by Jenny Foster
The decision feels strange. The part of me that was under the influence of my creator, for years, feels defiled. Even the time that I spent with my beloved cannot change that. That is a tough pill to swallow. I consider myself to be worth less, because I am not a pure human. I need to make sure that black holes do not spread through my head, because the chain of emotions is evolving constantly, now: who was the human from whom I was created? Are they still there, or does the mechanical part control what remains of the human? I hold my ears shut, as if it would stop my racing thoughts, but it doesn’t work. The shock is too deep.
Johar is right – there is no way I could take in my erased memories right now.
Johar kisses me when he sees the decision on my face. I return his kiss, pull him to me and rest my head on his chest. “And now,” I say and breathe in his scent, “tell me more about what the lawless do.”
“Not until you answer my first question,” he says and asks it again: “Is it really so bad to be like me?”
I lower my head and try to find an answer, but the only thing I feel is complete chaos. For a second, I consider consoling him, but he has earned an honest answer. “I don’t know,” I admit, and look at him. He nods, as if he had expected nothing else.
And I know that I have disappointed him.
Chapter 2
The things Johar tells me over the course of the next hour are enough to push me to the edge of what I can comprehend.
When he has finished, I am glad that I don’t have to deal with my erased memories on top of it all. He somehow managed to load Hazathel, Shazuul and me on to the space glider without anyone questioning his actions. He was able to do this, because he turned me off under my father’s watchful eye, and then erased my memories of what had just happened. When Father saw that everything had been completed to his satisfaction, he gave Johar the order to bring me to him. Johar used this chance to take all three of us to the space glider and to get under way. The ship, in which my father is heading towards Earth, is flying towards the blue planet from the opposite side, so the course that Johar set did not arouse any suspicion initially. The agreement was that our ship would dock with it somewhere in the middle over Earth. As long as we don’t land, my father will not realize that we are going against his exact wishes.
“When will we change course, so we can land? And where, exactly, is our destination?” I want to know.
“We will start our approach in about one hour,” Johar tells me. “With a little luck, they will not realize that something is amiss until we are already on land. I will fly the glider underneath the shields, so we can stay invisible to control.”
“That will never work,” I object. “The defensive net is much too dense for even a small ship like ours to slip through unnoticed. Someone will see us.”
“Normally, yes,” Johar agrees. His eyes are flashing with confidence. He is really enjoying this deception! “But if there is, say, a distraction, at the right time, it could work.”
“The distraction wouldn’t be coming from your old friend Carson O’Hare, by chance, would it?”
“That is a distinct possibility,” Johar admits. This is something I really need to clarify further with him, but we just don’t have the time right now. We will be starting our illegal approach in just under twenty minutes, and will land somewhere outside of New York. I weigh which questions are more important – those about Johar’s connection with my father, or why we are still on the hunt for Cassie Burnett.
By now, Johar is lying next to me on the small cot, and one of his long legs is dangling off of the edge. He isn’t letting this uncomfortable position bother him, and I enjoy every second of feeling his body against mine. Everything that has happened over the last few days and weeks seems crazy – but the fact that I trust Johar is probably the craziest thing of them all. I am sure that I will find the reason for my trust and also for my love for him in my memories, but I still don’t want a logical reason for it. For now, it is enough that it just is this way.
Johar is the one who makes the decision about which question is important for me, while I am still searching for an answer. “We have to find Cassie before your father can get his hands on her,” he begins.
“Cassie, or her children?” I ask, so he will keep going. Trusting or not, it would still be nice to have a few answers, at least.
“Her children,” Johar answers, keeping his eye on the digital clock while he is talking. “You know that they are from different fathers, but that they are exchanging genetic information, now, even before they are born. We think your father wants them so he can have the basic building blocks for a race of super warriors, and we need to prevent that from happening.”
“Who are we?” I dig deeper. My life seems to consist only of questions, the majority of which is unanswered. I don’t ask why this would be such a bad thing, as I would have just a few weeks ago, when I was still 100% convinced of the superiority of the human race. At first, I think that Johar will refuse to answer, but then he continues on. “O’Hare is one of them. Hazathel, too.”
“I could have figured that much out, myself,” I interrupt impatiently.
“I have been part of a group of people for a long time now, whose members are mostly from your father’s lab,” he explains, after all. “We … will not and cannot pretend to be blind, mute and deaf any longer, while the humans are trying to subjugate the entire universe.”
“Aren’t you exaggerating just a little? I mean, come on: the whole universe?” I laugh incredulously, but my machine-human remains deadly serious. “We are talking about humans who rarely live beyond 120, and only then, when they receive permission to use life-prolonging methods. Those permits are only granted in extreme cases. Most of the crew members, on a manned space ship, can’t even live long as long as a journey to the end of the galaxy would take. To say nothing of the universe.”
“Mara, you know only a fraction of what your father lets you see,” Johar says. He sounds sad and touches the memory stick in his pocket. There is Cryo-technology, where you can freeze humans for as long as you want to and then wake them up again. And as far as life-prolonging measures go – how old do you think Ruthiel really is?” He says the name with hate, and his eyes look as if they have stopped seeing. I have learned the lesson that my father is a monster, but this Johar, who wants to get rid of my father, is close to becoming a monster himself. He still has his humanity, but this mission is dangerous. “He is about 250 years old,” he tells me triumphantly.
