Gallop Good's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

The hunting drone found Gallop Good as he crossed the library steps. A red light swept his flank and locked. "Property tag confirmed," it buzzed. "Specimen will be returned to origin." Gallop froze. He was no one's property. He was a dog spliced into a horse, built in some lab he had never seen, and he had crossed three towns to find the scientist who made him. The drone would drag him back before he ever learned what he was. He bolted through the tall doors. Shelves rose on every side, carved and quiet. The drone followed, scraping the doorframe. It herded bio-property every day. It knew his weight, his scent, his heartbeat. Gallop's hooves skidded on polished floors. He ducked behind a reading table and tried to think. His saddlebag had spilled when he ran. A cluster of bright gum berries rolled across the floor. The drone's light snapped toward the movement, then back to him. It tracked motion. That gave Gallop an idea. Near a window stood a lit fish tank, its colored fish darting through green weeds. Beside it leaned a tall wooden clothes stand, draped with a reader's abandoned coat. Gallop grabbed the coat in his teeth. He flung it over the clothes stand so the empty garment swung and twisted. The drone's light jumped to the swaying shape. For one second, it mistook the stand for him. Gallop charged the drone from behind. He twisted and kicked with both hind legs. His hooves struck the machine square. It cracked, spun, and smashed into the fish tank. Glass burst. Water flooded the floor. The drone sparked, sank, and died in the spreading pool. Fish flopped on the wet tiles. Gallop stood panting over the wreck. The tag was broken. No one was dragging him anywhere now. Then a voice spoke behind him, calm and dry. "You've just destroyed a licensed recovery unit," said the librarian. She stepped from between the shelves, holding a damp rag, already crouching to lift a gasping fish. She did not look afraid. She looked annoyed, like a woman who had cleaned up after runaways before. "That drone filed a report the moment it tagged you. More will come. You can't outrun a tag by breaking one machine." Gallop's chest tightened. "Then tell me how." She studied him, the horse body, the dog's eager eyes. "You're looking for the one who made you," she said. It was not a question. "I know the registry. I know who signs these recovery orders." She dropped the rescued fish into a water jug. "Help me save my fish and clean this flood, and I'll give you a name." Gallop looked at the dead drone, the broken glass, the flopping fish. He had won his freedom for exactly one night. But now someone knew his face, his purpose, and the path to his maker. He lowered his head and started gathering fish.