The single image of the Olorun now inhabiting the air in front of them split into two identical sized copies. Olorun then and Olorun now. The colors had faded. All along the outside of the ship, black lines and small dent marks appeared. The skin of the ship itself was now bright white, bleached from the decades of constant radiation bombardment without any form of protection.
But the biggest difference was the spin. It wasn’t much, but while watching, after the fourth or fifth spin, it was obvious the more recent version was slower. And if it was slower, “The gravity is less now than when we started,” Blip said.
Syn shook her head. “Can we live with it?
“It isn’t a great difference.”
Syn’s hand traced through the air. The Disc was spinning slower. Gravity was less. But there was so much else happening there, she could not figure out why. The energy being pushed into the Disc to keep it spinning was the same. The weight of the Disc was nearly the same as it had been. Although that wasn’t entirely true—there were a few tons’ difference. In the scope of things though, that was nothing. She just couldn’t figure out why it was moving slower. She walked through the sparks of light hanging around her, moving her hand to grip and rotate the image of the Olorun in the air. She spun it around to get a good profile look at the Disc spinning about the needle. Beautiful. Slow. Steady.
“I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”
“You have all the information you need to make this analysis?” That had been a line of thinking that Blip had trained her in early on. She had to make sure that she knew all of the details before she hypothesized. It was the result of having an AI as a mentor. Data was king, or at least all of the data at her availability. Anything that was obscured could be a potential spot for answers. For Blip to have supposedly analyzed everything, a bit of a connection and explanation for the slowing Disc should appear. But nothing?
“Yes,” Blip said.
Syn grabbed the edges of the Olorun hologram before her and pulled out. The ship’s image expanded. She did it again and zoomed in on the part of the needle where the gate would be. With her thumb and index finger pressed together, she turned the various pieces of the needle around, looking for anything. “Is this now?”
“The image is accurate as to the last full ship analytical scan performed at 0200 hours, earlier this morning,” the computer answered.
“You mean the explosion?” Syn asked.
The computer responded, “Yes.”
Syn turned to him. “You’ve already done a scan? I hate when you read minds.” Syn said, although she truly didn’t. It was always something that made her want to hug him right after he did it. She smiled and thought, it’s freaky how well he knows me.
“Ya, it was what I was wondering,” Blip said.
Syn raised her eyebrows at this and stepped over to him. “You did? Did you ask the computer about it?
Blip hesitated.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Blip said, “I’m just verifying that I understood everything the Olorun replied with. There’s no connection. The explosion didn’t seem to result in any decay of the rotation of the Disc. The decaying speed had been occurring for a lot longer before the explosion happened.”
“Did the slowing cause the explosion?” Syn asked.
“I… Hmm… Maybe,” Blip said and then spun around to interface with the computer again.
Syn smiled. She had stumped him. She muttered, “’Bout time.”
“And that’s a no,” came Blip’s fast response.
She grunted and crossed her arms. “Fine.” She turned back to the design of the ship. Something about the image was bothering her. Something about the numbers. Syn wasn’t a math genius, but she could hold her own. Everyone on the ship had to know complex algebra. She wasn’t great at physics, but she understood the gist. This type of modeling was where she fell down. Nonetheless, something was annoying her about the images and figures floating around. Something that seemed off.
Propulsion. That was it.
“Blip, how much fuel is left?”
Blip coughed and narrowed his eyes at her. “Computer, can you give me a quick summary of the overall total engine expenditure since launch?”
The computer replied, “In fuel?”
Syn nodded. Blip said, “Yes.”
“Thank you. Give me a brief moment to verify the data.” The moment was brief. Maybe a second at most. Then, the screens around her pulled out the full bar graph showing monthly and yearly fuel use for overall propulsion.
“There,” Blip said. He shone a light out to highlight in the air above some small number.
Syn just raised an eyebrow.
“The fuel being used, and the overall drag on the ship doesn’t equal the current speed and projected mass. Based on fuel expenditure, we should be moving a lot faster than what we are now.” Blip spun around and worked the calculations out on one of the screens near Syn. He mumbled to himself, “See. At this speed, the fuel should’ve been a lot less. At this fuel rate, we should be traveling much faster. There it is. If I… No, almost there.” He gabbed to himself and ignored her. This calculation was critical. He went silent.
Syn stood in the middle of the quiet, blackened bridge, waiting for Blip to come back up for air. All but the screens were dark. There, around her, floated the blue diagrams of the ship, glowing in bright lines.
“No, this is far worse than what I had originally predicted. I knew it was bad, but not this bad…” Blip stopped mid-sentence, realizing he had uttered more than he intended. He turned to face Syn.
She glared. “Do you think these have…”
Blip just stared at her. Not at the figures. Not at the numbers. Not at the diagrams in the air around them.
“Blip?”
He just stared at her.
“Did you know this was happening?”
Blip didn’t respond. Although she could’ve sworn she saw a momentary, half-second flicker of his eyes when she asked the question.
“Blip, are the explosion and the gravity and the fuel connected?”
“No,” he finally spoke. “There is no way they are connected.”
“Did you know about this before now?”
“I knew.”
It was her turn to stop talking. She glared at him, eyes furrowed, jaw clenched. Stupid Blip. He knows something that he isn’t telling. What else is he hiding?
He continued, “I knew that something was off, but I didn’t think it would matter. I didn’t think it would be this bad, this fast. We’re still moving through space. We’re still going to be on this ship for a few more decades.”
She turned and placed her finger on the glowing number he had highlighted. “Not according to this.”
He glanced at where she pointed. The numbers were a stream of information, but what they were spelling out was simple. They were burning too much fuel. They either didn’t have enough to make it to Àpáàdì, or when they arrived, the ship wouldn’t have enough to slow their speed.
“Blip,” Syn said, “If I’m understanding you, and from what I can grasp, if these figures are right, we are burning through our fuel faster than we should be. Either we stop that, and this trip takes a lot longer, or we don’t, and we burn up too much fuel, and we can’t slow down when we get there? Is that what you’re saying?”
“What’s it matter?” Blip said.
Syn’s jaw must’ve dropped down to her feet. “What’s it matter?” Her voice was louder. She waved at the numbers scrolling around us in the dark room. She wanted to pluck them from the air and rub them in his face. How could he not grasp the problem? “Olorun won’t reach its destination! We’re stuck on this ship forever now! How can you say that?”