Chapter 9
He lets me use the bathroom first, and I don’t even need to resort to violence.
I feel like a human being again as I am drying off and putting on clean panties and a t-shirt. Johar takes his turn in the bathroom, and I decide on the left-hand side of the bed. I am not even conscious of him slipping into bed, that’s how quickly I fall asleep and am in the land of dreams.
And such strange dreams they are! I see all of the strange figures I met today, gathering together and pointing at me. I am lying on a metal table and can’t move. This scares me, even in my dream. I see their mouths moving, but can’t hear them. My eyes focus on Johar, who is standing at the head of the table and talking to me in a calm voice – at least that’s what I think he is doing. Then my father pushes into my line of sight and shoos everyone away with several energetic flicks of the wrist. “No, stay here,” I want to yell at Johar, but I can’t make a sound. He leaves the lab with all of the others, with one last desperate look, and his head down.
I realize that I am in my father’s lab. Machines are whirring, and several hoses, with needle-sharp ends, are hanging from the ceiling. I see my father, who is much younger than he is today. His fingers reach for his surgical instruments.
I scream. Something terrible is going to happen, and I know that there is nothing I can do about it.
“Mara! Wake up!” someone is yelling, over and over, and with great effort, I open my eyes. My cheeks are wet with tears and the fear is still in my bones. I feel someone shaking me gently, and pulling me into a sitting position. Something cold and wet touches my forehead, and slowly my vision starts to clear.
Johar holds me up against his chest. I can hear his mechanical heart beating, slowly and calmly, and I feel the heat emanating from him. “You had a nightmare,” he says. His deep voice sounds distant, but I nod and refuse to let go of him. Here and now, at this moment, he is my anchor, my protection against the panic that is still lurking in my brain. I am practically clinging to him, the only familiar thing in a strange world. He doesn’t let go of me. Slowly, incredibly slowly, he slides back down on the mattress and pulls me with him. He puts my head against his chest and puts his arm around my shoulders. We lie there like this until I finally stop crying.
“Can you tell me what you were dreaming about?”
I tell him about what happened in my dream. Thank God, he doesn’t comment on or interpret any of it. He just listens. He brushes the hair out of my face, and his fingers are so gentle that I can hardly believe that he is half-machine. I push the thought away. It has no place here, not now.
“What are you afraid of, Mara?” he asks me.
I am not afraid, I want to say, but that isn’t true. “Oh, of many things,” I evade the question smoothly. Johar doesn’t say anything, but just accepts that, instead. We lie there quietly for a while, each one of us lost in thought. It is a magical moment, unhinged from reality, and everything seems possible at this moment. I see his face in the half-dark, with its sharp contours and sensual mouth. His eyes are closed and his dark hair is spread over the pillow. I reach into it, enjoying its silky, smooth feel. I run a single strand through my fingers. “No man should be allowed to have hair like this,” I mumble.
His answer consists of him lowering his lips to mine. Instinctively, I put my arms around his neck, and return the kiss. This has nothing to do with what I learned in basic training. This is a real kiss, passionate and demanding. His tongue explores every corner of my mouth, he sucks on my lips and runs his hands up my shirt. His caressing and inviting moves go down further and further, until he reaches my panties and he pulls them down. I help him with an awkward kicking move, because suddenly, I don’t want any clothing against my skin, not anymore. I pull my shirt over my head and my hard nipples are touching his chest. The lessons I received from Sherri come to mind, and disappear again. Now is not the time to turn love into science. I want him inside me, without any elaborate, time-consuming foreplay.
Johar seems to feel this, because he pushes back on the mattress and enters me with one, smooth thrust. His hands close around my wrists. He lets me feel his whole weight, and I know that he could break me if he wanted to. But that is not what he wants. I press my pelvis against him invitingly and urge him deeper into me. His cock is indeed the perfect size. He fills me completely and rubs against my clit with every thrust, until I am close to coming. I know all he needs to do is move one more time to make me scream. I see his mouth pull into a smile, and know that, once again, he knows exactly what is going on inside me. “Say please,” he tells me. I bite down on my lip to stop myself from moaning.
