Price of Survival

Beneath the sprawling expanse of the hangar, Kai navigated toward his ship, the Shizukana Kage. The massive centerline engine loomed overhead, its nozzle bell scorched blue from years of enduring superheated exhaust. Making his way up the ramp and into the cargo bay, he was greeted by the familiar scents of stagnant body odor and metallic machinery, typical for a lived-in sealed box. To his right, he marched to an unassuming triangular metal plate, one of many that adorned the bare hull. Bumping the corner with the side of his fist, it gave way with a satisfying pop, allowing him to dislodge it from the wall. He lifted the section free and set it down on the deck with a muted thud, revealing the hidden compartment.

Kai grasped the metallic handles of the human-sized cargo canister nestled inside and dragged the dead weight from its cramped storage space. With a resonant thump, the back of the container struck the deck, sending a slight vibration through his boots. The canister displayed several unsightly dents, and the digital readout reported the unremarkable contents as ‘fresh fruit,’ a clever layer to the ruse. Kai entered the numerical code on the keypad, and the seal released with a distinct, pressurized hiss. He lifted the lid and removed the top tray of preserved fruit, not safe to eat but convincing enough for an inspection. Reaching into the shadowy interior, he retrieved the data storage device that Parri had hidden at the bottom. Emerging into the yellow light of the cargo bay, Kai flipped the palm-sized device in his hand, inspecting the well-worn housing. So many valuable secrets had passed through this device, and selling them padded his bank account nicely. Giving the contents away for free felt inherently wrong, but this time was different. He was doing something honorable, or at least it felt that way. He clicked the storage unit to his belt and carefully replaced the lid, returning the canister to its dark hiding spot.

Leaving the cargo bay, he ascended the ladder positioned off the centerline and into the main walkway along the starboard side. At the top, the ship’s bridge came into view at the end of the narrow hallway, while behind him lay the engine room. With the ship powered down, an eerie, hollow silence filled the deck. It felt unusually empty without the creaking of aged pipes and the rhythmic tapping of a living machine. It felt empty because she wasn’t here. His boots clicked against the grated floor, parroting a ghostly tap that followed him down the hall. Is someone else on the ship? His boots clicked again, and the distant steps followed. Creeping paranoia set in, and he spun around. His eyes darted from one shadow to the next down the empty corridor. It’s an echo. Get a grip. You’re not being followed. Ignoring the shivers down his spine, he quickened his pace toward the bridge.

He pressed the button embedded in the center of the hatch, causing it to split open with a hiss, its gears groaning in protest against the lack of maintenance. Pausing at the cockpit’s entrance, he leaned his shoulder against the frame, taking a moment to soak in the nostalgia. The countless hours he and Parri had spent in the confined space came rushing back like a cool breeze. He could almost smell the lingering aroma of honeysuckle in the air. The empty pilot’s chair still held her shadow and the gleeful sparkle in her eyes when she took the controls for the first time.

He stepped into the cockpit, the remnants of a smile lingering on his lips as he shifted his attention to the sensor station. That’s where she bugged the crap out of me over the stupid telescope. Funny how eager she was to be involved in everything he did, even the mundane tasks. His fingers traced the contours of the metal case that housed the SAT headset. A deep chuckle escaped his throat as the memory of Parri’s childish demand replayed in his thoughts. ‘You let me play with your junk all the time. What makes this one so special?’ “Oh, Parri,” he snickered, “You’re so hard not to love, but damn did I try.”

A casual wisp of air caressed the nape of his neck, a delicate sensation easily dismissed as a rogue draft from the ventilation. That was, if the life support system was running, which it wasn’t. He rubbed the tingling bumps that arose on his skin. It’s nothing. Then it happened again, a faint, deliberate puff of air, almost playful this time. Spinning on his heels to confront the breeze, his heart skipped a violent beat. There, mere inches from his face, were Parri’s vibrant, eager amber eyes. Her lips were drawn tight as she nibbled on her bottom lip, a seductive gesture filled with excitement.

Suddenly she lurched forward, her eyes flashing wide open. “Boo.”

Kai jumped out of his skin, his head striking the bulkhead behind him with a dull thud. His hand instantly flew to the sore spot. “Dammit, what the hell. Son of a…”

Parri winced with a hissing sound. “I’m sorry.”

