by Jenny Foster
I am satisfied with his explanation, but remain skeptical. How does he know which way the tunnels go? Has someone made a map of them? I keep my mouth shut, but only because Hazathel still seems very uneasy, and I don’t want to awaken any more horrific visions in him. I have to shake my head at myself and my new tendency to question everything. When I was still firmly convinced that I was a human, I acted more like a cyborg, or at least like many humans want a cyborg to act: as a mix of machine and human that has few feelings and never second-guesses anything. Now that I know what I am, I act more like a human, meaning I am more emotional, curious and unpredictable.
While I have been pondering all of this, we have reached a tree, whose black, bare branches stretch up to the sky. Next to the tree, I see a round hole. Johar frowns, kneels down next to the entrance, and runs his hand through the brush next to it. “Someone has already been here before us,” he mumbles and looks over the ground. He is looking for tracks; that much is clear, but the ground is too smooth in the area around the entrance, the ground is too smooth, because there are no animal tracks, nor are there any naturally occurring drifts from the wind.
Hazathel kneels down and sends out the scorpion. Johar gets up and dusts off his formerly black pants, absentmindedly. “This is strange,” he says. Someone has gone to the trouble of obliterating all of the tracks around the entrance, but has neglected to cover it with branches.
“Could it be that one of Cassie’s companions came out to go hunting, but then forgot to put the brush back in place?” I ask him. He shakes his head vehemently – no.
“I don’t think the Qua’Hathri would be that negligent,” he answers slowly, keeping Hazathel’s animal in sight. “Either, …” His thoughts are interrupted by the scorpion, which is making a loud rattling with his tail. He is about 50 feet away from us, but we can still hear him very clearly. We hurry over to the spot the dangerous little guy has marked. There we can see tracks. They are from a space glider. We look at each other, because we all know what this means: Someone has landed here and is also on the hunt for the sought-after children.
“It was Ruthiel,” I say with absolute certainty. My cyborg nods in agreement.
“I think it went like this,” he reconstructs the scene. “One or more of the warriors were outside, here, replenishing their supplies. Ruthiel and his people must have surprised them, so it made no sense to cover the entrance. They were in a hurry, in order to make sure Cassie was safe, and were discovered.”
I can think of a different scenario that could also be possible: we are too late. Ruthiel already has Cassie in his possession, and therefore, it made no sense to hide the entrance. But in that case, why is the ground so smooth?
Hazathel collects his scorpion, and Shazuul goes back to the entrance. He stretches his snout into the hole, sniffing the air. It is almost comical seeing that half of the Sethari disappear further and further into the hole. When he comes back out, he shakes his head. “Cassie not there,” he reports.
“How would you know that?” Johar and I ask at the same time. Shazuul looks a little embarrassed as he tries to explain his “special connection” to Cassie. He claims that he can feel her presence. How can that be? What else has the Sethari kept from us? Sometimes, I have the bad feeling that each and every one of us has his or her own agenda, and that we will all be in each other’s way in the end.
“You could have told us that before,” Johar snaps at him. He looks around, and I can tell how desperately he wants to bring Cassie to safety. How much really depends on this woman and her children? But Shazuul isn’t finished. He keeps pointing down into the hole, excited and insistent. “Husband,” he says. “Her husband is there. Get. Get.” In his excitement, he wants to climb down there himself, but my cyborg grabs him by the scruff of the neck and furiously puts him down on the sandy ground.
“Alright, my rubber-skinned friend,” he says and stares down at Shazuul mercilessly. One could almost feel sorry for the Sethari, if he hadn’t kept something so important from us. All of us seem to have our own reasons for this mission, and are keeping them do ourselves, and that is not good at all. “Let us be crystal clear. Can you still feel Cassie? How far away is she?” he presses him, further, after Shazuul nods eagerly.
“Up,” he answers and points to the sky. He conveniently falls into this monosyllabic language when it suits him – at least, that’s how it seems.
Our small group falls silent, as we realize that Cassie isn’t here anymore. “Then why did you let us come here, at all?” Johar asks through clenched teeth. “How long have you known?” He approaches Shazuul threateningly, who seeks cover behind me.
