Akur (Restitution #3)

Constance

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Constance

Consciousness returned slowly, painfully. Every muscle ached as if she’d been beaten. Maybe she had been.

Akur?

It felt like his name only echoed in her mind. As if her tongue was too heavy to form speech, her throat too parched.

Agh . A groan as she tried to move. Only the cold metal floor beneath her cheek helped clear some of the fog from her mind.

Constance forced her eyes open. She was in a cell, maybe ten feet square, with energy barriers forming the walls. Beyond them, she could see other cells, all empty.

“Akur?” Her voice was barely a whisper. Fear clawed at her throat as she pushed herself to her knees. “Akur?!”

Swaying, she almost face-planted before she settled back on her haunches.

Where the hell were they?

Blurred vision made her head swim before she stabilized herself.

That’s when she saw him.

They had him chained to the far wall, arms spread wide, feet barely touching the ground. His head hung limply, blood still dripping from various wounds.

“Akur!” She scrambled to the barrier, despite the warning tingles of energy against her skin. A zap sent her flying back. Pain rocketed down her spine. Stars made her vision cloud again.

It took her a moment to rise to her knees once more, and then to stand. “Akur.” Her gaze found him across the way. “Akur, wake up! Please wake up!”

His head lifted slightly, eyes finding hers through a face that looked bruised, bloody and swollen. “Constance.” His voice was rough, pained. “Are you hurt?”

A laugh that was half a sob escaped her. Of course, he was asking if she was alright. “Oh, Akur. What did they do to you?” The more she looked at him, the more trauma she could see. One of his arms was even set strangely, as if the bone was only being held together by skin.

“I’ve had worse.” He tried to grin, but it turned into a grimace.

“Where are we?” It looked like cells similar to those that had been on that ship. The one she and Meredith had escaped from. But she was sure she couldn’t get out of this the same way she did then. All her cards were played.

But there was no hum of an engine. They weren’t on a ship this time.

Before Akur could respond, a door hissed open. Constance’s shoulders tightened, her heart thudding a little harder as she turned toward the sound. She saw the white robes before the large figure entered. A Tasqal, followed by two guards flanking him on each side. He stopped the moment he noticed she was awake.

“So…you finally join us, human.”

Constance moved up to the barrier, ignoring the warning tingles of energy that ran along her skin. “Let him go.”

The Tasqal merely stared at her, its face unreadable.

“Let him go. You’ve got what you wanted. You’ve got me.”

The Tasqal blinked slowly, its eyes disappearing under its skin. This one had more pustules than she’d seen on any of the others. Almost as if it had an advanced form of whatever disease was plagui ng their kind. One pustule at the corner of its eye popped, oozing yellow pus down its nose ridge. “What I want?” It said calmly. “You presume much, human. Your companion refused to provide the information we seek. Perhaps you will be more…cooperative.”

“Don’t tell them anything, Constance,” Akur rasped, chains rattling as he tried to straighten.

The Tasqal raised a hand.

“Yes, High One,” the gator-guard to his right said, right before that same guard pressed a control. Her gaze snapped to Akur a moment before she saw the chains hum with energy, making him jerk and grit his teeth.

“Stop it!” Constance gritted her teeth. “What do you want to know?”

The energy ceased, and the Tasqal stepped closer to her cell, dark eyes reflecting the barrier’s glow. It studied her for a long moment.

“What. Do. You. Want from us?”

The Tasqal hardly moved, just stared at her in a way that made her feel small enough that if the barrier wasn’t there, he would swallow her whole.

“The location of the orb,” it finally said. “Where is the Kyron that retrieved it?”

Her blood ran cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, stepping back from the barrier.

“No?” The Tasqal did a clicking sound in its throat. “Then perhaps we should continue our earlier discussion with your comrade. He’s proven quite resilient, but every being has their breaking point.”

“Don’t,” Akur growled. “Constance, whatever happens—”

The chains hummed again, cutting off his words with a choked sound of pain.

“Time is short, human,” the Tasqal said softly. “And my patience wears thin.” The Tasqal motioned again and the chains holding Akur hummed with energy once more. His grunt of pain made her heart shatter.

“Stop! I’ll tell you! ”

Fuck, what would she tell them? She didn’t know where Alaina and the cyborg went. She had no idea where they were. But she could lie. She could buy them time…even though that might be useless at this point.

The Tasqal stepped closer, eyes gleaming. “Speak.” A single command that seemed to crackle the air.

“They’re…” she swallowed, taking a deep breath. Come on. Buy some time. “They’re keeping it safe.”

The Tasqal’s eyes narrowed almost unnoticeably. Before she could react, one of the gator-guards at his side stepped forward and thrust one of those energy rods through the bars. It crackled a moment before it reached her belly. The pain was white hot, immediate, and fast.

Her knees buckled as she lost sense of time and space.

The pain. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. As if her skin, muscle and bone were separating cell from cell. The ravaged, torn sound that escaped her lips didn’t even sound like herself.

“Piece of scum!” Akur snarled. “I will tear you apart with my bare hands!”

“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’ai pest ,” 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 shock rod 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 the fuck is wrong with you? Can’t you see what you’re doing? Can’t you see what you’ve done ?”

The Tasqal turned to her, those black eyes swallowing her. “Wrong? Survival is not wrong , 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 dying out. 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. Like you . 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. “Go fuck yourself.”

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.

Akur’s gaze found hers through the barrier. Even though he could hardly open his eyes, she could see that he was only focused on her. “Don’t look, bright eyes.”

But she couldn’t look away as the guard began his work. Each cut was precise, calculated to cause maximum pain without fatal damage. Dark blood welled up in precise lines across Akur’s chest. He didn’t shout out this time, but his jaw clenched so tight she could hear his teeth grinding.

