The three remaining harvesters did not falter. Driven by the primal instinct of their engineered design, they lunged in a coordinated, silent strike.
The first came from the left, its jointed stilts launching it over the central workbench, ivory finger-needles extended toward Cattleya”s throat. The second swept low across the stone floor, aiming to sever her tendons, while the third dropped directly from above, its split jaws fully expanded to engulf her head.
Cattleya”s internal processing slowed the world into distinct, manageable vectors.
She did not dodge. She pivoted on her heel, placing her body between the descending horrors and Rusty”s limp form on the floor.
As the first creature reached her, Cattleya caught its elongated forearm, using its own forward momentum to pivot and dr
