I watch him for a moment, grateful, and then count heads. There seem to be ten women and five men, but if I don’t take into account the supply pod, there are eighteen now-empty stasis pods. I’m missing three people.
At least, I’m pretty sure I am. There’s no reason for three empty pods to be here. I look for footsteps in the snow, but it’s all been burned away in this area from the ship that landed here, and I can’t leave camp. Not when so many people need help right now. “Does anyone know of a friend that’s missing?” I call out. “Do you have a buddy you need to find?”
No one answers.
I don’t know why I’m asking. Half of them can’t even remember their names. I pull I’rec aside and share my concerns with him. “There’s three pods that are empty,” I say, worried. “Someone might be out in the snow looking for help.”
He considers things, looking over the group and then at me. “We cannot leave these people. They need our help more.”
His words make sense, but I still fret over the thought of leaving three confused strangers out in the snow. “Shouldn’t we split up, though? Go searching for them? You could stay here by the fire with the others—”
“No,” I’rec says in a calm, easy voice.
“—and I could go out into the snow looking for them. They can’t have gotten far—”
“No,” he says again.
“Or I can stay and you can go—”
He grabs my hands and clasps them in his. “No, my F’lor. I understand your heart. It pains me that there are others that we are missing, but the ship was here last night. Whoever was in those pods could be deep in the mountains by now. They could be taken by metlaks. They could be dead.” I’rec rubs my hands. “Or they are pods that could be empty. We have no idea if there were truly people in them, and our new humans are not able to tell us. It is not wise for you to go searching in the snows, and I will not leave your side.” He gives me an understanding look. “If they are meant to come back, they will come back. But you and I must focus on the people in front of us right now that need our help.”
I know he’s right. Perhaps whoever was in that ship had some empty pods and just dumped them. I don’t know for sure that they were occupied, but something in my gut tells me they were. It makes the most sense. And yet I’rec is right. The people huddled around the fire need our help. If those people lost in the snow come back, we’ll help them. If not…when O’jek and Daisy return, I’ll approach the topic again. “You sure you won’t go looking for them?”
“And leave my pregnant mate alone with these strange males that have no khui?” He shakes his head slowly. “I am not leaving your side. They already watch you with hungry eyes.”
They do? That might be a figment of his imagination, but I get it. A small, horrible part of me is glad he’s staying with me. It makes sense, anyhow. You triage your patients, and fifteen needy people right in front of us take precedence over three possible people that might be lost. Like it or not, we’ve got to take care of the issue at hand.
So I nod and give his hands a squeeze, and we return to the fire.
I move to one female’s side, making sure the blanket is tight around her shoulders. She’s letting it slide as if she’s too warm, and that might be the onset of a fever. I can’t tell given that my body now runs hotter than hers and I have no thermometers, so I’m just going to have to wing it. “Okay, we’ve got some food. Is everyone getting warmer? Has everyone drunk some water? All extremities covered?”
I’rec moves back to the fire and begins to dole out chunks of the kah trail mix. One woman takes a bite and immediately wheezes, choking on the spices. “It’s like you pepper sprayed my mouth!”
Is it? I don’t remember it being that awful pre-khui, but I also don’t mind spicy food. I turn to I’rec. “Maybe just jerky, baby.”
He nods and pulls it from our stash, handing it out and asking no questions and not fussing, even though we run out. “Tell me which one of you is the leader,” he says. When no one responds, he glances over at me and then back at them. “Is no one in charge?”
I eye the glazed eyes of a male with catlike features and blue skin—a mix of praxiian and mesakkah, maybe? He has a hand on his head and doesn’t look to be very focused. Maybe one of the drugged ones is in charge?
“I have a bracelet,” says a woman suddenly, holding up her wrist.
“I watched mine,” says another, hugging her knees to her chest and shivering. “I didn’t understand it.”
“Understand what?” I ask, curious.
The woman holding up her arm gestures at the bracelet, and then I see a small, flashing button on the inside. She taps it, and then the air crackles and something that looks like a 3-D projection appears in the air.
It’s an older mesakkah woman with tattoos and a leathery face—Niri, if Daisy is right. “Lucky you,” the woman says, clapping her hands once in front of her. “Turns out, you’re a clone. And not just any clone, but an illegally made one. Normally an illegally made clone is immediately euthanized, but someone with a lot of credits paid to have you dropped off somewhere safe and hidden away. So, here you are.” The recording spreads her hands wide. “It’s a little chilly here, but the locals are nice and they’ll take care of you. Tell Daisy and Mardok I said hello, and that I hope they’re getting keffed hard and regularly by their prospective mates. As for you, my little clone, I left you some supplies. Play nice with your new buddies and have a great life.”
The recording winks out and then there’s silence.
“What’s a clone?” one of the women asks in a wobbly voice. “Is…is that what I think it is?”
“I’m not a clone,” insists a blonde. She looks insulted at the thought. “Clones don’t have memories, do they? And I have memories. My name’s Isadora. I have a flower shop called Busy Blooms in Oregon. And I know I’m not a clone.”
“Then how’d you get here?” asks the first woman.
Isadora hunches her shoulders. “I…don’t know.”