I’m not scum, I tell myself. Even if I’m going to be treated like scum, I’m not scum. I’m a temporarily embarrassed elite running for her life. It’s going to be okay. I’ve already put in an application for a review of my termination. In thirty days, if I make it that far, I should be restored to full status. I have to believe that’s what’s going to happen. The alternatives are unthinkable, and all end up with me being recycled.
Clunk
What was that?
My apartment building gets noisy sometimes. There are a thousand pods stacked in this unit, so there’s a lot of exterior comings and goings. You’re bound to hear a bit of noise. But there’s something about that clunk that makes me freeze.
I stop breathing so I can hear better.
CRASH!
The door splinters under the might of Rath. The composite material turns to fine flakes of debris, just like I would in the termination vat.
I used to fantasize about him breaking my door down for all kinds of reasons. Sometimes I’d even pretend I was his bounty, but a sexy kind.
The reality of Rath bursting through my door is anything but sexy. He’s absolutely terrifying. When he was around the office, I got a sense of his bulk, but that didn’t prepare me for what it looks like in action. He’s huge. He takes up the whole doorway and more besides. The walls have to get out of his way or be destroyed along with the door.
There’s nowhere to run. This apartment has one entrance, and he is filling it.
I scream, some useless primal response, a call for help from my tribe. But my tribe does not exist. The primates from which we are descended might have families who will rush to their aid, but I do not. I am a lone human in a plastic box, snack-sized and about to be ripped to pieces by Rath K’zar.
My only hope is to faint when it starts. I don’t want to be aware of all he will do to me. Images of the corpse on my desk flash before my eyes as he closes the distance between us. It is only a matter of seconds before he grabs me, but my brain makes the time seem like an eternity. It is either a desperate attempt to extend what is left of my life or my thoughts running faster than ever before in the attempt to find some way out of this situation. There is no way out.
He makes feral, animal sounds as he comes toward me. He is an advanced korabi warrior, but at this moment, he looks and sounds like a beast. I am terrified into immobility. Even if there were somewhere to run, I couldn’t move a muscle. The sight of something this powerful bearing down on me with the intent to claim me leaves me as shut down as a trembling rabbit in a bush.
“ARGHARH!”
He lets out a triumphant, feral cry as he grabs me around the waist, his massive, clawed hands large enough to stretch almost all the way around, not because I am small, but because he is massive.
I’ve fantasized so many times about what it would feel like to have Rath hold me, but never like this. There is nothing more terrifying than finding yourself in the powerful grip of an entity that wishes you nothing but harm. I can feel his intent in the way the tips of his claws press into the flesh of my back. If he so much as flexes, he will rip me apart.
His gold eye and his dark eye are both locked on me with fierce intent. There is triumph, but not much. I was not difficult quarry to find, and I know that Rath enjoys the chase. He doesn’t need the bounties. I have filed millions of bux into his accounts. But he’s a korabi, so the currency is barely useful to him. Korabi don’t use bux. That’s a human thing. He works for the fun of it. For the joy of the hunt and the thrill of the kill.
“Under my nose the entire time,” he growls. “What nerve it must have taken. Did you thrill to the deaths reported to you? Was it ever more exciting each and every time some other human suffered your deserved fate? Did you feel your own end coming for you? Did you know it would come in these hands? With these claws?”
“I…”
I’m shaking all over. I never knew about this part. I didn’t know he spoke to those he caught, listed their crimes, and reveled in the thrill of taking their lives. He hasn’t killed me yet, but I can feel it coming. There are three of us in this room: me, him, and my death.
“Tell me, bounty.”
“I have a name.”
I do not know how my mind manages to find offense at this moment. I can only think it is some reflex I’ve cultivated over the years, so reflexive it activates even in the most inopportune of circumstances.