Omphalos

by Harper J. Cole

  Perversely, her control only returned when she accepted its loss. As long as she struggled against the inevitable, Gypsy’s emotions stampeded through her wild and raw. Once she gave up the fight, peace returned.

  I guess I need to let go, like Annie said. I don’t want to, but…

  The thought trailed off – for a moment, her inner voice was silent. Noticing that her serotonin regulator pills were still beside her bed, she took one. Getting back on these was only sensible – she had precious few other defences against her inner demons.

  Gypsy yawned, and realised that she still needed sleep. Mechanically, she changed into her pale nightdress.

  What am I doing? Sleeping? If I sleep now, what will I find when I wake up? The last vestiges of what I gained, washed away with the tide.

  She crossed to the mirror, taking in the serious, mature set of her features, as well as the crisp haircut Koli had given her. The latter would still be there tomorrow, and she could fake the former any time she wished.

  But beneath the surface, Gypsy II would be gone.

  Why not sleep now, after all? If nothing else she could go out with dignity, not futilely clinging to the dissolving threads of the persona she’d created. Gypsy climbed into bed, turned out the lights and closed her eyes.

  Between wakefulness and dreaming, Dr. Koli seemed to visit her. “Koroko na ma krisola,” she said.

  “Yes,” murmured Gypsy in agreement. The words made perfect sense now.

  I go to my grave.

  XI

  …Providing our navigator is up to making the calculations, we’ll be leaping away from the Warring Twins in a couple of days. Hopefully they’ll be needing a new nickname soon. The Friendly Twins? Perhaps the Negotiating Twins is a more realistic goal. I wish that peace could really be found just by taking the cause of war out of the picture, but it’s never that simple. Well, at least it’s a start – what happens next is up to them.

  We have our own challenges to face.

  There are no fully-qualified pilots on board. The captain and Ms. Grace have some light training, and will split duties there, though Hunter will do the bulk of it. Annie herself will be needed more in Engineering, where my recent crash-course has made me her deputy. I’m not remotely qualified, and we won’t be firing the thrusters at all while I’m on duty alone, as I am at time of recording. There’s a lot of temperamental equipment here, and I’m to call for help if any remotely strange readings crop up. Right now, all is quiet, bar the ghosts.

  But we’re almost there. Five sixths of our strange quest are over. Two KSD jumps back to Kerin and we’ll find out once and for all whether Vitana’s completed stone leads to anticlimax or to Earth.

  Or to something else entirely…

  – Daniella Winters, Journal Entry #691

  After Gypsy’s flight from Medical, three days passed without Annie seeing her. She told herself she was too busy, and she was, but that wasn’t the real reason. There were a lot of emotions to analyse – both hers and Gypsy’s.

  Annie hadn’t realised how strong her attachment to the eccentric mathematician had grown until the kidnapping happened, and she’d suddenly felt like she was missing a limb. Regaining Gypsy, seeing her face on the Anasadan moon … that had been a moment of pure delight. When Annie had found the personality she’d grown to love stripped away, it had felt like losing her friend a second time. The altered Gypsy had rid herself of pain, but seemed to have sacrificed all other emotions too, save an ugly racial hatred. It had been a pure betrayal of who she had been, and Annie had begun to despise the cold machine hiding behind that familiar face.

  Then had come the confrontation in Medical. The machine was dying, but who or what would be left in its place? Gypsy’s words that day had stung, because they held a germ of truth. Annie did like playing the mentor – the feeling of authority, of strength, of being admired. Had she only been seeking Gypsy’s company for an ego boost?

  Self-doubt had never been a vice of Annie’s. After mulling over the matter for half an hour, she’d decided that, no, that wasn’t the real reason. Now she just had to convince Gypsy of that fact.

  So it was that she found herself approaching the Cumberland residence, wearing a coverall still spattered with coolant from the auxiliary engine she’d been tinkering with during her latest shift.

  No pussyfootin’, she decided, reaching for the door release. If she’s blunt, I’m blunt back, if she hides, I go in there and…

  Her internal reverie ceased when the door to Alice Cumberland’s quarters opened to reveal a rare sight – Gypsy, present here instead of next door in her own room. She was sitting in the midst of several uneven piles of her mother’s possessions, looking through a photo album. Her eyes were red-rimmed, though when she saw Annie, she raised a hand to hide them under the pretext of having an itch to attend to. “Oh, hi,” she mumbled.

