Triorion Omnibus

by L. J. Hachmeister

  “Okay—so what do you want to do?”

  Jaeia smiled with a hint of wickedness and firmed her grip on her sister’s hand.

  “Let’s go out there and celebrate. Let’s put a few military chubs and politicians in our corner. But while everybody else is cheering for the Alliance’s victory, you and I can celebrate something else. We can celebrate what Jahx has given us.”

  “What exactly is that?”

  “A new beginning,” Jaeia said, squeezing her hand.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready to celebrate just yet,” Jetta said.

  “It’ll give you a chance to scare a few senior delegates in the General Assembly. Intimidating authority figures always makes you feel better.”

  “Haha, Jaeia,” Jetta said, folding her arms across her chest. “You think you know me so well. Stop spending so much time in my head—I don’t want to become a softie like you.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll always be a sour grump,” Jaeia said, pinching her side.

  As Jetta readied for their appearance before the public and the entire Fleet, they didn’t talk about anything serious. They avoided discussing what Jaeia had rightly observed—that they were on short leashes. Their celebrity status wouldn’t last long, and interfederational trials for their crimes against the former United Starways Coalition would be a likely next step.

  But for now, Jetta wouldn’t think about that. Instead, she listened to her sister’s jokes about the designer clothes given to them for their public appearances, her speculation about the gourmet food at the events, and her curiosity about entertainers from worlds they had only dreamed about. As Jaeia remarked on their lack of hairstyle, Jetta realized that they were entering a whole new world together.

  She smiled at the thought.

  JAHX DIDN’T HURT ANYMORE. Everything was okay. When he opened his eyes, he found himself back in the red and gray apartment, holding the hand of his Pao.

  (Uncle Galm,) he whispered. Furry eyebrows lifted, and his Pao wrapped his arms around him and squeezed.

  “My son—I love you very, very much. You know that, don’t you?”

  He heard two voices, much alike, in a nearby room. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there, and safe. A woman’s voice hummed softly in the kitchen, just loud enough to rise above the sound of dishes being scrubbed.

  (Heaven.)

  He rested his head on his Pao’s chest. He was about to close his eyes when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his spine stiffened. Something’s wrong.

  Instinctively, he looked toward the entryway. Galm disappeared, as did the other voices. A bare fluorescent bulb flickered overhead, giving hints of the shadowy figure in the doorway. Purple tendrils of smoke rose up to the ceiling from the burning end of a cigarette.

  Yahmen—

  “Jahx, my boy—I found you. This is only the beginning.”

  Jahx screamed.

  The journey has only begun...

  “Hold on, Jetta,” Jaeia said, inputting the coordinates for their course heading into the jumpdrive. “This isn’t over yet.”

  Jetta surprised herself with the speed of her attack as she smacked her sister’s helmet against the crossbeam. Mumbling, Jaeia slumped in her seat.

  She couldn’t feel Jaeia anymore. She couldn’t even sense her own feelings anymore, except for the emptiness, the fear, the dark seed taking root in the cavity of her chest.

  “I’m afraid it is for me,” Jetta whispered.

  —Triorion: Abomination

  Triorion: Abomination

  Book Two

  L. J. Hachmeister

  Prologue

  Before they could get down to business, the two Scabber Jocks toasted with their favorite drinking song:

  “The sun may rise deep underground

  The air may stink of rot

  My food is full of maggots

  But this is all I got

  The dead may roam the wasteland

  And the sky may burn and blister

  But I have my drink and I have my gun

  And I have my bad-assino sister.”

  Bossy stood on her tip toes, her head barely reaching the middle of Agracia’s sternum. “So, we got something?”

  Agracia held up the letter just out of reach, knowing full well what the result would be. A swift kick to her shins cut her in half, allowing Bossy to pluck the letter from her fingers.

  “Holy chak—” Agracia nursed the sore spot on her shin as she reached for her pint. Little consolation could be found; her glass held only a few sips left of the orange-colored brew.

