Page 75 of Bonded Queen: to the Alien Warlord Triad

Humans.

Humans firing down into their own city, not caring if they hit buildings filled with people. “Bombard south wall,” I order into my smartwatch, my voice clear and crisp. The coms-link is kept radio silent, occasional requests for back-up and reports on troop movements fed directly into my ear.

Reavers descend like birds of prey, black as space, their Orb-Beams lancing out and searing the sky as they destroy the gun-batteries of the guards on the wall who cower behind long-range weapons. The wall itself holds firm, but huge chunks of molten rock and metal tumble down as the Reavers dart away out of range of the city’s anti-air batteries, waiting for my signal.

Pure white enemy Reavers are taking to the sky, but our fleet matches theirs. With the surprise attack, we were able to blast most of the air-fields before they could even take off, destroying unshielded Reavers while they lay in hangar bays on the ground. More will be coming from the orbital defense stations we bypassed by Orb-Shifting. If we don’t take the anti-air batteries, and fast, we won’t be able to withstand the counter attack.

We’re outnumbered. Outgunned.

But we have surprise on our side. We made a surgical strike, Obsidian shifting the still damaged, barely repaired Matador only a few miles south of the capital city. It sits on the ground, the bays opened so that Reavers can stream out, the main guns of the warship pointed to the sky and supporting the attack ships, so that they can dart back when outnumbered and use the protection of the Matador’s huge Orb-Beams to stop enemy Reavers from hunting them down. The Aurelian Empire doesn’t know that the Matador’s armor is held together with gum and quick welding jobs, or that the shields are at ten percent efficiency. To them, a huge warship appeared out of nowhere, stifling their counter attacks.

The Matador appeared directly over the capital of Elsinor. The maps of their barracks were outdated, but we were able to strike at least three within seconds of appearing, killing many of the enemy triads before they even knew they were here.

The Orb-Shift was perfect. Obsidian was eager as he laid out the coordinates. I knew why. This was the first strike into the Aurelian Empire. It is one step closer to Colossus, where his pregnant mate is trapped. He coordinated three shifts at the same time, three planets under siege by his most trusted generals.

The Aurelian I killed was reduced to dust by the wall guns, but two more lay bleeding. One is dead. The other is missing his arm, a huge rend in his chest where Orr cut him near in half. He’s clinging to life, his face contorted in pain and anger, and his aura has a sickly scent of fear.

“He won’t make it to the cryo-bay,” says Kriz. The dying Aurelian looks up, and his face becomes peaceful, his gaze clearing as Kriz plunges his blade through the man’s heart, ending his bloodline forever.

It’s a damned shame. Every life lost, never to be replaced.

It is what must be done.

We stalk past the bodies, turning the corner of a road. I motion at my troops to follow, three eager young triads that I direct. I order one of them to fan out in the alleys and roads, leaving two behind me for backup.

With few enemy Reavers left, the main resistance is isolated groups of triads who are charging through the roads, trying to retake the positions we took by surprise. I ordered triads to continue pushing towards the control rooms where they can take over the city defenses and others to patrol the streets, stopping triads before they can mount an organized counter-attack.

The road is empty. Untouched. No bombardment has hit it, and it looks like any other city street. There are fruit stands on either side of the road. An orange rolls forlornly.

Three triads are marching down the center of the road, without fear of Reaver fire, braving the streets to strike back against the shield-bay we took. One triad has on white robes, the others are in tailored grey suits, their Orb-Blades humming and eager, brought out of leisure by the sudden war.

In the center is a triad of Elites. They have finely wrought, ancient Orb-Armor that hisses and glows with power, the metal inlaid with hundreds of tiny Orbs, woven together with threads so that anything but a perfect blow of an Orb-Blade would glance off. The highest rank of the Aurelian Empire, they stare me down imperiously. Two of them have Orb-Blades, and the leader of the three has a hatchet, with a gleaming Orb-imbued blade that hums with energy.

Their armor is covered in blood. They’ve killed many of my triads. I can sense it.

“Ra’al!” The elite roars. I recognize him. I fought at his side near three hundred years ago, when we were both common soldiers, with no one under our command. He knows instinctively that I am the general of this army and that if he cuts my triad down, he will deal a huge blow to our side. I know, the same, that he is one of the leaders of the resistance and that he rallied his troops for a counter-attack where they would be most devastating to us. If they take control of the shields, they can restore the city’s shields and stop our air support.

I raise my fist. The triad of Fanatics behind me stops. They are hunting wolves. Their foreheads are filled in with double brands. They’ve killed Empire Aurelians before, earning their honors. They eschew all battle armor, like us, protected by nothing more than black robes and our speed and strength.

It is nine men against nine, but the Elites will have an advantage, their armor the only thing that can protect against an Orb-Blade in close combat.

At my signal, the two triads behind me move out to the left and right down alleyways, disappearing into the city. The leader of the Elites nods in respect and directs his men away, so that it is the three of us against the three of them.

I’m here. So perfectly here, in this moment and nowhere else, staring down three men who can rival us. I breathe in. The soot and stink of blood fills my lungs. It’s acrid. It is like the air of a glacial, pure mountain to me, perfection. My heart beats, and I am alive, and three of us must die.

I roar and charge, my Orb-Blade hungry.

27

Rachel

Icurl up in a ball. The pleasure room envelops my body. I have only a small hole to breathe, and I float, weightless in the center of the room, sobbing into my hands.

It’s endless.

It’s been three of four days straight. When they Orb-Shifted, they disappeared from my mind, their auras winking out for long, endless seconds. I felt what it would be like if they died.

My mind was empty. Alone. Terror gripped me, until they reappeared into my mind and into a warzone.

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