Transfer [Feedback Requested]

[Dawn OOC]

Short stories are my bane. I'm good at the long tale, but the short ones (say less than 5000), leave me feeling cramped. So I'm going to request feedback on a short story I've posted elsewhere. Hit me hard. Be brutal. I need another perspective and you guys are my beta readers. Have at and Thank You in advance!

Prisoner transfers were never handled lightly. Everyone was carefully planned and implemented to ensure that nothing went wrong. The officers in question attempted to anticipate every possible outcome, whether they could control it or not. Tonight, the weather was interfering; a winter squall had come in over the Atlantic, washing over the floating city of Gideon.

The stakes were even higher when the prisoner was a vampire. Peter Bendiot was nervous for that reason; in all of his years of dealing with the undead, he’d learned that they were most dangerous when cornered. Miu Shen was facing deportation to America. She’d be burned alive, probably within five minutes of hitting U.S. sovereign soil. If she was going to try something to escape, it would be now.

The door of the holding facility opened and Peter straightened, feeling his muscles tense. Two guards walked out backwards, looking more like robots than men in their anti-vampire suits. Their masks guarded their vision and supplied air if oxygen was cut off. They had padding around their necks to blunt a strike to the neck; their arms, upper legs and torsos were covered with puncture-resistant plating over a Kevlar under layer. They seemed to hulk over their prisoner; Shen was a deceptively small form, shadowed on either side by the officers escorting her. The small Asian woman in an orange jumpsuit shuffled forward, her steps restricted by the titanium alloy leg restraints. Not only were her ankles secured, but her knees and thighs were restrained by the strong metal as well, forcing her steps to measure in the mere inches. Her arms were wrapped around her, held by a metal harness as if in a strait-jacket.

Her path was forced by the metal rods held by the officers; similar to those used to control vicious animals, these were attached to her harness. A handful of green laser guides swarmed from the night to waver over her heart. With her head down and the bite-guard covering the lower half of her face, she looked subdued and meek.

Peter doubted that. Vampires were stubborn when it came to giving up their own lives. They sold others much more cheaply, he mused darkly. Her victim, Jeremy Matthews, was lucky to be alive. Peter’s rifle, one of those dots glowing brightly on the orange cloth, was steady and unwavering. He took even steps back, keeping his bead on her.

Behind Shen, two guards using more restraining poles widened their positions as well, forming a rough X with Shen at the center. Another seven officers were watching her tensely, their sidearms out. Like Peter, they’d be loaded with incendiary rounds. If you could get a vampire to burn, you could kill them quickly.

The waiting aerocar idled behind Peter, the downdraft of its idling Harrier engines shoving against his armored body. Above them, another aero hovered; it had three more officers waiting to support them from the air, if needed. He carefully backed up the ramp as the officers guiding her stopped their progress. The others watched, their guns pointed at the floor. The space was getting tight; the arcs of fire without friendlies were closing. Still, there wasn’t a moment when she wasn’t covered by at least two men. It wasn’t until Peter and another officer, Devon Carson, had secured themselves behind the bars of the guard cage that the officers moved forward. Peter and Devon aimed their guns at her, unwavering as the two forward guards entered and secured her restraining rods to the wall. They eased around her and helped the two men in the rear secure her as well. The four of them left together, leaving her with the two guards.

On the other side of the metal plate that separated the passengers from the transport section, Peter could hear the other officers talking as they boarded, strapping themselves into the restraints. He should have felt better knowing that comrades were just on the other side of the thick plate, but he felt irrationally abandoned, left alone with a killer.

As if she’d heard the mental critique, Shen lifted her head. Her dark eyes met Peter’s blue ones, hard, cold and dead. “You think the worst of me,” she said, English melodic and accented. Her voice was flat and monotone, empty and lifeless.

“You’re a prisoner, that’s all,” Peter said coolly, his voice sounding hollow in his helmet. His words were broadcast over the helmet’s speakers, making him sound like a robot. His words weren’t true, though; Peter hated vampires. He hated their strength and ability; the ease with which they moved through their death. He hated that they preyed on humans and lived off of them. But most of all, he hated that Gideon gave them sanctuary instead of hunting them like every other country in the world did.

