The Renegades (The Superiors)

by Lena Hillbrand

  He ducked behind a large trash bin and waited for a car to pass. Most Superiors spent their nights working, not driving about. But some had to travel in the course of their work. Catchers and trackers moved all night. Others, like Enforcers and inspectors, would be on the move at times but not all night. He’d held some of these positions when he’d been an obedient member of society, had papers and a pod, registered his location, and obeyed property laws.

  He’d always obeyed the Law without question, like most Thirds. He had taken on the responsibility of being a Superior, dutifully remaining employed at all times, though his jobs barely kept him fed and clothed and his rent paid. He was no extraordinary man. He did not belong in alleyways in the seedy parts of town, nor did he belong on important missions with Enforcers. He belonged in a comfortable, slightly frustrating life where he never quite pulled ahead but never fell so far behind that he dropped from the bottom rung of society’s ladder. That had always been his life. His Superior life, anyhow.

  Now he avoided the Law. It had failed him, and he had failed it. Like all Superiors, Draven knew that disregarding the Law made him a traitor, a criminal by intent if not by deed. Superior society centered on the Law and its enforcement, on obeying implicitly. Breaking the Law was betrayal of not only that law but of society in general, of his people.

  Many times Draven had considered the risk of returning to society. If Byron had not laid charges against him, he could have been scanned into the system once more. But he hadn’t money for new papers. Society had betrayed him in return for his betrayal—the cycle of having no money and therefore no means to get the papers needed to get a job to get money, continued endlessly. So he’d given up on the whole meticulously organized life he’d always led. He’d never been good at it. All his life, he’d felt vaguely unsettled, had changed jobs often, been restless in relationships. Now, he had lost that sense of discontent. Now that he was an outsider, for the first time, he’d found his place.

  Chapter 5

  The night had grown chilly while Byron worked at the Enforcement office. He contemplated calling Meyer, and realized with a mixture of dread and gleeful anticipation that soon the kid would be back in town for winter. Half of Byron shuddered at the thought, but some sick part of him enjoyed the torture Meyer put him through. He couldn’t wait to see Meyer again.

  He let himself fantasize about splitting the boy’s head right down the middle the moment Meyer opened the door for him. He didn’t consider himself a violent man, but something in him turned vicious when he thought about that arrogant little brat outsmarting him. Arrogance would be Meyer’s ruin. Byron just knew it, the same way he knew Meyer was involved in the case he had to solve.

  Byron let himself into his apartment and took off his belt and weapon. He put his wallet on his desk with these items, removed his work coat and went into his sapien quarters to eat. The three saps slept huddled in the bedroll together. The two grown saps had adjusted well to the addition of the baby. Byron still held out hope that they would create their own offspring, though he had reason to believe the female defective.

  He didn’t care for baby sap, so he shook the adults awake and handed each a cup. He bit the male’s arms and then the female’s, and waited for the two saps to squeeze out a good night’s ration. The sapling let out a squall but soon stilled again.

  “Master, sir, may I request a longer chain?” the female asked.

  “What for?” He wasn’t in the mood to deal with sapien whims. He never liked to spoil his saps, especially not this ungrateful bitch. If she hadn’t had the best sap, he wouldn’t have bothered with her at all.

  “I just want to be able to use the bathroom on my own,” she said, her head respectfully lowered.

  “You haven’t earned that right,” he said, taking the cup from her. She always drained out better than the male. “You’re lucky I don’t hobble you after your little escape attempt. If I didn’t know how brainless you were, I’d have done it already.”

  “But Master—,” she started, but he cut her off with a slap. She rocked back on the bed before turning away and curling up on the mattress with her hand to her face.

  Byron took the cup from the male and drank. On his way out of the sapien apartment, he closed the door tightly, as he had every night since he’d supposedly left it ajar and allowed his sapien an escape route. He heard the female sap crying as he retreated down the hallway. Though he’d always felt a certain disgust for their kind, he usually treated his saps with detached kindness. But lately, that damn Meyer Kidd had put him on edge, and he’d taken it out on the female sap more than he ought. Still, she had chosen to run away, so she had to learn her lesson. Lots of Superiors would have done worse than slap her around a little. By now, she should have learned to deal with it.

  Byron sat before his desk screen and tapped it on. He sighed, watching the ad for Furr-Bines flash across the screen as it warmed up. When the system had loaded, he requested contact with his home and waited while the connection went through. Talking to his wife and kids always made him feel better. If only he could go home and forget he’d ever heard the name Meyer Kidd. But he knew if he requested off the assignment, it would tarnish his reputation. Plus, he’d never stop thinking about it, about what he knew and no one else believed. He’d go home and go crazy obsessing about Meyer. It was better to stay here, in the cold that he hated, and wait for Meyer to come back.

  After he spoke with his family, he considered, then searched for a length of iron chain to add to the one his female sapien wore. The thought of his own children and their love for their pet sapiens still lingered in his mind after conversing with them. Giving in to sentimentality, and knowing as he did so that he was kinder to his saps than he should be, he ordered a two meter extension. More the bitch would have to drag around, but after fulfilling such an undeserving sapien’s request, no one could accuse him of animal cruelty.

