Page 8 of Broken Triad

I take the stairs three steps at a time, run through the courtyard, and enter the main hall. Toa’s wrinkled hands are clutched tight around the broom. She showed me her hands once with a happy cackle, proud of the creases in them from clutching a broom for decades. Her back is bent. After all those years of service, the Baron Paulus left her behind to die.

“Toa, you need to go down to the cellars,” I say, keeping my voice gentle.

“I need to clean for my master’s return,” she answers, her voice far-off, not pausing to answer me as she sweeps back and forth in the same line on the floor she’s done a hundred times today.

I rack my brain. “Paulus told me he needs the cellars swept, Toa. He told me you’re supposed to go down there and make the floor clean, and then stay there until he comes back. Can you do that?”

Silently, she stops, then looks over at me with a little smile. “He told you that? Paulus always did have a soft spot for you.” She walks out to the door towards the cellar. I want to follow her to make sure she gets there alright, but after decades of working this estate, she knows it better than me.

I’ve got a job to do. I rush to the kitchen, knowing that at any moment, an Org-Ship could land right on the manor and crush us instantly. I don’t know the weight of those Org-Ships. Would it demolish the entire estate and kill us instantly, or would the fleshy organic material buckle against the stone, suffocating us as Scorp clawed their way out of their resin?

Jess and two other women are throwing cupboards open, searching for food left behind. Most of it is stripped bare, but Jess gets her hands on a bag of flour, smiling with victory. It’s a small win. But we needed it. Flour might be bland and tasteless, but it is calories.

“You’re doing great. The cellar is still half-stocked, so bring what you’ve got and head down,” I say, trying to reassure them as I pull a pruning knife from a block and make it disappear into the folds of my white linen dress. I’ve got no idea if Paulus raided the cellars or left anything in them, but I can’t in good conscience have the three servants I ordered to grab food from the kitchen stay above ground for a second longer.

They leave the kitchen through the hallway that leads directly to the cellar, but I take a detour, down a poorly lit, rarely used hallway where I find the crack in the wall to my secret cranny. I reach in. The first time I found a hole to stash my contraband, I had to stifle a gasp when I put my hand straight through a thick spiderweb.

I pull out the secret bag of rations I stashed for my escape. Now we’ll use it to endure. Inside it is something even more precious, the smartwatch my dad told me to stash away when I started my contract, forbidden for indentured servants.

There are no notifications from him.

I hope it means he’s deep below ground, hunkered up to survive, out of reach of the signal. I put my watch in the same pocket as my knife. When the Aurelians come, we’ll hear them, and I’ll send out a distress signal.

I hope it’s the watch I have to use, and not the knife.

“Everyone, down to the cellars!” The voice is confident, ushering stragglers. Rachel. She’s got an edge to her voice I’ve never heard before, a new strength. She never shot a gun before today, and shooting a truck full of men, no matter how cruel they are, must change a person.

She turns the corner, her blonde curls matted to her face, a striking beauty with hard features so unlike my softness. She hides her fear, or doesn’t feel it. “Lola, I know it’s scary, but everything’s going to be alright. You just need to go down to the cellar with everyone, okay? You’ll be safe there.”

She’s lying, and she knows she’s lying, speaking to me the same way everyone else does. Like I’m a sweet, innocent girl in need of saving. She doesn’t even seem to see the bag in my hand, or the opening in the wall. I’ve always been underestimated.

I nod, trying to smile, and follow her down the hallway to the steps leading down to the cellar. Here, the air is cool and dry. The door to the cellar is open, and I can see down the steps that all nine of the other servants are already inside the spacious storeroom. I’m glad to see Toa is there, slowly moving her broom across the stone floor.

The doors are thick oak, and maybe they make the other women feel safe, but I know that they won’t do anything to stop the raking claws of a Scorp. It might buy us a few seconds at most before the razor-sharp appendages turn the wood to splinters. The other women are standing around aimlessly, not knowing what to do.

I pause at the top of the steps.

“Go in, come on, it’ll be fine,” says Rachel, her eyes darting up the hallway, her hands clutching the rifle. She’s eager to get back to her position, before the first wave of Scorp comes.

“Rachel, come in with us. Convince Summer and Kat. Maybe they’ll listen to you. We’ve got food for months, and if we keep quiet, the Scorp might not find us.”

“I can’t. Lola, I need you to go into the cellar now, because I’ve got to get back to my post.” The way she talks to me is like a teacher to a pupil, and I curse my age, curse the pouting lips and soft features I was born with, that makes people never take me seriously.

“Rachel, you don’t know Scorp. My dad’s a miner. He told me everything. You fire those rifles, all you’ll do is put a target on us.”

“I’m not just going to sit around waiting to—” She clears her throat, looking down awkwardly. “Waiting to be saved.” Some of the women are poking their heads out of the door, wondering what we’re talking about.

Waiting to die. That’s what she was going to say.

“Rachel.” I lower my voice, so the other servant women can’t hear me. “You’ll bring them to us. Scorp are attracted to life, and they’ll go for the Royal City first. If we’re quiet, we have a chance. I know you don’t believe in the Aurelian Empire, but just think about it. We’re one sector off from their borders. They’ll get word of the attack, and they’ll come.”

“Lola. Get in the cellar.” Rachel’s voice hardens.

“Don’t you understand?” I need her to listen to me, but I can’t control the panic in my voice as it rises an octave. “They can’t let a planet next to them be Scorp infested. They have to come and cleanse them! We can survive, if you come down, and hide with us, as long as we’re quiet and…”

She grabs my hand, her wiry arm surprisingly strong from nearly ten years of labor. She pulls me down the stairs, and I stumble, when she pushes me through the door. I drop my bag of rations, and it spills, and I thank the Gods I hid my smartwatch in my pocket already, so it didn’t fall on the stone ground and crack.

“I’m sorry, Lola, but I need you to get out of the way. I’ll protect you. You’re going to be okay.”

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