"What's with the bag?"
"It's my target."
"You were told to bring them in alive."
"They are alive."
"But... the bag...?"
"They said the only way I'd get them out of their office is in a body bag so...."
"Ok, fair enough, cell's over there, I'll unzip 'em after." -- Anon Guest
In all the inalienable truths of the universe, one of the better ones is they can't learn when they're dead.
It therefore follows that when the Galactic Alliance wishes to teach a lesson, they don't always send killers. They send someone relentless, which is almost the same thing, but also twice as frightening.
They're called Hunters, and they are also part of Pax Humanis. Though they have a lot more trust and freedom in the rest of society. They don't need companions, guardians, therapists, or any other safeguards. Those can help, from time to time, but they don't need them.
Just remember: black and yellow just scares a fellow. Black, yellow, and red will kill you dead.
Hunter Dreen parted the crowds just by walking. People like them tended to have an aura of commanded respect. Carrying a bag the size and bulk of a Human in one hand did a lot to help that impression.
Hunter Dreen marched unimpeded. All the way from their ship to their destination. Restraining Hall Fifteen. Where this particular corner of the Alliance kept their prisoners. They marched in effortless rhythm. Never stepping aside for anyone. Never breaking their stride.
Even fellow Humans dodged out of their way.
Only the guards and guardians of the Restraining Hall objected to the bag.
"What in all creation? Is that your target? We wanted them alive."
"They are alive," said Dreen. "Immobilised, in a locked livesuit. Said they'd only leave their office in a body bag." They lifted their cargo effortlessly up onto a waiting gurney. They unzipped it, revealing the livesuit and its silently swearing occupant. "Kept the suit charged and refilled all the way here, so I have to add that to your bill."
"That's three month's travel."
"Then add it to their bill," smirked Dreen. "It all evens out."
"Gonna be one flack of a bill," muttered a guard.
[Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash]
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