Chapter 6
Pretty soon we are sitting in the waiting hall, drinking tea in a secluded alcove.
I am sure that Carson O’Hare would prefer something stronger, but they only serve non-alcoholic drinks here. That’s probably why the hall is so empty. Johar introduced us quickly, and left my last name out of it, of course. Hazathel, Shazuul and I are quiet most of the time, while Johar starts the questioning. At first, O’Hare refuses to reveal anything about where Cassie is hiding. “I can’t tell you anything,” his bass drones in my ear, “my reputation is on the line.”
I raise my eyebrows in question, but he does not do me the favor of elaborating further. “Can we do anything to lessen the damage to your reputation?” my cyborg wants to know and puts a bag bursting with money on the table in front of him. The captain’s eyes light up for a second (even the swollen one, it seems), but then he turns his head from it. He leans back in his chair, crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, silent. Impatient, I want to reach for my own bag of money, to add what I have to the already hefty sum in front of us, but Johar shakes his head inconspicuously.
“I can imagine,” he begins slowly, “that we could add some information to the money that might be useful to you and your next transactions.” What is he talking about? I frown. Hazathel is looking at everything around us, just not me, and then I know that something isn’t right here. Even the scorpion man knows more than I do!
O’Hare tries to keep his expression neutral, but I can tell that he likes this proposition. Johar empties his cup and asks me to get another round of this delicious beverage from the counter. Now I really want to know what is going on. Our eyes meet over the table, and I have to make a decision. Do I trust him, or do I insist on controlling him? Curiosity and my bad conscience are fighting with each other inside me.
I go get more tea and take my sweet time. When I return, the captain has disappeared.
We leave the tea - actually, the dish water that they sell as tea - here. I pay, since I am the only one who still has any money in her pocket. We check in and take off, less than two hours after our arrival on Prodor 5. “That didn’t take long,” I say, as Johar is starting the space glider. Hazathel looks almost disappointed because we didn’t encounter any trouble, and even Shazuul is playing with his pistol longingly. Johar is the only one who shows any relief.
“We were lucky,” he says and glances at me.
“What did you offer him in exchange for information about Cassie?” I ask him.
“You don’t want to know,” he responds.
“Yes, I do want to know,” I insist.
“No.”
“Yes.” This is becoming too childish for me. “Have you forgotten that we are a team?” I remind him.
“How could I,” he mumbles in an acid tone.
“Enough,” I say softly, but firmly, “You are acting like a moody diva. I am going to say it again, for the very last time: I am sorry.” I take a deep breath. “Now, tell me about the arrangements you made with O’Hare. I will not allow you to endanger the mission by going it alone.” His silence speaks volumes, something he is really good at. I try again: “Come on. If you didn’t want me to find out about the special agreement you made with the pirate captain, then you would have sent me to fetch tea a lot sooner.”
His mouth twitches. “Fine.” I wait, drumming my fingers impatiently on the instrument panel. “As you might imagine, O’Hare likes to smuggle things that earn him fast money. I agreed to give him the times of the next radar checks, as soon as we receive them.”
My eyes practically bulge out of my head. “Are you out of your mind?” What he is suggesting constitutes high treason. The human patrol space ships are always on the lookout for pirates who are smuggling valuable wares. Their coordinates and times are only shared with other ships that belong to humans, so there are no misunderstandings. Some ships succumbed to friendly fire in the past, after not being recognized as allies quickly enough. He reacts to my rhetorical question by shrugging. The way he does this is so familiar to me, that it cuts straight to the heart, but I suppress my soft feelings. “You are putting yourself in hot water, and taking the rest of us with you,” I accuse him.
“Nobody but the four of us will ever know about it.” He steers the glider in an elegant arc, as if nothing was going on, right towards the port on the mother ship.
“How can you be so sure? O’Hare might sell that information to someone else,” I object with a weak voice.
“He would never do that,” Johar assures me. “Within his own boundaries, he is an honorable man and will not tell on me. In addition,” he makes a complicated and completely unnecessary maneuver with the glider, “the information gives him the chance to make a lot of money.”
I close my eyes, because the way he is ridiculously maneuvering the glider back and forth is making me dizzy. “Then he must deal in more than luxury items.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Johar nod reluctantly. There aren’t many things on which a pirate captain and smuggler can make more money than forbidden alcohol and designer shoes. Both are in high demand all over the universe. Drugs are out of the question, as my cyborg has assured me. I get even more nauseous when I reach the only conclusion that remains. I should have figured it out sooner, I accuse myself in my thoughts. At the very latest, when I found out that Cassie and her troops fled Betania instead of leaving it openly. Damn it. This is about human trafficking, and Johar is probably involved in it, knee-deep. The question is, did he meet O’Hare in his capacity as a bounty hunter, meaning undercover, or, is he earning money on the side dealing in humans? Does he have a nice nest egg in an off-shore account? Anything is possible, at least with this cyborg. The thought of a cyborg planning for retirement is unnerving, because it means that he is planning for a future in which humans play no role, whatsoever.
When we finally dock and go through the lock, I am completely befuddled. I really should report Johar’s unauthorized, and particularly illegal, trade immediately. But since my father is ignoring all of my attempts to make contact, I will keep this to myself for now. This lazy excuse I just made to myself makes me blush. On our way to our quarters – Shazuul and Hazathel went a different way a few minutes ago, probably to empty some poor devil’s pockets in a game of poker – I demand to know what the captain told him about Cassie’s whereabouts. “They are, in fact, on their way back to Earth,” he says. An expression that I cannot interpret flies over his face. “She has five Qua’Hathri with her, one of whom is her companion. There are also three women from Earth.” We go left into the hallway that leads to our quarters. The light is dim, and suddenly everything seems surreal. The hallway appears to be getting longer and longer. At the same time, the walls seem to be closing in around me, as if they wanted to close me in. I gasp for air and reach for Johar’s hand without thinking. He is still walking next to me. The world stabilizes, at least for a few seconds, before everything gets much worse. Because suddenly, I am no longer myself, but am looking at myself through his eyes. I can see myself staring up at him with huge eyes. My mouth is half-open, and if I weren’t panicking, I would laugh at myself. A wave of strange feelings washes over me, and I just want to be engulfed in an abyss. Then, after a painful breath, everything is normal again. I am standing frozen next to Johar, who looks just as startled as I feel. He has pulled his hand away from mine and takes a step back.
“What did you do?” His voice is nothing more than a whisper. While I try to separate the strange feelings from mine, his eyes darken, and he steps back from me even further. Without realizing it, I reach my hand out to him, pleading. “Help me,” I whisper. I notice that I have tears in my eyes, and blink them away. There has to be an explanation for whatever just happened. And then, as if all of that weren’t enough for one day, I see Johar staring at my hand.
Blue lines are forming on the back of it. The virus is spreading.