Triorion Omnibus

by L. J. Hachmeister

  “Especially on Fiorah,” Jaeia said.

  “Gods!” the Oblin exclaimed. “That world is a telepathic nightmare, especially for a child.”

  Jaeia shrugged. “We did okay. We helped each other.”

  “So that’s how you survived. You have a special connection with each other?”

  “Yes,” Jaeia said. “We watched out for each other. But now that Jahx is gone, it’s harder. It’s just Jetta and me.”

  “And what is this thing in Jetta you fear so much?” the Oblin asked.

  Shrinking away from him, Jaeia squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe I can just disappear.

  “Jaeia, if you tell me, I can help you. Then we can bring Jetta back.”

  When Jaeia opened her eyes she realized she was crying again. “You know what I am—and you want to help me?”

  The Grand Oblin nodded.

  “I was... I am the Slaythe. I am General Volkor. I am a killer.”

  “I know what happened, Jaeia. I saw all of it.”

  “Then why do you want to help me?” she asked. Trembling all over, she backed against the rock as far as she could.

  The Grand Oblin smiled. “Because of who you are, Jaeia, not what you have done.”

  “What do you see in me?” Jaeia whispered.

  “I see opportunity drawn from misfortune. I see hope,” the Grand Oblin whispered back. “Now, tell me. What is this thing you fear?”

  Jaeia saw sincerity in her amethyst eyes. For a brief moment she saw her uncle too, as he was in her earliest memories.

  “Before I tell you anything more, I want you to understand how much I love my sister.”

  “Of course,” the Grand Oblin said.

  “She has always wanted what was best for my brother and me, and I know she would lay down her life for us,” Jaeia said, rubbing her knuckles against the rock wall, trying to keep her words from sounding so defensive.

  Although there was no urgency in the Oblin’s voice, she held her breath, clutching her walking stick to her chest as she waited for Jaeia to continue. “Go on.”

  “I know my sister would never hurt another Sentient without reason, but this love she has for us—because of it, it’s a constant battle to prevent her from harming others. She thinks that’s the only way to protect us.”

  “How would she harm them?” the Oblin asked.

  This is it; our secret. Jaeia opened her eyes and looked at her squarely.

  “I don’t know what it is. I’ve never heard of any Sentient with powers like this except a—a Dissembler.”

  Deep lines of concern etched into the Oblin’s face. “No, I don’t believe it. You are not Dissemblers.”

  Jaeia shook her head. “No, I know that. I don’t think that this ability necessarily has to harm someone. It’s just the way Jetta uses it.”

  “Tell me more,” the Oblin said, taking her hands. “Please.”

  Warm, wrinkled hands made her relax, if only for a second. “Jetta told you that she has a way of finding out your worst fears,” Jaeia said, “but it’s more than that. Even if it’s just a seed of a bad feeling or something that you had forgotten a long time ago, she’ll find it—and make it grow. You become conflicted, confused—or worse. She makes your nightmares real.”

  “So she’s used this power before?”

  Jaeia nodded grimly. “Jetta was the first to discover the full extent of her talent. We were fighting for the Endgame championship in the Dominion Core Academy against a former student with an undefeated record. Jahx was losing, and Rogman had already threatened to send us back to Fiorah, so Jetta got in this kid’s head and... made him hallucinate his dead brother. She broke him.” She winced, knowing how that sounded.

  “It sounds like she used it as a last resort.”

  “I guess. But Jahx didn’t like it, and I agreed with him. Whatever is inside us—it’s too powerful. Things always turns out badly.”

  “There’s more, isn’t there?” the Oblin said.

  Jaeia froze, voice locked in her throat. Why am I so scared?

  Maybe she didn’t want the Oblin to know just how terrible things had been—and how much worse they could get. Or perhaps she didn’t want the priest to see her weakness, her inability to control her sister—or herself. All of her pride, her purpose in life revolved around maintaining the balance, but her shortcomings had resulted in disaster for their family.

