Triorion Omnibus

by L. J. Hachmeister

  “You’ve got one chance. We want answers, now—and no chakking around,” Jetta demanded, pressing the gun into his sternum.

  To Jetta’s surprise, an almost imperceptible smile curled the corners of the officer’s lips. It wasn’t an expression of cheap overconfidence, nor was it a preamble to a lie.

  “I should have put up more guards.”

  Jetta ripped off her helmet and got in his face. “Now, who the hell are you and where are the Exiles? If you don’t answer fast enough, I’ll start by vaporizing your digits,” Jetta said, slowly pulling back her gun to point at his feet.

  Please, Jaeia called out silently as she approached the bedside. Holding her gun in her hand, but not taking aim, her sister tried to reason with her. We don’t have to use violence, Jetta.

  The officer shifted uncomfortably as he carefully worded his response. “I am first-class Admiral Damon Unipoesa of the Starways Alliance Fleet, formerly known as the United Starways Coalition. I am here because the Motti are poisoning our planets and our people. They’re moving their Liikers into our Homeworld territories, where eighty percent of the Sentient population resides. Our commanders can do nothing to slow the attack. We need your help. As for any other survivors—there was no one else to rescue.”

  Jetta’s stomach dropped. Did I kill all the Exiles?

  Jaeia tried to tell her something, but Jetta pushed her sister and her own guilt from her mind.

  “Why us?” Jetta persisted, pressing her knee into the admiral’s stomach.

  “Jetta—” Jaeia started, but couldn’t find the voice to finish.

  Jetta didn’t move her knee or change the pressure. Unipoesa’s face contorted, and he grunted in pain. “Because I know—I know how good you are,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I studied your tactics during the Dominion Wars and commanded the fleet at the Raging Front.”

  Unipoesa’s stomach spasmed, and Jetta felt her sister’s hand on her shoulder.

  “Jetta, enough,” Jaeia said, this time more insistently. “At least let him breathe.”

  With her sister’s presence easing her mind, Jetta let up on the pressure just enough to let Unipoesa catch his breath.

  Calmer, Jetta tilted her head to the side, allowing herself to see the situation through Jaeia’s eyes. He was telling the truth, or at least he thought he was, but his mind was carefully organized, tightly sealed. He’s trained in talking to telepaths.

  “Hey,” Jaeia whispered, tilting her head at the door. The security team cracked the door open a few centimeters. Someone shouted commands to cut through the lock mechanism. We’re running out of time.

  Jetta grabbed Unipoesa by the collar. “Don’t you know who I am?”

  “Yes, I do,” the admiral replied calmly.

  “Doesn’t that make you nervous?”

  “You’re not General Volkor. Your talents were exploited and you were abused. What happened to you on the Dominion starships was not your fault.”

  Jetta let go of him. “I never wanted to hurt anyone—and I never wanted to kill—but I find myself doing it over and over again. Tell me I’m not a monster. Tell me that I won’t destroy you like I can.”

  There it is... she heard Jaeia think.

  Fragments of Jaeia’s memory flashed through Jetta’s mind: A conversation with Jahx where he issued her a warning. A shaky reassurance from the Grand Oblin. Jaeia was worried about her, afraid of confronting her, but it went farther than that.

  My own sister...

  A shot fired past Jetta’s shoulder and blasted away a chunk of the far wall.

  “Cease fire!” Admiral Unipoesa shouted. Guards burst into the room, rifles pointed in their direction. Jetta kept her gun trained on the admiral as the guards shouted for her to back down.

  “Jetta,” Jaeia whispered, “give them your weapon.”

  The words cut through Jetta with icy betrayal. Why are you always taking our captors’ side?

  (I should use my talent...)

  “Give them your weapon.”

  This time when Jaeia said it, Jetta felt it. The urge was unmistakable, unthinkable. Jetta relinquished her weapon, but it was not of her own will.

  How could you use your second voice on me? Jetta projected, letting her sister feel all of her rage as she held up her hands. That is unforgivable.

