Mongo Fiction | The Null Dance: Thanyidre

Than’yidre stood in perfect 3D resolution, having just disarmed her target in front of an audience of hundreds of millions, ready to deliver the fatal blow if needed. She was trained from girlhood as part MMA fighter, part bounty-hunter, part performance artist, and all media-darling.

She had been hunting her target for weeks; a clue here, another there, until finally assembling the whole tapestry and zeroing in on her quarry in this week’s episode.

The object of her hunt this time a serial killer responsible for the deaths of some very important people; to seek, locate, and put him down before he killed anybody else more worthy than he.

Than’yidre’s ruby irises would mark her as a Kai’Siri, as would her perfect fangs — slightly longer, sharper, canine teeth characteristic of the humans of Sirug.

But for some ineffable reason, she had always felt that something was amiss about her past.

There was the fact that her memories went back only to the age of seven – and then there were the dreams – strange dreams with shadowy giants, bizarre nightly vistas of alien worlds.

Her ability as a fighter distinguished her early on, and so she was sent to train in the Academy as a null-dancer; a ritual combatant who hunted primarily the most dangerous of criminals, for fame, glory, and the adulation of the masses.

Her target stood before her, having just lost his hand after pulling out a weapon. The votes were just coming in from the audience: thumbs up, let him live and arrest him, thumbs down, off with his head. In seconds, the online poll had been fully counted.

Thumbs down. So be it. The audience must hate this guy, she thought.

She acted in a single, swift motion as her Midukk-Yogg nanoblade parted head from shoulders. The corpse fell with a dull squishy thud to the floor of the squalid room.

She flicked her blade clean of blood before sheathing it. As the credits rolled for this week’s episode, she headed to her temporary quarters to rest, exercise, mingle with the camera crew and ready for the next recording session.

She would be given another dossier on her next target.

Too late.

It was already on her reading desk as she opened the door to her sleeping quarters.

She looked it over. Hmmm. A cyberkine this time. Really dangerous, this one. Convicted of brainlink-induced mass-homicide, escaped from an asteroid prison facility just this month. Suspected of several other crimes, including trafficking of indigo market cybershards and suicidal emotive tampering with minors.

Her wetware drive would protect her mind, but this one would have brain-jacked puppets surrounding him for protection. And they would be armed as well, not just the usual mooks and stooges.

She threw the dossier to the floor. This was getting to be too much for her. It was one fight after another, and she always won. The audience loved it, loved her, but she knew that it was only for the action, the thrill of the chase, and the confrontation at the end of each episode.

The audience loved her for her moves, for her blade. She needed a change from this, something that didn’t involve arrests and executions each week.

She resolved to see the producer before the next cycle about the ideas that had been floating about in her head for that vacation she’d been promised in her contract – and she had just the thing in mind for that!

To be continued.

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