  And then the words came in a sudden rush, her voice catapulted from the deeps of her. “When Jetta uses that talent that way, it pulls her away from me, makes her change. I don’t know how else to explain it. That’s why I don’t like it, and that’s why Jahx didn’t like it either.”

  “But you said it could be used for good, Jaeia.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe if she had more control. Maybe if she didn’t use it against people. Maybe if she found a way to help them instead.”

  “Well, what about you?”

  All the air disappeared from the room. Jaeia’s mouth opened, but no sound or breath could escape. She saw the dead eyes of the boy in the coolant room accusing her, his lips, slightly parted, whispering her name.

  “My talent?” Jaeia laughed nervously. She remembered the boy’s face, the way his pink cheeks had turned a stone-cold blue, the way his eyes had dilated and fixed on something she couldn’t see—

  It was just an accident.

  “My talent doesn’t work on everybody, at least it didn’t when I was younger and needed it the most,” she said, thinking of Yahmen and all the times she tried to use it on him. “But I have this thing...”

  It was just an accident!

  Jaeia gulped for air as her breath hitched in her chest. No, she couldn’t feel guilty about that now. It was an accident—a horrible accident—she hadn’t meant for him to die. “I-I call it a second voice. People have to listen to it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She had just been so tired, so hungry. She’d had to make him do it—

  Jaeia squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make the memory go away. “I can control somebody’s behaviors by speaking to them a certain way. But it’s always backfired...”

  Dead—he’s dead—I killed him—

  “...so I use just a little of it, sometimes to help Jetta calm down or before she starts a fight.”

  “The Moro do something similar,” the Oblin said. “Maybe you are a mixture of Moro and something else, yes?”

  “Maybe,” Jaeia shrugged, looking down at her feet.

  “It’s remarkable, Jaeia, it truly is. For you to discover your talents on your own and learn how to use them—that is truly exceptional. But I would like to be able to help you further, and maybe the two of us can get a handle on how to use this greater talent you speak of for something good.”

  “I would like that,” Jaeia said. She pressed her thumbs into her eyes, forcing away the images of the dead boy.

  But nothing will ever bring him back—

  She cleared her throat, redirecting her thoughts to her sister, away from her guilt. “So you can understand what’s going on with Jetta?”

  “I do,” the Oblin said. “She is a very spirited individual. I don’t think mere reasoning will do for her. I think she is one that will have to discover the truth on her own.”

  “But I can’t just let her do what she wants.”

  “I’m not saying to abandon her. I’m advising you to let her see what she needs to see, feel what she needs to feel, but be a helping hand when she needs it.”

  Jaeia looked doubtfully at her hands. If only the Oblin knew.

  “Do you think she’s dangerous?” she whispered.

  The Grand Oblin didn’t respond immediately. “I think she carries with her things that are very dangerous. Fear and guilt for starters. That will lead a person down a dangerous path. But you can influence her, and help her. Just as she will help you.”

  “I’ve heard something like that before,” Jaeia whispered.

  The Grand Oblin knelt down in front of her. “Wha
t about you, Jaeia? How do you feel about your brother—about all of this?”

  Jaeia drew in a long breath and slowly let it go, trying to keep herself from crying again. In the past she avoided dealing with her own emotions by attempting to control her sister’s, but without Jetta, Jaeia faced the truth alone.

  “I understand what my sister wants to do. And truthfully, part of me wants to do exactly what she’s doing now—running, trying to find him. But I know—I know—that’s not what we need to do. Jahx just isn’t...”

  She couldn’t say it. From what little she remembered, her brother had been killed. Still, Jetta’s adamancy about her dreams burdened her with doubt. But if any part of her even considered her sister’s argument, it would only feed Jetta’s drive.

  “How can I make all of this right?” she finally said, crying again. “How can I help Jetta when I can barely make sense of anything myself? I feel like a monster for the things I’ve done, and I’m worried with Jetta gone and alone and angry. I just don’t know.”