“Find husband,” he says, clipped. “Important. Cassie not without husband.”
I am trying to understand what he is saying, and wish I could look into his head to help me get it more quickly. But I don’t dare in Hazathel’s presence, so I try other solutions. Can Cassie not live without her husband? Does she need him for some inexplicable reason to bring her children into this world, safely? This thought is not as absurd as it sounds. I once saw a spider-like species where the female ate the male, alive, during the two-week long birthing process. The female had to stay in one spot during the birth, so it was dependent on an alternative source of food. Suddenly, I am happy that Cassie is a human – and that Ruthiel was not with me on that expedition. I don’t even want to think about everything he could have done with a specimen of that species.
Johar sits down on the ground, Indian-style. Even though he is agitated, his movements are still elegant and flowing, and I envy him for it. His eyes cloud over while he is thinking. At this moment, he really looks like a machine-human. I almost think I can hear the little wheels turning in his brain, which is, of course, complete nonsense. I realize that we are all looking at him in anticipation, as if he was going to magically pull a complete solution to our problem, out of a non-existent hat in the next few minutes. When he finally speaks, I exhale quietly in relief. Everything is not lost yet. “We have the following choices,” he begins, raising his index finger. “One, we give up.” He smiles crookedly when he hears our mumbled protest. Even Hazathel is against this option, and I don’t know if he is going to come with us on our hunt for Cassie. “Two, we pursue Ruthiel’s ship, sneak on board and free Cassie.”
This sounds like a great way to get ourselves killed. I know that Johar doesn’t really take this “plan” seriously, but am still relieved when he immediately starts listing the counterarguments. “Things against this plan are that we have no way of sneaking on board without being seen. And even if we could somehow manage it, we could hardly get into the lab, let alone back out. At least not without serious losses.”
The three of us are hanging on Johar’s every word. I have always been aware that he has a strong personality. Often, it isn’t obvious until afterwards – how often has he simply done the right thing, even though I have complained and desperately wanted my way? He is a man of action – no. He is a cyborg of action, and my cyborg, to boot. I look at him, with the metal on his face, shimmering in the sun, and his dark hair and clever eyes, and feel endlessly happy. He did not reject me when I needed him, and he has made it clear that he – likes me? No. That doesn’t describe it. I am afraid of losing myself in him, but liking is much too weak a word to describe what the two of us share.
He interrupts my romantic train of thought with the third and final option for getting Cassie, after all. “We will need to split up,” he begins. His eyes tell me that he doesn’t like this. I get a sense of the pain that I will feel without him by my side, and start to tell him no, but he cuts me off, before the first impulsive protest even makes it out of my mouth. “The only way we can still win is with a ruse.” He looks at Hazathel and Shazuul, both of whom are listening intently. “Hazathel, you and I will go into the caves, as planned, and bring Cassie’s companions out.” Shazuul likes this idea, and grunts happily. Hazathel visibly pulls himself together and manages a hesitant nod. The poor guy.
I really feel sorry for him. It looks like he will have to face his worst fears. “Shazuul and Mara, you two will make contact with Ruthiel.” He sighs. “Can you do that, Mara?” He says my name like a caress, and for that alone, I want to kiss him. So, I do, without caring about the unsuitable situation. My lips and his touch for a very short, but sweet kiss, before I pull back from him, reluctantly. This time, there are no kiss-imitations from Shazuul. He can feel that it is starting to get dangerous now, and I mean, really dangerous.
“Of course, I can do it,” I respond and after a short hesitation, I add, “I do think I can stand face-to-face with him, without strangling his skinny neck.”
“This isn’t just about you holding back,” my cyborg says factually. A small wrinkle appears between his eyebrows. “You will have to play the role of the penitent daughter, and you will have to play it so well that he does not get suspicious.” The dismay that is making its way through my body must be showing on my face, because he adds: “You have to be 100% believable and make it clear to him that you want your place at his side back at any price. Without any ifs and buts.” He sighs heavily, and turns to Shazuul. “It won’t be a cakewalk for you, either, my friend. Mara will take you along as bait, and you will be a prisoner in Ruthiel’s lab.”
