Page 44 of Akur

She scoffed, and he popped an eye open. He shouldn’t have. There was a smile on her face and even with the dirt smeared across her face and the bits of dust and rock in her hair, the human looked…beautiful.

He slammed his eyes shut again.

“Let me guess. Brooding in the dark while plotting the demise of every Tasqal in existence? Because that’s super healthy.”

“It is. I feel flooded with life when their lifeblood is dripping from my blades.”

She scoffed again, but said nothing else. He popped an eye open once more to find her bringing something that looked like a meal bar close to her nose. She sniffed it and put it down.

“Akur…”

His pouch spasmed at the sound of his name on her lips and he groaned. When she looked over at him, he didn’t bother to hide the severe frown on his brow as he glared at her. The maddening female didn’t even pause.

“What happened back at the base? Why did you come alone?”

He closed his eyes, focusing on steady breaths. “There was no time for a coordinated response. Not many…not many of us were left alive.”

There was a moment of pause and he thought that was the end of it. That she wouldn’t unknowingly torture him with her voice anymore. He wasn’t so lucky.

“Any…” She cleared her throat. “Any humans survived?”

He looked at her now, and the mirth that had graced her features was gone. She wasn’t facing him. Wasn’t even looking his way. She stood there, half clothed in those ripped garments she’d torn just to save him. Her filaments a tangle of chaos on her head. Lifeblood on her arm…

Lifeblood? She was hurt. And he was the pilkra that didn’t even realize. Too caught up in his failings.

“You’re bleeding.”

Her gaze snapped to him. “So are you. I don’t see you complaining.”

“This isn’t a competition, female.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to yourself.”

He pressed his lips together.

“Were there any other humans.”

He could hear it in her voice. See it in the way she stood. Ah. This was something he knew well. Something he’d had to come to terms with a long time ago. Something that almost killed his brother. Almost took away the one kin he had left in this universe.

Guilt.

The guilt of still breathing when others had to fall.

It was the reason he fought. The only reason he hadn’t given up yet. He survived for a reason. The least he could do was make sure the Tasqals paid the price of the torture that was his existence.

“Yes,” he answered. The female’s throat moved.

“And the rebels?”

“Not many.”

“But surely—”

“They fought.Wefought.” The memory of the chaos flooded back. “Many tried. The Tasqal ships appeared from nowhere, using some kind of warp technology we’d never encountered. By the time the alarm sounded…” He clenched his fists against the stone. “Well, you remember. You were awake by then. I found you after V’Alen called me.”

“V’Alen. He’s the…the robot. The cyborg.”

A wry smile stretched his lips. If anything, this conversation was helping distract him a little. He’d humor her some more. “He is much more than that. He is our most powerful weapon. He alone could end this war.”

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