  “Barkeep, jeezus, ya sure know how to keep a lady happy,” she shouted above the blister-rock playing over the radio.

  The barkeep ignored her and continued his conversation with another patron. Save a few lonely fools, the bar was nearly empty as a thin ray of simulated morning light filtered through the slatted shades.

  Agracia shrugged. “Eh, that’s life, yeah? Gotta help yourself out ‘cause nobody else will.”

  Her black eyes darted from one end of the bar to the other as she chewed on the end of her unlit cigarette. The barkeep remained occupied, and the other patrons were fairly soused. This isn’t the most dangerous part of town, but I can’t be careless.

  Before her nerves could best her, she dunked her hand in and out of the cooler, nabbing herself and her companion two bottles of beer.

  “Gimme one,” Bossy muttered as her fingertips traced the words on the letter. She couldn’t read very well, but Agracia didn’t feel much like helping her out. The kid was smart enough that she’d get the gist of it.

  Agracia nudged the bottle over to her, and Bossy, as always, didn’t care to hide her prize. Biting the cap off and spitting it over her shoulder, she resumed deciphering the letter.

  The letter was stamped as if it came from the Mars colony, but Agracia knew better. Stamps and tracer heads could be forged. But whoever had written it had taken some time crafting it, perfecting every line with telltale Scabber vernacular, even choosing the right ink and recycled newspaper to write on, so she knew it couldn’t be one of the local Johnnies trying to lay a trap. This is somebody else. Some chump who’s studied me, knows my territory, knows what I’m capable of.

  Bossy let out a belch. “Trick. Dumb. Let’s throw it out and get wasted over at Hamasuka’s. This joint sucks. There’s no way I could get drunk enough to do any of these losers.”

  “You should slow down. You ain’t even legal yet,” Agracia said, taking the letter from her.

  Bossy raised an eyebrow as she tipped back her bottle, chugging the rest of it. “It ain’t like we gonna be around tomorrow, remember?”

  Agracia gave a half-salute and tipped her own bottle back, downing the entire thing.

  Grumbling, Bossy slammed her bottle on the nearest table. “So, you gonna tell me what you think, or am I gonna get drunk without you?”

  Agracia hoisted herself up on a barstool, finally drawing the barkeep’s attention.

  “You gonna pay for that kid, or am I gonna have to call the chakking Dogs?” he shouted.

  “Jeezus,” Agracia said, pulling out a crumpled dollar and wadding it up. “All that huff and no puff. You’re lucky we even passed through.”

  She threw the bill at the barkeep, thrilled to see his anger turn to frustration the second he realized she’d paid in hard cash.

  No, I ain’t no ordinary Scabber, she thought, watching his face turn red.

  “Don’t think I won’t throw you the chak out,” he said, stabbing his finger at her.

  “Relax and we can all have a good time,” Agracia said, unafraid of his empty threat.

  Thrilled at the prospect of a fight, Bossy produced a ball of 20-20 and tossed it back and forth in her hands. The barkeep eyed the explosive, muttered something under his breath, and resumed his previous conversation.

  “Chakking townies,” Agracia said.

  Disappointed, Bossy slung the 20-20 back in her belt and crossed
her arms low across her chest, making her breasts pop out.

  How’d a young kid got such a nice rack? Agracia thought, eyeing her own flat chest. With a sigh, Agracia continued their discussion. “So, you’re right—it’s a trick. What else you know, or do I have to spell it all out for you?”

  Bossy let out another belch. “You’re buying the rest of the night—”

  “Morning,” Agracia corrected.

  “Morning, if I get this, alright?”

  Bossy dug into her shirt pocket and popped out the lollipop she had been working on for the last two years. The extremely expensive designer candy, made by the scientists who tried to save Earth’s last resources, could theoretically last a decade, but given that it was never out of her mouth unless she was drinking, Agracia was surprised it had lasted this long.

  “This ain’t local. This is a big contractor. No Scabber would really write like this.”

  “Right language. English. Right words. What’s up?” Agracia said.

