The Human Pet: A Sci-Fi Romance

Part 19

Tarak

My boss won't let me go at the end of my work shift, insisting I sit down in his office with him, face to face, which is... Odd?

He narrows his eyes at me. "Tell me about the behaviorist."

"I have a... pet."

"We already have medical personnel pulling scourges out of our missions. We can't have a behaviorist interfering, too. This behaviorist asks lots of questions about you, like how often you have aggressive outbursts at work. Is there a problem I should know about?"

I thrash my tail, angry with that traitor, Rigel. Is that bird unaware that asking such questions can jeopardize my job?

"I assure you it won't be a problem. I'm just consulting a behaviorist to help with my pet's training." Discussing my pet makes me anxious. Is my pet alright? Has she eaten enough today? Did I leave her bowl with enough water? My hands twitch. I want to go home, make sure she is hydrated, and then I can feed her berries.

"Make sure it stays that way," says my boss.

We salute, and I run out of the office, eager to get home. I run through corridors, making plans; I will take my pet to the park, feed her the fruit she likes so much, and then bathe her. Or maybe I should feed her and forget the park.

The door to my quarters opens. Strange. A map of Hydra is on my wall unit. This wall unit has been giving me so many problems. First, it was all the incidents with the Zon, bringing me things I hadn't ordered, and even sending the delivery robot that had chased my pet. If the wall unit is now turning itself on and displaying maps, this suggests my wall unit is still going haywire.

My pet usually comes to the door to greet me, but she hasn't. Her normal places, like the bed and her floor blanket, are empty.

"Kata!"

Something feels wrong. My pet normally answers my call, especially at this time of the day when I take her to the park. She has not responded, though.

I take a few steps further into the room.

A copper scent hangs in the air. I sniff and follow the smell, which leads me into the pool room. I stop, lingering where the scent is strongest; on the floor in front of me is a red handprint.

I gaze into the pool.

She's curled near the lily pads. Her head leans back, almost like she is sleeping except–

–her head is underwater.

In a few large strides, I get to her, splashing water everywhere and I lift her body out of the water, water dripping from her. I put my head close to her and I nearly rejoice when I hear the scraggly thump-thump of her heart and her soft breaths. A gash is along her front limb and the water near her is pink.

I need to summon an emergency vet and I bark an order to the wall unit. Strange symbols I do not recognize shine back at me from my wall unit. My wall unit is compromised.

I grab her blanket, wrap it a few times tightly around the wound in her arm, and run out the door.

"Help me!"