Page 16 of Bonded Queen: to the Alien Warlord Triad

“She must be straight through us. There’s one!” A Scorp vaults over the walls, landing heavily in the courtyard below. They’ve never been so close. I can see each of its serrated fangs in its maw. We fire in unison. Both of us miss. Kat leans farther out of the window to get a better angle, firing over and over, and finally she clips its leg just as her gun clicks, signaling it’s out of ammo.

The huge creature limps forward, bleeding heavily, towards the palace doors. I fire, missing it, then calm myself, line up the shot, and get it straight through the heart.

“Good shot. Reloading!” Kat yells.

I scan the top of the wall for the next one that will come over, when movement from the burning wreckage of the Org-Ship pulls my attention.

The next wave of the Scorp, that I pray are the last, are pulling themselves from the white, sticky organic wreckage. They are the biggest, in the deepest sleep, and they woke without a queen.

They raise their arms to the sky, huge biceps that can easily support their massive claws flexing, then break off in a run towards us. I bite my cheek, the pain centering me, and pull my focus back to the wall where a head peeks over and I blow it apart.

Sweat drips down my brow, stinging my eyes, but I can’t wipe it off, my hands on my weapon. Acrid smoke is billowing from the Aurelian warship, and it makes me cough. I squint, trying to see through the haze as two Scorp pull themselves over the wall. I fire, but they’re smaller, and nimble, and they run towards the palace. Kat takes her place at the window and swears under her breath as she misses them.

“I couldn’t get them!” I say, guilt filling me. I turn to the door, nervous, waiting to hear their clawed feet rushing up the stairs.

“Hold your position. They’ll go straight to the cellars—they can sense humans. The doors will hold. They have to.”

I swallow. “Should I go down there?” My voice shakes as I speak. Imagining being in the dark hallways leading to the cellar, trapped with those things makes me nearly piss myself with fear.

“No. I need you up here.” She cuts down the next beast pulling itself over the wall. The smoke clears for a moment, and I see the biggest, lumbering Scorp pulling themselves from their nests, tumbling down the hill towards us. I lose count of how many more are coming out, but all I know is there’s too many.

We already missed two. There’s no chance we stop them, but we have to try. The Scorp pulling themselves out of the Org-Ship are enormous, some ten feet tall, and I wonder if they’ll even have to scale the walls, or if they can leap over in a mighty jump.

A Scorp pulls itself over the wall and my rifle clicks. Summer’s weapon is continuously thumping from the other tower, and I have no idea if she’s stopped them all or if some came in through the north side of the walls. They could be in on us at any second.

“Reloading!” I shout, rushing to the crate of ammunition, when I imagine the terrified women in the cellar. They can hear the muted sound of gunfire. Will they be able to hear the clawed, gnarled feet of the Scorp above the cellar? Will they hear the claws digging relentlessly against the ceiling, with no way to defend themselves?

My hand shakes as I imagine the Scorp in the close quarters with the other women, ripping through them, and I imagine one rushing up the stairs to our tower, pushing its way past the broken door, that mouth of razor-sharp teeth clamping against my neck and biting in, so that the last thing I see is the hate in its eyes before it pulls me back to…

Fuck!

My hand is shaking too hard. I can’t release the empty clip. I look out through the window, and I can’t count all the enraged Scorp pulling themselves from the wreckage. Too many, with huge, scything claws, claws that could cut through me like a knife through paper, my bones shattering beneath it.

I gasp as I hear something coming up the stairs, but then there’s silence, and I don’t know if I imagined it. Tears drip down my cheeks, and I use my white robe, now covered in sweat and dust, to wipe my face.

“Rachel, I need you at the window!” Kat yells the order, and for the first time, I hear fear in the stoic woman’s voice. I get the clip out, but I grab the next one and drop it, slipping through my sweaty, shaking hands.

“I can’t!” I gasp out, and Kat pulls herself from the window, grabs my rifle from my hands, and slams her loaded one in my grip. Then she pushes me to the window while I hear her reloading. I take my place at the window. A huge Scorp, near ten feet tall, is in the courtyard, stalking towards us. I fire, my first shot blasting his arm off at the shoulder, my second hitting him square in the chest and downing him. Kat finishes him off.

The smoke clears, and I see dozens of the huge creatures approaching the wall. “There’s too many, too many!” My voice is shrill and panicked. I’m trying to keep it together, but I’m seconds away from being a shuddering pile on the ground, grabbing my knees in the fetal position, unable to do anything.

The Reaver punches through the smoke like an avenging angel. The side door of it is open, and it’s twenty feet off the ground, firing as two triads of Aurelians dive out and hit the ground running, rolling and drawing their Orb-Blades.

They move like liquid death. The six men are violence incarnate. They cut down Scorp like madmen. Somehow they move at the last second, narrowly avoiding a snapping claw that should have sheared off their limbs, or ducking under a darting tail that grazes above their heads as they cut down their enemies. They wear black robes that flow with their movements.

Kat just keeps firing. If the triads of Aurelians shocked her, she doesn’t show it. She spits and cocks her head towards the triads. “We killed the last of the wave scaling the walls. Support the Aurelians!”

Somehow, in the fire and fury of battle, she managed to keep an accurate count of how many Scorp were in the wave pulling themselves over the wall. She fires at long range, hitting a Scorp in the kneecap. It stumbles, and one of the Aurelians charges, grabbing it by the chest and neck and lifting the nine-foot-tall beast over its head. The Aurelian has a long, black beard, and he’s built like a bull. He slams the Scorp down hard against the ground, then in a swift motion, kneels and drives his blade through its throat. He’s up before it can react in its death throes, already on the next Scorp.

I try to pull the trigger, but I can’t. I’m terrified of hitting one of the huge, avenging warriors, even if Kat tells me they’re cruel Fanatics. Whatever their motivations, they’re still saving us.

Kat realizes I’m not firing. “Guard the door from any Scorp that slipped through!”

I’ve gone through so many adrenaline dumps, so many ups and downs, my movements are slower now. I’m sluggish as I turn and sit heavily on the chair I used to stand behind and brush Brianna’s long brown hair on. Now I sit, looking at the room in disarray, the floor scraped from dragging the ammo boxes in, dust and mud everywhere.

I don’t know how long it is. Minutes or hours, I sit, with my rifle on my lap, listening for any sound of Scorp climbing up the stairs. Then I blink in confusion, when I realize there’s silence for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. No more anti-air batteries thumping, no more alarm klaxons blaring, and no more thump from Kat’s weapon.

“Clear,” she says, with a grim sort of satisfaction. “The Aurelians are coming in.” I pull myself back to the window. The six Aurelians are unharmed, as if they were immune to the claws and barbs of the Scorp. They jog up to the front gates. I watch them through the rows of iron bars that stand between us and them.

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