touch me, something inside of me starts whimpering and screaming, and I’m scared, yes, deadly scared. I feel pain and this makes me regret the flat existence I had until yesterday, but at the same time I’m happy and my head swirls as if I were drifting in zero gravity, and I would never go back to when you were just asleep. Can’t… I can’t explain better than that. I’m sorry. I’m just a stupid clone.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, and I expect him to say I’m horrible, I’m an abomination and he’ll have his King imprison me. But this doesn’t happen.

He remains silent for a while. Then his hand gently raises my chin. “Open your eyes, Phae.”

I do it and hot tears roll down my cheeks. And—incredibly—Prince is not angry. His gaze is… sweet?

“Listen to me, Phae. This is okay. Every human being wants someone at his side. They made me believe clones were different, but apparently they lied to me. People need to be with other people, you know? The thing they have done to you—let you grow up here alone—it’s wrong and makes me sick. But what you feel is right. It’s not disgusting or shameful, and you’re not failing in your duties. Okay?”

Even though his words are kind, and I didn’t expect him to be so gentle, I think he doesn’t understand what I meant.

“But it hurts. A very specific part of me.”

Now my face is hot and flushed, but Prince smiles. “Yes,” he says, chuckling. “I know what specific part you are talking about.”

H
E
’
S
CRYING
for me.

This tall, handsome soldier is crying for my ass, literally. I could get fucked like nothing. God knows I need it. A big cock has always been the solution to all my problems. A pity the big cock was invariably attached to some big source of more problems.

Yes, I could jump on him and make him believe this is his duty and get what I want from him. The problem is, I don’t want to hurt him.

Another unpleasant image explodes in my head before I can stop it. A man who throws me on the bed and beats me and yells, “Shut up and give me your ass, you whore.”

Nobody has ever been so kind to me. Maybe I don’t deserve so much kindness, but that’s not the point.

I take his face in my hands, brushing away his tears with my thumbs. “Listen to me, Phae. Humans—and even clones, I suppose—do something to feel more connected to each other. It’s called making love. They do it using their cocks.”

Wonder explodes in his eyes.

I shrug. “Well, not only the cock. Anyway, it’s a wonderful thing.”

At least in theory. If your partner doesn’t beat you, and waits for your orgasm, it’s better, of course.

I shake my head. “Don’t be afraid. It’s just something you don’t know about yourself and your body, but it’s okay.”

He relaxes slightly. “Really?”

“Really.”

“And do humans make that thing—”

“Making love.”

“Do they make love often?”

Well. I did. I lay in some unknown bed when my father rescued me, full of synthetic drugs. Even though I struggle with all my soul not to remember, it’s just below the surface, ready to explode, and some memories of my descent into drugs resurface. Parties and drugs and casual sex—my life was just that. A shame for my father and for my family. “At least suspended animation will clean all that shit from your blood,” my father had said. Yes, and suspended animation had cleaned even my brain. I had been just a spoiled brat engaged in an attempt to destroy his pointless existence. A junkie. I feel shamed in Phae’s eyes; he’s so heroic to watch over me for life. He thinks I’m special, but he doesn’t know about all the crap I did.