Triorion Omnibus

by L. J. Hachmeister

  The Minister didn’t take his eyes off Jetta. “Stay out of this, Damon.”

  “Jetta,” the admiral said, trying to break her away from the Minister. “One of our Agents on Earth had a very specific mission, a very important one, and she’s been unresponsive. We have no other way of carrying out this mission on Earth without her. Who did you contact on Earth?”

  An expression of guarded curiosity crossed Jetta’s face, and as she studied him, a tickling sensation edged around his mind.

  Please, he thought, I’m on your side.

  The tickling sensation stopped.

  Still looking perturbed, Jetta reached behind her back and then tossed him a pair of beat-up headphones. “She called herself Agracia.”

  Has it been that long? Unipoesa wondered, turning the headphones over in his hands, careful to keep the emotion out of his thoughts. He had to be very cautious about what he said and did next.

  “You were her teacher,” Jetta whispered. “I saw you, I heard you. She admired you, and you broke her.”

  Her words cut through him, jarring old pain from its sleep. He tried not to let it show as he spoke.

  “I know of whom you speak,” he said as calmly as he could. “She was my best student. She was better than Li. But she was too sensitive, too empathetic. You know what happened to her at her final exam?”

  The Minister exchanged deliberate glances with him, but Damon didn’t censor himself.

  “Afterwards, she wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep—we kept her in medical for a full three months. She was broken. The only thing left to do was to make her an Agent. It was the happiest ending.”

  “Happiest ending? For her—or for you?” Jetta said.

  The admiral could feel the Minister’s eyes burning a hole through his uniform. “We did what was best for the collation.”

  “How many kids did you break, Admiral?” Jetta persisted.

  The Minister stepped in front of the admiral. “It was our answer to the Dominion’s threat back in the days of the USC. It does not need to be justified to you.” He got back in her face. “I want that report on your experience on Earth and every detail about the Agent you encountered.”

  “Why?” Jetta asked. “What’s so important about her?”

  The admiral allowed his thoughts to slip for a moment. After forming the words in his head, he imagined projecting them to Jetta. When he glanced over to her, she appeared stunned.

  “Commander, your officer status is under strict review,” the Minister said. “I suggest that you write that report and have it on my desk before launch. Until then, I’d advise you to keep your mouth shut and keep your focus on your duties, or else I will send you to the brig, Deadwalkers be damned.”

  Don’t— the admiral thought, sensing that Razar was close to striking her, and that Jetta anticipated such a maneuver. But the strike never came; the Minister was wise enough not to give her any further provocation.

  “Yes, Sir,” she replied, giving the admiral a sidelong glance.

  Damon wanted to stay and talk to Jetta, but the Minister motioned for him to follow. Thinking of his own tenuous status, he obeyed.

  “If I find out you’ve been feeding her any kind of gorsh-shit, I’ll have you hanged for treason,” the Minister said in a low voice as they exited the conference room.

  “You needn’t worry; I’m not brave enough to face the Kyrons’ judgment,” he remarked coolly.

  “Agracia. Of all the fools she could run into on Earth, she had to run into her,” the Minister muttered as he summoned a lift. “And now she’s unsecured,” he said, squeezing the headphones in his hands.

  “She’s been hard to trace for months,” Damon said. “And she’s become harder and harder to control. At least this way we’ve made contact. Maybe there’s still a chance we can salvage her mission.”

  The Minister rubbed his face and sighed as they boarded the lift. “There hasn’t been hope in 1,100 years, Damon. That’s a long time. We have a lead, now, and that’s more than we’ve ever had, even if it is a long shot. Now more than ever, we need that chance. If this Deadwalker ship can’t be stopped—if these civil wars continue—then what will be the point?”

  The admiral didn’t know how to respond. He knew better than to assume that the Minister’s motives were purely for the benefit of Earth, the humans, or even the other Sentients, especially since the Minister’s species had the greatest longevity of any known living creature.

  “Speaking of civil wars, did you get a chance to read my latest report?”