“So? Then just let them play around, those humans, with their megalomania,” I try to bring a little reality into our conversation. “You know what has happened, before, to every person who has become more and more powerful. Who was always increasing the area they controlled; their empires went under when their time was up. Think of the Romans, the Egyptians, the Carthaginians …,” I list them, but he interrupts me.
“We cannot let it come to that. You know Ruthiel. You know, personally, how cruel he is. He let you believe that you were not only a human, but also his daughter. He is absolutely ruthless and he walks over dead bodies to make the human race dominant,” Johar is speaking quickly, because we only have a few minutes until we reach the point where we are going to change the glider’s course. “I have seen what he does to humans who, in his opinion, are not fit to live – not just personally. He has no mercy, neither for humans, nor animals. Just think about the fact that he crossed animals with humans. The Betanians we met were the survivors. I have seen enough things to give me a lifetime of nightmares. And that,” he shakes his head emphatically,” I cannot tolerate. I don’t want to, either.”
“Are you sure that you are not just out for personal revenge?”
“No,” he says openly.
I grow cold.
“I am going to kill your father, if it’s the last thing I do.”
Chapter 3
I have to wait for further answers, because our secret landing on Earth demands all of Johar’s concentrat
ion.
We touch down at the spot where a city called Buffalo used to be. Lake Erie is still there, but it is dead. Nothing lives in it, anymore, and drinking water from it is deadly for humans and half-humans, alike. I cannot imagine that Cassie Burnett is anywhere near here. Why would she stay in this wasteland, where nobody can assist her at the birth? This area hasn’t been abandoned by humans only, but also by animals and plants. They would have nothing to eat. Unless … but surely even Cassie and her Qua’Hathri aren’t that crazy.
“Please tell me that it isn’t true,” I groan, as Hazathel, Shazuul and I climb out of the glider and look around. Johar, who is digging through stuff on the ship, sticks his head out. The gleaming sun gives his hair a blue shimmer. This same light that is transforming his hair is making my skin look chalky and ugly. His answer consists of him throwing me a back pack, which I catch by reaching up. The weight of it brings me to my knees. My fears seem to be well-founded. The only reason we would need so much luggage, is if we are planning to cross over the former-border into Canada. Today, it only exists in history books. We have sleeping bags, canned food and water, and those are just the bare necessities.
Shazuul and Hazathel seem to know all of this already, because they buckle themselves into their backpacks without saying anything and wait for Johar to finally be ready to head out. I would have loved to start our lives as lawless citizens with fireworks, for example, by blowing up the space glider (to hide our tracks, of course – not out of pure joy over a huge explosion.) But I know, of course, that a bang like that would mean that we would be advertising our position very clearly to our pursuers. So, we set off on foot.
Johar and Hazathel take the lead. I take the opportunity to examine Shazuul’s sucking snout, quickly. At my request, the Sethari moves it in all directions, and then I examine the scar tissue. It is light pink and seems to be healing very well. “Have you already tried … I mean, does it work?” Anyone who has ever observed a Sethari eating, will understand why it is so unpleasant for me to ask if the food consumption was successful. When they feed, these energy vampires experience feelings that can only be compared with what humans feel when they have really good sex. But Shazuul has no inhibitions. He nods with excitement and, with his thumb and index finger, he indicates a small portion. “Small animals,” he explains. “Rats?” Gross, I think. He fed on rats. Poor guy. He must really be starving. Shazuul’s snout wanders towards the back of my neck, the location where the Sethari prefer to stick their sucking snouts to harvest energy. I give him a strong slap on the end of his snout, and he cries out. With a start, I realize that his snout must still be very sensitive, until I notice the sparkle in his small eyes. “You fooled me,” I say and resist the urge to smack him again. He laughs, or at least I think that this strange cackling sound is laughter. Reluctantly, I join in, until Johar and Hazathel turn to us, to give us stern looks.
“What is so funny?” the cyborg asks, which only serves to make things worse. Shazuul and I are doubled over, laughing so hard we can’t breathe, and tears are running down our faces. Hazathel shrugs, annoyed, and stomps on. The way Johar is strutting speaks louder than words: we are too silly for him.
“Buzzkill,” I mumble, and quick as lightning, he is in front of me, grabbing me tightly and staring at me with an overly strict look.
“Do you think this is funny?” he asks. I realize this is just a rhetorical question, but his secrecy is getting on my nerves.
“Well, since I don’t even know where we are going, why we are going there, and, finally, what our plans are once we get there, I obviously have no choice but to take things lightly,” I retort with a snide voice.
“If you hadn’t been goofing off with Shazuul, but had been listening to me and Hazathel, you would know where we are headed.”
“I wasn’t goofing off,” I respond, coolly, “I was checking on the healing process.” He rolls his eyes, something I would love him for, if I didn’t already. “Now let’s go. I am dying for some answers, and by the looks of things, we have enough time for a conversation.” I take his hand, and pull him after me. “I am fed up with being in the dark. What else do I need to do to get you to trust me?”