  Jaeia didn’t say anything, nor did she look her in the eye as the guards patted them down

  “I’m sorry it has to be this way,” the admiral said, bracing his stomach. “I wanted this to go peacefully. I just hope we can talk again soon.”

  Jetta did not reply, but she cast him a warning look as the guards escorted them out.

  You never listen to me, Jaeia thought as the soldiers led them away.

  Jetta could barely contain herself. You betrayed me. You betray us. I’m trying to get us out of here, and you’re groveling at their feet. They’re just going to use us like everybody else!

  You left me no choice, Jetta. Stop being unreasonable and think. We don’t know everything—maybe by helping them, we can help ourselves.

  Jetta clenched her fists. Angry as she was, she couldn’t help but consider her sister’s viewpoint. However, if the Alliance needed their help badly enough to risk rescuing them off of Tralora, then they must be in dire straits—and therefore at her mercy.

  That’s not what I meant, Jaeia commented after hearing her sister’s train of thought.

  “Always the idealist,” Jetta muttered, trying to block her out.

  As they boarded a lift, Jetta thought back to the way she felt in the Admiral’s quarters with her emotions running high. Invincible. I could do anything.

  (I should use my talent again—)

  Despite her efforts to keep her sister at bay, Jaeia overheard her, or at least sensed the direction of her thoughts. Jetta—please, I need you. Giving in to your talent means giving up. Don’t give up. Not on me, and not on yourself.

  Jetta bit her lip hard enough that she tasted blood. No, she resolved. I will not keep making the same mistakes. I won’t lose control of myself.

  The dark underpinnings of her talent shuddered and stirred. The blood in her veins turned to fire, her fears forgotten.

  No, she promised herself with new confidence. I will fight for my brother and sister, no matter what the cost.

  Nothing in the Starways would stop her. Even if it meant her own life.

  THE ALLIANCE THINKS they can imprison us in here? Jetta mused as she surveyed the holding cells in the detention center, each filled with cozy furnishings and environmental controls. We’ll dismantle the furniture for weapons and tools, and access the electrical paneling for—

  Jaeia nixed her stream of thought before it evolved too far. You’ve gotten us into enough trouble as it is.

  Before she could retort, the lewd jeers and whistles from the nearest cell diverted her attention.

  “Hey, sweets, why don’t you and me take that private cell over there?”

  The familiar voice stopped Jetta in her tracks.

  “Keep moving,” the escort said behind her, pushing the muzzle of his gun into her back. Jetta shot the guard a sidelong glare but continued to the cell directly across from the obnoxious duo that continued to harass them.

  “I know you,” Jetta said as she came closer to the twosome. The one with black and gold hair stuck out his tongue in a vulgar fashion, and the other let out a shrill laugh. “You were in the underground bar on Fiorah.”

  A few of their cellmates also triggered her memory, especially the massive Talian whose wary silver eyes fixed on her.

  “Pardon my crew.”

  A scraggly dog-soldier swaggered out from behind the others. Jetta remembered the captain immediately, and a strange mix of feelings stirred in her stomach. When she saw him she remembered Fiorah and all they had left behind. The terrible heat, the choke of the mines. The child laborers, the laborminders—Yahmen. And then her breath caught in her chest: Galm and Lohien. She wasn’t prepared for the rush
of guilt, and she dug her nails into her palms to keep herself from breaking her step.

  The dog-soldier captain seemed surprised at their appearance, eyeing their abnormal musculature with suspicion. “Little Jetta—when I met you, you were barely waist high. Now look at you—and your sister.”

  Jetta paused before joining her twin in the opposing compartment. One of the guards shoved her inside and activated the cell shield.

  “Hey, be kind to the ladies, chump.”

  “Eat it, Jagger,” the guard replied. Reht waved him off.

  “We waited over two hours for you, you know,” the dog-soldier captain said, cleaning his teeth with his nails.

  “We didn’t have a chance,” Jetta said.

  Reht nodded, as if he understood.

  “Want off this yaketo?” he asked. Jetta didn’t know the foreign word, but she guessed the meaning. “You’re not their prisoners, you know.”