Kai groaned, storming around the small cockpit to walk off the embarrassment, mumbling, “Every blasted time you do this. You show up out of nowhere like a blood-sucking vampire. What in the hell are you trying to do? Kill me?”

“I said I was sorry. Did I scare you?” Parri asked, her lip pouting.

“You appeared out of thin air,” he quietly complained, “directly in my face, and then gave me the goo-goo eyes. What did you expect would happen?”

She shrugged. “I dunno, run maybe?”

Calming his temper with a slow breath, his hand sliding back to his side. “Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing you, but you don’t have to be creepy about it.” Turning his attention back to Parri, he found her leaning against the sensor station, absentmindedly running her fingers down the box marked ‘HMD.’ “Now, what are you doing?” he asked.

“When do I get to play with it?”

Oh, no. Here we go again. “I sure hope you’re referring to the telescope and not something else this time.”

She chortled a snort and shot him a suggestive glance. “Come on, let me see it.”

His cheeks flushed, diverting his eyes away. “Good grief, Parri.”

When his attention flicked back, she was gone. The vacuum of her sudden absence clawed at his heart, a hollow ache he should be entirely familiar with by now. He cast a lingering glance over the vacant flight chair and down the empty hallway, searching the shadows for her presence. Again with the vanishing act. He let out a slow, defeated sigh and shuffled back to the sensor suite, resting his hands on either side of the console for emotional support. His gaze scanned the switches and knobs, searching for a connection to rekindle his memories and drag her back.

Whispering under his breath, he admitted a dreadful truth, “I’ve got to let her go.”

Weak in the knees, he crouched beside the sensor console, head dipping toward the deck. But I can’t. I don’t want to. The bittersweet torture was all he had left. His gaze lifted to the inconspicuous black-and-gold placard affixed to the side. It was the technical specification for the sensor station, a mundane detail he had seen a thousand times but never paid any attention to. Tell me what I should do to ease this recurring guilt. Help me understand why you keep showing up. His gaze casually read the inscription, only to linger on the phrase ‘integrated Neural-link technology.’ As the implications of the words weighed on his mind, an unsettling tightness gripped his chest, the same heart-pounding feeling that arose every time she appeared.

That’s when the conversation he had with Gill flashed through his mind, parting the haze of his thoughts. ’A digital copy of my daughter’s brain. Nowadays, I believe they use it with those fancy new sensors they’re packing into modern ships.’ Could there really be a copy of Parri’s brain trapped inside this hunk of wires and circuit boards? Shaking off the horrifying ramifications, he braced himself against the edge of the console, pushing himself up with a reluctant grunt. He shouldn’t bring her back. He promised Gill he would do the right thing. But what was the right thing? He turned his attention to the flight console, focusing on the secondary purpose that had initially drawn him to this place.

He leaned over the chair, resting his elbow on the armrest, his gaze falling upon the unassuming white case adorned with a laurel wreath and a striking blue eagle perched atop. Never expected to see this case again so soon. It’s going to be the death of me. Reluctantly, he curled his fingers around the handle.

The mere weight of the temperature-controlled container in his hand sparked a torrent of regrettable memories. Ayah’s face materialized in his mind, an image so vivid and unexpected that it transported him back to those precious seconds before the Recluse collided with the planet. Oh no, not this place again. I don’t want to see this.

Every exquisite detail of her face was captured in a moment of suspended time. Her eyes, a deep, rich brown, were flecked with glimmering hints of gold that reflected the chaos of the burning bridge around her. Raven-black hair cascaded in a loose braid, with rebellious strands framing her delicate features. Her small, dainty nose had a gentle upward tilt, the unmistakable feature that linked Ayah and Parri together. Yet it was her lips—soft and sensuous—curving into a slight, enigmatic smile that truly broke his heart. She didn’t blame him. She just stood there as the Recluse hurtled toward the barren world below. As the bridge disintegrated around her, she simply smiled, an unmoving statue amid the engulfing flames.

