by Jenny Foster
Johar refused to kill him. “I am no murderer,” he told him, over and over. But then, one day, my father called him in and gave him the assignment to liquidate the same prisoner that he had caught back then. My father did this to test Johar. He wanted to know if he was still loyal, or if he needed to be reprogrammed. There wasn’t much left of the man, who had still been able to walk upright back then. Only his eyes still begged silently for release.
Johar killed him with a shot to the head.
With that, he proved to Ruthiel that he could still be trusted. He had also fulfilled the prisoner’s most profound wish. That evening, he got drunk, something that required a lot of alcohol, considering his robust physique. “Charles” kept him company, and when they were both at the point when they could barely stand up straight, he asked him if he could imagine another way of life – one that had more freedom.
The foundation was laid. Charles vouched for him in the organization, and they gave Johar small, meaningless assignments, which often led to nothing, or only served to confirm previous information. He saw how hard he and his fellow members fought for every victory they gained for maltreated creatures. At first, the organization’s goal wasn’t quite clear to him. But after a few years, he realized that they were fighting against the despotism of the World Federation – often just like Don Quixote, who fought in vain against the windmills he could never defeat. “Justice for all,” was the motto under which even the most diverse races found each other. Together, they stood up for a world, a universe, in which there were no rulers and no slaves, but only people with equal rights. He met Sethari, who wanted nothing to do with exploiting the human race, and he met humans who disagreed with the use of cyborgs as pure machines only.
He began to think independently. Whereas I had only had a few days to come to terms with thing – the upset of a firmly held worldview, reorientation, and the ability to not take things at face value – he had had years. He and Charles have worked together for a long time. Their successes became legendary; for instance, the liberation of twenty-six Haruans who were held prisoner in a secret experimental lab.
This continued until the day Charles was discovered. They took him to my father, who had him tortured for three days. For three days, Johar wondered if he would be next. But Charles never gave in. He died without betraying Johar.
After that, a burning hatred of my father filled him, and this made him more ruthless. When he received an assignment from his new contact man, to turn me, he saw an opportunity to finally exact a thorough revenge on Ruthiel. He would get Ruthiel’s beloved daughter to kill her father – this was his goal. Contrary to what I knew, Johar was aware that I was a machine-human, but he also saw the immense pride in my father when he looked at me. There were two things Johar hadn’t counted on. On the one hand, he hadn’t expected the assignment from my father, which called for the apprehension of Cassie Burnett, where he was also ordered to push me to my limits. On the other hand, he also hadn’t expected to develop feelings for me.
For the first time, he asked his contact man to let someone else bring the operation to a close. Hazathel was put at his side, and a seemingly accidental meeting was arranged so I wouldn’t be suspicious. Johar was supposed to stay with him in a supportive role only. However, when his “supervisor” found out that I was marked by a virus and would probably not be returning to my father – meaning I had become useless as a weapon against my father - he received a new assignment. He and I should go underground and use my knowledge gained there to destroy each lab and armed station, one by one.
Johar has started to doubt the “justice for all.” Does it mean that he should end countless lives, and endanger mine, for the sake of the cause? I feel a mix of pride and love. I was the reason Johar started to question things. Time will tell if this was a good thing or not. Again, fate intervened, by allowing Ruthiel to find Cassie and her husband before we could. Hazathel could definitely not sneak onto the Solarian. They needed me.
At this point, the information flow stops. It’s a good thing, too, because I only have half an hour before Johar is going to make contact again. Thirty minutes to make a decision. Can I put Cassie into the hands of people about whom I know barely any more than at the beginning of this odyssey? I still don’t know who ‘they‘ are, but the fanatic way in which they pursue their cause makes my stomach do somersaults. All of it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It feels like one of those old movies, in which a faceless Mr. X steers the fortunes of a band of idealistic men, who are running towards an abyss without knowing it.
