Title-- Last Chances
Rating and Warnings-- PG-13 for violence and gore.
Species and Characters-- Species = Tarok, basically bipedal Korats that tend to be spacers. Species mentioned are Drakka (four-armed, three-eyed bipeds built like gorillas), furries (anthropomorphic animals), and Jhee (tall, lean, harmless scientists). Character is Amari, a bladeless black female, also a fugitive.
Summary and Notes-- Wrote it a while back, but it's still good. >D Heh heh heh. Just read it.


"After her! Don't let her escape again!"

By Ghrayu, don't you people ever get original? Vivid cornflower-blue eyes rolled in annoyance and a short, powerfully built black Tarok darted around a corner, longclawed right hand gripping the hilt of her sheathed weapon. Antique gold claws glittered in the artificial light of the technology-overrun world of Siega III as Amari paused briefly, bladeless tail falling limp as she tried to catch her breath. They'd been chasing her for hours on end now; they had guns and she didn't. The hot, metallic-smelling wind ruffled her coarse pitch-black fur with rusty fingers and she flinched. What an ugly planet. She leaned heavily against an old, abandoned building; though very quick and unusually strong, her endurance wasn't as good as she wished it was. The chase was wearing on her.

Trying to use her time as best as she could, the Tarok took stock. She'd lost all weapons except for her favorite, an electric longsword. Her turquoise pantaloons and golden sleeveless shirt, normally an appealing outfit, had been shredded and singed by near misses with bullets and lasershot. Her sterling silver gauntlets were still intact, though, and the rugged fugitive cracked a grin. One nicked ear twitched as the sound of running paws was detected, and Amari tensed, digits curling around the sturdy hilt of her blade. If she could take a few out in close combat, maybe steal a gun, and then flee... perhaps she'd have a chance of making it off of this gods-forsaken world. If not, her blood would fertilize metallic dust and nothing more.

"Where'd she go?"
"She's probably hiding!"
"Find her!"

No kidding, morons, the Tarok thought with a roll of her eyes, what the btsa else am I going to do when half a dozen marksmen are chasing me? Bright, pale eyes focused in abruptly as several aliens -some Jhee, some furries, even one Drakka- came into view. Bloodstained fangs were bared in a vicious grin as Amari launched herself from the shadows of the building. Her sword rang against the leather scabbard and her fingerpad pressed down on the switch embedded into the guard -- with a wicked little whirr, the grey metal glowed brightly as electricity coursed through it. The Tarok angled her spine forward and lashed out once at the nearest alien, slicing it cleanly in half and listening to the sudden crackle of flames as its clothing burned merrily. The Drakka leveled all four guns at her and she leaped to avoid the barrage that slaughtered two of its companions.

Amari laughed as she hit the dirt moving, cracking a Jhee's spindly legs in two with one powerful strike of her tail. Unable to reset her right arm for a full blow with her electric sword, the black raked the duller edge of the blade against a furry's chest, quickly jerking it away after the bipedal canine went into shock and crumpled. "Blast! KILL HER!" The Tarok chuckled under her breath, spinning gracelessly and leaping twenty feet to avoid the next bombardment of missiles, bullets, and lasershot -all from that Drakka- and took advantage of her altitude to take stock. The Drakka was blasting away and killing some of its own comrades, but the smarter ones were backing up and leveling their own rifles at her, aiming this time. She'd land with little time to dodge and no one in sword-range. Dyone.

As soon as sturdy paws hit dirt, the remaining three aliens (not counting the Drakka) aimed and fired-- but Amari was tearing forward with unexpected speed, leaning low to snatch a small handgun from the comatose furry she'd previously brushed with her sword. Switching her blade to her left hand and the gun to her longclawed right, she sprang to the right to avoid shelling and got off a few shots at the one remaining Jhee. It choked and fell, giving up its life to the thirsty dust swirling in clouds around the commotion. Amari leveled her gaze at the Drakka and was quite surprised to see those three globular eyes actually aiming, all four hands adjusting and readjusting to cover all possible routes of dodging. Dyone!! Feeling her heart skip a beat, the Tarok twisted her torso to face the bigger beast. She leveled her sword, pointing the tip straight at its blocky chest, and with a static-y clink rested the short barrel of her handgun against the luminous blade as she skidded sideways in the dust. The black squeezed off a shot just as the Drakka was prepared to fire... and, electrified, the bullet rocketed with more force and speed than ever before to plunge into the beast's leathery black chest and emerge in a spray of dark blood from its back.

A sudden, sharp pain in her left arm just above the elbow took Amari by surprise, and belatedly she remembered the other two marksmen. Scarlet blood flowed freely, saturating rough black fur, as the Tarok backpedalled to avoid another shot, her sword clattering to the ground as pain and numbness overpowered her will. She had time to fire twice at the feline furry who'd nailed her, knocking the biped off its feet despite not managing a fatal shot, before she was forced to dodge the last one's more deadly lasershot. It was several seconds before she could pause and aim, her bullet smashing through the furry's skull and killing it instantly.

The black came to a halt, chest heaving with her exertions and left arm screaming in pain. Ignoring it, she quickly stuffed the handgun in her belt and trotted to retrieve her sword... before slowing to a gentler pace. The buzz of electricity was like a soothing murmur to the frazzled Tarok, and she paused a moment, simply holding her sword, before shutting it off and sheathing it. "So I'm getting outta here alive after all," she mused aloud, a slight grin crossing her muzzle. Ripping the shreds of her once-whole gold shirt off, Amari wrapped it around her wound and straightened her spine painfully to the accustomed 60º angle. "Time to scram, then," she decided wearily, every muscle aching as she pushed herself into a slow, careful trot towards the nearest spaceport.