No. Stop it. Kai forced the memory from his mind, only for other heartbreaking moments to fill the void. Memories of how she believed every moment was fleeting and obsessively cherished things that Kai had always found trivial. The way she wrapped her arms around him each morning, holding on for an extra heartbeat longer than expected. How she longingly stared at him in silence, her eyes searching his soul with a depth that grew increasingly uncomfortable. All these brief fragments of time that slipped through his fingers like sand. How they were seemingly insignificant then, and how profoundly haunting and important they are now. Kai finally understood, with heartbreaking agony, that the quality of time was more precious than the quantity.

Enough. No more. Wake up, Kai. Focus. Shoving the precious memories deep down, he drew the case close to his chest with a deliberate and steady breath. As his fingers traced the hard edge of the box, he felt a chilling physical presence behind him. Kai shivered, his breath coming out as a sharp gasp. Slowly, a woman’s chin slipped over his shoulder, the delicate brush of her cheek against the stubble on his jaw sending nervous jolts through his body. That feels like Ayah. Why is she here? This has never happened before. An eager smile crept onto his face as he turned to catch a glimpse of his first love in person.

It wasn’t Ayah.

Guilt knotted in his stomach as his eyes landed upon Parri leaning over his shoulder. His smile faltered, and his gaze drifted in shame; even his delusions played tricks on his heart. Parri’s gaze lingered on the case in his hand for a moment, questions strung in her eyes as she tilted her head, searching his expression.

“Help me understand,” she purred, “why did you love her more?”

His lip snarled. She went straight for the jugular. “I… I never said that. Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because it’s obvious that you can’t get over a ghost, so if you had to choose, which would you pick? The human or the clone?”

What an impossible decision. “I’m not doing this. I’m not going down this rabbit hole with you, Parri.”

“Stop dancing around the issue and just tell me the truth.”

Kai pressed his lips together, the fog of his emotions suffocating as he inhaled through his nose. On a rational level, he understood that they were distinct individuals with their own identities and dreams. Yet, in his heart, they intertwined, their essences woven into a single nebula of affection. I’m not picking. I can’t. The question is a trap. After a long pause, fraught with lingering glances, he finally confessed, “The truth is, I loved you both.”

“You’re such a liar. I know deep in your heart, I will always be second.”

Don’t lie. She can sense your doubt. “Please don’t say that. You were never second. Just because you are a clone of her does not mean you’re any less significant.”

“Yes, it does,” she said, pacing him in circles. “It changes how you feel about me. I’m a fake mockery of life, less important, less worthy.”

Her words wrapped their icy fingers around his heart and squeezed. “You’ve never been less important to me; that’s simply not true.”

Amplifying every syllable, she aggressively poked his shoulder with one finger, a sensation he surprisingly felt. “It’s obvious that you can’t get over Ayah,

and you will never,

love,

anyone,

else.”

Kai recoiled from the aggression, taking a step back with each jab. Of course I’m not over Ayah. I’m not over you either. I love you both. This isn’t fair. Stop attacking me. I tried my best. His back hit the wall, a startling impact that raced through his body like ice, forcing him to yell, “Fine, you’re right! I couldn’t commit because I kept comparing you with Ayah. I was hopelessly wishing for what was and not what could be. I poisoned our chances before they could begin. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Parri stopped poking him and slowly traced her finger down his cheek, reminiscent of an escaped tear. Snapping her eyes to meet his, she asked in a snarky tone, “Doesn’t feel too good, does it?”

Kai shuddered at the bile of her words and the ghostly contact with his face, clutching the case tighter. Blinking away the gathering tears, his lips quivered to form the words that danced just beyond his reach. Despite the depth of his feelings for Parri and the sincerity with which he declared, ‘I love you,’ the painful truth pierced his heart: she was right. He was selfish, yearning for an unattainable past. Although Parri might resemble Ayah, she could never be her; yet that’s what he wanted. Finally admitting the truth to himself hurt, cutting deeper than any physical wound.

The room spun as his thoughts tangled in confusion, and Parri’s features shifted, her likeness morphing into Ayah’s. Her hair cascaded in long, dark waves, while her eyes deepened to a rich, velvety brown. The sight of her was both confusing and intoxicating, a flicker of the past overtaking the present. Ayah stood before him now, a specter in place of where Parri once was. He reached out, desperate for one last moment. He needed to apologize. He needed to feel her haunting presence once more.