  “Sorry to barge in,” said Annie. “I’d have rung the bell, only I thought you’d be back in your own ranch.”

  “I guess I am, normally.” Gypsy rose awkwardly to her feet and stepped out of the pile. Her dress was red today, Annie noticed. Quite a rare choice, that.

  “Looks like you’ve been sortin’ through some stuff,” Annie prompted.

  “Yes. Well, maybe not sorting exactly. Just looking. I’d been afraid to, since she died, because I didn’t know how it would make me feel.” Gypsy surveyed the room. “It’s embarrassing, actually, how much of her life I never saw.”

  “Too busy thinking ‘bout yourself? Hey, all kids are like that.”

  “But then kids become adults and change. I…” Her voice caught briefly, but she took a breath and persevered. “I’m twelve thousand seven hundred and fifty-seven days old. There are sketches in my mother’s art portfolio I’d never seen, poems she wrote I never read. I’ve been trying poetry lately – we could’ve shared that, if I’d thought to mention it. She’s got a bundle of love letters from a man called Bryan. They were written while I was a teenager. I’ve no idea who he was, or why he stopped writing. It might have been because of me.”

  No pussyfootin’, Annie reminded herself. This had to be the moment for Gypsy to open up.

  “Is that why you were crying?”

  “I wasn’t,” said Gypsy, but it was only a kneejerk reaction. She sighed. “Maybe a little. Not just because of this, though. I was crying because I keep getting nasty superstitious thoughts and I don’t know how to make them go away. I was crying because of the people who died while I was away, and how I acted when I came back, and because I don’t know who I am anymore, and because I, I ripped Bobby’s head … off…”

  Her voice faltered on these last words, and she collapsed into sobs. Annie went to her without hesitation, wrapping her arms about the distraught woman’s shoulders and keeping them there as she guided her over to a tartan sofa, its cushions worn but comfortable. The two of them sat there together until Gypsy’s tears ran dry, and the shuddering of her shoulders abated.

  “Hey, don’t worry.” Annie ran a hand through Gypsy’s hair, deciding that the shorter cut suited her. “Don’t worry, I can fix your bear.”

  Gypsy sniffed, and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Really?”

  “Yeah! Fixin’ stuff is kinda my job. Why’d you do that, anyway? Rip his head off, I mean.”

  “Oh … just to prove that I’m rational.” Gypsy laughed abruptly. “I didn’t realise how weird that sounds until I said it out loud. I were wrong about that, anyway. Wrong about most things, actually. I mean, you remember how I thought that the Mental Imprinter only worked on me when I let it, and wanting to blow up Monosade was just me being ultra-rational? I was totally delusional.”

  “I did sorta think that. Guess Koli made you feel her hatred.”

  Gypsy shook her head. “Unless I’ve totally misjudged her, I don’t think she’s capable of that sort of murderous attitude. She’s a doctor, after all. I think that they somehow patched in responses from some other person on the base.”

 
“Like, their star player, a pro-level hater?”

  A sad smile. “Something like that. Spiking my drink might be another analogy. I got some of Koli’s ability to control strong emotions and use them to achieve my goals, but they perverted those goals, made me see Monosadans as vermin to be exterminated.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Not that bit, but killing all my other emotions? That was what I wanted. I didn’t care what I lost, just as long as the pain went away.”

  Annie nodded in understanding. “Pleasure and pain are two sides of the same coin, yeah? You can’t have one without the other. Don’t know if you’re gonna want to hear this, G-Moth, but I’m glad you’re back how you were.”

  “Thanks … but I’m not her again, really. This is Gypsy III … there are things I’ve thought I can’t unthink; things I’ve done I can’t forget.”

  They sat in silence a while. Annie continued to run her fingers through Gypsy’s mousey waves of hair. It struck her presently that the mathematician hadn’t once flinched away from her touch.

  “There’s one thing I don’t understand,” said Gypsy.

  “Mm-hm?”

  “Why did Koli signal the Bona Dea? I thought that I’d made her do it by using the Mental Imprinter against her, but that was another delusion. During our sessions, I wore a helmet with probes which went into my brain, and that’s how my thought patterns were changed. But Koli just wore a cap – her brain was scanned, but that was all. There’s no way I could’ve influenced her.”

