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THE TRACKER KEPT A careful vigil, hidden in the shadows. The three bio-forms exited their vehicle, just as the Givers anticipated, to inspect the lifeless body of its recent victim.
Exactly as predicted. The Givers were as wise as they were generous.
The Tracker lowered its gaze, contemplating with reverence the glistening Implant in its hand. Tiny lights played across its surface, visible through the crude blood of the deceased bio-form. It had extracted the Implant in one precise, efficient motion. The Harvest was complete.
No. Inaccurate. The Tracker’s internal processors clicked. The Givers did not consider its Quest complete. The Harvest was but one facet required by the Givers.
The Tracker did not question the unusual additions to Quest protocol. The Givers were wise. Their commands were not to be questioned, merely obeyed.
It assimilated the new data into its internal protocols. Analyze. Adapt. Enact.
The Tracker crept forward, monitoring the three bio-forms with meticulous attention. They had not moved, speaking among themselves over the lifeless body of its victim. They were distracted. The Givers had foreseen this as well.
The Tracker slipped out of the alley, its auditory sensors on their most sensitive setting. It must betray neither its presence nor its purpose to the unsuspecting bio-forms.
The Givers’ instructions were clear. The Givers were generous but they were not to be denied.
It crouched by the rear wheel of the truck, reaching beneath the chassis to affix the Implant, still dripping red, to the underside of the vehicle. Not a motion was wasted—the efficient completion of its clandestine task was crucial.
The Tracker crept away from the truck, cloaked once again in the shadows of an alley. It scanned the area—left and right, back and forth, up and down. The Givers’ next instruction was equally clear.
It snuck down the alley, seeking the most efficient route to circle around the distracted bio-forms.
Fear bubbled up. It had completed the Quest, achieved the Harvest, thereby demonstrating its undying loyalty to the Givers. Why the change in Quest protocol?
It terminated the line of questioning at once. The Givers were generous but they were not to be denied. Their instructions were as clear as they were non-negotiable.
It must circle around the bio-forms, cutting off their escape. They would be unable to avoid the confrontation. The Givers demanded one final task.
One last sacrifice to satisfy the appetite of its gods.
The Tracker circled the block, emerging at the appointed place. It watched the bio-forms return to their vehicle, preparing to leave. Interior lights flashed, doors closed, and the vehicle was plunged into darkness again.
Everything was proceeding just as the Givers predicted. The vehicle’s engine roared into life, its headlamps casting a blinding swath.
The Tracker held its breath as it calculated the precise moment when the headlamps would betray its position to the bio-forms. Fear blossomed anew, gnawing and acidic.
Fear was all it had left.
The Tracker stepped out of the shadows, intent on its final assignment. Its scanning eye flared into red-hot life, and it slowed to a halt in the middle of the deserted street.
And waited for the inevitable.
It hoped the Givers would be pleased.