B Clones (Clones #1) - Laurann Dohner Page 0,33

one he was assigned on Clone World.”

She hesitated. “Do I want to know what that was?”

“Freak.”

She winced. “I see why he likes being called Free instead. How did he get stuck with that name? Hell, how did you get yours?”

“Human superiors name us once we begin working on Clone World. I climbed out of my shipping container and the medic and duty officer kept saying how big I was. The name stuck and they included it on my file. Freak has a thing for numbers. He worked in the financial department. He’s faster at calculating them than the computers. A freak of nature. That name was filed as his label.”

“What assholes. What about the other clones who escaped with you?”

“Fig was also assigned to assist the granddaughter of the owner of Clone World in their financial department. His main job was to keep track of their profit and losses. He said his job was to give them ‘figures’ during meetings, and so that’s what they called him. Once freed, he shortened Figures to Fig.”

“Really don’t like anyone on that planet,” she murmured.

“Then there’s Ram and Rod. They both worked in maintenance. I’m not certain why they were given those names but they kept them. We were all housed in the same sleeping dorm. I’m not as close to those two as the others, since we were given day shifts together, but they always worked the overnight ones.”

“You mentioned a Blade?”

“Yes. He’s the same service model as I am. Security. He earned his name because when he awoke, the duty officer present noticed that he suffered from body tremors. The medic said they would quickly pass, that it was only temporary from extended shipping in stasis. But the officer believed Blade to be defective. That means immediate death for the newly awakened clone, with another one ordered as a replacement. Blade grabbed the officer’s knife from his belt and threw it at the far wall; a bug had flown into the room. Blade pinned it with precision. It impressed the officer enough to agree with the medic and not have him killed.”

“Wow.”

“Agreed. Okay, pay attention to what I’m about to teach you. You’re going to learn this, Gemma. Trust me. It’s simple.”

She hoped that was true.

Hours later, she actually felt secure in the fact that she could run life scans, and if anything bad happened, she knew how to switch the generator to a backup one. The same with life support. The computer itself would warn her if any unauthorized ships approached the station.

“What happens if someone ever does come while you’re gone?”

“You shut it all down. Life support, the lights, generators, and then activate the emergency lockdown procedures. Right now, all the doors in the station are open. Initiating lockdown will make it a lot harder for them to move around inside.” He pointed to a thick door in the far corner. “Then you get your ass in that room over there and wait for me to return.”

“What’s in there?”

“An emergency bunker for the original staff, in case of dire circumstances. It’s stocked with enough food and water to support twenty-five persons for six months. It has its own generator, air circulator, and there are even two emergency escape pods.”

“As in those things in movies that you can shoot off a ship and survive in?”

“Yes. Never use them, though.”

“Why not?”

He met her gaze. “They have programming that can’t be overwritten. It’s their core function to transmit a distress signal. It would bring you help, but not the kind that would save your life.”

She remembered now. “I’m an illegally created clone. They’d kill me.”

“Exactly. You lock yourself inside that bunker if anyone ever tries to breach the station and stay there. I’ll come get you.”

She didn’t want to think about the day he’d go on a raid and leave her alone. The fact that he’d mentioned a few times that they had years’ worth of supplies helped alleviate that somewhat. “Okay.”

“I even put a box of plasma in there, since this station is now a clone haven.” He winked. “That’s another thing I’ll teach you. You need to learn how to maintain your new body.”

She had a bad feeling that wouldn’t go over well. Gemma and the sight of blood didn’t go together. It tended to make her feel lightheaded. She’d learned to deal, though. Especially after raising two sons. They were forever getting scrapes and cuts as kids. She’d never fainted once. “We might have a problem with that if