  “No, I haven’t had the time,” the Minister said, gripping the side rail of the lift as they swung around a corner. “This business with the blackouts has had me sleepless for too many nights. Too many gorsh-shit public appearances, reassuring all the godich bureaucrats that we’ve got the situation under control. I hate civvies.”

  “We had a breakthrough. A Sleeper Agent ran into one of Li’s call girls on Vetrius while she was running errands for him.”

  “Vetrius the colony?”

  Damon hid his amusement. Razar always confuses the two. “No, the fourth moon of Jue Hexron. The girl didn’t give a specific location, but it would be too coincidental for Li to be hiding out near a snake like Victor. I want to assign a team to press Victor, see what he’s hiding, what he’s running. I’ve looked at the movement patterns in and out of the Holy Cities as well as the surrounding solar travel. If Li wanted to mount an offensive, the Holy Cities would be a prime location.”

  “I’m hesitant to assign you to such a mission now, given our situation in the borderworlds.”

  “We have to do something now, Sir,” Damon said. “Li would take advantage of our distraction on the borders to rally a Fleet.”

  “Fine. But your choices will be limited—I want our best strategists on the blackouts situation.”

  The admiral tried not to let the comment bother him. “I understand.”

  “The situation on Jue Hexron is technically Jaeia’s assignment—consult with her. I’ll leave it up to you to form the team,” the Minister said as he stepped off the lift at the entrance to the defense wing. “Just be careful with Victor—he’s not like other Deadskins.”

  The admiral saluted and resumed his course to central operations as the Minister parted ways, thinking of the Minister’s caution. Victor is human—a smart one, but still human. It’s Li that is going to be the one to answer to.

  Or so he thought.

  Chapter VI

  (You tricked me,) Jahx said, shutting the door to the apartment. It rattled on its hinges, plastic cracking, even though he hadn’t closed it that forcefully. (Why did you do that?)

  Standing in entryway, the Grand Oblin smiled, his wrinkles obscuring his eyes. (No trick—just had a hunch. How did you get back here, anyway?)

  (With difficulty,) Jahx said, sagging to his knees. He held his head in his hands. (They did something to your body; I was able to come back.)

  The Grand Oblin nodded as if he understood. (Yes, I noticed I still had this,) he said, tugging at the thread of his robe running out the door.

  (Why would you want me to have your body?)

  (Because I’m an old man,) the Oblin said, drawing an imaginary circle with his walking stick. (And during my life as a priest I left many promises to God unfulfilled.)

  Jahx watched the walls of the apartment cave in, disappearing into a dark gray shadow, the Oblin fading along with it. With the crippling exhaustion that weighed down his will, Jahx wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep it together. (I would appreciate your candor at this moment. Neither of us really has that kind of time.)

  The Oblin smiled again, his withered hand reaching out to Jahx’s. With every ounce of strength he had left, Jahx managed to crawl over and take his hand.

  (You would honor my life and my work by assuming ownership of my body,) the old man said. (I’m sorry it isn’t in better condition—a few centuries tend to wear down the parts.)

  (I can’t—)

/>   (You can,) he said, squeezing Jahx’s hand. (And you must. For me, for your sisters—for the Starways. The things that you know cannot die with you.)

  (You can go back—I told you everything!)

  Jahx pulled the Oblin out of the way as a light fixture fell from the ceiling, but it turned to dust before it hit the floor.

  (No, child,) the Oblin said, placing his other hand on top of Jahx’s as the entire apartment rumbled. (I have work here to do. The others—my friends from Tralora—they are here somewhere in this place, and I will find them.)

  (I cannot accept this. My life ended—yours has not!) Jahx said. He gripped the old man as the kitchen wall cracked and groaned, debris falling from the ceiling, the deadly shadow closing in on them.

  (You know the truth, even if it is hard for you to accept,) the Oblin said. (Now is the time for you to fulfill your destiny, to finish what you started. Be gone, my friend, and tell your sisters I said hello.)

  Jahx didn’t anticipate how quickly the old man could move as he scooped him up and tucked him underneath his arm, bolting for the entryway. As the last remnants of the ceiling, floor, and walls collapsed and faded into oblivion, they burst through the front door.