  “Isn’t there?” Annie chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Y’know, you don’t need a machine to change people’s minds. Fact is, just being yourself is often enough. I didn’t spend enough time with your buddy to really know her, but it seems to me like a doctor who winds up working for a paramilitary group is gonna feel like she’s lost something – a pacifist turned to war. Maybe she saw the same thing happening to you and decided she just couldn’t go through with it.” She rapped the brunette lightly on the head with her knuckles. “I know this won’t play too well with that self-hating vibe of yours, but some of us actually like you. A lot.”

  Gypsy glanced up … and there it was, that little spark. Annie had been in space for long enough to know when the stars were aligned, so she leaned in and kissed Gypsy full on the mouth. The response wasn’t immediate, but it did come, with little technique but no shortage of game enthusiasm.

  When Annie drew away, she saw fresh tears in those grey eyes. The happy kind, she decided. Probably should’ve figured this out a while back, but better now than never.

  “Come on, Gypsy Rose. This time I’m gonna show you what I know about lovin’…”

  * * *

  “Thank you for joining me,” said Chamonix, settling back in her seat. “I’ve missed your guidance these past few months.”

  Her parents sat opposite her, in chairs she’d fashioned to match their natures: straight lines and right angles for Charlie; elaborate swirls and intricate patterns for Flora. Both were metallic, and neither designed for comfort, but that hardly mattered – their occupants weren’t really there.

  “We’d have come, if you really needed us,” said Charlie. “In fact, you seem to be mastering your powers just fine by yourself now. There comes a time in every parent’s life when they must stand back and let their child go.”

  “That’s true, but we should always be there for our children, even when they’re fully grown,” said Flora. “Chamonix needs our advice. It’s about your relationship with the captain, isn’t it?”

  “That has played on my mind, it is true. I left the planet of my birth because I feared becoming an extension of Vitana; now I worry I’m instead an extension of Hunter, at least morally. She tells me not to kill, and I obey without question, even while dealing with those who have wronged us. I could have killed that terrorist during the mutiny – I spared him. I could have slaughtered every Matan on Chopiko. Again, I stayed my hand. My studies of humanity haven’t uncovered a clear consensus on whether the evil should be allowed to live, but the captain’s convictions are strong on that question. Should I accept them on faith?”

  “Miriam Hunter’s a driven woman,” said Flora thoughtfully. “But she’s human, like I was. We don’t have any special role in the universe.”

  “And I do?”

  “You’re a creature of balance,” said Charlie. “Woman and machine, mortality and divinity, the noble and the base; you walk the line. I’d suggest the same approach with mercy and vengeance.”

  These words made sense to Chamonix. Once, on Mahi Mata, she had killed when given the chance. Twice since then she had spared beaten enemies. Therefore…

  “Balance must be regained. The next time I have the option to kill, I’ll take it.”

  Abruptly, the chairs across from her were empty. A short visit, this time.

  Chamonix closed her eyes while her consciousness drifted outwards. All within the ship was crystal clear. Beyond lay the shroud of space, whose vacuum largely foiled her perceptions.

  A few times in the past few days, she’d felt something beyond that vacuum. A tether would unfurl from a distant star, and gently caress the Bona Dea before withdrawing. Yesterday, Chamonix had felt her first impression of what lay at the other end. Intelligence. Perhaps one mind, perhaps many. They were being watched.

  I’ve an inkling that my next opportunity to deal out death lies near at hand.

  The child of Vitana dozed in the space between kindness and cruelty, and was at peace.

  Author’s Note

  Hi there! I’m grateful for your continued support. Please keep an eye out for the final instalment of this saga, Salpinx, which I’m aiming to complete in 2020.

  If you’ve enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Ratings are the lifeblood of indie authors! The review page can be found by following this link, while you can track my new releases here by clicking the “+ follow” button on the left of the screen.

  You can also find me on Twitter: @HarperJCole

  HJC

  Index

  Content Warning

  PART FIVE – KERIN

  I

  II

  III

  IV

  V

  INTERLUDE

  PART SIX – WARRING TWINS

  I

  II

  III

  IV

  V

  VI

  VII

  VIII

  IX

  X

  XI

  Author’s Note