“The cellular structure of the Shum’ai is…fascinating,” the Tasqal said conversationally, as if discussing the weather. “So resilient. They can endure so much more than most races before their bodies give out.” It stepped closer again. “It was a pity when your world did not yield, Shum’ai. We once thought Tonvuhiri, that you Shum’ai, might be the key we were waiting for in all these orbits. That your regeneration could spark ours.”

“Once?” Constance croaked.

The Tasqal moved its shoulders like it shrugged. “Useless. We couldn’t get a serum to actualize.” Then it hummed in its throat, that definite sneer on its face once more. “But that regeneration.” She could have sworn it groaned. “It made your females perfect for our purposes.”

Now, that made Akur grunt, lips pulling back in a snarl.

The guard switched to a different blade, this one glowing with heat. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as he pressed it against Akur’s wounds, cauterizing them even as he cut new ones.

Constance retched, bile burning her throat. But she forced herself to keep watching. She owed him that much, at least. To witness his suffering, to share it in the only way she could.

“Your deaths will have meaning,” the Tasqal continued. “Your bodies will nurture the next generation of my kind. Is that not a noble end?”

“I’ll show you a noble end,” Akur growled, then spat blood in the creature’s face again. He faced the Tasqal, staring at him with eyes that blazed violence and thunder.

The Tasqal wiped the blood away almost delicately. Then it plunged its hand into one of Akur’s open wounds, twisting its fingers. This time, Akur couldn’t hold back his roar. And she screamed with him. The sound tore through her, ignited something desperate and dark. Her hands slammed against the floor, again and again, the impact jarring up her arms. She barely felt the skin splitting on her knuckles, barely noticed the smears of red she was leaving on the pristine surface. All she knew was Akur’s pain, and her complete inability to stop it.

“Fascinating,” the Tasqal mused, withdrawing its bloody hand. “Such loyalty between species. Such devotion. It makes breaking you so much more…satisfying.”

“You want satisfaction?” Akur’s voice was raw, but his eyes still blazed with hatred. “Come closer. I’ll show you satisfaction when I rip your spine out through your throat.”

The Tasqal’s lipless mouth curved. “Still so much fight. Good. It will make this last longer.” It turned to face her. “Remember, human. I do not expect the Shum’ai to reveal the secrets we want.” He sneered a little. “His kind is frustratingly loyal. Often known to take secrets to the end. Even to death. But you…” He sneered wider. “Your kind is weak. Emotional. Every moment of his pain is because of you. Every drop of lifeblood, every breath of agony—you could end it all with a few simple words.”

“She doesn’t know,” Akur gritted through the pain. “And even if she did, she would not tell you, scum .”

Constance met his gaze. Despite everything, despite the blood and pain, she saw the same strength there that had drawn her to him from the start. The same unwavering spirit.

“Shum’ai aren’t the only ones who can keep their promises,” she whispered.

Pride flickered in Akur’s eyes before another shock rod was pressed into him.

Time lost meaning after that. Minutes or hours passed in a haze of blood and screams. The Tasqal tried different methods, different tools, but always with the same detachment. As if Akur was dirt in the street rather than a living being.

Through it all, Akur never broke. Never begged. Even when they brought in devices that made his muscles seize and his back arch until she thought his spine would snap, he kept his defiance. But she could see him weakening, see the light in his eyes growing dimmer.

He was going to die. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Finally, the Tasqal stepped back, regarding its handiwork with those cold black eyes. “Enough for now. Let them rest. Consider what awaits you on the next sol.” Bubbles popped as it laughed, and with the sound came the stench of rot. “After all, you have no power here, rebel.” It glided to the door, then paused. “Oh, and so you don’t get too comfortable—”

It gestured and the gator-guard activated a control panel set into the wall. The chains holding Akur suddenly retracted upward and stretched farther apart, pulling him higher along the wall and stretching his limbs. His shoulders made a horrible grinding sound as they bore his full weight.

“Rest well.” The Tasqal’s words dripped with mock concern as it left .

When they were alone, Constance pressed as close to the barrier as she could without touching it. “Akur?”

He lifted his head with obvious effort. “Still here, bright eyes.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” Despite everything, his voice was firm. “This isn’t your fault.”

“They’re hurting you because of me.”

“They’re hurting me because they’re monsters.” He tried to shift position but could only manage a slight swing of his body. “This was always a possibility when I chose to come after you.”

“You must regret it.” The words whispered from her. “You must regret it all.”

“No.”

A part of her wanted to believe that was true. But there was only so much a single soul could take.

For a long moment, Akur was silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than she’d ever heard it. “I don’t regret it. Because you’ve proven, bright eyes…that you are worth the price.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she pressed her forehead against the floor. “You’d have done this for any human? I’m going to be honest here. Some of us aren’t worth this, Akur.”

“Not any human.” His chains rattled as he tried to lean toward her. “But you. You have been worth it all.”

A sob tore from her throat. “I can’t watch them hurt you anymore. I can’t—”

“You can. You will. Because you’re stronger than them. Stronger than their pain. Stronger than their fear.” His voice grew fiercer with each word. “You’re a warrior, Constance. You will make it through this. Somehow . After all,” he chuckled, but it sounded like even his throat bled, “you learned from the best. Akur the…Akur the…” He trailed off, going silent.

“Akur the Undefeated,” she whispered. But he didn’t repeat the words. It was clear he saw this moment as his true defeat.

She looked up, meeting his gaze through the barrier and her tears. Despite his wounds, despite hanging helpless in chains, he looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the universe.

“We’re getting out of here,” she whispered. “I don’t know how, but we are. And then we’re going to burn this whole place to the ground.”

A ghost of his old smile crossed his bloody lips. “That’s my bright eyes.”