Page 92 of Akur

She scrambled up, blood trickling from where she’d split her lip. Through the half-open ramp door, she saw what had happened. A column had fallen, its massive width pinning the ship against the wall. That accident halted its ascent.

But the ship’s systems fought to compensate, thrusters whining as they tried to break free. But they were caught, suspended halfway between ground and ceiling. The landing ramp hung open like a tongue, still within jumping distance of the floor.

Below, the scene had devolved into pure carnage. Bodies littered the ground, some still moving, others terrifyingly still. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid stench of burned flesh. Through it all, she couldn’t see Akur.

He wasn’t fighting anymore…and if he wasn’t fighting…

The lump in her throat made breathing hard.

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t…

But then she spotted it. A bit of teal buried under bodies of gator-guards. Akur’s arm…unmoving.

Time seemed to still, her heart cracking into a thousand unmendable pieces.

And in the aftermath of it all, through the corner of her eye, there they still were.

“Enough, human.” The voice reached her loud and clear. Through the corner of her eye, she saw them—the surviving High Tasqals rising from behind their shelter of docked ships. Some of their robes were singed, but their arrogance remained intact.

Turning to face them, she stared through the viewscreen at the beings that had started all this. Dark, soulless eyes stared back at her. A ripple of pure evil. A host of pure malevolence.

“Look what your resistance has brought, human.” She couldn’t even tell which one was speaking. Didn’t care. All that was building inside her was something she’d never felt before. Something she couldn’t name.

“The Shum’ai is dead.” Another voice, colder than the first. “Your protector lies broken. Submit now, and we may yet show mercy.”

Mercy.

Ha.

Something wet fell on her hands where they gripped the yoke. She stared at the droplets, uncomprehending at first. Tears. She was crying. The realization came distantly, as if happening to someone else. Her chest burned with each breath, vision blurring even as her teeth bared in a snarl.

“You see now…this is the natural order,” one of the High Tasqals moved forward, robes rustling against the debris-strewn floor. It stepped over fallen gator-guards as if they meant nothing. “Your species, like all the others, exists to serve us. To sustain us.”

Another Tasqal glided toward what was visible of Akur’s still form. His foot connected with the teal arm, shoving it aside with casual disdain. “Even the mighty Shum’ai fell before us. They were never meant to rise above their station as warriors.”

A series of bubble popping sounds only made her spine tighten.

More tears fell silently on her hands, but her jaw clenched until pain shot through her temples. Each breath came shorter, harder, as if the air itself was turning to fire in her lungs.

“How many worlds have we conquered?” The first one spoke again, spreading his arms wide. “How many species now exist only to ensure our continuation? Your human colonies will make excellent additions. Already, the females we had in our facilities proved…suitable.”

Her fingers whitened on the yoke. That thing building inside her? It was something beyond rage, beyond grief. Something primitive and terrifying.

“The strong survive. The weak submit. This is the way of the universe.” The first Tasqal’s voice dripped with superiority. “Your rebellion was amusing, but ultimately futile. Like all the others who dared to resist. Now come. Kneel before us…and you can be mine.” He tilted his head, studying her through the viewscreen. “I will treat you well, little human. After all, I will not breed you immediately. You can be the first to see your human colonies transformed into breeding grounds. To watch your people learn their proper place in our empire.”

Through tear-blurred eyes, she watched them as they all stood unmoving now. Their dark eyes reflected nothing—no conscience, no mercy, no soul.

Another tear landed on the control panel. Then another. But these weren’t tears of sadness anymore. These were tears of pure, distilled hatred.

The liquid spread and the yoke suddenly pulsed warm beneath her hands.

“ORGANIC MATERIAL DETECTED. DNA ANALYSIS COMPLETE. HUMAN GENETIC MARKER IDENTIFIED.”

There was a single moment when the lead Tasqal’s face shifted. Surprise. The ship’s systems suddenly hummed to life with new purpose. Holographic symbols scattered across the display, then reformed into new patterns. Different. Alive.

“TACTICAL ASSISTANCE INITIATED.”

“Enough, human!”

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