The dark shadow planted its legs on both sides of her and loomed above. Again, the harsh voice barked, “I don’t recognize her. Where’d you drag her from?”
Syn started up again, scooting back to put some distance between herself and the new person. The figure kicked Syn’s chest and planted her foot hard onto her shoulder, pressing Syn into the ground.
“Get off of me!” Syn shouted struggling to wrench the foot off but failing to budge it.
“She’s a pretty one, ain’t she?” the shadow said.
Syn pushed at the boot and grunted, “Get off.”
At the same time, the voice behind the boot grumbled, “Stupid girl.”
Ripley finally spoke, “She’s mine. Leave her alone.”
“You don’t get to claim her.”
Ripley moved to confront Syn’s assailant. In profile, Syn could not tell the difference between the two. They were the same height. Both the same shape in the pale light, their faces obscured in shadows. Now that she considered it, Syn realized their voices were quite similar as well.
“Get off!” Syn punched at the shadow’s ankle. Then she turned toward Ripley, “Help me!”
From the other side of the room, a soft voice spoke, “Did you bring me a present?” At the sound of the new person, both the shadow and Ripley visibly stiffened.
The shadow, still glaring down at Syn, muttered, “Blast. She’s awake.”
The shadow slowly lifted her foot from Syn’s chest. Syn didn’t miss the opportunity. She spun and came to her feet, reaching for her spear. Panicked, Syn looked around for it, backing closer to Ripley and away from the shadow. The spear was nowhere near her—she was certain she had dropped it when the shadow hit her.
She stood nervously next to Ripley. She still did not trust Ripley, but she was less an uncertainty than the other one.
Both Ripley and the shadow ignored Syn and turned toward the makeshift throne. No, they were looking past the throne to a door that had opened on the left. A figure walked toward them, silhouetted by the red, flickering light pouring from the doorway.
Syn’s mouth hung open for just a second before she let loose a shriek, formed more from surprise than fear.
This reaction was met by a roar of laughter from Ripley.
Syn ignored it and stared ahead in shock.
What had entered the room from the door, bathed in red light, was Syn herself.
There, standing a few feet from her, was Syn. The same dark eyes. The same dark skin. The same dark cloud of hair. No—that wasn’t right. This Syn wore her hair in tiny, braided dreads that hung from her head and draped down her back. Each was wire thin and pulled straight. She stood the same height as Syn, but the long braids made her seem quite tall. She was draped in white with red ribbons hanging from her shoulders, like some cape. They flowed around her like feathers. Instead of the nine orange dots on Syn’s face, this girl had two white squares perfectly painted under each eye and a square of white in the center of her bottom lip.
The word Syn was searching for was regal. Despite the voice, this girl stood like royalty. Her shoulders were square, her back straight. She stood motionless and wore an expression of slight amusement. Or irritation. The turn at the corner of the girl’s mouth made it uncertain.
The Queen. This had to be the Crimson Queen. She was splendid and frightening through and through.
“Is she your guest, Kerwen?” the Crimson Queen spoke.
Syn found herself mesmerized by the familiarity of facial movements. Syn had played and quoted lines from movies in front of mirrors. She knew each twitch and muscle movement of her own face, and the girl speaking now could have stepped out from a mirror herself. Everything about her was an identical duplication of Syn. Yet, something was absent. Despite the hint of amusement on the Crimson Queen’s lips, her eyes were thin and threatening.
“Yes, she is. I found her out amongst the dunes south of the bots’ new encampment in the settlements. She had been fightin’ one of the thudders. Walked right into it.” It was Ripley who spoke. The Queen had called her Kerwen. Was her name Ripley or Kerwen? Syn also noticed that Ripley hadn’t mentioned anything about Huck, Bear, or Arquella.
Ripley then lifted her hand to the side of her face and loosened the mask covering her nose and mouth. The dirty black cloth fell from her face and revealed her features for the first time—another copy of Syn’s own face. There were three of her. Ripley looked at Syn and grinned, gave a tiny laugh and mouthed, “Surprise.”
Syn spun, taking a few steps back from all of them. “Who… What’s…” Her words choked in her throat. This has to be a nightmare.
The shadowed girl stepped forward and fell into the dull light. She was far thicker than the others—all muscle. Pure brute and raw strength. Yet, in the light, Syn saw the resemblance again. The third one looked just like Syn too. Just like the others. Her head was shaved to a short stubble. Her face was scribbled with several tattoos or words and phrases in a language Syn didn’t recognize. Or perhaps she did—maybe it was something she had seen way in the back of some instructional video from Earth.
The larger copy stepped forward. Her skin was dirty, and her expression determined.
The muscled girl jumped at Syn, stopping a few inches from Syn’s face and shouted, “Boo!”
Syn jumped back, spied a ceramic cup on the table, and through instinct, chucked it hard at the larger one. The girl fell back but managed to catch the cup just before it smacked her forehead. She crushed it in her hand, then roared and charged at Syn.
Ripley grasped the other on both her arms, pulling her back to stand with the other two copies of Syn and yelled, “Taji! Stop!”
The lumbering, large girl Syn now knew as Taji took a step back and clenched her fists. She glanced over through narrow eyes at the soft-voiced copy. “Neci?” she asked, teeth gritted and her voice like a soft rumble.
The regal Neci, the one Syn was certain was the Crimson Queen, took one more step forward. Syn could never walk that gracefully. Neci was like a cat. Like a tiger. She purred, “She’s scared. This is all a big surprise for her.” She moved closed to Syn and whispered, “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” She put a hand near Syn’s cheek.
Syn took a step back, avoiding the touch.
Ripley said, “Syn, meet Neci and Taji.”
Syn finally managed a sentence, “Who are you? Why do you…”
Neci glided the back of her hand against Syn’s grimy hair. “You’re filthy. Are you thirsty? Hungry?”
Again, without wanting it to, Syn’s stomach rumbled at the thought of food. The apple had done nothing to satisfy her. Yet, Syn shook her head no.
“A bit untruthful, eh?” Neci said. She moved her fingers to Syn’s cheek and touched her with a soft graze. An electric sensation ran through Syn. She had never touched another living human. Not like this—not where they weren’t trying to kill her. Not someone so human. The burlys, if they had ever been human, didn’t count. No. Their murderous grabbing was nothing to this. This was kindness and something more. As if someone had managed to flood under her skin and wrapped their warmth into some magic that poured through Syn like hot water. She staggered, drunk on the sensation.
And then she froze. The touch had been as unnerving as it was wonderful.
Neci stared deep into her eyes. “Where have you been?”
Syn started to talk, “I… I came from…” But something told her to not talk. Who knows what they would do if she started talking? What did they know? What did they not know? Why had they taken Blip? Syn wanted more answers before she gave any.
Syn shook her head. “No.” She took a step forward. “I want answers.”