Page 80 of Broken Triad

“Good. Thank you.”

He brings me to the seed aisle, rattling off information about the genetically modified seeds. I try to remember Lola’s favorite foods. I curse myself, because I never asked her, but I remember how she drooled over the sweetest fruits. I lug three bags of hardy seeds over my shoulder, and buy two smaller bags with honey-fruit and strawberry seeds. I keep them over my left shoulder, my other hand near the hilt of my blade. Every second spent in public is danger.

I stalk back towards the hanger, senses attuned for any potential danger. Any one of these humans could be working for Queen Jasmine, and one of the flitting eyes on us an operative of the Priests, hunting us down. I keep my eyes scanning for danger, not letting the sizzling aromas of roasting meat from nearby restaurants distract me. Khra is in charge of supplies, and he’ll load us full of rations that will sustain us.

It’ll be three months of flying. Three months, and we’ll wake her the second we leave this space-port. I try to keep my thoughts clear, but all I can think about is her eyes opening, blinking in surprise, then hope, when she sees her triad standing over her protectively. All I want to do is kiss her. Touch her. Put my hand over her heart and feel it beat.

I walk into the hanger bay. Khra is in front of me, with two huge sacks filled with rations over his back. We’ve got all we need. A med-bay in the Reaver, supplies to last us, seeds to grow. When the bio-former arrives, even a desert could be turned into fertile land, given enough time, but we’ll find a place with rich soil, one where plants would grow even without our help.

A flash of movement, different than the mechanics and workers, catches my gaze to the right. Predatory. Lithe. The Aurelian comes out from behind a ship, his triad at his back.

Nickolas. I recognize him. He was thirty years ahead of me in Academy. We both served under General Ra’al. His blade is in his hand just as Khra and I drop our sacks, drawing our own weapons. Tools clatter to the ground, people yell and push, a mass of panicked humanity as they flee the hanger bay, leaving us alone with the triad. Nickolas is a beefy Aurelian, with a bright red beard that goes down his broad chest. The brand is empty. That brand would have signaled safety, what feels like a lifetime ago.

“Drop your weapons! We’ve got two more triads with rifles on you!” Nickolas booms out the command, and I glance upwards. I see the barrels of rifles, pointing straight at me.

“It’s a trap. Get her out.”I telepath to Bolden just as I drop my weapon. It deactivates as it falls to the ground. The orb in the hilt glows with fury, aching for blood, aching for another fight against Aurelians. It drank deep on Elsinor, but it is never sated.

Nickolas sees me glance towards the Reaver. “Don’t even try it. We have Reavers outside the hanger bay. He won’t make it out.”

I telepath what he said to Bolden, and the Reaver barely hums to life before it quiets.

“You can shift. It’s your only chance. Leave us behind,”Telepaths Khra.

“I will not risk her in the void. They are after us, not her.”Bolden telepaths it back. He has control of his rage, and the Reaver sits silent and inert.

“Tell him to come out.” Nickolas barks out the order. His smoke-grey eyes are cold and calculating.

The Reaver doors opens, and Bolden strides out. His head is down, defeated, and he drops his weapon, kicking the hilt towards the Fanatic triad.

There will be no last fight for us, no last heroic duel, not with rifles aiming straight for us. The grave holds no peace for me.

“Group up.”

We stand, Bolden to my right, Khra to my left, as it has been for centuries, and Nickolas marches us forward. His blade hums by my neck.

“How did you find us?” I ask.

“Does it matter?”

“No. I guess it doesn’t,” I say, as he marches us towards the medical bay. My hand twitches, eager to grab a blade and fight, but there is no way out. Even if we somehow managed to kill Nickolas and his triad, there are more ships waiting to cut us down before we can escape.

“You had no supplies. General Ra’al sent groups of men to the three possible space-stations you could land on,” says Nickolas.

“General Ra’al. Not the Priests,”Telepath’s Khra to us. His mind is sharp as ever.

“I thought I would have to kill you. I did not expect you three to surrender,” says Nickolas, his voice suddenly wary. “If there’s any trick or trap, know you aren’t getting off this station alive,” he says, as we enter the medical bay. He points towards the door leading to the sleeping pods with his blade. “Go in. Now. You two first,” he says, pointing to Bolden and Khra.

“Go,”I telepath, and though Bolden growls, the two of my triad enter the sleeping pod room. I hear the hiss of the two pods opening, then closing, and the two auras I have felt since academy fade into nothingness of sleep.

“You. Sit. There,” barks Nickolas, pointing to the metal slab in the med-bay. I sit, and he reaches into his robes slowly, pulling out a calorie bar and throwing it to me. “Eat,” he says.

I open it with slow movements, my stomach growling, and chew. I swallow eagerly as Nickolas puts his smart-watch to his ear, listening. The two of his triad are silent behind him, dark-haired, lean warriors who have never backed down from a fight.

“Seeds. Supplies. What the fuck were you planning? The great warrior Krazak, becoming a goat-herder? Make me understand. You’ve been wed to death since your Mate died on the Tomb. Why not martyr yourself?”

“The middle pod. Lola. She snuck onto the ship to stop us.”

“Lies.” Nickolas snarls out the word. “This Reaver was linked to your DNA. She couldn’t get on.”

---