They had followed us. We had led them here when we first went in pursuit of the tiger. They had taken advantage of our tracking the tiger. In the wake of our mercy, they had shredded the young family. They couldn’t attack me. But there was nothing in their programming preventing them from stalking and killing other animals. There was still uncurbed nature in their DNA. Directed brutality without restraint.
I roared, “No!” and leaped, surprising the beasts. I was too fast for the first, and my spear went clean through the closest one, killing it with one stab. They were no threat to me. They couldn’t have attacked me. Wouldn’t have. But I didn’t care.
Blip flew in behind, yelling out, “Syn!” But I wouldn’t stop. I hated them! They had killed the mother and her cubs. They had massacred the animals.
And it was my fault. I had let the hyenas roam free because I didn’t think they were a threat. I had stalked the wrong creatures. I had led them here. It was my fault.
The second hyena barked and then charged, using my moment of landing as an opportunity. Perhaps it was defending itself. Or perhaps that bit of programming that prevented it from targeting me had melted away in the taste of the fresh kill. It would’ve worked—my spear was still lodged in the first one—but Blip was there, flying at full speed. His massive weight slammed into the side of the hyena as it jumped. The beast was flung against the wall, hitting it with bone-breaking cracks and an awful splat sound. It was dead on impact, but I’m just not sure which impact killed it—Blip’s charge or the wall.
Either way, two were down and one left. The third was smart, though. It had watched the other two and was now retreating, looking for a point to break and run. I put my foot on the body of the first hyena for leverage and pulled my spear out. Its tip was dripping in the beast’s blood. I turned toward the last hyena, and in response to its shrill cackling bark, I growled.
And I didn’t wait—I charged ahead. I feinted to the left, and the beast twisted to the right, exactly where I wanted it to. My spear arrived at the same moment it did, stabbing straight into the skull of the beast. It gave a final loud whimper as it died. Its eyes rolled back, and it vomited blood.
It was over. All three dead in seconds. I shook my spear free, and the hyena’s limp body ragdolled until it flopped off of the tip.
I roared—no words, just a primal scream of regret and fear and release.
I turned toward the body of the tigress and fell to my knees, landing in the pool of blood, and wrapped my arms around her huge head. Dead. She was dead. I cried, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I had killed this beautiful creature. I had killed the only tigers on the ship. There would be no more tigers. At the same time, I realized there would be no more hyenas—I wanted to not care about them either, but I did. I was killing things, and I didn’t want to be a killer.
I buried my face in its blood-matted fur. “I’m sorry,” I whimpered.
Blip hovered near but stayed silent. He understood.
My tears dried out, and so did my words. I held the tigress’ head in silence for an unknown time. A great force had gone out of my world, never to return.
The silence stretched.
From somewhere in the room, from under some of the blankets and clothes, something moved—it was a shuffling sound and then a scratching against the floor.
I released the tiger and stood to attention. Was one of the hyenas still alive? We scanned around. Blip went full green in alert.
He whispered, “There. In the corner.” He was staring at a mound of blankets that was now rustling.
I counted the hyenas. They were all dead. A mouse perhaps? A rat?
And then my heart leaped in hope. Perhaps…I darted without caution to the blankets and pulled them off whatever was there.
A cub. The fat one. Still breathing, its eyes were searching frantically. I reached down for it, and it gave a sharp hiss that came out as a coughing growl. It bristled and pulled back. I bent and let it smell my hand as I examined it. There were no wounds. It had gone overlooked in the hyenas’ assault. It sniffed a few times and then took a cautious step toward me. I ran a hand through its fur and inside, I melted. One had survived.
In a moment, it relaxed and fell into my arms. I plucked it up and held it close, allowing its purr to grow. A minute passed, and it fell asleep against my chest.
I turned back to Blip, tears blurring my vision. I tried to speak, and the words choked as they came out. “We saved it.”
