It turns out that he is in the quarters right next to mine. Our rooms are connected by a door. I tell myself that this is nothing unusual for officers who are leading a mission together, even if my stomach churns in warning. I should be able to hear what he is doing through the thin walls – unpacking, showering – but there is no sound at all. Yes, cyborgs shower, too. Their metal is water resistant and doesn’t rust, and the rest of the human needs to be cleaned and fed like a pure and genuine human being. I distract myself by taking a nice long shower and afterwards, I put on my favorite shirt and old jogging pants. I pull my light-colored hair into a knot at the back of my head; tightly until the skin on my face is taut. The strict hairdo gives me a sense of security, which I think I will need. If all crew members are like the guard – dumb and arrogant at the same time – then this will be a difficult trip. At least we don’t have a human captain on board. Navigation is accomplished through the body computer module, and it takes its orders directly from me and Johar. As long as we don’t tell it any differently, it will keep heading towards our destination at an even, moderate speed.
The cyborg is already waiting for me in the conference room. I sit down and push the file over to him, since I finished reading it after my shower. I wait until he has scanned through all of the pages and has digested the information. If the papers were to disappear for some reason, I would be able to access his storage system. These are the kinds of small differences that separate him from the human community, I think to myself. No human can think and act as factually as a cyborg, and their expanded capabilities exceed what is normal. They are merciless fighters and show no mercy. Somehow, that which once was human in them, disappears when their artificial limbs, expanded memory and optimized muscles are put into action.
He catches me staring at him, lost in thought. His cool look makes me blush, and I fight against it with great difficulty. Why do I feel like he can read my thoughts? He releases me from my embarrassment by snapping his fingers and giving the order to display the map. On it, we can see Earth and, some distance away, our destination. Betania is the name of the planet where the pregnant Cassie and her Qua’Hathri warrior were last seen. “Your father noted, in the file, that the signal that shows the existence of the children went silent about 262 sun miles from Betania.” He stands up and puts his index finger on a spot that is precisely, down to the last millimeter, 262 miles away.
I stand up, too, and go over to him. Not so I can see the projection better, but because I don’t like having to look up at him from a seated position. “That means that they have left Betania and are now on their way to another planet,” I think out loud. He looks at me with a twinkle in his eye that I can only describe as wry. I continue on, slowly, without letting the ridicule in his eyes upset me. “But since my father programmed the ship’s computer to fly to Betania, I assume that we will start our investigation there.
“Your father didn’t program it. I did,” he corrects me. “I am responsible for tracing the prey. You are in charge of the medical part when we have the woman, her children, and perhaps the fathers on board.” A normal person would consider his voice to be expressionless. I hear pride in it. Pride that he can make important decisions, and has a role with so much responsibility.
I will need to keep an eye on him. He is displaying far too many traits of a human for my taste, and that won’t go well if it lasts. If he still thinks that I intervened with the guards out of pure friendliness towards him, then there could be complications. A cyborg, who is too attached to a human is useless. I will certainly not be the kind of human who encourages a Halfling like him in that way. “What are your plans once we land on Betania?”
“I will make inquiries, and take up their trail. Find people who knew them and who know where they are headed.” He shrugs, as if this were all too obvious. It probably is, for him.
“Good,” I say. “I will accompany you.”
He raises his eyebrows. “No. It could be dangerous, and I don’t work as a team.”
“I don’t, either,” I remind him. “But my father gave the order for us to lead the mission together, so that is what we will do.” I try my trick of stepping closer. But either he doesn’t have personal space like humans do, or he doesn’t care. Instead of stepping back, he gets so close to me that our bodies are almost touching. I am proud that I stand my ground, but I am a little uneasy being this close to him. The cyborg is standing so close that I can feel his body heat, which is a little higher than a human’s because of the mechanics that are always working inside him.
For what feels like an eternity, we look in each other’s eyes. I try to figure out what is going on in his head, but am not successful. His expression tells me nothing. I wonder if he only lets me see what he wants me to see. Finally, he gives in, reluctantly. “Fine. But you will follow my instructions to the letter, and not get involved.”
I do not take orders from cyborgs! But he defeats me with my own weapons. “As you just said – your father gave the order, and we are partners on this mission. I won’t do anything that will endanger the success of the hunt, do you understand?”
That is bitter. But looking at it from a purely factual standpoint, he is right. And I definitely want to accompany him. Not just because I want to keep an eye on him, but also because I feel like having a little adventure. Finally, I can turn my game of “what-ifs” into reality.
If the cyborg will let me.