  Bossy’s nose wrinkled. “It stinks, is all. Smells like a trap. Nobody offers this much money to dig around the wasteland. Ain’t nuthin’ there no more. Any artifact that be worth finding is gone.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Maybe not, though. So?”

  “It’s a piece. There’s more to this. I bet we’re two Jocks in a dozen tribes that was set up for this kind of a job. We don’t know enough.”

  She nailed it. Agracia smiled. “I wish you weren’t such a chakking expensive date. We don’t have enough cash left for food and booze.”

  Bossy rearranged her pigtails back under her cap and snorted. “Like that’s ever stopped you. Come on, you’re not getting soft on me, are you? Gonna make me do all the work around here or what?”

  Agracia rolled her eyes and shoved Bossy out of her way as she made for the exit. “Don’t fool yourself. You ain’t that cute no more. I do all the work around here.”

  “Watch your back, kid,” the barkeep said as they exited the bar and into the subterranean street. “There be bigger fish than you out there.”

  Agracia didn’t even bother retorting. It required too much effort, and she had to concentrate on finding food and supplies for the proposed job, especially since Bossy wasn’t in the mood for work just yet. If they took up this contract it meant a trip to the surface, and she didn’t have the coin to repair their radiation suits or buy the weaponry necessary to handle the dangers of the outside world.

  But someone must have known about her knowledge of Old Earth—how she knew the surface better than anyone else, how she had survived for years traveling through the maze of underground Pits—to seek her out for this kind of mission.

  “You’re seriously considering this job?” Bossy said, shielding her eyes as the yellow sun crept higher into the video skyline above the main street. The artificial sky was supposed to make life underground a little less dismal, but Agracia didn’t think the townies gave a rat’s assino about it. Life in the Pit—any Pit—was just that.

  “Yeah, what else we gonna do?” she said, stretching out her neck and arms. “I’m sick of the biz down here. Besides, they’re offering 2,000 for this in hard cash. We do our own research, we play a little hard to get, and we turn it into ten. Eventually you’ll get it.”

  Bossy twirled the lollipop in her mouth. “You still owe me the rest of the morning, and I need a little action before I can even think of going along with your stupid idea.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Agracia said, readjusting her headphones over her ears and turning up the volume. The classic industrial metal hit from the early twenty-first century thrummed in her head, buzzing her eardrums with intense blast beats. Ever since she could remember, she’d been addicted to the tune.

  Soothed by the thrashing tones, Agracia pointed her finger at the bar across the street, its neon lights fading in the ghostly morning light. “Let’s get sloshed.”

  Chapter I

  Jetta didn’t expect anything for their eighth birthday. It had been years since they had celebrated one, and the date was just an estimate anyway. However, when she woke up the day of 3184.250, she found Jaeia sitting at her bedside, grinning from ear to ear and holding something behind her back.

  “Hey, what are you so happy about?” Jetta said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  “Here!” Jaeia’s hands opened to reveal a small package, poorly wrapped in silver and red paper. Jetta, still surprised, didn’t know if she should reach for it.

  “Go on,” Jaeia urged, placing it in her lap.

  Tentatively, Jetta unwrapped the box, careful not to tear any of the paper. When she removed the lid, she smiled.

  “What is it?” she asked, picking up the glowing object. The small orb fit neatly into her cupped palm. When it touched her fingers, the bluish shape reacted and re-formed itself into a question mark.

  “It’s a map of the galaxy. Tell it where you want to see.”

  Jetta didn’t hesitate. “Fiorah.”

  The red planet, its neighbors and suns, all appeared within the globe, but she could barely see them.

  “Put your eye to it.”

  Doing as her sister suggested, Jetta brought it up to her eye and the rest of her room disappeared, immersing her in the orbiting planets and stars. When she focused, she zoomed in on Fiorah, close enough to make out the outline of the bubble encapsulating the crowded city where they had lived.

  “That is so cool,” Jetta exclaimed, putting the globe down and hugging her sister. “Thank you.”

