To failure. To death. To his blood in the dirt of Sark's arena.
Why had he picked such a road to travel? What good did it do to die, when even death was empty, without meaning?
Unless, perhaps, he could save Ulna....
He triggered the ray-gun as the fire seared down his back.
But not at Sark. His target was the cymosynthesizer switch; the cable.
Through a haze of pain, he saw them fuse; saw Sark's hand, too, turn to sifting ashes.
The raider screamed and surged forward.
Haral triggered a final beam.
It tore Sark's bulbous head from his shoulders.
The roar of the mob, lunging in for the kill, came dimly to the blue man's ears.