I think I see Shazuul’s rubber skin turn a shade paler than usual. His snout hangs down, dangling sadly on his torso. He exchanges a wordless look with me, and I can feel the pull in my head as he is looking at me. I deny him inconspicuously. I don’t know why, but I don’t want Hazathel to know anything about the special connection between me and the Sethari. Quid pro quo – the scorpion man is keeping his own secrets from me, after all, and anyway, he still doesn’t think I am trustworthy. “Do we really have to separate?” I ask softly. “Why can’t we do everything together?”
“Because we are running out of time, and because our chances will be better if Hazathel and I can join you secretly,” Johar says exactly what I already know in my heart. I wonder if the danger we are going to be in is really worth it. Are Cassie and her unborn children really the key to power, as Johar and his unique organization claim she is? I don’t like this one little bit that I don’t know anything about the people who are pulling the strings in the background. In this respect, maybe it really isn’t such a bad idea for me to try to find Cassie on my own. I can always decide if I really want to hand her over to the faceless people, whose plans I have no knowledge of. I trust Johar, but even the best man can be fooled and used; especially if he is as idealistic as Johar.
Over the next half hour, we discuss all of the details. While Johar and Hazathel search for Cassie’s husband in the tunnels, Shazuul and I will establish contact with my father. I will use Shazuul as bait and get my father to pick me up and take me back to his inner circle. The only fly in the ointment, and it’s a huge fly, is that the Sethari and I might not actually be interesting enough for a man like Ruthiel anymore. He has already experimented on the Sethari, right when they were beginning to conquer our planet, and he already knows me inside and out. Shazuul is quiet and leaves the decision to tell Johar about my new abilities and his role in all of it, to me. At some point, when we have exhausted all other ideas, because they don’t offer my father anything new or exciting. I pull Johar to the side and confess. He has experienced for himself, after all, that, thanks to the infection from the virus, I can suddenly look into others’ heads, so at first, he isn’t particularly surprised. But when I get to the point, where I tell him that Shazuul is teaching me to be more precise, he starts paying attention. He doesn’t say a word and I start to worry that he wants to see proof. Finally he speaks. I am relieved, because I wouldn’t want to jump into the thoughts of the man I love. Not for anything in the world. “Just promise me one thing,” he says, in that deep, soft voice, that really belongs in the intimate setting of the bedroom. “Take good care of yourself. I don’t want to risk you ending up on your father’s dissecting table.”
It breaks my heart to see the real and unaffected concern in his eyes, but there is no way I can add to his burden, so I act confident. “We will see each other in seven days, at the latest,” I reassure him with a levity that is totally fake. Now comes the hardest part of our plan. It is not the separation, but the fact that Johar is going to implant a mini transmitter in me, so he can make contact with me. As soon as he sends me the signal, I am going to open one of the side ports on the ship for him, so he can dock with the small space glider. It’s convenient that his friend O’Hare taught him how to mask the signature of a small space glider, so nobody will discover that a foreign ship is approaching. At least, that’s the theory. We will find out in a few days, at the very latest, if it works in reality. By then, I should know where Cassie is, and what my father is planning to do with her. I will bring Johar, Hazathel and maybe even her husband – if his health allows – to her. We will free her and Shazuul and race back to Earth, where we will hide. That’s the plan.
There are two things that I purposefully didn’t ask Johar. One, what is he planning to do with Cassie, and what will happen to Ruthiel. I cannot imagine that my cyborg is so ruthless that he would blow up an entire space ship with all of its crew, to say nothing of the creatures who are still imprisoned in my father’s lab. This is what I am thinking about when I fall on my knees in front of him and push my hair to the side. I can see his hands. His slender fingers pull a syringe from his belt. The syringe has a chip with a small transmitter in it. I feel nothing other than a small prick, as he injects the contents of the syringe into the muscles in my neck.