  Chapter 6

  Meyer Kidd let himself into his house—make that Texas mansion—and picked up one of the little saplings that came to greet him. They behaved just like dogs. So adorable and eager. He gave the little one a kiss and set it down, patted another one on the head, bent to kiss another on its round cherub-like cheek. If that wasn’t the way to come home after a long night of work, he just didn’t know what was.

  “Pop into the kitchen if you would,” he told the scampering herd. “I need a bite to eat before bed.”

  A few of them held back, but he didn’t let it bother him. Only natural. They’d get over their shyness as they grew. A few of the little ones followed him, and he sat down at the table and took up a toddling sapling. He tickled the boy until it giggled before he latched on and took a good draw on the chubby little arm. The boy started crying, but Meyer held it still and tickled it a bit until it stopped. One of the little girls—where was she?—always giggled the whole time he drew from her. That made the whole business right pleasant.

  He closed the bite marks and gave the sapling a squeeze. After all this time, he still sometimes had to remind himself how fragile they were, especially the little ones. He kissed and petted the baby and tickled its fat little chin until it stopped looking hurt by his offense. When he set the boy down, it clung to his leg and looked up at him with big eyes.

  “Up, up,” the little one said.

  Meyer laughed. “You had your turn, now run along, or I’ll bite you again.” He made his hands into claws and showed his teeth, and the baby fell down on its big bottom. “Go on now, I’ve got to eat.”

  The baby started crying again, and Meyer turned and yelled, “Somebody come get this blasted baby out of here. You know I can’t stand to hear them cry.”

  One of his girls hurried in to take the baby away, apologizing as she went. His little giggler padded into the room, and he patted his leg so she’d climb up. She immediately did as expected and bared her neck.

  “Now that’s a good girl,” he said. He drew from her and three more of his saplings before he felt sated. He
never took much from the little things—he knew the exact measure of an adult sapien, but with saplings it was a bit more tricky knowing exactly how much to take.

  After eating, he went to his bedroom, trailed by a few of the more eager saplings. Meyer found his favorite pajamas—fuzzy ones with windmills on them and buttons up the front, a remnant of Furr-Bines ill-fated foray into clothing design. But he liked them, and they made him proud of his very successful empire, so he kept them. He climbed into the giant bed and turned on the wall. The screen lit up, and he lay back on his pillows and smiled at the giant image filling the screen, one of the Furr-Bines he had come up with himself. He thought it was especially delightful, and apparently so did the customers. It was currently Furr-Bines Industries’ top seller.

  “A vid, don’t you think?” he asked. The screen went to the list of vids he’d shown interest in, as well as a few helpful suggestions based on his past preferences. “Come up here on the bed already,” he said. “What are you waiting for?” A crowd of fat little hands appeared on the blanket, struggling to pull the fat little sapling bodies up after them.

  The screen in front of him offered a few suggestions. Meyer sighed. That was the trouble with these voice-response screens. Any little comment and they started telling him that the title “Come On In” mostly closely matched his request. He told the screen to pause and helped one of the fatter saplings onto the bed. Two of his girls peeked in the door, and he invited them to join. The bed stretched the length of one wall of the room. It must have been nearly six meters wide. Meyer loved the giant bed like he loved everything in his house—mansion, that was.

  He snuggled down under the blankets and looked from one side of the bed to the other, making sure all his guests had settled in. Five sapiens and three Superiors, himself included, fit quite comfortably in the bed. Tonight their bodies didn’t even fill it to capacity. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to the screen and chose a 4D feature about action heroes defeating a new breed of steel machines that threatened to take over the earth. Sometimes his vid choices scared the little ones, but he had his girls around to deal with the crying and diaper changes.

  The vid began and his saps snuggled close to him. Meyer smiled and heaved a great sigh. This was the life. As his mum would have said, the American—now North American, he amended to himself—dream. Making a fortune and spending it on whatever he chose. He was smart enough to enjoy every minute of it.

  Chapter 7

  Draven skirted the busier sectors of Princeton and found himself in a less reputable area at the border of the service sector. A lurid pink sign flashed at him as he passed a doorway, inviting him to enjoy the women and men inside. He glanced about, skittish even in this part of town. Enforcers could be anywhere. Byron could be anywhere. Though Draven avoided being seen when at all possible, tonight his hunger had driven him into the open, reminding him incessantly of his need to find Cali.

  He spotted a sap walking alone, head bent, and thought of accosting him. But an unattended sap indicated a master who trusted him to run errands or obtain his own food. Draven could draw from him easily enough, but a sap who had earned such trust was likely to report if anyone bothered him. A runaway sap, even one brainless enough to run at night, would never walk down the street in view of so many Superiors.

  The sap went into the place with the flashing pink sign. Draven turned and moved away, into the thick of the disreputable area. He passed seedy restaurants like the one from which he’d once rescued Cali, the scent of diseased sap wafting from inside, at once enticing and repulsive. He turned down an alley, saw a group of shiftless Superiors like himself, and turned back into the street. He had no wish to belong to a gang of daycrawlers who ran from the Law or flouted it.