  (You have my blessing!) the Oblin shouted as he pushed Jahx away and into the shifting light.

  Jahx screamed, trying to grab onto the old man as they separated in the plunge, but all he could find in the chaos was the thread of the Oblin’s robe. The sturdy thread once again cut through his hands before he could trap it between his feet to slow his descent.

  (Thank you,) Jahx whispered, feeling the ethereal warmth return as he slid into the celestial cloud and crossed over to another world. (I will make your sacrifice count.)

  JAEIA WASN’T SURE WHAT she was expecting when she entered the Division Lockdown Lab. From the emergent call, the Defense/Research teams had found something—or someone—but she was too afraid to be hopeful.

  DeAnders found her before she entered the stasis chamber.

  “Commander,” he said, putting his clipboard down. “Follow me.”

  Jaeia followed him onto the observation deck behind the sterilization field. She looked down and saw the Grand Oblin’s body on a medical table, leads and tubes of solution dangling from his body. Though he breathed on his own, his eyes remained shut, the monitors beeping steadily in the background.

  “My Gods—he’s alive?” Jaeia said, pressing her hands to the glass. “He made it?”

  DeAnders cleared his throat. “He’s regained consciousness once, but now that his vital signs have stabilized, we’re hoping he’s going to reemerge again.”

  Jaeia heard the concern in his voice. “But...?”

  “But,” DeAnders said, removing his glasses and massaging his eyes, “his brain waves and metabolic demands are off the charts, even for a Berroman. From the readings, I’d guess that his body is undergoing metamorphosis.”

  “Metamorphosis—like shape-shifting? Not to be obvious, Doctor, but he is a shape-shifter.”

  “Yes, but there are limits,” DeAnders said, pulling up a file on the nearest terminal for her. He pointed to the subject outline and comparative data below. “Given his advanced age, his body is theoretically incapable of creating new forms; he can only shift into bodies that he has previously established. So something must have happened during his transport to activate his cell identifiers to generate a new shift. It’s overtaxing his system.”

  Jaeia looked squarely at the chief. “How badly?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if we had to keep him on some kind of life-support,” DeAnders replied frankly.

  Jaeia shook her head. “Can I see him?”

  DeAnders looked at her over the tops of his glasses. “My orders are strict, Commander. You’re here as an advisor, to give a positive confirmation that it is or isn’t the Grand Oblin. If it is him, we need to know why he came back but the others have not.”

  “He’s not in any imminent danger, is he?” Jaeia asked, glancing at the old man again. He looked peaceful on the medical table, his breathing rhythmic, facial features relaxed and unfettered.

  “Dr. Kaoto is supervising, and I have my team rotating shifts so he’s under constant surveillance.”

  “It would be nice to have Triel,” Jaeia whispered, thinking of the Healer.

  “Let’s get you down there,” DeAnders said, leading her through the sterile field and down the stairway.

  The closer she got, the more she realized that the Grand Oblin’s body was changing. His skin wasn’t as wrinkled, nor was his beard as gray or as long as she remembered.

  After taking a seat next to him, she tried to find exposed skin that wasn’t hooked up to a machine. Finally, she placed a hand on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

  Hello? she called silently.

  “The patient’s heart rate is accelerating to 120,” someone said in the background.

  Jaeia held onto the lip of the cold medical table with her free hand. “This isn’t him—”

  She felt DeAnders’ hands on her shoulders, trying to pull her away, but her hold seemed cemented to the Grand Oblin. She screamed as she fought against the phantom sensation crawling up her arm and drawing her inwards, away from her body.

  (No!) she screamed as she was torn away from corporeality. She flung out her arms and legs, trying to combat her assailant, when she heard his voice:

  (Jaeia.)

  Jaeia opened her eyes. A figure standing over her illuminated the darkness of the interspace.

  (No...)

  She couldn’t believe it—she wouldn’t. (This is an illusion.) But the way he smiled, the way her body melted into his when he wrapped his arms around her, she couldn’t help but give in and hug him back with all her strength.