“No, it’s not,” she said softly, shifting as the aero lifted off the tarmac. The vehicle came around, forcing Peter to put a hand on the wall as a brace. Devon shifted and stumbled as well. Shen, even restrained, barely moved, her prodigious strength allowing her to retain her balance. “Were that all, you would not be staring at me like that.”

“You wanna know my issue with you? Fine. You almost killed that kid,” Devon snapped. Peter’s partner was darkly colored, with brown hair and deep brown eyes. Those eyes burned with outrage, the fury of the protector of the predator facing the prey.

“I love Jeremy,” Shen said, her voice filling with something other than apathy. “He is beautiful. He made me feel alive.”

Devon snorted. “That’s what you leeches always say when you’re guzzling down our blood,” he sneered.

“Enough,” Peter said. “Don’t talk to it.”

“The laws of your city allow me the right to be ‘her’, not ‘it’,” Shen growled. Her eyes glittered with anger now, which was not something Peter liked. Dark, almond eyes dredged up bad memories, ones best forgotten.

“Sorry,” he said, not really meaning it but knowing that she’d be a hundred times more dangerous riled. They were always most dangerous when upset. “Carson, leave her alone. Don’t talk to her.”

Carson’s face through the visor was unhappy. His stance was stiff and angry, even as winter winds forced the aero to shift again. Both of the humans compensated; the vampire merely shifted her weight. When the aero leveled out, Carson remained silent, which made Peter happy.

They rode in silence to the docks, where the loading procedure was repeated in reverse, moving with exacting care. Peter and Devon were the last to disembark, keeping their guns trained on Shen. The wind blew harder here, on the edge of open water. Peter couldn’t hear, but he knew that the whistle of the wind would be harmonized by the roar of the ocean waves, crashing against Gideon’s sides. The aero’s pilot had done a good job despite the heavy winds; they were less than fifty feet from the ship. “Let’s go,” Peter said, casting a nervous glance around the area.

The group began its careful way to the open cargo container that would be the prisoner’s holding cell. Peter tensed more and more as they approached. Criminals always got more nervous the closer they got to confinement. This would be her last incarceration, her last chance to escape eternal death. Shen’s head was higher; her steps testing the limits of the restraints. She’s going to run, Peter thought, settling his rifle harder against his shoulder, making sure his green dot was dead on her heart. She’s going to try to-

Three pops rang out as bright comets burst through the night; where they landed, Shen’s back erupted in flames. Shen screamed, a terrible keening wail as her metal harness failed to stop the bullets and her jumpsuit caught fire. “Fire, fire! We’re under fire!” Peter screamed to the listening officers and heard others shouting the same thing. He and the others dashed for the aero, using it for cover. Shen was abandoned, forgotten; she was dead anyway. Those ‘comets’ had been the tails of ‘leech-killers’; large incendiary rounds designed to melt through a vampire’s skin and set their bones on fire. Shen would burn until she died. She was still screaming, thrashing on the ground but Peter could see her skin and bones were aflame.

[Dawn OOC]

Peter cursed to himself as he heard the pilot of the support aero calling, “One on foot, heading clockwise.” Had this happened in international waters, or in America, it would have been a victory for the good guys; time to grab a beer and share a toast. Here in Gideon, it was ‘destruction of a sentient being’. The term had been invented when it was pointed out that you couldn’t murder someone who was already dead.

Scowling, Peter jumped to the former prisoner transport. “Go, go!” he shouted to the pilot. Carson was the only other person to make it aboard before they started chasing after the support aero. It was moving slowly, keeping the shooter in sight on the night cameras. Their aero quickly gained; on the infrared camera, Peter tracked the runner. “Cut him off,” Peter ordered, moving to the door.

Devon followed, clinging to the handle over the doorway. “Hell of a thing, huh?” Peter looked at him. “Five minutes ago, we were taking her to be killed. Now we’re hunting down the guy that did shoot her.”

“That’s Gideon,” Peter said softly, making sure the safety was off the rifle. He grabbed the handhold as the aero came around sharply; they could see the runner below. The vehicle cut across his path and the runner recoiled, dodging left to dart between warehouses. Peter cursed as the aero slid to a stop just over the ground, unable to follow. Devon and Peter hopped out, their boots thumping on the pavement as they dashed up the alley between buildings.