We searched around for other survivors but found none. We left and barred the door shut until we could send a cleaning crew of bots in here to remove the remains and bodies to the body farms below.
That night we searched the stores for milk and found a baby bottle in one of the settlements. For the next few weeks, the little tiger didn’t leave my side. I nursed it to strength—although it was fat enough that it would’ve done fine for a while without. It slept with me at night. It followed along during the day.
Blip pointed out that the little furball was a “she” and that we needed a name. We chose the name Eku.
Since then, she has been a part of our odd little family—always beside Blip and myself.
37
Ascent
“When your rage is choking you, it is best to say nothing.”
—Octavia Butler
The Jacob lift was cramped. Neci had directed them to one of the larger freight compartments that opened on the side of the standard personal Jacob lift that Syn was used to. The final push toward the Jacob was hurried but not in a dead rush. The concern that had propelled Neci forward in a sprint as they left the city had faded.
They stood shoulder to shoulder in the cramped Jacob lift, the walls dented and scuffed. Taji’s tapping of Syn’s spear against the floor interrupted the hushed space.
Perhaps it was the sense of dismay after the destruction of Zondon. Perhaps it was their relief at having survived the onslaught of the bots. Perhaps it was the shock of the explosion that leveled the city. Or maybe all three and more. Whatever it was, they all stood quiet, no one meeting each other’s gaze. They rode silent and still up the pillar toward the needle. This was a trip that Syn had made countless times before but never with others. Everything she did now was a shared experience. It was, in a way, a dream come true. But she had not ever dreamed it would be this horrific. Pigeon had said it. They were evil. Neci twisted everything she touched. And Syn had seen it with her own eyes.
Now they were racing toward the needle to open the gate. Syn shuddered at the thought of Neci unleashed upon her Disc. She saw the birds twirling through the air. She imagined the lazy animals sleeping under the shade of the forest. The fish darting through the great river. All was pristine and raw and untouched. Syn had lived with her world as if it was immovable and should not be altered. Below them, Neci’s work blazed out: a desert on fire spilling dark smoke into the already polluted air.
The bright flames glowed. Syn stared at the burning remains. A large dark circle to the side of town caught her eyes. It was a huge and flat against the ground, outside the gates. Oh, Syn thought as she recognized it. It had been where the great tree in her Disc would’ve been. It was just a stump. They had cut down their tree.
Neci smiled, “These are the leftovers I was handed.”
“You did this.” Syn leaned closer and kept her words quiet. Perhaps only Neci herself might hear. She didn’t mean the phrase for anyone else.
“Let me remind me you. I was left with nothing else. Leftovers. Mobs of insane colonists rampaging and killing their own.”
“You burned this world. You made it—” Syn said, but she stopped when Neci spun on her.
Neci breathed, “Who told you?” She eyed each of the others in the Jacob. Taji. Kerwen. Pigeon.
None of them responded. Syn avoided looking toward Pigeon. She avoided looking anywhere but ahead.
Neci sighed. “Fine, fine, fine. The cowards are hungry for another friend. They yap and yap and yap.” She slapped Pigeon’s cheek
lightly then turned and glared at Kerwen. “She’s not one of us. We tried but she isn’t. She wasn’t here. You may think she can be a part, but she’ll never understand the choices we’ve had to make. All we’ve done to survive. All we’ve been forced to do to survive.”
The room felt cold and frozen in time. Syn stood tense waiting for Neci’s explosion. But instead of erupting, Neci continued, her voice low, calm, and controlled, “You see, I’ve done the math. There were far too many of the colonists on this Disc. I believe they came over here in droves. I think the chaos started on your side. Or perhaps there was a war between them. Perhaps one Disc was jealous of the other. Whatever the reason, this Disc was crowded. Was yours empty? You’re like a kitten—innocent. You haven’t seen any of the Madness, have you? Knowing how many we killed over here convinced me that your Disc must be pristine. How do I know? Puck told me.”
