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THE FRONT DOOR WAS locked. This presented no obstacle for the Tracker. The darkened room beyond the door appeared empty, but it detected a slight movement in the back corner, behind the serving counter.
There was a bio-form present, although it did not appear to be its target. It didn’t matter whether the bio-form was the carrier of the Implant, or an obstacle in its path. Nothing could be permitted to interfere.
It crushed and twisted the locked doorknob, breaking the metal deadbolt with little effort. The surrounding wood snapped like a dried twig.
The Tracker caught a brief reflection of its scanning eye in the glass pane as the door swung open. The bio-form—contrary to the Tracker’s expectations—lunged toward it.
Analyze. Strategize. Enact.
It was over in a matter of seconds—three to be exact, according to its internal chronometer.
The bio-form impaled it in the upper body with a sharp instrument, but the damage was not serious. It had, in turn, broken the body of its assailant with a decisive snap, dropping the limp remains in an awkward heap by the open door.
Bio-form: female, young. No Implant. Irrelevant.
Undeterred, it made for the rear of the building, its speed increasing as it sensed the imminence of the Harvest.