  “It’s so you never get lost. No matter what, you’ll always able to find your way back to me,” Jaeia said, hugging her back.

  “Like I’d ever leave you,” Jetta scoffed. Biting her lower lip, she reached under her pillow and dug around for the present she had hidden. “Come on, this is for you.”

  Jaeia looked surprised. “I didn’t think you’d want to celebrate.”

  “Just because you’re my sister, my twin and you can hear almost all my thoughts doesn’t mean you know everything.”

  Giggling, Jaeia shook her head. “I can’t open it. You open it.”

  “Jae, that’s not the point of presents.”

  “Come on!” she squealed, squeezing her eyes shut.

  “Oh my Gods, just so you don’t have a stroke,” Jetta laughed, unwrapping her own gift. She set it down on Jaeia’s lap. “Ummmm, you’re eventually going to have to look.”

  Jaeia peeked one eye open, and then the other. A puzzled look edged its way into her face.

  “Keys?”

  Jetta nodded.

  “To what?”

  “Your first cruiser.”

  Jaeia picked up the keys, her jaw agape. “Jetta...”

  “Just say ‘thank you.’”

  “Jetta, I don’t think it’s legal for anyone under the age of twenty to operate a space licensed vehicle.”

  “Fine, I like black and red anyway,” Jetta said, swiping at the keys. Jaeia dodged her just in time.

  “I didn’t say I didn’t want it. How’d you manage this?”

  Jetta smiled coyly. “I guess you’re right—not everybody hates us. I was able to sneak a deal after the last hearing.”

  The expression on Jaeia’s face fluctuated between excitement and uncertainty. “Will I even be able to fly it?”

  “I bought it under someone else’s name and had it docked on a public lot on Trigos,” Jetta said, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s there when you want it.”

  Jaeia thought for a moment before responding. “Did you buy this for me, or so that we could go find Galm and Lohien?”

  The smile on Jetta’s face dissolved. “Jaeia...”

  Her sister folded her arms across her lap, hiding the keys from view. “I thought we discussed this.”

  “We did.”

  Gray eyes grew solemn. “I want to see them just as much as you, but you know the situation.”

  Jetta sighed. I’m not going to be able to convince her even if I bought an entire warship and had a Fleet escort.<
br />
  “You know I can’t wait. You can either come with me or stay here.”

  Facing the window, Jaeia looked down at her feet. “After all that we’ve been through, after all that has happened—you haven’t learned, have you?”

  “Come on, sis.”

  In an uncharacteristic display, Jaeia got up and walked to the door. When the doors parted, Alliance guards stepped up to escort her back to her assigned quarters.

  “Jaeia, please—”

  “Happy birthday, Jetta.”

  TRIEL OF ALGARDRIEN looked at the clock on the interface monitor and groaned. Only forty minutes left until my shift.

  After spending the last eight hours pouring over the latest evidence on a displaced telepath encampment near Jue Hexron in her quarters, she had forgotten to eat. If I don’t prepare for the meeting with the chief of military intelligence, I won’t be able to make a mission bid. Food can wait.

  Her stomach responded with a loud gurgle.

  Exhausted and restless, she stood up and stretched, regarding herself with a frown in the mirror by her nightstand. She had always been slender, but lately her clothes seemed looser than normal. She told herself that it was because of the demands of her new Alliance position, but she knew it was more than that.

  Triel slumped back down in her seat, her head heavy in her hands. The quiet of her room felt stifling. She missed the constant rumbling engine of the Wraith, the banter between Ro and Cray, even the incessant babblings of Billy Don’t. But most of all she missed the feeling that there was always someone around—specifically, someone who wasn’t afraid of her.

  The door chimed, and she stirred from her thoughts. “Come in.”

  Even before she set foot inside the doorway, Triel recognized the familiar presence and smiled. “Jetta—what brings you by?”

  Jetta had been stopping by more often lately, particularly in the evenings after her shift. And if she was gone for an extended period on a Special Missions Teams assignment, after visiting her sister, she always made sure Triel was her next stop.