“Puck?” Syn asked. She had heard the name before but could not remember where.
Kerwen muttered, “Neci’s companion.”
“That’s correct.” Neci pulled open the bag that Taji was carrying and lifted Blip out. She seemed to lift him. Syn assumed this was because he was supported by several circular grav plates they had slapped onto him. She held it between her hands and stared at it. “Puck was a brilliant little thing. He was there the moment we moved out into the Disc. After everything had gone wrong, he was the one who told me about your Disc. Told me to take all of the Sisters and go over there. He said there wasn’t any fighting there. It was what he shouted just before we beat him to death—he pleaded and pleaded and poured out little secrets. He had known all along but kept Eden a secret until he needed to bargain for his life. But he had to die—couldn’t have him telling the bitch above all about our plans. Cracked him open like an egg. The little liars have such a soft spot when you hit them from behind. They squeal, too. You’d almost think they were alive.”
Neci held out Blip to Syn. Syn raised her arms and carefully grabbed ahold of the bot. Eyeing Neci, she took Blip’s weight into her arms. He was so heavy, even with the grav plates.
Neci smiled. “But when we all got to the gate, it was closed. Locked tight. All of the colonists from your Disc had been streaming through it, but somehow, someone had shut it. We returned to the Disc, but they pursued. Everywhere we went, they chased us. They attacked over and over. We lived months in fear. So what choice did we have? We torched this place to eliminate the mad set of them.”
“And you’ll come to my world and do the same.” Syn examined Blip. There were scuff marks and chunks of dirt on him, and there appeared to be some chips near the back of his body, but as a whole, he was untouched. The companion bots were nearly unbreakable. Neci and the others must have been brutal to destroy theirs.
“Are there threats there?”
Syn shook her head. Yet, she wondered how the Sisters would perceive the bots on her side? And what of Eku?
“Then why would I?”
Syn frowned. She and Neci were similar. Syn was scared just then. She wanted to barrel past them and run away. She wanted to run far away. “You’re scared.”
Neci pretended to either not hear that comment or ignored it. “So, here’s the plan for now. I know you don’t want me over there, but I want to give you one more chance. I want you to wake your companion up. I know they’re triggered by the Eve they’re assigned to. So you just stand there and think nice thoughts and get him to open his eyes. We need him to open the gate.”
Stay quiet, Blip, Syn thought. Then, on the heels of that thought came another, wake up soon, Blip. She ran her fingertips across his surface. Smooth. Cold.
She felt a tingle under her fingers. A quick, sharp vibration emanated from Blip. She glanced down. The companion bot sat unmoving. It was inert.
Neci continued, “Do you want to know the fantasies I’ve had?”
Syn coughed. “No. I don’t. I want you to open these doors and jump to your death.”
“You hate me so much?” Neci still stared out the window. While speaking, she reached over and grabbed Kerwen’s hand and held it. “Do you hate us? All of us? Why?”
Again, underneath her fingertips, the smooth surface of Blip vibrated. She glanced down again, and the sensation stopped.
“Well?” Neci pushed.
Syn grunted. “I don’t want you in my Disc.”
“I dream of a river. I dream of floating down a long, languid river. I dream of running my fingers in the water as the current pulls me along.”
Syn’s head jerked up. How had Neci known about that? She grimaced but stifled the reaction. Couldn’t let them know what she was thinking or feeling.
“I just want to be free,” Neci leaned in, “How can you hate me for that?”
Blip vibrated again. This time, Syn resisted the urge to steal a look. The vibration continued. It was slight, and there was no sound. Only a subtle sensation that Syn could feel. In answer, Syn tapped a finger gently on the side. The vibration paused and then started again. A response.
Blip was alive.
Syn tapped him again, this time with her pinky finger. Blip responded with a vibration localized near her finger. Then it stopped. Blip lay unmoving.
