Constance
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Constance
The world slowed to 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 heart fall. 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.
There was no time for manuals, no time for training. But she didn’t need them. Right now, she just needed to make something go away. Preferably in pieces .
Through the viewscreen, she could see Akur still fighting. Even wounded, even dying, he was magnificent. His remaining good arm caught a Hedgerud by the throat, hurling the creature into its companions. But there were so many, and more kept coming.
“Come on, come on,” she muttered as she pushed the yoke. It wasn’t perfect. The targeting reticles didn’t pick up the lifeforms below. Maybe because they weren’t designed to fire on living beings.
“Fuck.” Her heart was hammering so hard she couldn’t think straight over the sound of her own pulse in her ears. “Fuck!” It took her a moment to realize that though the cannons weren’t picking up the damned gator-guards or the Tasqals, they were picking up the other ships.
Glancing up, she mapped two of the closest ships and dragged the yoke to target between them.
“LIFTOFF UNDERWAY.”
“Cancel.” Her heart thudded even harder as she watched Akur fall on one knee, a Hedgerud’s blade stuck in his side. Way off, still near the lift, the High Tasqals still stood watching the show. Some were even looking at the ship slowly rising with her inside. She saw the moment one gestured toward it. The moment when several of those gator-guards changed focus and headed her way.
“Cancel! Cancel liftoff and fire!”
The targeting system responded sluggishly. Too slow. Too slow! A warning sound blared—and the damned launch sequence began counting down. No! If she didn’t override it soon, the ship would take off without him.
Finally, the weapons came online. Twin cannons, it seemed. She doubted they were meant for firing indoors. That would only matter if she cared. Pushing the yoke, she grunted at the pain in her hands. The targeting display landed between the two ships in front. “Yes!” But the Hedgeruds were so close to Akur…
She hesitated for a split second, terrified of hitting him.
In that moment, she saw him look up at the ship. Hardly recognizable except for those golden eyes. Even through the wounds, the blood, the exhaustion, his eyes found hers. And in them she saw everyt hing—strength, determination, and something else. Something that made her heart clench with sudden understanding.
This warrior from another world who’d protected her, fought for her, been willing to die for her…she couldn’t lose him. Not like this.
Her finger stabbed the firing control.
The cannons roared to life, their blue-white beams cutting through the air. Immediately, it was clear as day that this wasn’t a weapon to be used in such an enclosed space. The first set of gator-guards it hit exploded in a rain of guts and blood.
Her brows dove, teeth grit as she stabbed the controls again. Bodies flew as explosions rocked the landing bay. The yoke vibrated as she pulled back, sweeping the beams in arcs, creating a perimeter around Akur while desperately trying to avoid him.
The auto-launch sequence blared another warning as the ship swayed, destabilizing her. The cannon fire swerved, eating up the wall as the High Tasqals tried to run for cover.
“No! You don’t get to run! Fuck you !” She regained her footing and targeted them next.
“Override!” she shouted at the computer. “Cancel launch!”
Time slowed down. All her fear, all her anger, all her hatred came gushing right through her. Blue-white fire lit up the Tasqals’ elaborate robes as they scattered like insects. Their bodies popped like mighty fluid-filled bags. Several didn’t make it to cover in time. Good. Let them feel what it was like to be hunted.
The ship lurched again, rising higher. Through the chaos of smoke and weapons fire, she saw Akur stagger as two gator-guards threw themselves on him.
Come on. Something had to work!
“Lower landing ramp!” The command came out in a desperate shout as she kept firing, cutting down everything that was moving.
“RAMP DESCENDING.”
The ramp began descending agonizingly slowly, but the ship was still rising.
Shit.
The ship lurched higher, metal groaning as the ramp opened. There was a heavy thump and when she looked back, all she could see was a dark claw as it dug into the metal. A gator-guard was trying to pull himself up on the ramp. Yellow eyes met hers as his snout appeared, a hateful smile. Through the smoke-filled chaos below, a teal arm appeared over the snout a moment before the guard was suddenly ripped backward. Akur. His body seemed to buckle as two guards threw themselves on him, golden eyes meeting hers one last time before disappearing under their weight.
The scream that tore from her throat felt like it drew blood as the ship spun and she fired wildly, but the ship’s movement threw off her aim. Energy beams carved molten streaks across the hangar walls.
A grinding shriek of metal cut through the din. Emergency lights flashed as something massive struck the ship’s hull. The entire vessel listed sideways, sending her sprawling across the console. Warning alarms blared.
