by Marie Dry
“Yes.”
She moved closer to Balthazar. “Who is it?” she whispered.
“It is Amelagar.”
Aurora swayed and would’ve ended up on the floor if Balthazar hadn’t caught her and set her on a chair. Amelagar, the sweet cyborg who’d talked to her at dinner in the mess hall, who’d been so proud to tell her about his progress tracking the anomaly with the oxygen. Her last memory of him was standing next to Agrippa, guarding her, but he’d also appeared protective of the Tunrian woman. She glanced over at Agrippa who sat hunched on the bed, turned away from them.
“Please tell me you have the technology to save him, Balthazar.”
“We do, but it will take a long time.”
“How long?”
“Decades.”
“Will he be the same as before?” She couldn’t bear the thought of that proud energetic cyborg being anything less than the vibrant curious being he used to be. But decades? How could he endure that without going insane?
“No, his systems were damaged. He will be strong, but he will lose many functions.”
Would that cyborg rise with a hatred of all humans? Aurora stared at him and tears ran down her cheeks. “Will he be aware the whole time? Can you put him to sleep for most of it?”
“No, cyborgs are always aware. Bunrika ensured that there was no way to disable our pain receptors. The moment we came online, we were aware and stayed that way. Even in stasis, we knew pain.”
She’d love to have Bunrika at her mercy. She teach him a thing or two about pain. “Can you take him off line while he heals?”
“No.”
“That’s awful. Why did Bunrika do something like that?”
“He wanted to make sure he had some hold over us and pain was his preferred method. By the push of a button, he could have us in agony for hours, and we couldn’t shut down to avoid it.”
There was a distance from him she’d never felt, even in the very beginning.--or when he’d found the explosives.
“Did he ever do that to you?” She asked questions, but all she could think of was that tragic eye staring at her, of Amelagar lying there for years, regenerating a body that might never work again.
“Yes.”
“Why? What did you do?”
“I failed in a mission, and he wanted to make sure I never failed again. He also wanted to use me as an example to the other cyborgs,” he said, still, with that distant ice-cold tone.
She’d never realized how much warmth he treated her with until it wasn’t there anymore. Even when he’d been mad about the explosives in her luggage, he’d never been like this.
“You can choose to be different than him.”
“Why don’t you ask me the question you wanted to ask since I executed those humans?”
He cut to the white elephant in the room with ruthless precision. He’d done something she could never accept. The fact that he felt no remorse only made it worse.
“How could you do that?” Aurora wanted to rail at him, to try and make him realize how heinous what he did was. At the same time, when she looked at Amelagar, she could understand his actions. “That was wrong, Balthazar. What you did was wrong on every level.”
“I will continue to punish any human who dares to harm a cyborg.”
“I can understand that you were angry because of what they did to him.” She motioned to the tube where that horrific piece of Amelagar lay. “You wanted revenge, but allowing criminals a free trial is very important to humans.”
“Even more important than the victims of their crimes?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I know it feels as if you delivered swift justice, but Balthazar, they were entitled to a trial. Didn’t they have trials on Tunria?”
“According to my database, they had no enemies. Crime levels had been reduced. They only hunted the naturals.”
“If the crime levels were so low, why did they create you the way you were?” There was no mistaking that he’d been built for war.
“To assist with the operation of the spaceships and to crush any resistance when they found a planet to conquer.”
A chill went down her spine. She’d have to tell the president about this conversation. If those Tunrians ever built more spaceships and found Earth, they would not come in peace. “And to kill the naturals?”
“Yes.”
“Please talk to the president, agree to let human law deal with humans.”
“No, if Amelagar expires, there will be much suffering among humans.”
She went to place her hand on his chest, and he stepped back--the first time he’d ever avoided her touch. “Balthazar, no. You can’t make innocent humans suffer. I feel sorry for him as well, and I’m mad that he was injured while he tried to help us. But hurting innocent humans won’t solve anything. We have to work together to solve this--humans and cyborgs.
His sneer was human. “You mean we work together, humans kill us, and we are not to retaliate.”
“You killed ten humans Balthazar. Should we now hold a grudge and execute the cyborgs operating the guns.”
He stepped closer, clasped her against him in a tight hold. “Never forget who the superior race is in this war. You have your peace because of my goodwill. That will change if even one cyborg is harmed.”
Aurora stared up at him. If he said anything else, she couldn’t hear it above the roaring in her ears. “You went through our databases. You know the humans who considered themselves a superior race in our history were monsters.”
“Do you think me a monster?”
He looked fierce and, still, she got the impression of vulnerability, that he wanted her approval. It threatened to soften her.
“If you continue like this, you will become one.” Self-loathing welled up. She was a hypocrite. If she got her hands on the people who had Ter, on the people who bought her like an animal, she’d hurt them viciously and for a very long time. The law wouldn’t get a chance to deal with them.