Ayah stepped back, her form shimmering and fading like a mirage he could never reach. The weight of rejection bore down on his legs like lead anchors. Kai crumpled hard to the floor, a feeble shell of a man gasping for air, deprived of affection.

Materializing before him, Parri stepped through the smoke, dispersing the last remnants of Ayah. She knelt down and tenderly cupped her hands around his face. “I know the woman you actually loved is not me. It’s never been me.” She leaned in with a gentle kiss to his forehead. “But know this, I was very much in love with you.”

Kai fractured. He couldn’t hold it back any longer. The case slipped from his trembling fingers, clattering against the metal floor with a jarring sound. Pent-up tears surged, spilling over his fingers as he buried his face in his palms. A wail tore from his throat, raw and heartbreaking, as he vividly relived the haunting final moments of both women. To his left, the terrifying vision of the Recluse bridge engulfed in flames, with Ayah screaming, her voice drowned in the chaos. On his right, the bitter emptiness of the Stingray’s cargo bay enveloped Parri, her descent into darkness silent and desolate. Kai’s voice rose in a desperate plea for the nightmarish visions to cease, yet he remained a captive in his own mind.

Parri’s sweet voice echoed, “Clearly, you can’t love me or anyone else. Until you can bury the past, you will always hurt.”

“Stop!” he wept, curling into a ball, trembling from head to toe. “Please stop.” The visions, the voices. I don’t want to see this anymore.

Soft fingers curled around his wrist, pulling him to his feet as Parri’s soothing voice whispered, “You have to leave her on the planet. Let her go, Kai. Move on.”

“The memories, they’re all I have,” Kai sniveled, finding himself in a void of darkness, with Parri standing before him, her eyes warm and wise, more mature than he remembered her in life.

“You’re not losing the memories; you’re losing the anchor on your heart that has weighed you down. You must cut the strings that have bound you to that moment. Stop torturing yourself, Kai. You don’t need to be afraid anymore. Starving yourself of intimacy was never the answer. It’s time to find your future.”

In the blink of an eye, Kai stood on a barren planet with the wreckage of a Recluse half buried in the ground. The ship was a relic, old and ruined, aged by time and blackened by the star’s intense heat. Is this Bootis Five? Please no, not this place. Timidly, he looked to Parri for answers, but she remained silent, encouraging him forward with a soft nod and a gentle squeeze of his hand. It’s just a dream. It’s not real. Taking a deep breath of courage, Kai inched closer, shuffling his feet through the disturbed dirt from the impact, retracing the footprints he had left so long ago.

As they passed through the decrepit remains of the massive ship, the pair stepped onto the skeletal remains of a bridge. Kai’s gaze immediately settled on the pale, ash-white remnants of the pilot’s station. The chair Ayah once occupied was charred and blackened, facing the console. A tight knot of anxiety formed in his throat as he watched the chair slowly pivot. The eerie creaking of the pilot’s seat echoed across the bridge like an old door, opening a gateway to a past he desperately wished to close. No, no. Please don’t be a corpse. Anything but that. From the shadows, Ayah’s beautiful visage materialized, wearing her high-collared Colonial Navy uniform. A gentle smile graced her lips, warm and familiar. She sat poised with her legs crossed at the knee and her arms resting on the armrests, expecting him.

Kai swallowed. “Ayah. I… I…”

“I know it’s strange that we should be reunited here of all places,” she said, her voice smooth and grounded, exactly as he remembered. “The blackened walls and silence can be intimidating, but I didn’t pick it; you did. Although I must admit, the view of a boiling planet is quite spectacular.”

“I… I never wanted this,” he rasped, his throat already dry from the phantom heat of the planet. “I begged you to leave the ship, but… but you refused. Why couldn’t you take an escape pod and save yourself?”

Ayah smirked, a sympathetic gesture. “Simple, because it was my choice to stay. Now let me ask you a question. Why do you keep blaming yourself for events out of your control?”

“Because I was responsible for—”

Ayah made a sharp buzzing sound, reminiscent of a timer on a game show. “Nope. That’s not it. Try again.”

Kai frowned, slightly taken aback. Oh, right. Ayah was notorious for cutting him off, especially if she thought she was right. “Um… Because I chose the mission over—”

Ayah clapped her hands together, the sharp sound cutting him off cleanly. “Wrong again.”