“HULL INTEGRITY AT SEVENTY-ONE PERCENT. EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS ENGAGED.”
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 s hot 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! ”
Tactical assistance? What did that even mean?
She stared at the group of Tasqals before her. There was no winning. Either way she took it, only death was at the end of this line. “Can you assist me?”
The ship responded. “VOICE COMMANDS ONLINE.”
“Good.” Her gaze locked with the Tasqal in front. “Then target everything,” she whispered. “Everything that moves.”
The Tasqals froze, their expressions shifting from smug superiority to confusion. When the first energy beam slammed into the group, vaporizing the lead Tasqal in a flash of blue-white light, his scream was cut short. It echoed through the hangar.
The other Tasqals scattered, their robes billowing as they scrambled for cover. But the ship’s targeting system was too fast, too precise. Energy beams lanced out, cutting them down one by one, their bodies exploding in showers of gore and bone fragments.
When a group of fresh gator-guards suddenly swept in, they were taken down, too.
Constance gripped the yoke, her knuckles white, her eyes fixed on the carnage unfolding below. She didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate. She fired again and again, each blast a testament to her rage, her grief, her unwavering determination to do exactly what he wanted from the start.
To kill them all.
The air became thick with the stench of burning flesh and rot. The screams of the dying echoed through the chamber. She watched impassively as the last of them fell, their bodies reduced to smoking heaps of charred flesh.
There was no satisfaction; not exactly. Just…emptiness. A hollow ache where her heart used to be.
It took moments before she realized pressing the trigger no longer did anything. The ship was out of ammo.
And so was she.
She stood there for a moment, chest heaving, hands trembling on the controls. The tears had dried on her cheeks, leaving salty tracks through the blood and grime. Nothing moved in the carnage below .
Her body screamed in protest as she pushed away from the console. She had to find him. Had to know for sure.
The drop from the ramp jarred every bone in her body. She stumbled, fell, pushed herself up again. Her feet slipped in pools of blood as she made her way across the battlefield that had been a hangar.
“Akur…” Her voice cracked as she reached the pile of dead guards. Her hands shook as she grabbed the first body, straining to push it aside. “Akur.”
One by one, she pushed the massive corpses away, each one straining her body so much it felt like she would break. Her muscles burned. Fresh tears blurred her vision. It took forever before she uncovered him.
Constance froze.
He lay still, so still. His teal skin was darker in places, bruised or worse. She fell to her knees beside him, hands hovering over his chest, afraid to touch, afraid to confirm what she already knew.
“You weren’t supposed to die,” she whispered. “We were supposed to leave this place together.”
Her fingers finally found the courage to brush across his face. Over the ridges that defined his skull. Over his brow, the bridge of his nose, his eyes that would dance with humor when he was being cocky.
“You promised me.” Her voice broke.
But what exactly did he promise? Not that he wouldn’t die. No. He’d simply promised that he’d get her out of here. He promised he’d get her home—wherever that place may be.
Her shoulders shuddered with silent cries as she leaned down on him.
“You promised,” she whispered again.
When a wet cough pierced through her grief, Constance whirled around. Through the remaining smoke, she spotted movement near a fallen support beam. A High Tasqal. Her spine stiffened, hand reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. But it wasn’t just any Tasqal. As the Tasqal shifted, she spotted the fin on his back before he fixed his robes to cover himself .
It was him. The one that had helped them before. His chest heaved, his usually pristine robes now soaked in blood.
“Human…” His voice was barely audible. “You must…go. Now.”
No words came to her mouth. Leave? Nothing seemed to matter anymore.
“More will come.” Blood bubbled at the corners of the Tasqal’s mouth. “The bay will be swarming soon. Leave while…while you can.”
Constance turned back to Akur. Leave ?
The word echoed, strange and hollow in her mind. She’d never considered leaving without him. Not once in all their struggle had she imagined walking away alone. They were supposed to escape together, find freedom together. Ever since he jumped in the void after her shuttle, the future had always been “we,” never “I.”
Her gaze fixed on Akur’s still form. No. She wasn’t leaving—not without him. She didn’t care if it was stupid or impossible or if the entire Tasqal army was bearing down on them. She wouldn’t abandon him here, wouldn’t leave him to be desecrated by the ones who had hunted them.
Staggering to her feet, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled. Muscles screaming in protest, but his massive frame barely moved. Sweat mixed with tears on her face as she tried again.
