Close Remembrance

Chapter 3-2

Saret walked through the slums of Mexico City, dispassionately observing the dregs of humanity all around him. He had already planted the devices in the center of the city, so this excursion served no particular purpose except to satisfy his curiosity—and to reinforce in his mind the rightness of what he was doing.

On the corner, a pair of thugs were threatening a prostitute with a knife. She was reluctantly pulling money out of her bra and simultaneously swearing at them in very colorful Spanish. Saret walked in their direction, purposefully making noise, and the thugs scattered at his approach, leaving the w***e alone. She took one look at Saret and ran away too, apparently realizing what he was.

Saret grinned to himself. f*****g cowards.

It was already after midnight, and the area was crawling with every kind of lowlife. Drug-related violence in Mexico hadn’t gotten any better in recent years, and the country’s government actually went so far as to appeal to the Krinar for help with this issue. After some debate, the Council decided against it, not wanting to get involved in human affairs. Saret had privately disagreed with that decision, but he voted the same way as Korum: against the involvement. It was never a good idea to openly oppose his so-called friend. Besides, it made no sense to help humans on such a limited scale. What Saret was doing would be far more effective.

He was heading back to where he left the transport pod when a dozen gang members made the fatal error of crossing his path. Armed with machine guns and high on coke, they apparently felt invincible enough to attack a K—a mistake for which they paid immediately.

The first few bullets managed to hit Saret, but none of the other ones did. Consumed by rage, he was hardly cognizant of his actions, operating solely on instinct—and his instinct was to rip apart and destroy anything that threatened him. By the time Saret regained control of himself, there were body parts all over the alley and the entire street stank of blood and death.

Disgusted with himself—and with the idiots who provoked him—Saret made his way back to the ship.

He was more convinced than ever that his path was a righteous one.