Page 27 of Broken Triad

I grab the bag I packed. I’ve got clothes, toiletries, and ration bars. I follow Summer up the hallways. As we walk, my mind is burning with questions. “Do you know what happened to Rachel? The triad…they said she earned a silver collar.”

“Oh, she earned it alright. It was broadcasted all over the universe. Those three Generals bred her…and their eyes changed color, I swear I saw it with my own eyes. She’s okay. Don’t worry—but there was an attack. An anti-air battery got taken over by people who don’t accept Aurelian rule, and they tried to blast the whole fucking palace apart. Killed three of the Priests,” she says, with an uncomfortable shiver. “Let’s hope they don’t take it out on us.”

“Gods. So she’s Bonded to them?”

“That’s what you got out of that?” We step out into the morning sun of the courtyard together.

The automated wagon is on the other side of the bent bars of the front gate, already filled with servants. It’s a cattle cart, with bars on the side, used to transport animals from the farms to the city, and there’s still some traces of hay. Servants are sitting on their bags in it, looking up at the clock which reads three minutes. There’s still the logo of the transport company on the side, owned by one of the three major families of the planet who were the first to leave when they got prior warning of the Scorp.

“Be right back,” says Summer, rushing up Brianna’s tower. I wait by the wagon without going in as the servants avoid looking at me. They still feel awkward about what happened in the garden. Summer comes down from the tower, her rifle slung over her back, with a big, heavy duffel bag. I jump into the wagon and help her up, and the two of us squat near the open back of the wagon as it hums to life, its wheels automatically moving on its automated path to the city.

I wonder if it’s a coincidence that the automated wagon bringing women into the city to be auctioned off was for cattle. These aliens think of us as nothing but livestock…

Only, I know it’s not true. The three brutes could have done anything they wanted to me last night, and the way their cocks were fully engorged, so hard they must have hurt, there were plenty of things they wanted to do to me. Yet, they pushed me away.

Summer keeps her rifle over her knees as she squats, and it looks like she was born with it. She keeps glancing through the bars that give us a full view around us as the wagon moves at a slow, steady pace, humming along.

No one’s speaking, and the silence gets deeper as we pass by the ruined truck with bullet holes and bloodstains on the seats. The bodies have been removed, but there’s no hiding the destruction.

Toa looks blankly forward, then gets up, nearly losing her balance. “I’ve got to get back to the manor. Paulus will be so cross if I don’t have it cleaned up,” she says, and some of the other women gently grab her, telling her to sit and that Paulus is waiting for her in the Royal City. I hope the Aurelians see that her mind is broken and don’t force her to work too hard.

“What’s going to happen to us?” Macey’s voice quavers. She’s used to tending gardens, and I can’t imagine her wasted in a factory.

“Aurelians said you’d have a choice. I’d go with the farms,” says Summer, confidently. “They aren’t stupid. They’ll see your talent.”

“Easy for you to say,” says Letty, bitterly. “You get to be free, because you picked a rifle up. Oh, and Lola, you get to be free, too,” she says, casting me a cold glance. Her moment of empathy when she apologized in the garden might as well never have happened.

I ignore her. Her words mean nothing to me. I’m still thinking of my father, deep in the caves, and how I’m going to get there. In the chaos of the fallen planet, maybe we can “acquire” a transport ship, or hop a ride on an automated wagon going north…anything to cut down the long walking distance through the perilous mountains.

I glance curiously at Summer’s large black duffel bag. Something is poking at the material from the inside, and I’m guessing it’s a second rifle, the twin of the one over her lap. Will I learn to fire it, before heading North? I always thought she was wasted cleaning and working, her mind too sharp, and now I see her in her rightful place.

I set my eyes north. Through the wide iron bars of the wagon, I can see the snow-capped mountains that loom over the Royal City’s walls. They stand like daggers.

Summer nudges me. I glance over, and she unzips her bag slightly, just enough that I catch a glimpse of sparkling jewels that must have been left behind in the rush of Paulus’ family to escape. I know what they mean without a word.

We’ll be able to trade them for a ride north, as long as the Aurelians haven’t completely shut down transport ships and appropriated all of them for their war effort. Even if they have, there’s always someone who can be bribed, because there simply aren’t enough of the alien species to run the entire planet.

It’ll be dangerous, but the two of us have a chance. I know the camp my dad is working, and I’ll be able to lead us to the entrance. Then, where we’re going, no one has maps, and the surviving miners will be huddled deep below, finding hiding spots as Scorp descend into the blackness hunting for them.

We can’t waste any time.

The wagon crests another hill, then turns a corner, and we’re in a little valley between two crests, when I freeze up, my eyes seeing but my mind not processing the sight.

Three huge Aurelians. They’re wearing black robes that cover their entire bodies, rather than the togas that expose the branded side of their chests, hooded and pulled over their heads. They have black masks, so that the only thing I can see of them are the three sets of cold grey eyes as they sprint towards us. They’re running from the right side. Summer draws her rifle, but they’re on us too quick, and they grab the gun from her and throw it into the wagon as servant women scream.

Then they’re onto me. I’m thrown over one of the big beasts’ shoulders, and they take off as three in a sprint. I yell for help as I’m bounced up and down. He wraps one huge arm around my thighs, pulling me tight against his boulder shoulder muscle, and my head bounces up and down as I try to look around, my neck straining to stabilize.

I turn my head and catch a glance at Summer. She’s got her rifle cocked and trained on us, but she can’t get a shot. She jumps off the slow-moving wagon, but I’m carried around the hill and out of sight at an inhuman pace, the long legs of my captor eating up the ground.

I slam my fists against the back of the man who grabbed me. It’s like hitting a stone wall. He’s muscled beyond belief. The other two aliens are running in front. The sun is blotted out as we enter the forest where Paulus liked to hunt, light streaming through the green leaves. I kick, wriggle, and try to get free, but I know it’s futile. Even if by some miracle I escaped his clutches for a moment, I’d still be far away from any help, in the wilderness with the triad.

I try to breathe in, to catch the scent of the three men, to see if they are Krazak and his triad, but all I can smell are the big, leafy ferns and fragrant, alive scents of the forest.

“Let me go!” I yell, but only silence greets me as the alien jumps easily over knotted vines and rocks, his footing sure as he takes me deeper and deeper into the forest. The foliage gets thicker, the sun fainter, and I realize with horror that no drone flying overtop will be able to spot me, that even heat sensors will be useless in the forest teeming with life.

The three men never slow, not even in the hidden depths of the forest, and I bounce helplessly with each long-legged stride. They leap over vines, slip through cracks between trees, their footing sure despite the treachery of the terrain. Their combat boots squelch in the mud. I keep my neck flexed, trying to stop my brains from being scrambled as I’m bounced up and down. I scramble for support, gripping the black cloth of the robes, feeling the hard muscles of the alien under his robes.

Ten, fifteen minutes of racing deeper and deeper into the forest, and he stops so suddenly my chin smacks against his back. I try to get my bearings, seeing a cliff face and a pool of water when I’m gently, firmly lifted off his shoulder and placed on the ground. My feet land on sturdy rock. We are in a clearing in the forest, but the trees reach upwards, knitting together in a thick canopy, which the sun filters through weakly. There’s a wide stream that must be running from the north mountains, which curls around a rocky cliff face, pooling then streaming southwards towards the estates. I wrack my mind, trying to remember if I’ve ever seen a stream coming through the forest, but I can’t place it.

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