The Superiors

THE SUPERIORS

Lena Hillbrand

Copyright 2011 Lena Hillbrand

Kindle Edition

This book can also be purchased in print Amazon.com.

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Edition, License Notes

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Chapter One

Draven punched out and collected his pay at the sound of the bells signaling the end of working hours. Every morning, the same thing. Although the night marked one hundred years to the night since his evolution, he didn’t think of that. He didn’t know it was an anniversary of sorts for him—like for most of his people, time had ceased to have meaning the way it did for homo-sapiens. Even if he had known of the anniversary, he wouldn’t have thought much about it. His thoughts centered around one thing—eating.

Hunger nibbled continually at the edges of his nerves. Having only eaten one of his five rations that evening and nothing all night, he had begun to weaken from overwhelming thirst. He hadn’t gone so long without nourishment for a very long time. Unlike the usual slow work night, tonight his team had found a cache of contraband—mostly wooden items—that kept his team busy and a bit nervous. But he didn’t think about that now, either. The hunger made him frantic like an animal, clouded his vision, made important things fade and seem inconsequential.

He had nearly reached the restaurant when he saw her. If he hadn’t been so hungry, he would have noticed her earlier. But with his mind so distracted, he didn’t see the homo-sapien until she darted into the street directly in front of his silent car. She glanced up, her eyes huge and terrified, when she realized her mistake. But she kept going. So did he, for a second, too startled to command the Mert to stop. When he did, he also applied the manual brakes. He didn’t think the stop command would work fast enough to spare the animal’s life.

He swore and wrenched the brake back. The car began to skid. He pressed his palm to the steering screen and spun it, pressing down hard, as if that would prove more effective than a light touch. The car spun. It slid sideways and smashed into the corner of a building. Draven’s head jarred against the window. A bolt of pain shot through him, and for a moment, stunned him into immobility. The flash of raw, fierce pain held him in its grip for a few moments and then began to fade, restoring his vision as it receded. The car had jolted to a stop, melded to the building it hit. He sat for a few seconds, waiting for his mind to catch up with what had just happened.

“Merde,” he said, slamming his hand on the dash. He got out and went around the car. The building had crushed the side of the Mert. He scowled and shoved the car away from the wall, back onto the street. The wheels still functioned, and since only the side of the car had caved, he wouldn’t have to pay for the damage. The Memory Metal would find the correct shape again in a night or so. Still, he’d have to drive around with a dented car. And he’d have to get the ad on the side redone.

He’d already opened his door to get back in when he caught a faint whiff of sap and remembered the cause of the accident. Damn sapien, running into the street without looking for turning cars. Or too simple-minded to notice them. And what was a sap doing alone on the street at this hour of the night, the last meal before Superiors went to sleep? Even trusted saps who ran errands should have gone home an hour ago. And they wouldn’t run like that.

Saps were always causing problems—escaping the Confinement, staying out past the appropriate hours for errands, running away from their owners. Granted, sometimes their owners could be quite cruel, but Draven didn’t like to dwell on that. That was just the way of the world.

Before sliding into the car, he scented for the runaway. Even from the next street over he could hear where she’d gone, and he could still smell her tantalizing aroma, so tempting in his current state of hunger. He should bring her in. He’d get a bonus if she was a runaway, and he could use it to fix the ad on his car. She’d caused the damage, after all.

He turned onto the street where he’d heard her, and after a second, he spotted her. He slowed his Mert to watch her darting along the side of the buildings, away from the lights. She must have been young then, young enough not to realize he could see her in the shadows, even in the dark.

Of course he had to report her or bring her in, and he needed that money. But, already exhausted and pulling on his reserve for strength, he didn’t know if he could do it. He didn’t know if he could resist. He knew the law as well as anyone, though. Feeding on someone else’s property constituted theft. But the law—that was one of the important things that started to seem inconsequential in the face of overpowering hunger.

Another glance at his electronic dash screen told him they were alone. He slowed the car almost to a stop. No one around. What would it hurt? He could just quench his thirst for a minute, just a bite to eat, and then he’d put her out and someone else could bring her in. No one would know, especially if she wasn’t private property. He needed to eat more than he needed money. If he just got a bit of her and let her go, no one could trace the crime back to him. It wasn’t like sap-napping. Just a loan.