  (How is this possible?) she said between sobs. (You’re dead—you can’t be real.)

  He took her hands and looked at her squarely, his familiar blue eyes connecting with hers. (It’s a long story, but I promise it’s me.)

  (What about the Grand Oblin?)

  Jahx held her hands in his. (This was his gift.)

  She shouldn’t have believed him so easily, but the way he talked, the way his mind was so accessible, the familiar harmonies of his inner voice—she didn’t want to believe that it wasn’t. And though she knew she should have felt loss and heartbreak for the Grand Oblin, the overwhelming elation of her brother’s miraculous survival erased all other sensibilities.

  Tears streaming from her eyes, she hugged him again and kissed his cheek. (Please tell me this is real, Jahx. Please tell me that you’re not going to go away.)

  (I’m not planning on it,) Jahx said with a broad smile. (And I think it’s time to wake up.)

  When Jaeia opened her eyes she found herself back in the Division Lockdown Lab. After several seconds the walls and ceiling stopped seesawing, and she found that she had somehow ended up on the ground. To her surprise, her hand still rested on the Oblin’s shoulder in an impossible stretch.

  “Are you okay?” Dr. Kaoto asked, scanning her as a nurse took her vital signs.

  “Yes,” Jaeia said, picking herself up and sitting back in the chair. She had to catch her breath before reassuring them again. “I’m okay.”

  Then she realized who was lying before her. This is the body of the Grand Oblin, but it’s not him. A smile spread across her face. She laughed, the tears flowing once more. “I’m more than okay.”

  Jaeia grabbed his hand and squeezed, causing one of the monitors to alarm. “Wake up, Jahx, wake up!”

  “Jahx?” she heard DeAnders say.

  “Jahx,” she called, stroking his gray hair. “Wake up now.”

  “These readings can’t be right—” DeAnders said, pushing aside Dr. Kaoto to look at the monitors. “I need 1,000 mls of cytosalin, stat!”

  Jaeia ignored the surrounding flurry, holding her breath as she watched the transformation unfold before her eyes. The Grand Oblin’s familiar features dissolved, and his tall and lanky frame thickened
. Where old, stringy muscles had been stretched across a bony frame grew soft skin with developed muscle tone. Gray hair slinked back to a shorter-cropped black, and the long, hooked nose resolved to a finer tip. The yellowing of the Oblin’s nails cleared, and the brown and black spots of age that had once speckled his body disappeared.

  When he opened his eyes, Jaeia recognized the familiar blues and her heart leapt into her throat.

  “It’s really you,” she said, throwing herself on top of him. The nurses and doctors pried her off, warning her about his fragility as they adjusted his intravenous fluids and scanned and rescanned his body.

  “I’m okay,” Jahx smiled.

  “This is weird,” Jaeia said, inspecting his new body. He was not the young boy she remembered, but an adult Jahx, comparable to her own unusual age. “It kind of looks like you... just older.”

  “This feels right,” Jahx said, lifting his hands and turning them every which way.

  “Jaeia—what’s going on?” DeAnders demanded.

  “Chief,” Jaeia began, but she stopped. Suddenly she felt guarded, and she wasn’t sure why. “This is my brother, Jahx.”

  “You’re telling me this is your brother?” DeAnders said, pointing to the young man trying to rise from the table. The rest of the room went silent.

  “Yes. I don’t know how it’s possible, but it’s him.”

  “Where’s Jetta?” Jahx asked eagerly as he sat at the edge of the table, ignoring the warnings of the staff.

  Jaeia felt Jetta on the periphery of her mind. “She’s on the station! I’ll get her right away.”

  Jaeia closed her eyes, sending her sister the urgent message she could barely believe possible.

  “She doesn’t believe me,” Jaeia whispered to Jahx. “She’s going to have to see you for herself.”

  Jahx smiled and tried to stand, but then he closed his eyes and sat back on the table. “I’m not feeling one-hundred percent yet.”

  “That’s because your body can’t handle this transformation,” Dr. Kaoto said. “You’re going into ketoacidosis. We need you back on that table so we can stabilize your system.”