Man, that’s annoying, but damn do I miss it. “Are you going to let me finish?”

“Sure, when you stop deluding yourself.”

Kai sealed his lips, knowing her well enough to stay silent until she gave him the answer she wanted. Fine. Tell me how I’m wrong.

“Okay, okay,” she said, waving her wrist dismissively. “Allow me to describe what type of person you are. Maybe you’ll understand why it hurts so much despite your best efforts to make it right. If something is broken, you…?”

Oh great, twenty questions. “Um… fix it, I guess.”

“Good. If I were trapped, you would…?”

“Rescue you?”

“If I were made of glass, that would make me…?”

“Breakable?”

“I was looking for fragile,” Ayah corrected, her voice gentle but unyielding, “but breakable is close enough. Do you see a common theme yet?”

What? Of course I don’t. None of that makes any sense. “No,” Kai muttered, a sharp line carving between his brows. Broken, fixed. Trapped, rescued. Glass, fragile. Why is everything an impossible cipher code with her? The pressure behind his eyes tightened as he tried to force her abstract logic into something that made sense.

“Of course, you would be stubborn about this,” Ayah countered, her tone carrying that familiar lack of patience. “Kai, you’re compelled to ‘save’ me, Parri, or even Shreya at the expense of your own well-being. You take your notion of chivalry too far. Compassion without boundaries, to the extent of harming yourself. That’s your problem. This is why you blame yourself for events beyond your control. You think we need saving when in fact, we don’t. You need to let go and let us make our own choices.”

That’s ridiculous. It’s because you women keep getting in trouble. Kai shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Fine. You need a demonstration.” Ayah rose from her station with a fluid, effortless grace, leaving behind the charred skeletal remnants of a body cloaked in ash.

There it was, the corpse he didn’t want to see. Kai shuffled back a step, but Parri tightened her grip around his palm, holding him in place.

Ayah moved closer, her cool fingers reaching out to intertwine with his, drawing him smoothly through the blackened ruins of the interior. With Parri on one wing and Ayah on the other, the pair steered his leaden steps toward a gaping breach in the bulkhead. Beyond the fractured hull plates lay the planet’s dry, rocky expanse, where undulating thermal waves of searing heat baked the dead landscape. The two women paused at the precipice, right where the deep shadow of the ruined bridge gave way to the blinding, radioactive glare of the outside world. Circling in front of him, they leaned toward the edge. Kai’s arms jolted taut, his shoulders locking under the sudden strain as he acted as a human anchor keeping the women from entering the boiling light.

Staring deep into Kai’s soul, Ayah asked, “Do you understand what you must do?”

Kai nervously looked beyond the safety of the shadow at the sizzling planet. Lakes of vitrified sand postmarked the planet’s rocky surface, and steam rolled off the ground in suffocating waves. It was a sizzling open oven. They wouldn’t last five seconds out there. “I… I have to let go, but”—he squeezed their hands—“I don’t want to.”

“It’s okay,” Parri said with a smile, her expression smoothing into an eerie, calm acceptance. “You don’t have to protect me anymore. I wish we could go back to how it was because, for a time, it was nice, but that time is over now.”

Kai shook his head, backpedaling against the woman’s constant, heavy pull toward the light. I can’t hold them. Their hands are slipping. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Sure you can,” Ayah said. “All you have to do is let go and stop clinging to what was. You’re only crippling your future when you compare it to the past. It’s time to meet someone new.”

Kai’s boots slid against the metal flooring, creeping closer to the ragged edge. His gaze fixated on the pair of hands that inexorably drew him toward the deadly light. They shared the same soft, delicate appearance, a matching network of blue veins, and similar small knuckles. Yet, despite their identical features, their touch conveyed a completely distinct sensation. Ayah’s grip was gentle and reassuring, like a couple strolling through a park, their fingers intertwined with effortless ease. In contrast, Parri’s hold resembled a timid cat, light and unpredictable, poised to spring away at the slightest disturbance.

The longer he resisted, the more their palm grew slick with sweat. Their fingers began to slip from his grasp, igniting a sharp surge of panic in his chest. Don’t let go. Help me. His eyes darted to the women, pleading for them to return to the darkness.

