Clonely You (Sunrise Cantina #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

AITHAR

“Oh my god, this butter!” Ruthie moans over something in the mess hall.

“I know, right? It’s so good.” Her sister Ruth makes a happy sound. “Pass me some more dry noodles. They work amazingly as crackers.”

From my spot on the bridge, I hit the “retrieve” command on the comm unit, but there’s no new messages, no incoming chatter, no nothing. Risda III is in the middle of nowhere—what Lord Straik jokingly calls “the armpit of the universe.” It’s very pastoral and remote, but that also means that it’s very, very quiet.

Which is difficult for a communications officer who is desperately trying to stay busy.

Normally, I do not mind the quiet days. With the ship docked at Risda III, there are fewer crew members aboard as Lord Straik and Lady Ruth remain low profile, contemplating their future. His mother is under investigation, and with corsairing no longer an option, the ship’s purpose hangs in limbo. Some of us a’ani crew will be retiring to Port here to run a cantina for humans, but I haven’t yet decided. Initially I thought I’d stay, find a human woman to mate, and start a family.

But it seems that no human women want me. I can only conclude that an a’ani is not prized as a mate when there are others around. And who can blame them? We are a race that is cloned for grunt work. We have no value in the eyes of many. Every time I have attempted to woo a human, someone else has captured her heart. I am seen as a friend only.

I do not mind being a friend.

I do mind being only a friend.

My once-love Melody recently returned to a mesakkah male who stole her heart years ago. Perhaps that is why I feel so lost and alone right now. It is not that I wanted Melody in particular—though I did like her quite a bit—it is that I am feeling rejected by the universe in general. Everyone seems to have someone. Melody has Brux. Lady Ruth has Lord Straik.

“Oh my god , this butter!”

Ruthie has butter.

She also has Kazex, but the sounds the sister-clones are making as they devour the lactation by-product are vaguely disturbing. I feel as if I should not be listening in to this particular conversation…and yet it is not a conversation. It is just them slurping and licking in an obscenely loud fashion and moaning dramatically.

Over butter.

Butter is more desirable than an a’ani mate. I bite back another sigh of pure self-loathing.

“Is that the last of it?” Lady Ruth says, voice mournful. A plas-wrapper crinkles. “Where did it come from? How do we get more?”

More crinkling. “I know Ruth-Ann said she was getting some locally sourced ingredients to see what we can use for the cantina. Maybe this was part of it? Were we not supposed to eat it?”

“I…don’t know.”

A moment later, two human sets of feet make clomping noises down the hall, and I brace myself for a confrontation. I’m the only other person on the ship, other than Lord Straik, who is currently on a long vid-comm with an old Homeworld relative. Ruth and Ruth-Ann appear on the bridge a moment later, both of them with glittering eyes that they fix on me.

“Aithar! Have you seen Ruth-Ann?”

“No.” I want to point out that I am communications. That I am just in charge of anything that comes through the comm unit. But I am also very sour right now and I know that is not the fault of Ruth or her sister-clones. “She is most likely in Port with the others.”

“Probably harassing that poor cookie woman again,” Ruth mutters, glancing at Ruthie. She holds the wrapper out to me. “Do you know anything about the snacks that Ruth-Ann was acquiring for the cantina? Are you familiar with Space Butter Farms?”

“I am not.” I imagine it is a local human farm and I do not visit them. The humans do not appreciate “aliens” visiting their homesteads and it has been made clear to the crew that we should remain in Port unless we have good reason otherwise.

Besides, I have not felt like sightseeing on a planet full of beautiful human females that are not interested in me. I am moping .

“Okay, well, we need more of this butter she got. Like, lots more,” Lady Ruth says, holding the wrapper out to me.

Ruthie nods, her earrings jingling. “Perfect for bar snacks. That’s your domain, isn’t it?”

“It is not,” I remind them. “Ruth-Ann is creating the menu. I am helping her implement it, that’s all.” I’m not as good with construction as the others. My skill lies in comms and I speak and read seventeen alien languages. Unless they need something read or written, I am not much use at the moment.

“Implementation is exactly what we need. This needs implementing!” They thrust the wrapper at me. “Go and buy all of this that you can, please.”

I eye the two of them. “Me?”

Lady Ruth nods and rubs a hand over her belly. “Straik told me not to leave the ship without him.”

“And Kaz told me to keep Ruth company,” Ruthie chimes in. “And she has pregnancy cravings bad.”

“So bad,” Ruth agrees. “Sooo…butter?”

Reluctant, I take the wrapper. “This cannot wait?”

“No, because someone else might buy it all up. Go to the general store and buy everything they have. Doesn’t matter the flavor.”

Ruthie gasps. “Oh my god, you think they have garlic butter?”

“I mean, probably not? I don’t think garlic is an alien herb. But if whatever they make is that tasty, I want all of it in my belly.” Ruth eyes me. “And you’re just sitting here moping anyhow, Aithar.”

I manage an indignant look. “I am not moping.”

“You are too. Whatsername, Bethany?”

“Melody—”

“You deserve better than someone that doesn’t want you.”

“That is the problem. No one wants me,” I say glumly.