“I would rather be a monster than end up like Amelagar. I have to go to the bridge. Please return to your cabin, the ship will monitor you and let me know if you deviate. Do not do your secret finger talk when you contact the president. I decoded it.” He turned and left.
Aurora blushed. She’d suspected from the beginning that he’d figured it out. Hating that the ship reported her movements to Balthazar, she walked slowly to their cabin, tempted to try a few detours just to test the consequences. Instead, she hurried to their room. She needed to speak to the president. In her room, she pressed the symbols Balthazar had shown her to dial the president’s number.
“Aurora, good to hear from you. Are you in danger?” He moved his hands.
“Don’t bother with the sign language. He figured it out from the beginning.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t really expect it to work. Did you suffer from the situation?”
“I’m fine. He doesn’t see me as one of the traditionalists. But, Mr. President, he’s furious and killing those people hasn’t done anything to settle him. The traditionalists have no idea what they awakened. Balthazar is seething with hatred and harming his cyborgs could cost us our whole planet.”
“Can you get him to leave human justice to us?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. If anyone kills another cyborg, there will be a massacre. What about my sister?”
“The bombs didn’t affect the area we believe she is held. My people have eyes on the building. If they move her, we will know.”
“Why don’t you rescue her? If you can see her, you can help her.” She wanted to jump at his image and pummel him. Why couldn’t he understand that rescuing Ter was more important than anything else happening? Surely, he had access to the best covert teams in the world. He could send them to rescue Ter.
“Her rescue depends on you.” From that very first meeting, she’d known he’d do anything to save Earth. That even though he didn’t like to do it, he would sacrifice her. The man who stared at her fro
m his eyes was different. Colder and more ruthless.
At first, she thought a missile had hit the ship because the deck tilted beneath her. She staggered back, her ears roaring. She knew what was coming, what he’d say. “What do you mean?” she still had to ask. Maybe she was wrong, and he wouldn’t make her do it.
“It’s time for you to try a new hairstyle, one with less ornaments.”
She knew exactly what he meant and the term “the blood freezing in your veins” suddenly made sense. “It’s just as wrong to use that as it is for Balthazar to execute humans.”
“This is not about morality, Ms. Skuy, this is about the survival of our species.”
“And if I don’t?” Surely, Balthazar monitored their conversations. Maybe he’d confiscate the hair pin before she could use it.
“The team standing by, waiting for orders to rescue your sister, will be sent home.”
“You bastard, if it doesn’t work, he’ll kill me. And if it does, the others will kill me.”
His smile was cold. Those soldiers’ eyes bored into hers. Shouldn’t he look at least a little ashamed of using Ter like this?
“You’ll pay for this. If it’s the last thing I do, you’ll pay.
He ignored her threats. “The picos are programmed to make him compliant. You tell him to deactivate their cloaking system and send a shuttle to allow my soldiers to board them.”
“Do you really think it will work?” If it didn’t, she shuddered to think what Balthazar would do.
“It’s worth a try. Without them shooting down anything we send up, we can salvage most of their weapons and even get our hands on their ship.”
“Why do you want to use it now?”
“You know why.”
Balthazar executing those people--this would become a vicious cycle with her and Ter its first victims.
“I want to save Earth as much as you, but this is wrong. Please don’t make me do this.”
“You have your orders, Ms. Skuy. If you forgot where your loyalties lie, then remember your sister.” He ended the transmission. The first time he disengaged before Balthazar could cut them off.
She sank down onto the floor, didn’t care when it subtly massaged her. It was over. Any vague hope she’d had that they could make peace, and that she could somehow keep him, was dashed. Was it too much to ask? To have Ter back, to help children through the foundation. To be able to keep Balthazar with her as well.
With slow listless movements, she got up, went to the wall, and called her assistant, Samantha. She instructed her to provide anything needed by the families of the traditionalists who were killed. Many of the women and children lived in circumstances worse than those endured in the middle ages. No matter their circumstances, they wouldn’t accept help from the foundation. Aurora had set up underground networks with no visible ties to the foundation to distribute aid. After that, she gave some final instructions on the future of the foundation and her private affairs. She needed to do this, because chances were slim that she’d see another sunrise.
She signed off. She’d half expected Balthazar to cut off her communication with the president and her assistant. This freedom had been a recent development. Before those idiots planted the bombs.
Aurora looked around, at a loss. She’d worked long hours every day ever since she could remember. Now, all she did was check in with Samantha every day and then wait around for Balthazar to notice her, like some kind of harem slave.
Feeling like a condemned prisoner on death row, she took a leisurely bath and then dressed, put on makeup, and combed her hair. She wore it loose. Balthazar loved her hair. When it was braided and arranged in intricate styles, he couldn’t take his eyes off it. When it was loose, he touched her hair. Playing with it, holding it up to the light. In the beginning, she’d worn it lose when they were alone. It had been to subtly manipulate him, but lately, she realized she enjoyed seeing his eyes linger on her hair. The way he touched it. If anyone had told her she’d be able to feel such emotion for an alien cyborg, she would’ve laughed at them. Leaving her hair lose also gave her an excuse not to carry the picos around. She’d have to use them soon enough. She didn’t want to feel the weight of them on her head the whole evening.
