Left alone

The mechanical arms withdrew fully into the ceiling with a final shhhnk of retracting pistons, and then — silence.

The computer’s voice, so cloying and ever-present before, faded into the background like a forgotten nightmare.

For the first time since waking, she and her twin were truly alone.

The air between them was thick with leftover heat, breath, and trembling need. Their bodies were still tangled together on the cold metal floor, slick with dampness, paper gowns rumpled and clinging to every curve.

Slowly, shakily, she pushed herself up onto her elbows, peering down at the mirror of herself lying beneath her.

The twin stared up, eyes wide but calm now, a slight curve to her lips — not quite a smile, but not fear either.

After a long beat, she whispered, voice ragged and dry:

"I'm... Elara."

The twin's lips parted in a silent exhale. A soft, strange look crossed her face, something between sorrow and familiarity. She reached up, brushing a lock of sweat-damp hair from Elara’s brow.

"Me too," the twin said simply.

It hit Elara like a punch to the gut.

Of course.

They shared everything — every fractured memory, every shard of fear, every flicker of longing and survival. They were two halves of the same broken mirror.

Awkwardly, Elara shifted to sit beside her twin, pulling the torn edges of her gown tighter around her chilled body.

They sat in silence for a moment, breathing in unison, their bruised thighs pressed close for warmth.

"We can't both be Elara," she said finally, her voice thin. "It’s... confusing."

The twin tilted her head, studying her with an almost playful glint — the first real spark of personality since waking. "You can keep it," she said after a moment. "I'll be..." She paused, considering. Her tongue darted out to wet her cracked lips.

"Lara. Shorter. Easier."

Elara smiled weakly — the first true smile since the cryopod’s hiss had shattered her world apart.

"Elara and Lara," she echoed, voice trembling on the edge of laughter or tears.

It was ridiculous. It was pathetic.

And yet... it was something.

A thread to hold onto in the endless dark.

She rose first, joints aching and cold, and offered a hand to Lara, who accepted it with a strength that surprised them both.

Together they stumbled across the empty bay, weaving between the dark, silent cryopods — a field of broken promises.

The emergency lighting pulsed overhead, low and heavy, giving the impression of walking underwater through blood.

Their bare feet slapped softly on the deck, leaving faint smudges of moisture behind them.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

Elara’s memories were Lara’s memories — the vague blueprint of the ship’s layout surfacing in both their minds like a half-forgotten dream.

Find the kitchen.

Find food. Find water. Find something normal.

At the far end of the bay, a heavy door loomed — half-open, its mechanism fried and sparking faintly. Beyond it, a narrow corridor stretched away into deeper darkness.

Elara hesitated at the threshold, heart hammering again.

The ship felt different now.

Quieter. But not empty.

Lara touched her arm gently, steadying her, and nodded once.

Together, they slipped into the corridor, twin ghosts in thin gowns, moving forward through the dying vessel toward whatever waited beyond.