Page 22 of Triplets for the Barbarians

The one who’s been questioning Yossul and Fadai hates my guts, though. I’m guessing he’s so deeply indoctrinated into the Sky Tribe’s creed of sending more starships to Earth that he’s fallen on the other side of the spectrum. He hates me because I’m responsible for holding them back this whole time. And he’s not the only guy who thinks that, either.

More than once, we’ve heard about posses forming all over the continent, Sky Tribe mercenaries so desperate to stop me from blowing up another starship that the only solution they see fit is to kill me.

I can’t say that I blame them.

“Fine, but we will check your credentials as soon as we get to the command center,” the guard says.

“Feel free to say hello to Captain Taksim while you’re at it,” Yossul shoots back.

We’ve been working on these identities for over a month. Nobody knows that Lieutenants Hass and Kiel are dead and buried deep in the desert east of Ruby City. It took us a while to follow them around, to observe their habits and to figure out who they were talking to, what missions they were undertaking, and whether we could use their credentials or not. They were, in fact, on a deep-cover mission when they were caught and killed by our boys. They were supposed to track us down and kill us before we blew up a supply line north of Diamond City. We never blew it up, though. It was a ruse to draw them out there. And it worked.

We may have another week or two before the Ruby City brass realizes they’ve been dead for a while. Until then, however, we’ve made good use of their credentials.

The guards move out of the way as Yossul shifts gears and kicks the buggy back into motion. He drives slowly past the gates, and I look back to watch them close behind us. My stomach churns, and cold sweat drips down my temples. This is it. We’re so deep inside enemy territory that it’ll make every other mission we’ve been on seem like a walk in the park.

“We’ve got you,” Fadai whispers without glancing my way.

I think he sensed my growing anxiety.

9

Jewel

An armed escort is assigned to take us across the city and all the way up to the command center. There are a dozen guards with laser rifles, each pointing more or less in my direction as the buggy drags its wheels along the paved road.

I look around, trying to imagine what this place must’ve looked like before. The command center was the crown jewel of this cultural haven, judging by the letters carved atop the main entrance. The Academy of Science and Technology, they say.

The ghost of Pearl City Past lingers everywhere like a distant memory, a silent cry of every wall and every street and every shelf for times long gone, while military vehicles and uniforms, laser weapons and sharp blades have become the norm—of course, this applies to the areas where there is an abundance of soldiers present. Everywhere else it’s the mayhem we saw through the binoculars, as well. Houses burned down. Slums. Misery and aggression.

One thing is certain, and we’ve seen it too often to be surprised at its presence in Pearl City: Sooner or later, everything the Sky Tribe touches turns to rubble.

“Stay feisty until they put you in a holding cell,” Fadai mutters.

Yossul pulls over at the base of the command center’s white marble stairs. The armed guards step aside while he and Fadai get out of the buggy first. I wriggle and curse like a sailor as they yank me out of the back seat and force me up the steps with firm, harsh gestures. No mercy for the Kreek whore, and the guards don’t seem to mind it, not one bit. In fact, I see a couple of them smiling as I’m taken through the front doors.

“Let me go!” I snarl and try to get away, but Fadai’s got a firm grip on my upper arm.

“Don’t make me give you a black eye,” he replies, loud enough for the others to hear.

The command center is riddled with officers and low-level grunts. I’ve already learned the colors and patterns of each of their shoulder tresses, but it’s obvious from the way they carry themselves—the soldiers keep their heads down unless they’re greeting an officer, while the higher-ups walk like they own the fucking place. Typical hierarchical arrogance. Yet one more thing that makes them remarkably similar to humans.

Power is a dangerous drug.

Yossul and Fadai drag me across the lobby to the main desk, where a young man sits, filing various documents into their appropriate folders and drawers. He looks up, and his eyes bulge with shock when he realizes who and what I am. His jaw practically drops to the floor. Man, they would throw a party if they could.

“What is this?” the receptionist asks, his voice trembling slightly.

“What does it look like? Victory for the Sky Tribe,” Yossul replies. “We need to see the commanding officer. Is Helton still in charge here?”

The receptionist stares at me for a moment before he’s able to give a coherent answer. “Yes, he still is. Where did you find her?”

“I will not repeat myself to yet another clerk!” Yossul barks. “I need to see Helton.”

“Oh, it’s not just Helton who will be interested in hearing your story,” the receptionist replies and presses a button on his desktop. Within seconds, the whole lobby is flooded with black-uniformed soldiers, and my knees get weak. “General Hull will be just as pleased.”

“Shit,” I mumble.

We didn’t anticipate this. Our intel had Hull deployed somewhere in Emerald City, not here. Shit, shit, shit. As soon as he sees me, he won’t want to let me go. He’ll tie me up and shove me in his bag if he has to.

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