Neci put her fingers against the glass. “I think you hate us because we’re so much like you.” Neci glanced back at Syn. “I hate you, too.”
Syn didn’t want to, but the word was out before she could pull it back. “Why?”
“You were able to keep yourself from all of this. Somehow, you were the one who rolled the dice and came up a winner. Lucky little you.” Neci continued to ramble, her words puttering out like some pent-up spring. Her next words snagged Syn’s attention. “You’ll do it, you know.”
“No. Blip won’t open the door. I won’t open the door.”
“Blip,” Neci walked over and slid a finger along Blip’s surface. “Such a cute name.” Behind her, written on the glass was the word “WATER” in capital letters and rough handwriting. Neci’s strokes were irregular and out of alignment. She didn’t write often. She wasn’t practiced.
Neci caught Syn’s gaze at the word and said, “That’s why you’ll open the gate.”
“No.” Syn’s voice was firm, unwavering. “I'm not going to.”
“You don’t want to go home?”
“I don’t want you over there. We’ll all stay here.”
“What if there’s nowhere else to go?” Neci walked back to the window. “The first explosion was just to prove I can do it.”
“Prove what?”
“That I can and will destroy this place. I killed Zondon Almighty. Our home. I also, hopefully, punched through to the Underworld. To the groves and the body farms below that.” Neci gave a deep, contented sigh and then continued, “The next one is set to go off in an hour or so. It’ll punch through to the shield.”
Again, the term was odd. What shield? The magnetic flows that kept things moving around the ship? Or the ramscoop that catches the stray hydrogen before them. Neither seemed right. But then, Syn knew what she meant. “The water shield?”
Neci leaned in and fogged the window again. With her finger, she wrote FLOOD. “Yes. That’s exactly what I meant.”
The water shield was the final layer underneath everything. The barrier between the life of the Disc and the cold, emptiness of space. On Syn’s Disc, it filtered all of the water that flowed through the river Lokun and into the settlements. More importantly, it provided a critical barrier between the interior of the Disc and the dangers of cosmic radiation bombarding Olorun in its journey.
Taji crossed her arms and smiled. “Nothing to come back to.”
Next to her, Kerwen staggered back in surprise. “What? Why?”
So, Kerwen had not known. Only Taji and Neci. Syn glanced at Pigeon, and the girl was unreadable, but her frozen features were too still. Perhaps she was scared. Perhaps the shock that the moment had arrived and that Neci was going through with her plan might have been overwhelming.
“What c
hoice do I have?” Neci said to Kerwen. “We have to get over there, and she won’t open the gate. When everything is thirty feet under water, then what else can there be to do?”
“You’ll kill everyone else on this side. The bots that survived,” Syn stammered.
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll live. And it’s all up to you.” Neci nodded at Blip, “And little ‘ol Blip there.”
Syn shook her head. “You live here. How can you destroy it all?”
Neci turned and stepped up to Syn, inches from her face. “This isn’t our home. We weren’t meant to live on this stupid ship. We were intended to live on Àpáàdì. Not here. This ship is a prison. This ship is what we’re stuck with because they screwed up. This is Hell. I don’t want to be here. None of this matters.”
Syn had had enough. She yelled back, “This is it. We’re not getting to Àpáàdì! We’re out of fuel.”
“You think I don’t know about that? All we have to do is lighten our load. I’d say about half our weight,” Neci cooed.
“You knew about the fuel?” Syn eyed Neci.
Kerwen interjected herself into the back-and-forth. “What about the fuel? What are you talking about?”
Taji sighed. “Just tell her.”
Syn motioned up toward the needle. “We’re out of fuel. Somehow we burned too much in our speed-up. We don’t have enough for the slow-down. Do you remember the vids? How Captain Pote said we’d make landfall by burning half during the first part and half during the second?”
“The idiots burned it all up!” Neci laughed. “All because they were too scared.”
“You know why they burned it all up?”
Neci whispered, “Mutiny.”
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