“You just need to find the right lady, one that can’t keep her hands off you,” Ruthie sympathizes. “But until then…you can go on a butter run.”

A butter run. Perhaps I should. Maybe a task is the distraction I need. The dead-silent comm station is certainly not providing the diversion I had hoped for. Biting back a sigh, I eye the wrapper again. “Space Butter.”

I leave the ship and walk the short distance into the small settlement unimaginatively named “Port.” Even though my mood is rather low, it is hard to stay depressed when the sun is shining and the breeze caresses my face. Risda III smells incredible, like new grass and fresh air, nothing like the normal busy space hubs our ship visits, or the mining station I was enslaved upon before getting my freedom with Lord Straik. No one can stay in a foul mood when there is sunshine and birds chirping.

By the time I get to the main thoroughfare of Port, I’m humming to myself. I head for the store, and as I do, I notice there are a few humans strolling about. There is a female with a male praxxiian, and another female talking to one of the custodians. She’s touching his face, so I am guessing she is his mate. As I enter the store, I see two women share a kiss over by the produce.

Is everyone on this planet paired up but me? The thought is a depressing one and my mood deflates once more.

I head to the counter and hold the wrapper out to the avian clerk. “I am looking for Space Butter.”

He eyes the wrapper and gives an affirmative squawk. “The humans love their weird foods, don’t they? Yes, we have more of that. How much do you want?”

I think about the enjoyment noises Ruthie and Ruth were making. While they were noisy, they are only two humans. How much can they possibly eat?

And then I remember Ruth’s pregnancy cravings. “Give me everything you have.”

The avian flutters his stubby wings and takes a few long-legged steps to the back of the store. He returns a moment later with two more cubes of the wrapped product. “This is all I have for the rest of the week. I should get another shipment in on Monday. She comes in then.”

Something tells me this answer will not be enough. “She? Is the creator local?”

He nods. “You want the coordinates to her farm? She told me if anyone wants a bulk order to see her directly.”

“I do. Give me her name.”

“It’s Michaela. I’ll send you the coordinates. When you’re in the area, look for the barn with the logo painted on it. You can’t miss it.” He taps a claw on the wrapper I’ve left on the counter. It looks like a stylized ship of some kind, though a bit ridiculous. Whoever heard of a spaceship that looks like a big disc?

I pay for the butter and step outside. As I do, I notice my purchase is getting squishy in my hand. Does it melt, then? It won’t last if I head out to this Space Butter Farm today. I head in the opposite direction of the path out of town, veering toward the far end of Port’s main street and toward the cantina under construction. Ducking inside under the plas-tarp that covers the open door, I’m greeted with the sound of drills and saws as the rest of the crew works on putting together the cantina. At some point it’s going to have a long bar, a kitchen and serving area, and a great many tables filling the floor. Right now it’s just a bunch of crates and a lot of mess.

“I’m not staying long,” I call out as I enter, holding up the butter. “I’m just putting some snacks in the refrigeration unit for Lady Ruth.”

Heading to the back, I run into Dopekh in the kitchen area. He’s working on wiring something together and stops when he sees me. He glances at the door and takes a step closer to me. “You should make this quick, Aithar.”

Uh oh. “Why?”

“Because Melody is coming in shortly to pick up some of the scrap. I suspect she will bring her new mate.”

I flinch. Melody and I have sworn to remain friends even though she has gotten together with another male very quickly after dating me for a second time. I told myself that it was not personal, but I must admit that my pride has been wounded. Melody dated me once before and broke things off…and then did the exact same thing a year later. It is hard not to feel rejected. It is even worse when Zaemen and Salvotor like to crack jokes at my expense.

Dopekh understands this. He knows what it is like to have relationship troubles, and to be unwanted by those you desire. He is looking out for me. Nodding at him, I open the refrigeration unit, toss in the butter to retrieve later, and head back out of the cantina as quickly as I entered.

Melody and I can be friends, absolutely, but I need to be less raw about what happened between us.

I head out of the settlement on foot, following the coordinates in my wrist-comm. It’s not too far away, and I should be able to walk the distance comfortably. It’s better that I’m away from the ship for a bit anyhow. Perhaps it will clear my head and let me think. I enjoy the fresh air and the green hills, the pastures that divide up the land as far as the eye can see. It is a little paradise that Lord va’Rin has created for his rescued humans and I am glad he thinks of their safety. I try to imagine a planet full of rescued a’ani and wonder what that would look like. We would probably all compete to be the most useful. No a’ani likes to feel unwanted. I suspect that is one reason why Erzah wishes to create a cantina here on the human refuge. He wishes to lure a mate to his side, but he also wants to feel needed.

Lord Straik has mentioned only briefly that the crew will need to be slimmed down now that he is no longer operating a corsairing vessel, but I think about it every day. I wonder who will be culled from the crew. I wonder if it will be me, since I’m the newest.

Well, other than Ruth-Ann and Ruthie, but everyone knows they will not be going anywhere. Kazex will stay with Ruthie. Sakkar will likely stay with the ship as he has made it clear he has no desire to retire on Risda. As for the others…I do not know.