  “Jaeia,” the Grand Oblin said, changing shape again. His elderly male form returned, beard thickening, hair spinning silver, teeth disappearing. Even though the skin around his eyes sagged, the empathy remained. “What happened to you—what you did—was not your fault.”

  Jaeia exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been harboring all this time and wiped her face with his handkerchief.

  The Oblin rested a hand on her shoulder. “There are those who care about you deeply. Always remember their love, and listen carefully to the voice inside you. If you do this, then you will find the answers—and absolution—you seek.”

  Jaeia closed her eyes and listened.

  MANTRI SEBBS HELD HIS head in his hands as he banged his knees together, trying to keep himself from falling apart. The lack of stimulus—the low light, the gray walls, the absence of sound—drove him mad. And this was only his first hour in his new accommodations.

  This is it. I’ve finally managed to piss it all away. I’m going to spend my last days rotting in an Alliance holding cell until the Liikers come and turn me into another Deadwalker. And I can’t even take one last chakking hit before it all goes down.

  “I’m a chakking waste!” he screamed.

  At first he thought the voices were in his head. After all, he hadn’t given himself a boost since the Alliance confiscated his stash. He held his breath and concentrated on the sounds coming from just beyond the prison door. Seconds later the door slid smoothly away, and blinding light flooded the tiny cell. Two broad-shouldered figures entered, grabbed him by his armpits, and yanked him to his feet. Another man entered, slowly, and got very close to Sebbs. Though he couldn’t make out the man’s face in the intense light, the shape seemed oddly familiar.

  A stinging slap bit his cheek, and a trickle of blood crept down Sebbs’s chin. One of the guards wrenched him forward into a painfully awkward position.

  “Leave him with me. Go!” the man shouted.

  That voice—so familiar.

  After the guards shut the cell door behind them, Mantri could finally see his assailant’s face.

  “Damon?” Sebbs exclaimed.

  “The one and only.”

  The Alliance officer drew a smoke from the inside pocket of his uniform and, with one swift motion, lit it and took a long drag, sighing with relief as he blew a ring into the air vents. He caught Sebbs’s eye with a conspiratorial grin before he pounded his fist against the wall and muffled a moan with his hands.

  “You could at least try not to make me sound like such a woman,” Sebbs said.

  “We could make it more realistic if you want.”

  Sebbs huffed and crossed his arms. As relieved as he was to avoid being reduced to a sport for the Alliance guards, it stung to have to take charity from Damon Unipoesa, of all people.

  “Mantri Sebbs, I warned you when you signed up for the Core.”

  “Damon Unipoesa, I thought we weren’t friends anymore after I beat the crap out of you in grade school.”

  “Why do you think I hit you just now?”

  “It’s a little late to get even, don’t you think?” Sebbs snatched the smoke from the officer’s hand. Unipoesa struck the wall again and yelled into his forearm.

  “Look, I don’t have much time. I told the council members that I would interrogate you personally since I hate Dominion rubbish. There are rumors that you’re crazy, and I can substantiate that, but I don’t think you’re that crazy. So, before they ship you off to a nuthouse, tell me something that makes it worth saving your worthless hide.”

  Sebbs puffed out a cloud of smoke, coughed raggedly, and wiped his tired eyes. Unipoesa took the smoke back before he could take another drag.

  “You were lucky, Damon, catching that Diapherenza flu. Getting rejected by the Core was the best thing that ever happened to you. Can’t believe your sorry assino ended up the big hero of the Starways.”

  “Still playing the victim, huh, Sebbs? You should have gotten out the second the Sovereign took over the military. Was it really worth it to sell information to dog-soldiers?”

  “It paid the bills,” Sebbs muttered, stealing back the smoke from Unipoesa’s hand.

  “You mean for your little chemical romances, right? Ah, Mantri. Everyone had such high hopes for you.”

  “It’s been lovely talking to you, Damon, really. Just like old times. Reminds me of why we weren’t friends anymore. Maybe you should come back tomorrow and we can rehash some of your past indiscretions, unveil some of those skeletons in your closet.”

