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CONFIRMATION OF DATA acquired. Implant scanned. Logic restored. The Tracker slowed to a virtual standstill at the unexpected arrival of two additional bio-forms.
Any prior confusion in reconciling the Givers’ data with its own inability to scan an Implant was a thing of the past.
Data sent by the Givers could be trusted. Unquestioning loyalty was the appropriate response. The Givers were as wise as they were generous. The Harvest was at hand. Its Quest was almost over.
An emotional response it might have labeled anticipation coursed through its body, but its logical, disciplined, and dispassionate mental processors held it in check.
The bio-forms were clustered together at the rear of the building. Some appeared to be inside, and the others were nearby, perhaps in the back alley. They were tightly packed together, rendering it difficult to assess their exact number.
The Tracker stood motionless in the pale moonlight, scanning back and forth. Assess. Recalculate. Enact.
No matter. The bio-forms were no more than temporary impediments to acquiring its goal. Their number was irrelevant, a superfluous calculation. They would all be neutralized if necessary.
Nothing could interfere with the Quest. Nothing could be permitted to interfere. The Givers would not be denied. This unit would succeed.
The Tracker stepped off the street, shifting into silent motion, intent on reaching the café’s front entrance. It never stopped to consider whether the door was locked or barred. Irrelevant. A temporary obstacle at best, hardly worth its notice.
All that mattered was the Quest.