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THE DARKNESS WAS NO deterrent to the Tracker. Among its many physical enhancements was adaptive vision, rendering little distinction between night and day.
There was no discernible difference in its ability to move through any terrain—city or wilderness. The Givers had been generous with their gifts before sending it out on the Quest.
Nothing would interfere with its single-minded devotion to its mission.
The evergreen branches slid away from its body as it pushed deeper into the forest. It moved in perfect silence. Only the whispery sound of the needle-laden branches betrayed its passage, as they bent away and swung back to their original positions.
All of its sensory receptors were set to maximum. There was much to be lost if the Quest failed. The Givers were generous, but they were not to be denied.
It possessed no memory of its existence before awakening as a Tracker, although it understood much had been sacrificed in the transformation. Many antiquated notions had been eradicated out of necessity, including its right to autonomy or the illusion of self-determination.
The Tracker accepted these sacrifices without regret, in exchange for the incredible privilege of serving the Givers. To function as a bodyguard was one thing. To be entrusted with a Quest was the highest honor the Givers could bestow.
The physical enhancements, granted to enable it to carry out their commands, were precious and must not be squandered. Failure wasn’t an option. The Givers had seen to that.
There was only the Quest. Nothing else mattered. Nothing could interfere. Nothing could be permitted to interfere. Fear, hunger, doubt, thirst, regret, compassion—all had been purged or repressed.
Any weakness of body and mind could be overcome. Must be overcome. There was only the Quest. There was no fear, no doubt, no regret.
No. Inaccurate. There was fear. Fear was all it had left. That, and the Quest.
The Tracker continued its silent pursuit, intent on intercepting the fugitives. The Givers’ orders were quite specific. Complete the Quest, and kill any bio-forms interfering with the execution of the Harvest.
Adrenaline mingled with the chemical enhancements, the heady admixture propelling it forward. The Tracker moved with greater haste, meticulously scanning everything in its path.