  His voice escalated as he eyed the nearest guard. “Even though they’re interrogating my crew for no chakking reason!”

  The guard ignored him.

  “What are you suggesting?” Jaeia replied cautiously.

  His statements are too calculated, Jetta thought. He’s planning something.

  Reht spread his arms and looked around at his crew. “I happen to have a ship, and a rather fine crew. Besides, your sister joined you all up on Fiorah, and a deal’s a deal. Do you know what happens when someone cheats me? Ro, Cray—show ‘em.”

  The pair pretended to gut each other and pull out their entrails. Jaeia turned away, sickened, but Jetta grinned.

  “Well, what’ll it be?” Reht asked, slouching down onto a bench.

  Jetta listened to her sister’s thoughts; despite everything she said earlier about listening and being patient, she felt nervous too. Being aboard a military warship made them feel like captives again, and the prospect of fighting another war for a foreign government was all too similar to their experience with the Dominion Core.

  Still, the idea of leaving didn’t sit any better. The risk of traveling with dog-soldiers didn’t scare her—they survived alongside worse types on Fiorah.

  The dog-soldiers might not have the resources to help us find Jahx.

  Jaeia’s sorrow touched her mind. He’s gone, Jetta. You have to start thinking about our survival.

  Gods, what if she’s right? Jetta thought, squeezing her hands together as her sister’s conviction subjugated her reason. What if Jahx is dead? Then I’m just putting us in danger yet again.

  Confliction tearing her in two, Jetta finally acknowledged the ugly truth of her situation: I can’t keep hurting my sister.

  (I have to let go of Jahx.)

  “Please, Jetta,” Jaeia whispered. “I need you.”

  As she turned to her sister and reached for her hand, something terrible pierced her mind’s eye.

  A serpentine shadow uncoiled at the edges of her awareness, strangling her from the inside out, drawing her down, blotting out everything around her until she was swallowed by complete darkness. Frenzied voices cried out around her, clawing at her mind and shutting out all outside thought.

  Only pain existed in this place. Jetta’s body transmuted into a cavernous wound filled with poisonous rage, numb to herself, blinded, captive in the swell of the shadow. Her reach, her powers, became infinite, her desires insatiable, as a deep throb inside her drove her to see out the weak and malleable.

  (I am the monster—)

  MANTRI SEBBS TALKED to himself to keep from going mad. Without the comfort of his hourly methoc or the familiarity of his usual haunts, the doom that awaited stared him in the face.

  “You’ll be okay, Mantri,” he mumbled to himself. “You’ll go crazy before the Deadwalkers storm the prison and render you down for parts. Then everything will be just fine.”

  “Sebbs, on your feet.”

  His cell door slid open, and blinding light from the hall flooded his compartment. He shielded his eyes, but the guards grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out of his cell.

  “Please—I—whatever you want—” he begged.

  “Mantri, we need your help.”

  He rubbed the sting out of his eyes and gaped. Minister Tidas Razar?

  “W-what could you possibly need from me?” he asked.

  The Minister appeared bleary-eyed and unshaven. His hands shook, and he tried to mask it by clasping them behind his back. “You are the only one who had direct access to the Dominion database before it was corrupted. I want all of your intel on the Kyron twins—we have to convince them to take command of the legions or we’re as good as Liiker feed.”

  “Yeah, I know things,” Mantri said, “but what difference does it make? You told me that you didn’t need help from a junkie.”

  The grim look in Razar’s eyes gave Sebbs reason enough even before the Minister handed him a datapad with a loaded video recording.

  “What’s this?

  “This is from yesterday,” Razar said, hitting the play button.

  A league of battleships smoldered in the background as a hardened Alliance General pled with the Military Minister on the holosims. “My men are abandoning their posts. Li can’t keep control—the Deadwalkers are everywhere!”

  The general’s image faded in and out as the Liiker-controlled Dominion ships crossed over into regulated territories.

  “Come again, Command? We need orders—we can’t hold the borders much longer—”

  The Liiker scramblers garbled the rest of the message, but Sebbs heard his scream just before the transmission ended.

