The Human Pet: A Sci-Fi Romance

Part 17

Kayla

The blue star rises three times before Tarak gets up and leaves.

One clap later, I activate the computer system.

Now armed with Lugh's instructions to activate the translator, my work is infinitely easier. I chase the information I crave, finding out how other humans fared. I knew my little ship struggled, as did the settlers. What might the records tell me?

I enter every possible name where humans I know live—Earth, the moons of Romulus and Remus, the Phoenix Borealis—there is not a single entry for any of these. Maybe to the scourges, our origin is insignificant?

So, I enter one simple word: human. So much information appears on the walls. Most are about pet care, even how to train us, or products made just for us, but I focus on a different type of file, Hydra's human pet records. Lugh's records pop up first. Apparently, he is some sort of model pet.

My cheeks feel hot when I skim my pet records. First, there is the place on the report where Tarak was supposed to enter his pet's name and he put: Hooman. Seriously?

Whatever. His so-called hooman (me) keeps reading and that's how I discover that I am already on some sort of bad behavior list with a strike against me for that park biting incident. In fact, I am such a problematic pet that I have a pet remediation plan.

How can I already be failing? Why is my park friend a role model pet while I am on the bad pet list? I am already tired of finding out what I've done wrong, so I shut off the records of Lugh and me.

My breath hitches when I look at the next human's pet record. Staring back at me is a picture of the man who had been the likely recipient of a lobotomy.

His name had been Adam. According to these reports, he still lives, but no human I know would classify his current state as living.

So many reports had been filed about Adam and his scourge owner, Loviatar. Most of the early reports include pictures I wish I could erase from my mind: Adam with facial lacerations, some covering half of his face; Adam with his arm in a splint because of a broken bone. Then there are accompanying notes and recommendations made by vets and behaviorists.

–suspected pet abuse–

–recommend rehoming–

–poor adaptation to life aboard Hydra–

I gag. Even Hydra did not approve of this. So, what happened?

I skim the most recently dated report, a mandatory home visit.

Adam, a human pet, is docile and non-responsive. We recommend Adam remain with his scourge owner, Loviatar Lyth, and that further investigations into this pet and his owner be closed.

I don't know how to interpret this.

On one hand (after poking through all these documents), I am relieved to find that scourges are not as barbaric as I first thought. Reports of suspected pet abuse were filed on behalf of Adam, and several specialists filed reports recommending rehoming.

That last report disturbs me. There is no way anyone with two connecting neurons in their head can look at the dozens of pictures of Adam's injuries and his current drooling state and say, everything is fine now with this human pet and owner. How could Loviatar still be allowed to keep his pet? Foul play is the only thing I can conclude. I know that all of this occurred before I even met Adam, so why do I feel like I failed him? I close Adam's files, disheartened.

Pet records for half a dozen more humans aboard the Hydra appear on the wall. I don't recognize any of the other humans, though, so I guess that means the Hydra ship is huge or maybe I will meet them in the park eventually? None of the other reports about pet humans aboard Hydra are as disturbing as Adam's, so I hope it means that other humans are safe for now.