“Leave him!” The Tasqal wheezed. “Save yourself.”
Funny, Akur would have said the same thing. He’d said it before, many times. Just how many times had he tried to sacrifice himself for her? The least she could do was take his body away from this place.
She could bring him to a place where his soul could find peace.
“I won’t leave him here for them to…” Her breaths came hard and fast. “Help me. Please.”
She didn’t think he would. After all, there must be a limit to his generosity. But as she tugged and pulled, she heard a shuffling movement. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the Tasqal push himself up agonizingly slowly. Blood seemed to swell from a wound in his side, soaking his robes some more as he stumbled toward her.
“You humans,” he muttered, making his way over. He seemed annoye d. Angry even, but as he reached her side, together they grabbed Akur’s shoulders. Every movement was torture, but inch by inch, they dragged the Shum’ai’s body across the gore-slicked floor.
“We’re almost there,” Constance gasped. “Just…a little…farther.”
The ramp seemed impossibly steep. With the ship off the ground, thrusters still fighting for it to rise, there was a gap between the floor and the ship that forced them to lift his body completely. Somehow, they did it. With another grunt, the Tasqal helped her up, too.
They heaved Akur’s body next. She pulled while the Tasqal pushed, both of them trembling with exhaustion. Her arms felt like lead, her legs threatening to give out. But she wouldn’t let go. Couldn’t let go.
Finally, they got him inside. Constance collapsed beside his still form, her chest heaving. The Tasqal collapsed to the floor below.
“Thank you,” Constance said. She couldn’t see him now, his body practically hidden by the ramp. “You’ve proven you’re not all bad. Your people—there’s hope.”
The Tasqal made a gurgling sound. “The orb,” he whispered. “Must be destroyed. Save…both our peoples.”
She nodded, even though he might not have been able to see it.
“Come with me,” she suddenly said. “You don’t have to die here, too.”
The Tasqal made another gurgling sound. “There is more to do here.”
Sounds came up through the open lift. Shouts that sounded like an army of Hedgeruds coming.
“Go!” The Tasqal shouted. “Divert energy to the rear thrusters. It should wrench you free.”
“Computer!” Leaving Akur lying on the ground tore at her as she hurried to the controls. “Close ramp! Divert all power to rear thrusters!”
The ramp began rising with that agonizing slowness. Through the narrowing gap, she caught a final glimpse of the Tasqal’s blood-soaked robes before the metal sealed with a hiss .
“POWER DIVERTED. WARNING: STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY AT RISK.”
The ship screamed. There was no other word for it. Metal groaned and twisted, the hull vibrating so violently she thought it might tear apart. Warning lights flashed across every console, bathing the cargo hold in pulses of angry red and blue.
“WARNING: STRESS LEVELS CRITICAL.”
Something snapped overhead as the ship suddenly lurched forward before righting itself and turning vertical. Another tremendous groan of protest from the ship. The deck plates beneath her feet began buckling. Just when she thought the hull would rupture, there was a final, terrible shriek of metal—and they broke free.
“Come on,” she whispered. “Come on!”
The sudden acceleration threw her backward. She slammed into Akur’s body, the impact driving the air from her lungs. As she gasped for breath, a massive cloud of dust billowed up from below where the ship had been anchored.
Rolling onto her side, she crawled to the nearest viewport. The dust was already beginning to settle, revealing the scene below like a curtain being drawn back. Dozens of Hedgeruds were pouring into the hangar, their reptilian forms making them look like a riverside of swarming crocodiles. They converged on the fallen Tasqal, some already reaching for medical supplies.
The ship gave another violent lurch as it headed upward. This time, she didn’t fight it. Instead, she let herself fall back against Akur’s chest the way she had so many times before. But there was no warmth there now. No steady rise and fall of breathing. No strong arms to wrap around her.
She turned her face into his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent one last time before it faded forever. Her fingers curled into his chest, holding tight as if she could keep some part of him with her through sheer force of will.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his cold skin. “I’m so sorry.”
The ship’s computer chimed softly. “ENTERING AUTOMATED FLIGHT PATH. CHANGE DESTINATION? ”
The words felt like hearing a strange language. She couldn’t react. She just lay there in the cargo hold, clinging to the body of the one she…cared for. She cared for him more than anything. The computer could wait. The mission could wait. The whole damn universe could wait.
For just a little while longer, she just needed to hold him. To remember.
To grieve.