I am filled with a mix of defiance and pain in my soul when I stand up. This transmitter, which doesn’t work in humans, is making its way through the artificial parts of my body, until it finds its spot. It will hide in the electronic steerage in my body, and will automatically find a frequency that is so similar to my electronic signature that you can only trace it if you know it’s there. Johar tests the reception and nods, satisfied, before pulling me to him. “I hate long good-byes,” he whispers and kisses me one last time, before going back to the others.
Shazuul and I watch as he and Hazathel disappear down the opening, and I feel lonelier than ever before. Then I think about the difficult task ahead for Shazuul and me, and square my shoulders. I get out my minicomputer, enter the password and dial Ruthiel.
In a matter of seconds, his face appears on the screen. I smile at him broadly. “Hello, Father,” I say. “Any chance you could come and pick me up?”
Chapter 5
The Sethari and I wait less than half an hour for the little ship to land next to us.
Of course, my “father” doesn’t trouble himself to pick us up from the surface of the Earth himself. On one hand, this is good, because it gives me and Shazuul another little breather until we have to face the doctor. On the other hand, I am getting more uneasy, the further I am from Johar. I think I can almost feel the pain of separation physically, which is just in my imagination, of course, but it still hurts.
The men and women who pick us up do not talk to us. It is clear that the news of Mara Ruthiel, falling out of favor with her dad, is spreading quickly. They put Shazuul in chains, as if he were a wild animal. I do not protest, even though I want to criticize his rough treatment. That is part of my role as the ruthless Mara Ruthiel, who will do anything to have her place back among renowned scientists – even if it means buying that place with the life of another. Since my father doesn’t know exactly why Shazuul is so important and unique, he obviously told the guards to not injure him. It is good to see that at least one small part of our plan is going as we hoped. I am unnerved the most by the looks they are giving me. These are anywhere from contemptuous and suspicious to downright hostile. I did not go to the trouble of hiding the signs of my infection, so the pale, blue-veined skin is clearly visible on my arms, face and neck. Nobody dares to touch me, and they keep their distance from me. For fun, and to see if my perceptions are correct, I stumble over something on purpose,
and reach “instinctively” for one of the men’s arms, so I don’t fall. He literally jumps 3 feet in the air to avoid me and I land inelegantly on the ground. Inside, I am rejoicing, because my assignment will be much easier if the people are afraid of me. I wonder if they really don’t know that they can’t catch the virus through the air. I can’t blame them, because I would have reacted the same way earlier.
I settle into the upholstered chair and close my eyes. Shazuul is ready, waiting for me. Everything okay? I ask him in his head, and he answers me, just as silently. Big fear, he says. I will not desert you, I assure him. He sighs in my thoughts and we separate from each other. Every time I hear his thoughts, I also receive a wave of his feelings, and his fear of the physical torture that might await him makes me tremble. He is so brave, in spite of his fear that I would love to hug him. I can’t, of course, because the crew members keep stealing glances at me.
The more I practice, the better I am able to travel around in thoughts. It is exhausting, because I can feel what the other one is thinking at that moment. It is incredibly strange to feel someone else’s feelings. I know that they aren’t my own, but they still feel just as intense. For a minute, I think about what it must look like in my father’s head, and shiver.
The research ship is orbiting about three hours from Earth, around the blue planet. I spend the time, until we dock, sending my thoughts on trips. Shazuul and I have selected two people as targets. I am careful not to stay too long in their heads, so they won’t notice me, and so it isn’t too exhausting. Neither of them has noticed my presence in their heads, and this gives my confidence exactly the kind of boost it needs for my meeting with Ruthiel.
It feels a little like coming home when I board the ship. I spent many years on the Solaria, and I know it inside and out. That is another advantage for me, I think, as I am escorted by two huge men to my father. The two heavily muscled guys have weapons, but even they fear my virus and are carefully keeping their distance from me. Shazuul is walking next to me, in handcuffs. When we reach the lab, one of the guys tries to knock on the door, but I push by him and open the door, without warning my father. As if his lackeys didn’t inform him long ago that we are on board, I think, and go straight over to him.