They got to the end of the passage and stopped. Across the road was a building which forced the runner’s path to go left or right. “Which way?” Devon asked. Above them, the aero roared, circling and looking.

“Go left,” Peter ordered. He turned and went right as one of the aerocars turned to mirror his path above him. Despite the hovering vehicle over him, Peter felt very alone. That feeling worsened as he realized his path was taking him toward the open water. Like many of Gideon’s residents, Peter tried not to think about living on a massive man-made island of concrete. Seeing the open ocean was a stark reminder that Gideon sat in the middle of the Southern Atlantic, far from land.

“He’s on the end of the dock.” The message from the pilot of the aero tightened Peter’s muscles. There was no egress from that area; that meant that the shooter was trapped. Vampires weren’t the only ones who were more dangerous when cornered.

“I’ve got him,” Peter said, as he stepped from between the rows of warehouses. He could see the solitary form at the end of the docks, standing in the pool of radiance from the streetlight. Peter stalked forward, his rifle at the ready. The form at the end of the dock was turned away from him, but before he’d gotten to the halfway point, the shooter turned. “Drop your weapon!” Peter cried. Behind the shooter, the Atlantic raged, throwing up waves that dashed against the pier, creating a layer of mist that hung in the air. The smell of salt was heavy, almost bitter. “Drop your weapon now!”

The rifle clattered to the concrete wharf. “Lay down on the ground!” Peter ordered, continuing to advance. The man said something. “Down on the ground!”

“Why are you defending that thing?” the shooter asked, pitching his voice to be heard over the wind and waves.

“We’re not having this debate. You’re getting down, or I’m shooting you,” Peter snarled angrily, continuing to advance while keeping his aim on the man. He wasn’t really sure he could shoot an unarmed man who wasn’t threatening him.

“No, you’re not. That thing is a predator, and the idiots who run this city think that if we feed them bagged blood we’ve leashed the beasts,” the shooter said. Peter was finally close enough to see the man. He was no one special; light brown skin and dark eyes, with a medium build. The features of his face were hidden behind a ski mask. He was dressed in dark, non-descript clothing. “All we’ve done is invite them to sit at the table with us.”

“That’s not for us to decide. Last warning – get down or I’m putting you down,” Peter ordered. He could feel the weight of the rifle, after holding it up for this long, pulling down on his arms.

“Do you truly think they’re going to be content to be in our shadows forever?” The man was strangely calm.

The man was echoing his own thoughts so well. Peter felt just as calm, even as he reached up and pulled the microphone plug from his helmet. “No,” Peter heard himself say. “I don’t.”

The shooter inhaled sharply. “Then why are doing this? Why are you protecting them?”

Peter thought of Bridgette and her secretive smile. He remembered the look of barely restrained fury on her face when she first saw him. “I protect humans, and I can’t do that if I’m not a cop,” Peter answered. “My job means I do things I don’t like. But when I put a vampire away, when I put them on a ship headed out of here knowing that they’re going to burn, I feel a little bit better.”

The man nodded. “I can respect that. What’d they do to you?”

Peter swallowed. “She betrayed me. I went against what I believed in to help her, and she screwed me over. You?”

“They’re our predators,” the shooter said, his voice turning hard. “I can’t understand why we wouldn’t see them as our enemy, why we don’t raise arms against them and wipe them off the face of the earth.”

“I don’t disagree with you,” Peter said, shifting his grip on the gun, “but I can’t go against the law. Get down. I won’t tell you again.”

“Bendoit, I’m almost there!” Carson’s voice rang in his ears.

“And I won’t be subject to the injustice system of Gideon.” The subject took a step back. Peter heard himself shout a denial as the shooter tumbled off the end of the dock. The cop dashed to the edge as the aero came around and dropped below the edge of dock, the spotlight panning over the water, trying to find him.

“You alright?” Carson asked as he stopped next to him.

His fingers were shaking as he plugged his microphone back into its socket. “Yeah.” Peter heard the rage in his own voice. He was pissed at the turn of events. Why had the man done this? What statement had he needed to make with shooting Shen? She was dead anyway, once she reached America. The only thing the shooter had done was bring about his own arrest or death?

Peter gripped his gun tighter. “I’m fine,” he said unnecessarily, though he wasn’t. There were questions and he would find the answers.