He came to eat dinner with her.
“You look tired,” she said.
He sat down on the bed. His face was drawn, and she could see the muscles in his shoulders bunch. His tattoo moved around erratically, as if it tried to soothe him and didn’t know where to focus.
“Did anything else happen?” she asked, praying no one else had tried to harm one of the cyborgs.
“Thank you for your concern. Nothing happened.” He got up and led her to the table that had been laid with food for them.
She frowned up at him. “Just because I’m concerned about you, doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you for killing those people.”
He needed to learn consequences, but she couldn’t think of a way to teach it to him. If she injected him with the picos, he’d never learn anything again.
“Why do you care about people who consider your foundation evil? They refuse your assistance.”
She wanted to scream at him. Ask him how he could kill ten people without a trial. “I love this planet, and I care about all its people. I didn’t realize how much until you came, bombed us, and threatened it.”
“I taught you to love your traditionalists when I executed the people responsible for k--wounding my cyborg?”
She planted her forehead into her palm. “That is not what I meant. Don’t you love something or somebody?”
Had he been about to say kill? She pressed her hand deeper into her palm. Had the traditionalists killed cyborgs Balthazar hadn’t told her about?
He put down his fork. “I do not know what love is, I do not feel it.”
“You feel something for your cyborgs. You killed those people to avenge the injury done to Amelagar.” She wanted to ask if he felt anything for her, but she was afraid of the answer.
“The cyborgs are my responsibility. I convinced them to come to Earth.”
“Is that what I am to you, a responsibility?” She’d always thought they’d unanimously decided to come to Earth. That they had a hive mentality because of the way they communicated.
“No.”
“What about Tunria? Don’t you feel anything for your home planet?”
He picked up his fork again and took a leisurely bite of food before he responded. “If I could I would wipe out Tunria. I would not hesitate.”
Such hatred. It scared her. She’d had to learn to leave her own anger and hatred behind her--mostly behind her, she corrected. It was impossible to forget everything, especially when Ter was still in the monsters’ hands.
“Why didn’t you, when you took over the ships, why didn’t you bomb your home planet?”
“We were focused on killing the Tunrians on the ships and getting away. Their planet has effective defenses against attacks from space.”
Earth did not have such a defense system. Yet.
“Using the weapon that destroys planets take three hours to activate. We did not have the time.” He sounded matter of fact, as if destroying a planet of people he hated would’ve been easy.
She put down her fork, Marysol’s cooking turning to ashes on her tongue. With such a weapon, it didn’t matter that their numbers were small. Something else she had to tell the president. With that weapon orbiting Earth, they couldn’t alienate Balthazar. How many probes did humans send out through the ages, with messages that detailed their existence for prospective conquerors? If Tunrian legends were to be believed, there were other planets out there inhabited by intelligent beings.
She reached out and held his hand. “You feel more than you realize, Balthazar. When we talk, your concern for Amelagar comes through. Those are the actions of a person, a person capable of feeling.”
“Your words are not accurate.”
He retreated into that cold clinical manner when he felt
threatened or didn’t know what to do with his emotions.
“I believe they are. We have to learn to accept each other. If cyborgs and humans can’t exist peacefully, none of us will survive.” She thought of the picos hidden under her cushion. Self-loathing choked her.”
He stared at her without speaking for a long time. Then he said, “You are trying to change my mind about finding the rest of the guilty traditionalists and killing them?”
“Balthazar, of course, I’m trying to change your mind. There will always be times when we don’t agree on certain issues, when I’m mad at you, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring for you.” She reached out again and tangled her fingers with his.
His rough, three-fingered hand felt familiar and comfortable in hers. How could she do this terrible thing? Turn him into his biggest fear, a mindless machine?
“I do not believe you care for me.”
“Balthazar? How can you say that?”
After they made love, after the tender way he treated her, the way he tried to give her everything she wanted, she refused to believe that Bunrika created him to be incapable of emotions. Balthazar was so much more than his creator could ever imagine.
“You slept with me to find a weakness, to make me stop wanting to conquer Earth.”
She stared at him and then laughed, and her laughter was slightly hysterical. This whole situation was crazy. “When you asked for me to come here, the president did ask me to find out what I could about you. It started out that way, but when I made love with you, all my reactions were honest.”
“I knew he was not to be trusted.”
“Admit it. You would’ve done the same.”
He and the president might be different species, but in all the ways that counted, they were the same.
“I would not make sex with you for such a reason.”
Aurora perched on his lap and cupped his cheek. His ryhov moved to cover the side of his face and neck, pulsing under her hand. “No, I don’t believe you would, and you have no idea how much I admire that.” There was no subterfuge. No lies.