  Sebbs turned away and slumped against the wall. He wanted to make it all go away, but Damon, twice his size and stature, wouldn’t hesitate to send him to the Labor Locks if he did anything stupid. What I wouldn’t give for a real smoke, or a boost.

  His hands started to shake. Soon he’d be withdrawing hard, puking and pissing himself like a launnie. Stuffing his hands under his armpits, Sebbs banged his head against the wall.

  “I’m sorry, Mantri. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend. I should have tried harder to get you out.”

  Sebbs turned and looked at the Alliance officer more carefully. Time did not treat Damon well. Deep wrinkles furrowed his forehead and his hair had prematurely grayed. Something happened to him.

  “I may be a bit strung out, but I swear you just apologized to me. What the hell? Did I warp into an alternate universe or what?”

  Damon forced a smile. “Things are different now, to put it mildly.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Unipoesa mashed the end of the smoke on his boot. “Let’s just say that I’m one of a handful of Alliance officers that sees straight through all this political gorsh-shit. I read your files, and I know what you said to the Minister.”

  “How’d you get your hands on that?”

  “I’m the admiral who won the Raging Front,” Unipoesa said quietly. “I’m privy to most everything an ‘advisory’ battle commander can get their hands on.”

  “You know about the Deadwalkers—and the leeches—and those launnies?”

  “I know that I wasn’t responsible for the win at the Raging Front. The Core ships—they just froze up, lost their coordinated attacks. Their communication network must have been down, or something happened internally. It was like shooting fish in a barrel. And I got the credit for it.”

  “And when you mounted the final attack at their base—?”

  The admiral’s eyes fell hard on him. “There weren’t any battleships defending their base. All their starposts and command centers were abandoned. We thought it was a trap at first, but six months later and no contact, the reports were changed to read that they had fled in defeat.”

  “Didn’t you say something when this happened?”

  “I didn’t want to rest on my laurels. Neither did some of the other commanders,” Unipoesa said. “But the politicians—the public—they didn’t want to hear that. We won; we had defeated Volkor the Slaythe. There were deals, allegiances—
lots of funding. So it doesn’t matter what I believe now, does it? They’ll just say I’ve got war stress.”

  “Well, what about those launnies? And the other telepaths? Project ICE?” Sebbs asked. Unipoesa pounded his fist against the wall again, making the Joliak jump back.

  “It would certainly explain why the Core created the Dissembler Scare, why they had a sudden rise in military power. And if what you say is true about the Motti, and Jahx—then yes, it fits with my story.”

  “I’m not crazy, Damon, you know that. I’m done a lot of methoc and Yarrni smokes in my day, but I could never up make something up that wild.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Unipoesa leaned back against the prison wall. He smoothed his hair back over his bald spot. “The trouble with your story, Mantri, is that we’ve captured several officers, and even with advanced interrogation techniques we never pulled anything out of them like this,” the admiral said, pounding his feet against the floor.

  “Only a select few officers in special military ops knew about their dealings with the Motti and ICE,” Sebbs said, nervously pulling at the hair on his head. “Don’t you think the Motti would take them first?”

  Unipoesa looked pensively at Sebbs. “Let’s say I believe you. What about the two girls? Where are they and why did you think they’re the only chance for the Alliance—or rather, for charted space?”

  “Look at the records. Jahx has never been defeated in battle. You’re going to need someone close to him to take him down. You need his sisters.”

  A shadow fell over his friend’s face. Admiral Damon Unipoesa stepped back from him and forced a laugh. “Maybe you’re crazier than I thought, Sebbs.”

  Mantri shook his head. Am I going toxic from withdrawal? Why is Damon turning on me?

  “Damon, wait—” Sebbs grabbed his arm. The admiral shoved him back and pinned him against the wall by his neck.

  “Find them,” Sebbs pleaded, hands shaking violently as he tried to pry the admiral’s fingers off his throat. “Use the codes I gave to the Minister—find the missing pieces. I don’t want to be a Deadwalker.”