He eased up beside her and stopped the car. She stood frozen. When he opened his door, he could hear her heart beating, could hear the blood throbbing out of her center and through her veins, rushing to her head, to her legs, pulsing through her arteries. She kept her back glued to the wall in the darkest pool of shadow, her eyes darting about wildly while the rest of her remained stationary. Perhaps she didn’t know he could see her, but she was ready to run if he did. He took a step towards her, then another.

Then she ran.

She sprinted faster than a sapien could manage without the rush of added adrenaline. Draven watched her for a few seconds before he pursued her. In a few quick bounds he caught her and gathered both her arms behind her. He hadn’t been a Catcher a dozen different times for nothing. He’d learned a thing or two about dealing with saps in his hundred Superior years.

He glanced around. The discovery of the dangerous material that night had put him on edge, and breaking the law was not something he did lightly. But no one appeared in the street. Even if a few people had seen him, they wouldn’t have known that he wasn’t simply recovering his own possession, or taking her to the Confinement.

She let out a piercing, quite human shriek when he tucked her under his arm. After pushing her into the Mert, he slid behind the wheel. She kicked at him, panicked. He didn’t want her to kick the dash screen while he drove and cause an accident, so he waited for her to tire. Still, her thrashing irritated him, so he caught one of her feet and closed his fingers around her slim ankle. He hadn’t realized how young she was, no more than a child, really. She wasn’t his usual preference, but she smelled scrumptious.

She shrank away from him, and he released her ankle when he sensed her shift from blind panic to simple fear. He could smell it coming off her in waves, filling the car. He didn’t like the smell, but he’d grown so used to it that he hardly noticed it anymore. He pulled away from the curb, the almost silent swish of his tires the only sound in the stillness.

Her heartbeat slowed as she calmed, but he knew after speaking with her that she was too young. He didn’t like saplings—they reminded him of his childhood. And their sap had an unappealing thinness and lacked the richness that entered the bloodstream when they came of mating age. But she didn’t look any weaker than any other sapien, and she smelled healthy. He’d eaten plenty of sap that didn’t especially appeal to him.

His mind raced every time a car passed. Almost every car had a different ad painted on it, but he kept a lookout for the fancier, plain-colored ones. He only saw two of those—the people who could afford those cars didn’t live in his neighborhood. The people in his neighborhood didn’t own livestock, either, and they knew he owned no livestock. He kept watchful, wondering if he’d have an opportunity to get the sapien inside unobserved. The shabby cars and unadorned buildings around his apartment hummed with activity, last minute preparations for meals and sleep. He stopped in front of his building and turned to the sap.

“I can’t keep you, although I’d like to,” he said, eyeing her. Hunger and impatience nagged at him. Something different about the smell of her sap drew him in, something wonderful. He pulled her from the car and she started struggling, but she didn’t scream.

“Be still.” He put slight pressure on her neck with his fingers, and she obeyed, gasping in pain at his strength. He slid his hand around the base of her skull under the layer of pale hair that fell down her back. “Good girl, good girl, that’s just right,” he said. While leading her towards the steps, he glanced around and saw a few people out. He didn’t make eye contact, although he thought he felt their eyes on him.

He shot a glance left and then right, but he kept his head down while he climbed the stairs. What was the punishment for being caught with an illegal human? Hunger distracted him and he couldn’t remember for the moment, or perhaps he just didn’t want to remember. When he put his hand on the keypad, his door slid open, and he pushed the sapien into his apartment.

He glanced around one last time, making sure the hallway stood empty before he went inside. The sap started struggling again at the door. But she was weak like all saps, and ignorant to imagine she could escape or fight off a Superior.

Draven took off his work coat and hung it on the back of a chair. “Come here,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. He knew he was going to do something illegal, and he hesitated, but only for a moment. The hunger grew and grew, threatening to blind him. Outside the small window in his apartment, the sky had begun to lighten. He hadn’t eaten for so long.

“That’s a good name for such a good girl.” He lifted her and set her on the edge of the table. “Now, Aspen, I’m not going to hurt you any more than I have to, alright? Just a little prick. You’ll hardly feel it.” He continued stroking her hair and her arms while he checked the insides of her elbows. Clean. She had the little port in her upper arm where all government-owned sapiens gave their nightly donation, but no other marks. He lifted her hair and turned her so he could see her neck and shoulders, then dropped her hair and stroked her back in the same soothing way. Animals were much more cooperative when calm and well-treated. And saps deserved kindness—after all, they were necessary, essential to life. Draven didn’t like hurting them so he tried to be quick. Feeding on the livestock didn’t necessitate cruelty.