Something isn’t quite right with the scenario. If only I had more time! I need to think, but I can’t do that, here, in this room. It feels like Ruthiel can look over my shoulder here. I can feel his presence in the room next to me, even though he is sleeping.
Then I have an idea.
Why don’t I ask Cassie what she wants to do? I slip out of my pajamas and into my regular, dark clothes, and make my way to the guest quarters. I think about Shazuul who is still sitting in his cell, and wonder how I am supposed to get him out of there, since his poker buddies are sitting in the cell next to him. I need to think of something! Why didn’t we talk about this part ahead of time, and where are the accomplices from the organization “Justice for All,” when you need them?
Cassie is wide awake when I go into her room. Her eyes tell me that she is no longer making a mind journey, as I have started to call it. She is panting and her arms are around her stomach while she is pacing back and forth. She convulses with pain, looks at me and opens her mouth, but no words come out. This is not a false labor - it shoots through my head. These are contractions! I literally leap to her, and put my arm around her waist. She can’t walk anymore, and her legs fold under her. I wonder how long she has been doing this without letting anyone know. But there is plenty of time for reprimands later. She is already convulsing again. If I am not mistaken, only two minutes have passed since the last contraction, if that.
I can’t do this alone, I think. I definitely can’t hide the birth long enough for Johar and his rescue team to arrive, and I also don’t want to deliver the children without any help. I yell for the guard who is standing outside the door without a clue, and tell him to go notify the sick bay. Then everything happens very quickly. In a matter of minutes, a qualified doctor and team arrive. They transport Cassie to the hospital wing on a stretcher. She holds my hand the whole way so tightly that I can hear my knuckles crack. When the midwife wants to shoo me out, Cassie clings to me tightly and makes it very clear to the poor woman what she will do to her if she is forced to give birth without me at her side.
My father watches the birth through the glass window that surrounds the operating room that has been transformed into a delivery room. I am in the thick of it, between the blood, the laboring woman’s moans, and the doctor’s and nurses’ hectic actions. At some point – that much time couldn’t have passed yet – I hear Johar’s voice. He notices right away that something is wrong and asks if everything is okay.
“The children are coming,” I think, and tell him that Cassie is in the best of hands and that he shouldn’t worry.
“Where are you?” he asks and cuts the connection, for which I am very thankful, because the first twin’s dark head is already showing. I have no time to think about his strange question, because all hell is breaking loose. In no time at all, the midwife is holding him in her arms, and cuts the umbilical cord quickly. It is a boy who looks so much like Khazaar that it is almost absurd. Light, tiny scales cover his body, and when the little one utters his first, angry cry, they raise and rustle softly, despite the sticky fluid covering them. I wonder if he will be as famous as his father someday. Without any further ado, the nurse puts the infant in my arms, and I freeze in awe as I cradle the infant very carefully. He is so tiny, but also perfect. Five fingers, five toes and a tiny manhood. Dark blue eyes and a head of thick, soft hair. I love him unconditionally without even knowing him, and swear to protect him, with
my life, if necessary. Soon thereafter, the second child is born. It is a girl. Ruthiel was mistaken when he talked about two boys. She seems incredibly delicate, compared to her brother, and resembles Cassie. Her hair is lighter, and her skin does not have scales. Only her eyes look like her brother’s, but I have heard that all children have blue eyes at birth, and that the color doesn’t change until later.
I wonder if my father was wrong about other things, too. On the surface, it doesn’t look like the two infants took any useful traits from each other. They are very different, and I start to doubt my father’s assumption. Is that good or bad for Cassie? If the children aren’t interesting enough for Ruthiel’s research, then he might let them go.
This is nonsense, and I know the only reason I think like this, is because of my excitement and deeply sentimental mood. If he has no use for the three of them, then they will land in cells as “also-ran” reserve objects.