“No games,” I counter, breathing heavily and squeeze my pelvis muscles, as hard as I can, around his manhood. With a surprised expression on his face, he says my name, and I think it is the most beautiful name I have ever heard. He comes inside me, and while he is still pouring his hot semen out into me, he thrusts into me one more time. I have an orgasm that that practically throws me out of my own body, and I am afraid I will lose consciousness. But while my body goes through its last convulsions, I am back in my body, impaled by Johar, who smiles happily.
For a time after, we lie there in bed, holding each other close. It is like it was before the sex, only now it is without sadness or fear. I can feel his sperm running out of me and have to giggle. It tickles, and is almost as intimate as the act from which it came. He holds me even closer without asking the reason for my amusement. Instead, he wants to know what Sherri told me about Cassie. After a short hesitation, I tell him the Betanians hold Cassie responsible for several deaths on their planet.
“I heard that, too,” he mumbles sleepily. “It is a strange story. Did you learn anything about her companion? This man … I don’t know how he fits into the story. It is absolutely not like a Qua’Hathri to share his woman with another man.”
“Maybe he didn’t have a choice,” I object. “We simply know too little about what happened here on this planet.” It won’t help anything to engage in speculation, and I tell him so. He changes the subject, as if Cassie’s experiences on Betania were of no importance to him.
“Do you know, by chance, what your father is planning to do to the children?” His question is out of nowhere and hits me like a punch in the stomach. I wriggle out of his arms and my voice has a hard, cold sound to it.
“That is actually none of your business, but everything my father does, he does for the well-being of humankind.” This sounds a little too vague and much too pompous, so I add: “He won’t hurt them, you know that. After he has studied them, and improved them, they will have a longer life than they would have in their former, simpler condition.”
“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” Johar sounds pitying. He feels sorry for me. I don’t understand why.
“You’re acting like you know more than I do. You are forgetting that I am not only his daughter, but also his assistant. He tells me everything.”
Johar raises his eyebrows. That is enough to make my blood boil, but he isn’t finished. “You are forgetting that I am his creation,” he says so softly that I can barely understand him. He pushes the thin blanket from his legs and shows me the sole of his foot. There, I see the number CB 0003 tattooed to the bottom of his foot, along with my father’s initials.
I am speechless and stunned. I didn’t know that my father signed his creatures, like an artist. I can’t understand why. He never mentioned that in my presence, let alone did it at a time when I could observe it!
“You don’t understand what it means for us,” he says, without any reprimand. “Right?” Who in the hell does he mean with us? Himself and the other cyborgs my father created? “We are nothing more than property, nothing more than objects.”
“But … you have always known that. Why is this so important all of a sudden?” I want to tell him that he has had a long life for a cyborg, and that he is doing well, that he even has a rank similar to that of a human officer. But one look at his face tells me that Johar is aware of all of these things. He is still looking at me, almost lovingly and concerned.
I can’t stand it. I don’t want a machine-human’s pity for something I don’t know or don’t understand. I throw something on, blindly, and want to rush out of our room, but Johar is at the door, fast as lightning, and stops me.
“Don’t go,” he says. It is a combination of an order and a request, and I realize that my resistance is fading. “You are not allowed to let someone you love leave during a fight. Who knows what could happen?”
“Love?” I croak, stunned. “I don’t love you. We hardly know each other, and, in any case …” I bite my tongue at the last second.
“And in any case, you are a human and I am a cyborg,” he finishes. Something I can’t read flies over his face. Sadness? Melancholy? Fury? I can’t put my finger on it. I barely have the strength to stay on my feet. Too much has happened too fast. Johar picks me up. I am lying in his arms, buried in his chest, as he carries me back to the bed as if I were the most precious thing he ever owned.
I have nothing to counter with. I don’t want to. The only things I want are for his arms to hold me, and his mouth to whisper sweet nothings, while he loves me.
And that is exactly what he does.