The Starlight Lancer

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Stranger's Blessing

"There is still good left in the Nova Rim. I'm afraid it's surrounded by darkness and despair, but it is there, and it is real. If you are where you are meant to be, you may find it when you need it most."

—Legendary High Lancer Pria Song

Zaina gasped and turned—the alley's walls flew by as pops whizzed past her. She turned the corner and sprinted further into the network of back-roads and low-density areas. Every twist and turn only made her more lost.

The androids stepped around the corner and focused their birifles as Zaina dashed across the street and stepped into another alleyway. They'd gained a few steps. She turned another corner, needing to get out of their line of sight—dead end.

"No," she said. She whipped around and ran back—the androids appeared.

Zaina clenched her fists and hastened her charge. This might hurt.

None of their birifles were raised while they ran, so she had a few split seconds to work with—her fist caved in the shoulder of the closest android. She tore its arm off and battered the second android with the severed limb, knocking it to the ground. A pop rang out—Zaina ducked, turned, and threw the arm at the third android. She leaped to the side, then dashed at it with a full-body tackle. She pulled its birifle from its hands and bashed its head in, then turned to finish off the other two.

The remains of the shattered androids were scattered around Zaina. Her breaths were heavy, and her heart raced. I didn't want this.

She lingered on the carnage for another ten seconds, then turned and ran. Everything about this world was wrong.

Zaina turned a corner and slipped, stumbling and smashing her bad shoulder against a metal box sticking out of a building's side. A pained gasp escaped her gritted teeth as her eyes shut tightly. She tried to stand, but lost her balance and collapsed. Her stomach loosed a weak growl. Her lungs were on fire, too.

Dammit—

Her wound had reopened, spilling blood onto the pavement's faded stains. Luckily, this cross section of alleys had few people. One person was wrapped in a blanket atop a pile of trash—another was talking to themselves. Neither seemed to mind her as she crawled next to an overflowing dumpster and leaned her back against the wall.

Zaina's deep, heaving breaths weren't enough to deaden the pain. She stared up at the gray-fogged sky—lights from the rooftops shone to the clouds, turning and twisting on a whim. The dull buzzing of crowd noise and distant music blared on, uncaring of anything around it.

After the events of the past week, that last fight took more out of her than she expected. Being hungry and sleep-deprived probably didn't help matters much. She pulled her knees to her chest, fighting to keep her eyes open. I should've stayed on the ship.

-

With a gasp, Zaina jolted awake. "Huh? What?"

Beams of daylight broke through the layer of fog above. Had she fallen asleep? How many hours had it been?

"Hello, there," a sweet voice called out from nearby. Zaina's head whipped toward it. Standing three feet away was a female maroon Cresslian—humanoid bodies, scaled, hairless skin, and spiked ridges lining their temples—wrapped in a gray ceremonial cloak. "Are you awake?"

Zaina shifted forward and rubbed her head. "I think so. This all feels like a bad dream." She looked up—the woman's eyes were friendly.

"A nice young woman told me there was someone here who needed help—looks like she was right," the Cresslian woman said. "Why don't you come with me? I run a center where displaced people can go to get what they need to get themselves back on their feet."