I cast a glance at Cassie, who is exhausted, but holding both children in her arms. The doctor gives me a look, and something about him makes me sigh with relief. He has gone against Ruthiel’s orders to separate the mother and children from each other, immediately after birth. I nod at him inconspicuously, and he immediately turns his attention to his patient again. I look for my father behind the glass window, but he is gone.
Where is he?
My stomach grumbles a warning. I slip out of the operating room, after confirming one more time that Cassie is in good hands. The last look I give her does not give me good news. She is lying on her pillow, her face pale, and her eyes have that frozen look I have seen in her once before. I have a hard time tearing my eyes away from her. I watch a nurse gently remove the babies from her slack grasp, not because she is going against the doctor and complying with my father’s orders, but because Cassie cannot hold them, anymore. Her eyes roll back in her head until all you can see is white. I am torn. I don’t want to leave her, but Johar will be approaching the Solarian any minute. What should I do? I run my hands through my hair, noticing too late, that I am putting all kinds of bodily fluids into my hair. I look around the room, and my eyes fall on the doctor again, who is examining the babies. As if he can feel my gaze, he raises his head. I can tell that he is trying desperately to tell me something with his eyes, but I can’t understand what he wants from me. I make a decision; I will look in his head, so I can see what he is thinking.
Immediately, I am surrounded by a brain that seems somehow medical and sterile. It really is remarkable, how similar the inside of a head resembles the person himself – no, that is nonsense. Of course, the thoughts mirror the person. I pull myself together, and look for whatever he is thinking about right now. I find his message immediately and exhale in relief. He is going to take care of Cassie and her children. If need be, he is going to protect them with his life, because he is also part of the society that strives for equality among the races.
I don’t need to know anything else. I leave his head. I throw my blood-soaked gown in the hamper, wash my hands and slip out into the hallway. It isn’t like Ruthiel to miss this important event. It is even less like him to not ensure that his orders are being followed. Something must have happened that demanded his attention.
At that moment, Johar’s voice pops up in my head. He only says my name, Mara, and then again, Mara. He sounds so loud and near, and I have to lean on the wall to keep from stumbling. I know right away that something isn’t right. He is already on the Solarian, I just know it. Damn it! “Where are you?” I ask and don’t even try to hide my anxiety and irritation. “How did you get on board?” He doesn’t answer, and immediately my thoughts form a strong suspicion.
“Johar, you need to get out of here. Grab Hazathel and hurry. I will come to Earth with Cassie and the children as soon as I can. We will meet there.”
“I am so glad you agree with me,” my father says at that moment. I let out a small cry, because his voice in my head only confirms my suspicion. Once again, he has played a double, or even triple, game and is emerging as the winner.
“Father,” I say. “Where are you?”
“In the lab, of course. I am waiting for you.” And with that, he cuts off all communication.
Chapter 9
Ruthiel is standing at the window, looking out at the dark universe, deep in thought.
He doesn’t even try to acknowledge my entrance into the lab. He just keeps staring out the window. The next thing I see, is Johar’s lifeless body lying on a stretcher. He is covered by a white sheet up to his neck. His facial expression is peaceful, which just makes him appear to be dead even more. It takes all of my strength to keep myself from running to him, and pushing the button on his neck, again, that will turn him back into my beloved. Right now, he really is just a mixture of a shut-down machine and organs that have been put to sleep. I love him more than ever, but I need to pull myself together, if I am going to save him. I can’t show any weakness in front of my father, and need to be careful. For that reason, I pull the sheet up so it covers my cyborg’s face, too.
“What do you want?” I ask my father, and stand next to him.
“You,” he answers, and turns his eyes away from the answers he was looking for in the universe, but couldn’t find. “You are, after all, the one with the telepathic abilities. It isn’t your little Sethari friend who can read minds. Tell me, was it the virus?”
I just nod. “How long have you known?”
He waves me off with a casual gesture that enrages me. “Immediately, basically. You aren’t the only one who is playing both sides. I may not have a beautiful body that I can use to drive up the price, but I have money. And most men will do anything for money.”
