J Batt: Onliest

“Oh,” Syn said, holding up a hand to the screen. Her fingers dipped into the light projection, and she ran her fingers through the display. The display of the ship moved as she pushed and prodded the image. She spun the image around, looking at the damage from every side. The Disc still rotated, and the tear was widening, forcing the Disc off-balance.

Blip floated behind her. In the quiet, he said, “I didn’t realize how much was being seen.”

“How do we talk to it… her?” Syn asked.

“You wait.”

“I don’t have time to wait,” Syn said, floating further ahead to peer out the main windows at the starfield. “We don’t have time.”

The Barlgharel spoke from near the hatch. “Time is a choice.” He had followed them up.

“That makes no sense,” Blip said.

“Olorun!” Syn yelled, startling Blip.

There was no answer.

Syn tried again, “Olorun! I know you’re listening!”

“I wonder if she knows we’re here,” Blip said. “She gets distracted sometimes.”

“Oh, please be quiet, little egg.” The voice was feminine but contained a deep rasp to it. There was something both warming and frightening in its tone.

“Olorun?” Blip said.

“Hush means hush,” the voice said, “Keep talking and I’ll finish cracking you open.”

Blip nodded at Syn, his movements still staggered from his fight with Taji.

After a moment, Syn stepped forward and stared upwards and finally said, “I’m Syn—”

“I know who you are, small one. I’ve been keeping my eye on you for a very, very long time.”

“Olorun?” Syn asked.

“Ya, sure. That’ll do. For now. Until we get to know each other.”

Syn glanced at the image on the display. “We need your help.”

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

“What’s another?” Syn’s voice was still quiet, still tame. She was guarded with every word.

Olorun’s voice grew bright, and the lights across the bridge glowed brighter, casting a brilliant azure haze on everything. “Oh, I like you. Determined. Another way of looking at things—” As she paused, the screens to Syn’s right flickered, and images of a young Syn waking up in the crèche appeared. Another shot showed her meeting Blip, reaching out to touch his nose with her finger. There was an image of Syn and Blip entering the first Disc. There was also a shot of Syn descending toward the dark Disc just days ago. Olorun continued, “Another way to look at it is I’ve needed your help.”

The floor shook, and Syn put a hand out to steady herself on the nearest chair. When she regained her balance, she spoke, her voice more determined. “We need your help. The Disc—”

“Are you sure?”

“What?”

“Your plan. Are you sure about it?”

“Yes. I think so. And it was Neci’s plan.”

“Letting loose the other Disc?”

“Did you know about that?” Syn asked.

“And who is Neci?”

Syn glanced back to the hatch. “She’s…”

Blip spoke for the first time in a few minutes, “One of the Eves.”

Olorun laughed, “Egg, I told you to shut up. Now, if you want any help, you’ll stay quiet so daughter Syn and I can talk. Understood?”

Blip nodded.

“You coulda left your pet chihuahua behind,” Olorun said.

“The ship, please?” Syn asked, “What do we do? It’s breaking apart.”

“Oh, wheee… You are persistent. Fine. But you sure you know what you’re asking?”

“I think so… I need you to detach the Disc before it breaks off and hurts the needle. It’s about to break the entire ship. We’ll all die.”

“No, you will all die. I think I’ll do just fine on my own. So once again, is that what you want? Tell me if it is.”

The room shook again, and Syn tumbled against the wall.

Syn lost control—she had been cut off too many times, and the threat of the grinding needle consumed her. She screamed, “It’s going to kill us! They’re going to die!” Her face was red. Her hands were balled into fists, and sweat flew off of her as she yelled. “Do it! Save us! Get rid of that other Disc.”

Everything went white.

The light was so bright that Syn shut her eyes tight. With her eyes shut, she noticed that all sounds had stopped. There was no constant hum of the engines. The rattling strain of the separating Disc from the needle had vanished.

She let her eyes adjust and opened them again. Everything was still white. There was no detail. Above her, below her, on both sides… Everywhere was white. Blazing, brilliant white.

Syn floated alone in the emptiness of it.

“Hello?” she squeaked out. She had screamed before, yet, against the stillness, her voice seemed much louder than her screams.

“Give me a moment,” came the voice of Olorun. Seconds passed, and then the voice said, “There.”

Before Syn, a bright blue image of the Olorun itself appeared. Soundless, the second Disc—the ruptured one—split out from the needle into quarters. Then those quarters broke. The damaged section seemed to shatter into a thousand pieces. The individual slices gently floated off from the needle.

“Is that real?”

Olorun said, “Do you mean ‘Is that actually happening?’”

Syn nodded.

Olorun said, her voice full and calming, “Yes, then. That Disc is gone. Neci’s world has been removed.”

Syn brightened, “You said you didn’t know who she was!”

“No, I asked you who she was. I would still like to know your answer. Who is Neci?”

“I told you. She was one of the Sisters. An Eve. I’m a copy of her. Or she’s one of me. I’m not sure how it works.”

A figure appeared. A young woman. Syn immediately saw the resemblance: the same dark skin, dark eyes, the dark, twisting hair. Yet, there were differences. She seemed to be the same age as Syn but was shorter. Her muscles were less defined. She had far more weight on her than Syn. Olorun chimed, “This is Kabo. You are her copy. So is Neci.”

“Oh,” Syn said. Her lips formed the word more than she spoke it aloud. The girl was beautiful, no doubt. There was also something else in her eyes. There wasn’t that crazy hunger, the darting eyes of Neci, Kerwen, or Taji. Or of Syn herself. This girl seemed content.

“Kabo was Captain Pote’s oldest daughter. When she turned eighteen, they took her DNA and set to work on you and the others.”

Captain Pote’s daughter? There were the two younger ones. Stace was the one Syn connected with—she had watched the girl’s videos over and over. In reflection, she had seen an older girl in photos. A third daughter?

“He definitely felt like you were his daughters. That was the hope. Build off of the Captain. Perhaps they assumed it would make you and the other Eves loyal. Daddy’s little girls.”

Syn shut her eyes. She generally did not cry, but her chest tightened, her emotions brimmed, and the tears started to roll. She held her mouth shut, willing the sensation back down.

“They tweaked you. Had to make you a bit different.”

The image of the girl faded, and Syn stood there alone. She remembered the first pictures of Pote on the screen—his warm voice, that ache to meet him, the expectation as she walked out, and the ever-growing uncertainty as she descended the Jacob the first time. That entire journey was marked by how she would first encounter him. The first thoughts had been, will he like me? They morphed throughout to a steadying, is he alive? and was he real? The thoughts transformed to the numbing echo of who am I? Perhaps she had meant for Pote to answer all of those. She sniffed and realized she had been crying. A few drops floated off of her cheeks and stayed in the air around her before fading into nothingness. Syn wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.