by Pauline Creeden -
Wind blew wisps of hair into her face as Zana Black set the rifle on the back of her cybernetic hand. She couldn’t cup the barrel like she used to because fine motor control still eluded her. Through the scope her target came into range, but she couldn’t gain a clear shot. The waiting game ensued.
Zana’s breath filtered through her kerchief in visible clouds. Human prey never relied on scent for warning of a predator, so being upwind of the man she hunted made no difference. Zana continued to watch for the right moment.
“Dead or alive,” but preferably dead was how the Circuit Judges wanted the men she hunted. These small time criminals didn’t compare to the one that she had hunted for five Foundings. The man who’d stolen her arm, leg, and soul still roamed free and she’d travel to the depths of Eclectia or the heights of Avenir for him. She snickered at the thought that he’d make it that far.
A warm body came and lay next to hers, trying to conserve his warmth as well as aid in keeping her own. She pulled her face from the scope and looked down at her right hip to find liquid brown eyes staring back at her. The sand and black shepherd laid its ears back in submission when he saw her acknowledge him, and his long tail swept the ash-covered hill.
With a smile she accepted his presence and looked back through the scope. A clear shot presented itself, and she pulled the trigger.
Showing posts with label dog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dog. Show all posts
Monday, January 23, 2012
Friday, June 17, 2011
Pallbearer
by Walt Staples -
The old man shuffled down the corridor, slowed by his burden. His friend had put on weight towards the end. He glanced down at his own paunch and grinned ruefully. His friend wasn’t the only one packing it on of late. He thought about his burden. Friend? No, much, much closer than a mere friend. Almost a lover. What was that ancient word? Bunkie--the one you ate, slept, shared a blanket with, and died with if worst came to worst. Yep, his bunkie.
The disposal tech looked up as the old man entered. “Yes, sir? Can I help you?”
“A disposal.”
The tech looked at the shroud-wrapped burden. “Why didn’t you just put it down a disposal chute? Why lug it here?”
The old man smiled slightly. “Biological.”
The tech raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Okay.” He pulled up a form on his display. “Weight of object to be disposed of?”
“Five kilos.”
“Description?”
“My bunkie.”
The tech looked at his display, then leaned closer to it. “I’m not seeing a listing for that. Could I take a look?”
At the old man’s nod, he unwrapped the shroud on the end nearest to him and stopped. After a moment, he looked back up, his eyes softened. “Yeah, okay. Tell you what, I’ve got a document box that should work. Be right back.” When he returned, the old man placed his burden in the container and the tech sealed it. He then attached a small reaction unit and a guidance pack to the container. He consulted his display and tapped in the coordinates for the guidance pack’s A.I. Then he opened the funerary airlock and placed the container on the track. The container moved in and the inner hatch closed. The tech tapped once and the light above the lock changed from green to yellow to red.
The old man began to ask, “I wonder, when I…”
The tech smiled gently. “I made a note of your I.D. When the time comes, if it’s within the parameters, you’ll be put on the same course.” He looked at his display. “Your...bunkie will reach Tau Ceti in 162 standard days.”
The old man, his eyes wet, sniffed. He wiped a finger beneath his eye. “Thank you, so much.”
The tech nodded. “I had a dog once too.”
The old man shuffled down the corridor, slowed by his burden. His friend had put on weight towards the end. He glanced down at his own paunch and grinned ruefully. His friend wasn’t the only one packing it on of late. He thought about his burden. Friend? No, much, much closer than a mere friend. Almost a lover. What was that ancient word? Bunkie--the one you ate, slept, shared a blanket with, and died with if worst came to worst. Yep, his bunkie.
The disposal tech looked up as the old man entered. “Yes, sir? Can I help you?”
“A disposal.”
The tech looked at the shroud-wrapped burden. “Why didn’t you just put it down a disposal chute? Why lug it here?”
The old man smiled slightly. “Biological.”
The tech raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Okay.” He pulled up a form on his display. “Weight of object to be disposed of?”
“Five kilos.”
“Description?”
“My bunkie.”
The tech looked at his display, then leaned closer to it. “I’m not seeing a listing for that. Could I take a look?”
At the old man’s nod, he unwrapped the shroud on the end nearest to him and stopped. After a moment, he looked back up, his eyes softened. “Yeah, okay. Tell you what, I’ve got a document box that should work. Be right back.” When he returned, the old man placed his burden in the container and the tech sealed it. He then attached a small reaction unit and a guidance pack to the container. He consulted his display and tapped in the coordinates for the guidance pack’s A.I. Then he opened the funerary airlock and placed the container on the track. The container moved in and the inner hatch closed. The tech tapped once and the light above the lock changed from green to yellow to red.
The old man began to ask, “I wonder, when I…”
The tech smiled gently. “I made a note of your I.D. When the time comes, if it’s within the parameters, you’ll be put on the same course.” He looked at his display. “Your...bunkie will reach Tau Ceti in 162 standard days.”
The old man, his eyes wet, sniffed. He wiped a finger beneath his eye. “Thank you, so much.”
The tech nodded. “I had a dog once too.”
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