“I didn’t sell my body,” I defend myself, appalled.
Ruthiel raises his cushy eyebrows. “Oh, no? Are you telling me you didn’t seduce Johar in order to reach your goals?”
“No,” I burst out, “it wasn’t like that.” But Ruthiel can hear the doubt in my voice, and a narrow smile appears on his face.
“It’s okay, Mara,” he says. He sounds like a tolerant father, forgiving his daughter a youthful indiscretion. “I wanted to see how far you would go, and you just went further than I would have thought possible.” He grins and his face looks like a skull covered in skin with crazy, flickering eyes. “You did well.”
“Everything went according to plan,” I say flatly. “Everything. From beginning to end. You tested me, and you tested Johar’s loyalty. And now, you also have Cassie Burnett and her children.”
“There can only be one winner,” my father says patronizingly. “Don’t worry about it. If you pick the right side, then you can still have a future.”
“What will happen to Cassie and her children?”
“They will remain in my custody,” he answers without any emotion in his voice. “That is non-negotiable.” I listen up. If the woman’s fate isn’t negotiable, as he put it, then there must be things, in contrast, that are.
“What will you give me in exchange for my full cooperation?” I know what working with Ruthiel means for me. I will have to submit to an endless series of long tests, and I will be cut open. He will take my blood, scan me from head to toe, and examine my brain. When Ruthiel finds out which part of my body is responsible for being able to read minds, then he will reproduce that part and implant it in others, in hopes of raising an army of telepathically capable warriors and spies. I think of Johar. And Shazuul. Of “Justice for all.” And know that I will never be able to stand by and watch my father use them and then get rid of them.
“I want freedom for Johar and Shazuul,” I demand. “You will drop them off on Earth, together with a functioning space ship. You will let them go wherever they want to, and won’t stand in their way.” I close my eyes and jump right into my father’s head without stopping. I want him to know that I am there, and dig around in his thoughts with abandon. Before I put myself in his hands, I need to be sure that he is being sincere. I feel like I am wading in mud, because
Ruthiel’s thoughts are tough and sticky. I can’t find what I am looking for, and after a while, I am overwhelmed by a suffocating feeling. I tear myself away and slip back into my own head.
“No problem,” Ruthiel says. “I see that you didn’t mention Hazathel, so you know that he is my informant.” That explains why Hazathel prevented Johar from finding Cassie’s husband. I wonder if he knew that he was also sealing her fate by doing so? I don’t think my father would have gambled with her life that recklessly – at least not until he had examined her every atom.
Ruthiel is looking at me with an absurd pride, when I finally look up at him, but I also notice something else. Why has he not mentioned that I was just reading his mind, even if they basically consist of impenetrable slime?
I repeat the procedure again, for a second (I won’t stay longer than three seconds, this time), but the result is the same. He just keeps looking at me expectantly. He didn’t notice that I was reading his mind! I command my heart to stay calm, in light of the possibilities that come to mind. There has to be a solution to all of my problems, one where I can put this new information to good use!
Back to the present. My thoughts are racing around in my head. “You will drop them off on Earth tomorrow morning,” I demand. “After that, I am yours.”
He thinks for a moment, and then shakes his head. “Surely you don’t think I’m that gullible. First, we will do one test run, no – three test runs, during which you will demonstrate your abilities. Should the results meet my expectations, I will fulfill your demands.” Ruthiel looks at me. At this moment, I am almost thankful for two things: first that I have spent so much time at his side. He is hiding something from me, and I can see it clearly on his face. And second, I am also thankful that he doesn’t know how I apply my telepathy. I sneak over to him, and there is his plan, hidden under a pulsating layer of dirt. I see what I theoretically should have known, even without reading his mind: he isn’t going to meet any of my demands. My hatred for him threatens to overcome me, when I find something that makes my breath catch. I dig deeper, reach for his thought and pull it out.