Shazuul, who has been following our conversation, jumps in unexpectedly. “Trust Mara,” he says. He looks at Hazathel, the only one who is still looking at me skeptically. I understand what he is trying to say. Johar and Hazathel need to tell me everything and trust me. I wonder if the two of them understand Shazuul, as well.
“Okay, fine,” Hazathel grumbles. “What do we have to lose?” I am wondering where he left his animal, when I see it crawl up his leg to his shoulder and rattle something in his ear. He sees the question on my face, and explains that the scorpion scouted the area for enemies. “He is faster, smaller and less noticeable than we are,” he says, shrugging. “This isn’t the first time he has been sent out as a scout. If Karik says that the coast is clear, then it is.” His animal even has a name!
I bombard the men with questions as we walk, and walk and walk, through the barren countryside. In the end, I know, at least, that Carson O’Hare told us where he dropped off Cassie Burnett. At the time, her pregnancy was clearly noticeable, so they must have set up a safe camp somewhere. If you really think about it, this area isn’t as bad a choice as I first assumed. The flat landscape allows you to see your enemies early on, and if you are prepared to hike a vigorous six or seven hours, then you could hunt in the woods that are that far away. The only problem is water, because the area around the lake is completely dried out. O’Hare thinks that the refugees probably set up camp closer to the woods, somewhere near Point Blank.
“If I were the Qua’Hathri,” Johar speculates, “I would go exactly to that spot, too. And if I were a clever Qua’Hathri, I would not set up camp on the surface, but use the tunnels underneath.”
The tunnels! Of course! They are the perfect choice if you want to hide for a long time. The temperature down there is tolerable; different from up on the surface. The further you go into the bowels of Earth, the cooler it gets. Supposedly there are even some caves there where you can find lakes with drinking water.
“How far are we from Point Blank?” I ask nobody in particular.
“About three hours,” Johar answers. “We should be there by sundown. Although …” He hesitates, and looks around searchingly. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to stumble around there in the dark, looking for an entrance to the tunnels, when we could find one much more easily in the daylight.” Hazathel nods in agreement. I wonder why he is still with us – was the story of the man who is desperately searching for his family a lie, too? “We don’t know what kind of animals will come out at dark, and if we are all in one place, instead of stumbling around all over the place, we will be able to defend ourselves. That way, we wouldn’t be distracted by looking for an entrance.” Johar points to a cliff that towers over the jet-black sea. “We should spend the night here. With the cliff at our backs, we will have enough protection from a surprise attack, and won’t need to keep the whole terrain in sight.”
None of us object, so we make our way, single file, towards the stone formation. It seems more bizarre the closer we get to it. When we finally reach it, the sun is low enough for the cliff to give us some shade. With considerable relief, I drop the backpack and wipe the sweat from my upper lip. If I really am a cyborg, why am I not stronger? Can that be altered, somehow?
I ask Johar about this, but he shakes his head with regret. “Ruthiel wanted to make you as human-like as possible,” he explains. His words make me aware of the extent of the deception that my father, my creator, committed. Johar comes over and takes me in his arms. He holds me tight against his chest for a while, before lifting my chin and looking into my eyes. “You are perfect just the way you are,” he whispers in my ear, at last, so softly that the others can’t hear him. “You should find nothing lacking about yourself. But,” he lowers his voice until I have to strain to understand him, “you should neve
r forget that you, too, are just one of Ruthiel’s experiments. He is as little your father as Shazuul is. You owe him nothing.” It is uncanny how closely he can read my thoughts.
I use this cozy togetherness, while Shazuul and Hazathel are unrolling their sleeping bags and looking for a comfortable spot in the sand, to ask Johar another question. He looks as tired as I feel, but he still owes me an explanation. “How do you know O’Hare?”
“He helped me free a few creatures from Ruthiel’s lab,” he says, confirming what I suspected already. “We deliver them to him, and he smuggles them to a suitable planet.”
“How many of you are there?” I ask, curious. It is doubtful that this mysterious underground organization, on whose behalf Johar works, could have very many members.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “It is a very compartmentalized organization. Usually you only know your contact person, or maybe one or two others. There are plenty of rumors that the head of the whole thing is a human. But I don’t know for sure. I don’t know him, and don’t know anyone who has ever met him in person. They say that he is against human experimentation for religious reasons, but nobody knows for sure.”
“Where do you get your information, then? Who is supposed to be freed, and when, or where, for example, is O’Hare waiting for you?” Everything about this sounds like a bad spy novel, and a feeling of unease starts to take hold.
“My contact person works in the Information Ministry,” Johar clarifies, looking a little uncomfortable. Maybe he doesn’t like the secrecy surrounding the organization and its – what are they? Participants? Employees? – It could be either. He is a man who likes to take things into his own hands, and I have a hard time imagining him accepting orders blindly. “We cannot come anywhere close to freeing as many as we would like,” he says, his voice bitter, “because it would be too obvious. So we limit ourselves to those who need it the most.”