My thoughts grow increasingly troubled instead of peaceful, and by the time I see the large barn with the disc-shaped ship painted on it, I am anxious about the future and what it means for me. I am possibly not wanted with Lord Straik’s crew. I am not wanted by the human females here.

There is no place in the universe for a useless a’ani.

I approach the home slowly, eyeing it. The residence is small and tidy, with flowers planted in a container near the doorstep. A sign hangs by the threshold, the writing in Earth’s English language. SPACE BUTTER DAIRY FARM . Below that, in tiny lettering, please ring bell for service.

I glance around, looking for a buzzer of some kind. The only thing I see is an inverted cone of metal, hanging from the wall near the sign. I bend over to look inside the cone, but there is no buzzer or any sort of button inside, just another metal piece. Perhaps I read the sign wrong? I am new to learning English, and maybe the word “bell” means something else to Ruthie, who helped me brush up on my words.

I read the sign again, lips moving. As I do, the door opens a crack. An eye peeks out at me. “What do you want?”

The voice is human. Female. Neutral.

Enchanting.

I smile at the figure hiding in the shadows. I cannot see much other than that the human is shorter than me—the door hides everything else. Small brown fingers hold the door open a crack. I yearn to learn more about her already, and all she has done is eye me from the doorway. “I seek butter!”

“Mm. Are you armed?”

A wise female. Of course she would ask such a thing. “I am not. I am shopping.”

“Cool. Right.” The door opens and splendor stands before me. A human woman with warm brown skin, full lips, and the most enchanting dark eyes gazes at me. She steps aside and indicates I should join her. “Come on in.”

She does not need to ask me twice. My heart pounding with attraction, I step into her home.

She retreats a few steps, a smile on her face. There is wariness in her posture, though, as she watches me. “How did you find me here?”

I hold up the wrapper that guided me. As my wrist-comm chirps telling me that I have reached my destination, I point to it next.

She waits.

I wait, too. Truly, have I ever seen a female as lovely as she is? The top of her head will barely reach my chin, but I find that height appealing. Her dark hair is thick and fluffy, full of coils, and her face is round and sweet, as round and sweet as the rest of her. She wears a simple tunic and a one-piece jumper with no sleeves over it, and the scent of old milk clings to her clothing, so faint that I doubt a human would pick it up with their watered-down senses. Underneath that scent is a sweeter one, her natural scent, and it makes my mouth water. Have I ever fallen in love so very quickly before?

Possibly. I grow smitten rather rapidly it seems.

It is just that humans are so adorable and clever. Is it so wrong to appreciate them? I would not act upon it, but there is no harm in simple appreciation. I try to decide what it is about her that appeals most. Her voice, I think. Her beauty is striking, but there is a rich smoothness to her voice and the way she says her words that draws me in.

The female arches a delicate brow at me. “You’re not talking. You’re just standing there.”

“It is because you are so beautiful,” I blurt out.

“Uh huh.”

Oh. Her smile fades a bit. I do not like that. I must fix this. Do I address her as “female” or woman”? What should I call her to honor her profession?

Aha—I remember now.

“I am not trying to make you uncomfortable, dairymaid. I find many humans attractive, but few are so lovely and appealing to my senses as you are.”

“Dairymaid?” She seems surprised by the term.

“Is it the wrong thing? I wish to honor your profession. What does one call a female milk farmer?”

“You can call me Michaela.”

I nod, feeling like a fool. Her tone has grown cool, as her expression has. “I have offended you. I apologize thoroughly. I have studied your tongue but I am still clumsy with your customs.”

Michaela—a lovely name!—considers me and shifts her weight on her feet, her stance changing. Her smile grows sweet and genuine, unfurling like a flower across her enchanting face. “Apology accepted. Don’t mind me, sweetheart. I was a little wary at first. You understand, me being a single woman alone in the big, bad universe.”

I am dumbfounded at her tone, rich and sultry and with a hint of teasing. Her voice feels like a caress, and my body fails me. I forget how to move, how to speak. I want to close my eyes and bask in her speech forever. “I do understand that humans must be careful. I would never harm you, Butter Farmer Michaela. In fact, if you ever need a protector, I shall be the first one to volunteer.” I blurt out the words with eagerness and then flinch backward. I am too forward. Always, always I am too forward, too eager to please. “If you like, of course.”

“That’s very sweet of you.” Her tone grows syrupy, her eyes heavy-lidded and sultry as she gazes on me. She moves forward and touches my arm. Briefly—oh so briefly—but I burn from that slight caress. “What did you come here for, protector?”

“May—may I have all your butter?”

She moves a little closer, and her scent fills my senses. Any closer and her breasts will surely touch my abdomen. The thought makes me dizzy. “I’m all out of butter at the moment, my darling. Perhaps you should come back later? We could…get to know each other.”

Get to know each other? That is what humans say when they wish to copulate. I do not know what I have done to receive this joy, but I am eager for it. “I would love to return and know you better.”

Michaela trails her finger down my front, and my cock, once dead to the universe, throbs in response. “Come back after dark? I’ll give you all the butter you could possibly want.”

I am thrilled.