Astonishingly, the two distinct figures drew closer together, their forms blurring at the edges until they merged into a single entity. There was only one woman before him now, an amalgamation of Ayah and Parri. This new incarnation possessed cascading, sleek black hair with violet-frosted tips and smelled of jasmine. The smile dancing upon her lips evoked Parri’s playful youth, while her hazel eyes regarded him with an aged devotion reminiscent of Ayah. However, it was her button nose—a familiar trait—that centered his attention, the focal point of her beauty.

His toes inched precariously to the edge as the woman pulled his hands into the blistering heat. No, no, no. Don’t go out there. The fiery rays quickly peeled back the layers of his nanosuit, more ravenous than he remembered. His exposed flesh boiled as scorching blisters grew from his hands, cracking his skin into a web of raw, agonizing wounds. Kai screamed and thrashed, the pain ripping through his body, yet he refused to let go.

In stark contrast, the woman remained unscathed under the harsh light, her expression serene, immutable, and perfect. She isn’t burning. Why am I the only one in pain? With each desperate struggle to pull her back into the protective shade, more of his body was exposed, burning a trail of destruction up his arms. Come on, stop resisting. I can’t hold on.

Summoning every ounce of defiance left in his muscles, he yanked with all his might, only for his grip to utterly fail. Her fingers slipped effortlessly from his grasp, and he collapsed against the deck with a heavy thud. Surrendering to the soothing chill of the darkness, he cradled his seared limbs against his stomach. His eyes fixed helplessly on the woman as she slowly shuffled away, her feet disturbing the brittle sandy glass and stirring up sparkling dust. Turning away, the woman retraced the footprints he had left long ago, mirroring his departure from the charred remains of the ship in search of a distant surface port. Like wisps of smoke curling upwards from a dying campfire, she dissolved before his eyes, fading into the solar winds ravaging the planet.

Kai thrust his hand towards the opening. “Don’t go,” he whimpered.

“You have to move on,” replied an unfamiliar soft voice. “You have to wake up.”

Who said that? Kai blinked, and the world violently shifted gears, revealing the cramped, silent interior of the Shizukana Kage. His mind reeled, struggling to recover from the experience as he looked upon the bridge. It was familiar, but also different, more hostile than before. The metal deck plates pressed against his head felt cold and uninviting, pushing against his weight. Even the pipes lining the ceiling seemed unwelcoming, guarded by a barrier of thin, greasy film.

Once again, he was utterly alone, curled into a tight ball on the floor. Where’s Parri and Ayah? Are they still with me? The sense of isolation was deeper than before. Something had changed. This didn’t feel like before when Parri would vanish without a word; it felt more permanent. His bottom lip trembled as a quiet sob escaped with his breath. I don’t want to be alone. Please come back. “Parri?” he called out, his ears straining for a reply. After a minute of bated breath, he tried again, louder, “Are you there? Hello? Can you hear me?”

When no one answered, a profound wave of loneliness washed over him like a cold sweat, raising the hairs on his arms. The comforting delusions he had desperately clung to had slipped away, leaving him face to face with the unforgiving truth: Parri wasn’t coming back. He pressed his mouth shut to stifle the anguish rising within as his blurry vision locked onto the immaculate white case nearby. With effort, he curled his fingers around the handle, dragging the case closer, each grating sound mirroring the ache in his chest.

Kai shuffled to his feet and down the corridor, the toes of his boots dragging across the deck plates. Every step felt heavy, a forced march along a narrow gantry. The ship was suffocating and oppressive, as if it were actively rejecting him. He had to leave. As he descended the ladder into the empty cargo bay, he couldn’t shake the nagging sense this was the last time he would see phantoms. He was on his own, for better or worse.

Drawing a deep, shaky breath, he whispered into the silence, seeking confirmation, “So that’s it? Are you gone forever now? Because you can still haunt me if you want. I don’t mind.”

As he stood there, the deep thrum of distant thrusters resonated through the cavernous space. The sharp hiss of hydraulic landing gear from a distant craft mixed with the faint murmurs of dock workers. The bustling landing hub answered, but not with encouraging hope, instead with an automated message crackling through the overhead loudspeaker. ’Please be aware of oncoming traffic. Loitering is not permitted. You are advised to complete docking operations in a timely manner.’