Page 90 of Akur

“Come on!” Kon-stahns was tugging him now, straining toward the ship before them, but his legs locked up. Looking at the female before him, the panic in her eyes, the hope, he knew they wouldn’t make it. He was too wounded; too slow. Already, the Hedgeruds were closing in.

They wouldn’t make it.

Not both of them, at least.

But she could.

Gathering every bit of strength he had left, he knew what he had to do. “Forgive me,” he whispered.

With one powerful move, he shifted out of her grasp and lifted her with his one good arm.

“Forgive me, bright eyes.”

Her body went airborne as he threw her toward the ship with all his remaining strength. The landing wasn’t gracious. She caught herself on the boarding ramp. When she spun back toward him, her eyes were wide with horror.

“No!” she screamed. “Akur!”

Throwing himself toward the ship, he aimed for the external hatch control. He barely managed to hit it. The ramp began rising.

“Go!” he roared, even as blaster fire sizzled past him. “Live!”

The last thing he saw was her face, tears streaming down her cheeks as she scrambled toward him, gravity working against her now as the hatch sealed shut. Then pain exploded in his back.

24

Constance

The world slowedto a nightmare crawl as she watched Akur fall. Blaster fire sizzled through the air where he’d been standing like a rainbow of death. Slamming her good shoulder against the closing hatch, her fingers scrabbled uselessly at the sealed edges.

“No!” The scream tore from her throat. “No! You can’t do this! You fool! You fool! Open!”

The ship’s systems hummed to life around her, auto-sequence initiating. Lights flickered across unfamiliar control panels as engines began their startup cycle. Through the narrowing gap, she could see Akur on his knees, blood pouring from fresh wounds in his back. Yet somehow he was still fighting; his massive frame between her and the advancing Hedgeruds.

He looked up then, and they locked eyes.

There the world seemed to spin on its axis, between them both.

Her heart thundered in her chest, fueled by either anger or something else she didn’t quite know. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was moving.

Through the ship’s viewscreen, the terror out there made her heartfall. The landing bay had become a killing field. Dozens of those gator-guards swarmed forward, weapons drawn, long snouts opened in identical snarls, yellow eyes gleaming, and their long armored tails swaying. Behind them, about thirty High Tasqals stood, simply observing with little interest.

The odds were beyond impossible.

But if the rebel fighting below her had taught her one thing in this whole ordeal, it was that there was always a choice. She could give up now. Truly surrender. Or she could fight.

She spun, searching the controls. Most were incomprehensible—surfaces that glowed with strange symbols, panels that seemed to respond to even the slightest touch. But there, rising from the main console, was something startlingly familiar.

A control yoke. Not exactly like the ones in aircraft or video games, but similar enough that her hands knew what to do. It was slightly warm to the touch when she grabbed it, the material somewhere between something like plastic and living tissue. When her fingers closed around it, she felt a subtle vibration, as if the ship itself was waking up.

“NEURAL INTERFACE ACTIVATED.” The ship’s computer announced. “CALIBRATING.”

The holographic display that materialized in front of her was like nothing she’d seen before, but the concepts weren’t. There were targeting reticles and power levels. Like the universe itself had decided some things were too fundamental to change.

Point. Shoot. Destroy.

Her grip tightened as her heart hammered. Even within the ship, she could hear the shouts and roars from outside. She had to help Akur.

“WEAPONS SYSTEM ONLINE,” the ship announced as the yoke hummed beneath her palms. Two targeting reticles appeared in the holo-display and when she moved the yoke, they tracked.

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