  “I don’t have time for games, Sebbs,” the Minister said, zooming in over a photograph of a converted Dominion ship attacking a satellite station. Black veins branched out over the warship’s hull, and pulsating tumors bulged out of broken windows. “You either help us or not.”

  Mantri almost pissed himself thinking of the nightmare creatures crawling around within the rotting womb of the ship, severing limbs from their living captives, draining their blood—

  The Deadwalkers are coming—they’ll skin me alive and eat my soul—

  (There isn’t enough methoc in the world to save me—)

  “Alright, I’ll help you!”

  “Lieutenant,” Razar shouted to the nearest soldier. “Get this man on the fastest cruiser we have to intercept the Gallegos.”

  JETTA AWOKE IN THE medical bay again, this time with a score of guards lining the room. The blue-eyed Healer stood in the far corner reviewing a file, but when Jetta lifted her head she looked up.

  “How are you feeling?” the Healer asked, approaching cautiously.

  “Fine,” Jetta muttered, rubbing her temples. What happened? she thought.

  It slowly came back to her. She chose survival over Jahx. That’s when the nightmare completely took over her consciousness, this time thrusting her into the heart of the malicious evil that pervaded that realm.

  I became suffering, she remembered, gripping the ends of the exam table.

  Confusion mixed with fear, bringing tears to her eyes. Was that Jahx? What was he trying to tell me?

  (He’s in danger—something is hurting him.)

  (I was wrong. I can’t give up on my brother.)

  “You blacked out in the detention quarters,” the Healer said as she ran a bioscanner over her head. “The medical team ran a scan on you but couldn’t find anything wrong. However,” the Healer said, trailing off and biting her lip, “since it was obvious something happened, they wanted me to evaluate you, but I’m in no condition for that now. So, I’m hoping you’ll share your experience with me.”

  Jetta looked at her, and into her. During their first encounter she had been too weak to get much of an impression of the Healer, but now the emotions the Healer tried to mask were blatantly evident.

  She’s afraid of me, Jetta felt. Worse yet, the Healer’s anxieties laced into strongly guarded contempt. Why does she want to help me?

  “I’m fine,” Jetta repeated. “I wan
t to rejoin my sister.”

  “Very well,” Triel sighed, returning to her study station. “Take her back to the detention cell.”

  Jetta held up a hand to halt the guard. Something about the Healer kept her from going—a mix of curiosity, sorrow, and an attraction she didn’t understand.

  “Why do you want to help us, Healer?” she asked.

  The Healer stopped what she was doing. She did not look at Jetta, but concentrated on her words as she spoke.

  “There are those who believe that you and your sister are the only ones who can save in the Starways. It’s in everyone’s best interests to keep you as healthy as possible.”

  “You’re not telling me the whole truth.”

  “And you’re not telling me the whole truth,” Triel retorted, whirling around to face her. As silence passed between them, Jetta listened as closely as she could to the Healer’s protected thoughts.

  “Do you... want to hurt me?” Jetta asked.

  To her surprise, the woman looked away. She traced the blue markings on her hands for a moment before responding. “Do you want the truth?”

  Jetta wasn’t sure, but the Healer didn’t give her a chance to decide.

  “I’m not sure of you yet. There are things about you—what you know, what you’ve done—that make it hard to tell...”

  “Hard to tell what?” Jetta interrupted.

  Triel sighed. “What you did before wasn’t your fault, I suppose. But what you can do now... that’s up to you. And I’m not sure what you’re capable of.”

  Jetta flushed. She wrestled with her emotions, trying to hide them, but the Healer tore open an old wound. “You have no idea what I’m capable of,” Jetta whispered, lowering her eyes.

  After a long silence, Triel cleared her throat. “I do want to help you. I know you won’t believe me, but I do. But right now I only know what you did, not who you are. If you would just share with me—”

  Jetta cut her off. “Just let me go.”

  “Take her away,” Triel sighed.

  Before she could respond, the Healer gathered her things and walked out of the medical bay, leaving only a lingering trail of sadness and disappointment. With a heavy heart, Jetta slid off the table and quietly followed the guards back to the detention quarters.