Page 84 of Akur

“Bold words from one in chains.” She heard the Tasqal say. Through fluttering eyelids that didn’t seem to know what to do with the light, she caught glimpses of the Tasqal as he glided closer to Akur. “But your defiance will fade, as it always does. You will break, as they all do. And she will watch.”

Akur spat blood at the creature. “Touch her, and I’ll—”

The Tasqal backhanded him, the sound echoing off the walls. One guard provided something for him to wipe away the blood Akur spat. “Filthy Shum’aipest,” the Tasqal growled. “We should have ravaged your world when we had the chance. You can do nothing but watch as we take everything from you. Starting now. You and the other rebels are a nuisance we should have eradicated eons ago. Always thwarting our plans. Always in our way. This time, Shum’ai, you have gone too far. Taken something that belongs to usss.”

It gestured and one guard stepped forward, pressing the same shockrod against Akur’s side. Electricity ran across his body. His back arched as he tried to bite back a roar, but the sound escaped anyway, tearing at her heart one more time.

“Stop it!” She crawled toward the barrier. “Stop!” Her body spasmed in the aftershock of what the weapon did to her. She pushed herself to speak, to fight against the lingering pain, anyway. “Can’t you see you’re killing him? Why? What thefuckis wrong with you? Can’t you see what you’re doing? Can’t you see what you’vedone?”

The Tasqal turned to her, those black eyes swallowing her. “Wrong? Survival is notwrong, little human. It is…necessary. Any species, faced with the extinction of their kind, would do the same.”

“No.” She shook her head, voice trembling with anger. “No, they would not. Not every species resorts to abduction, to torture, to…to breeding other sentient beings like…like they’re nothing! There are other ways to survive. Ways that don’t involve destroying other civilizations!”

The Tasqal grunted. “Foolish. But I cannot expect a lower species like yourself to understand. That is why we, the High Tasqals, must preserve ourselves for the betterment of this universe.” He lifted his chin, exposing a yellow wetness in the folds of skin where the pustules had popped and leaked. “This is only the beginning, human. You will watch the Shum’ai suffer, watch him break, and know that it’s all because of you. Because he chose to help you. And then you will know our power. You will kneel and know that we are to be revered. That your existence means nothing without usss.”

“Don’t listen,” Akur gasped out. “Not your fault…Constance.”

The guard pressed the device into him again. This time, Akur couldn’t hold back his roar. The sound ripped through Constance like the pain was hers.

“You see?” The Tasqal’s voice was almost gentle. “This is the price of defiance. The price of hope. Resistance is…”

“Futile?” Constance choked on a laugh, her gaze burning into the Tasqal. “Do you know what your problem is?” She forced herself to her feet. “You think you’re so superior, but you’re just afraid. Afraid of dyingout. Afraid of change. Afraid that maybe, just maybe, you’re not the masters of the universe you pretend to be.”

The Tasqal’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Fear? We do not fear. We control. We dominate. As we always have.”

“Really?” She lifted her chin higher, refusing to tremble. “Then why are your people dying? Why can’t you fix what’s happening to your own bodies? For all your supposed superiority, you can’t even save yourselves.”

Another pustule burst on the Tasqal’s face. It wiped the seepage away with deliberate slowness. “You dare—”

“I dare because you’re proving my point right now. Look at you—you’re falling apart. And instead of working with other species who might help you, you torture them. Experiment on them. Make them hate you. How’s that working out?”

“Silence!” The Tasqal’s calm facade cracked. It gestured sharply, and the guard moved toward her cell with the shock rod.

“She’s right,” Akur’s voice was weak but carried clearly. “Your empire is crumbling, Tasqal. More systems declare independence every cycle. Your grip is failing.”

The Tasqal spun toward him. “Our grip never fails. We merely allow temporary rebellion to identify the troublemakers. Likeyou. Have you forgotten how your people begged? How the great Tonvuhiri fell?” It nodded to the guard. “Again.”

The guard changed course, returning to Akur to press the rod into his side.

“Stop.” Constance forced through gritted teeth. Again, the rod was pressed into Akur’s side. “Stop.”

Tears streamed down her face now, even though she was trying to hold them back. She watched Akur convulse in agony. His muscles spasmed, veins standing out in his neck as he fought against the pain. Blood ran freely from where the chains cut into his wrists, from that gaping wound in his chest, and from all the other abrasions across his frame.

“He’s only fighting for survival, just like you are,” she whispered. “Just like all of us are.”

The Tasqal raised a hand, and the guard stepped back. Akur sagged in his chains, chest heaving as he gasped for air.

“This can end,” the Tasqal said. “Simply tell us what we wish to know. We want the location.” The Tasqal stepped closer. “Surely, the Shum’ai told you where the orb was while he was filling you with his seed.”

She stiffened and the Tasqal’s upper lip curled.

“Disgusting,” it said. “I can scent his spend on you.” He walked a few paces and she tracked him, not exactly sure what he was going to do or say next. “We know your humankind enjoys such soft things. Such…sharing. You dislike our rough mating practices.”

Her hands clenched into fists. “Gofuckyourself.”

The Tasqal’s expression didn’t change, but something in its eyes grew colder. “As you wish.” It gestured again.

This time, when the guard stepped forward, he had a different device. Something with blades.

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