  Still, he took a bit of pleasure in knowing the system had failed others like him. Back home, he’d seen this type of group lurking about and been afraid to take Cali from her restaurant to his car. Now he found it difficult to imagine himself as one of these drifters, although he belonged with them more than anyone else. The people who frequented cheap restaurants were paperless men like him, some Illegals, the name given to drifters who sold their papers and oftentimes their identities as well. Once a man had shed his identity, either allowing someone else to assume it or discarding it altogether, he no longer existed in the database. He was no longer tethered to the Law—or protected by it.

  Most Illegals sought only a few anyas, perhaps from a Superior guilty of his vices who might buy a drink in return for silence or pay a paperless Third to do something illegal. Other Illegals loitered, waiting for a chance to ambush an unsuspecting Superior and rob the few loose anyas most carried or snatch an unattended sap. Illegals would not spare a sap’s life. Only on rare occasions would they capture a sap, and they would take full advantage. After all, if an Enforcer caught them, they would lose all the sap they had attempted to hoard. So they took it all, as fast as they could manage, and left the drained corpse for a Catcher or Enforcer to find.

  Only a few years ago, Draven had looked down upon these gangs. Thirds like himself made up the gangs, and if he could hold down a job—switching frequently, but always employed—so could they. If he could pay rent, maintain a tiny apartment of his own, any Third could do the same. He had no particular skill or talent that everyone else didn’t also possess. Now he understood how it happened, how running out of money and losing his papers could start anyone down the same road.

  A woman in the street looked at him suspiciously and touched her middle, where he knew she had tucked away her papers. After passing her without making eye contact, he came upon an empty alleyway and ducked into it. He stood a moment, relieved for the separation. He checked both ends of the alleyway before getting a running start and leaping onto a small ledge that began his ascent of the building. These apartments, like his own back home, did not have balconies for gardening. No one on this side of town owned livestock.

  Draven tucked his legs under himself and rolled onto the roof and up into a standing position in one movement. He began his rooftop exploration for the night under a sky that hung low with clouds, trapping a sickly glow over the city. Ignoring the pulsing of hunger in his drawing teeth, the slight pounding in his temples, the slowness of his limbs to loosen to their usual agility, he leapt to the next building. He moved across the roofs, avoiding solar panels, rooftop greenery, loose bits of roofing and the compartments that contained batteries, wiring and tubing.

  Upon reaching an affluent residential sector, he paused. A scent rose to greet him like steam rising through the night. He peered over the edge of the apartment building’s roof. A male sapien stood in his garden relieving himself. Draven dropped to the bars of the garden and quickly scaled the enclosure to reach the man just as he finished his business. Draven reached through the bars with both arms and wound them around the man. He covered the sapien’s mouth with one hand, imprisoning the body and arms with his other.

  “Is your master nearby?” he asked.

  The sapien nodded his head, and Draven squeezed him slightly. “I’ll not kill you if you do as I ask. I’m only hungry, and I’ll not take too much. If you tell your master, I will return for your life. Do you understand?”

  The sap indicated that he did, and Draven loosened his grip on the man’s mouth. He did not want to smother him, only force his silence. He pulled the man’s head back, turned him sideways, and fed quickly, his eyes and ears alert for the master’s presence. Although he imagined the sapien had lied, that his master was at work, Draven must stay alert to the possibility of discovery nonetheless. He closed the sap’s skin and readied himself for descent.

  He sprang away, down the side of the building, catching himself on another garden enclosure on his way down. Now that he’d eaten, his senses sharpened, and he ascended another building after crossing a few more streets. When he neared the edge of town, he returned to street-level. He ducked inside a small shop with a door in the side when he saw a car coming.

  A wom
an rose from her stool behind the counter. “Can I help you?” He’d entered a sapien supply store, though he did not look like the sort who could afford a sap. He hadn’t bathed in a week, and he’d worn the same clothing every night. Although he’d never produce the unpleasant odors saps did, the rooftops and streets had dirtied his clothing, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a comb.

  He darted back into the alleyway, sprinted the length of it, turned, and stopped midstride. Lifting his face to the sky, he caught…something. A whisper on the wind, a trace of scent. He followed it around a building, lost it, backtracked, found it again. This time he kept it and followed the pull of her scent. He could not yet be certain—her scent leapt out at him, and even an old one might call irresistibly to his keen senses. When he arrived at her building, however, all doubt vanished. Her scent hung heavy in the air along one wall.

  He leapt onto the first balcony garden before climbing the side of the apartment. When he reached the enclosure that had contained Cali, he halted. It now stood empty, like the others.

  He paused on the edge of the balcony, his feet between the bars, and inhaled her lovely fragrance. Then he pulled himself up to the top of her pen, balanced on the metal bars, and leapt onto the roof of the building. Moving as quietly as he could, he picked his way around the roof’s obstacles. He circled the building and peered down into the parking area until he’d satisfied his curiosity. If Byron lived here still, he was not home now.

  Draven returned to the back of the building where the sapiens lived. They would be sleeping now. At the edge of the roof, he sat and waited, his feet dangling over the top of her cage. It reminded him of the cage he’d spent most of the previous year in. He did not like to think of that time.