The Triad

by Sarah Ettritch

  Carol’s eyes widened. “Oh, I know. It struck me when we all went to the Dance Hall. They must resemble their mama, because their papa seems to be the odd one out. Have you seen an image of Mo’s mama?” she asked Jayne.

  She nodded. Mo had shown her one before they went to the crypt. “They do look like their mama. I wish I’d met her.”

  “Three young Chosens, and only one mama alive,” Ronald murmured.

  “That one mama has been very helpful,” Jayne quickly said, wanting to get off this subject. Her parents would already be on her mind too much the following day, and she didn’t want to brood about the circumstances of Mo’s mama’s death, either. “She pretty much planned the entire week and agreed to most of my requests.”

  “Grudgingly, I bet,” Carol said.

  “Still. It’ll be a much happier day for me with you two at the main table.” If only she could have bumped Robert from the steps and the Joining Chamber, but tradition was tradition!

  Carol set her mug back on the tray. “As I’ve said before, I was initially worried about Adelaide, but I was wrong. You were wrong, too. You were convinced they’d exercise CT134.”

  In hindsight, her panic after her notification meeting seemed silly, but all she’d known was that Lesley was a highly regarded Interior officer. That alone had been cause for alarm. When she’d found out that Lesley and Mo were in a long-term relationship, she could excuse herself for having expected to die at an execution site. “You’re right. I was wrong about them.”

  Lesley deserved her reputation in every sense of the word. Upholding the spirit of the Way was paramount to her. She would never have thoughtlessly condemned Jayne based solely on her family history. As for Mo, it would be folly to mistake her lack of interest in cases and article debates as a lack of strength in the Way. Mo was a military officer who’d die for the Way without hesitation. Emotional? Yes. Dedicated to the spirit of the Way? Yes. The two weren’t mutually exclusive. As Mo had said, she’d rip their heads off, but do what a Rymellan strong in the Way would do. Jayne had one Chosen who thought her way through challenges, and one who stamped her foot and shouted. Life would be interesting.

  If the Chosen Council had asked her—ha!—who she wanted to be in a triad with, Lesley and Mo were the last Rymellans she would have chosen. Military officers, especially an Interior officer? No way! Fortunately the Chosen Council hadn’t consulted her; it had introduced her to two Rymellans she’d grown to love and trust. If she’d known her Chosens the way she did now, she would have fainted with relief at her notification meeting, not feared for her life.

  How did Lesley and Mo feel when they looked back at their notification meetings? It was easy for Jayne to think that it had all worked out. Her life had changed for the better; they’d been blindsided. Despite their feelings for her—Mo’s in full bloom and Lesley’s breaking through the soil—there must be a part of them that wished they’d never met her, that the Chosen Council had given them to each other, and only each other. Jayne would try not to feel guilty as she stood in the Joining Chamber. Guilt wouldn’t honour her Chosens or the Way. By accepting her and the triad, Lesley and Mo would honour both for the rest of their lives. Jayne wouldn’t let them down. She’d follow their lead, leave her guilt at the door, hold her head high, and quash all feelings except love and admiration.

  Her Joining Day would be nothing like she’d expected. She wouldn’t go through the motions and despair over a life with a Chosen who resented her. She’d Join with two Chosens she loved, and who genuinely cared about her. That her parents had turned their backs on their Chosen bond was even more inexplicable to her now. At the same time, her name would no longer fill her with shame. She would not follow in her parents’ footsteps. She would redeem her name, but not by convincing Rymellans that she wasn’t like her parents—a shallow accomplishment that would offer little satisfaction. No, she’d die a proud Adams because she’d stand by her Chosens for the rest of her life—love them, honour them, respect them, be there for them through the joys and the sorrows.

  When each triad member was laid to rest in the Thompson crypt, those gathered wouldn’t cringe at the Adams on the nameplate, because it was her name, someone strong in the Way and whose devotion to her Chosens never wavered. Their daughters, their extended families, and their friends would think of her, not her parents. That was how she’d reclaim her name, starting tomorrow.

  *****

  Mo jumped when Nathan barked a laugh from behind her. He pointed over her shoulder at the image on the study’s comm station display. “You both look so young.”

  “We were young. Or rather, younger.” She peered at the smiling faces in the pilot program’s graduation image. Where were they now? Most were on tour or on space stations. Only three weren’t full-time pilots: Lieutenant Waterman, who’d decided that a career in fighter maintenance was more to her liking, Les, who’d switched to Interior, and Mo, who felt a sudden longing to be on tour. It hurt, but not being Les’s Chosen would have hurt infinitely more. Okay, she wasn’t grounded because of Les, but because of the triad—military code for Jayne. But with Les being in Interior, and the military wanting her to stay there, tours would have been out of the question, anyway. Sure, Les could have gone on tour as part of an Interior delegation, if Hall and Laura didn’t have other plans for her.

  Deep down, Mo had known that her tour days would be over if she and Les were Chosens. She hadn’t thought about it much because she’d been trying to be realistic about the chances of that happening, and she certainly hadn’t considered a triad. Honestly, given how things had turned out, they were better off on the planet, not stuck on some ship, and Mo was content to fly supply and teach. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to go on tour if circumstances somehow allowed it, but if her last tour on the Falcon turned out to be her last tour ever, so be it.

  Nathan waved a hand in front of her face. “Hello?”

  Mo batted it away and decided not to view any more military images. Seeing Les with a Defence insignia on her uniform reminded Mo of their separation. Yeah, their forced time apart for nothing. All the tears, all the sleepless nights when she wondered how Les was, whether Les still loved her, if Les was thinking about her…then a few glorious days, and wham! The triad. Good-bye, dream life. Hello, maybe a different type of dream life. Time would tell. She consciously unclenched her teeth and quickly selected another set of images to head off the brooding session she could feel coming on.

  Oh, the Festival of the Way after their graduation. Her jaw tightened again. Mama looked so happy. Okay, forget this set. Maybe reminiscing over old images was a bad idea.

  “Find one with Papa and his thick moustache,” Nathan said.

  Despite herself, Mo smiled. “What year would that be?” she murmured, scanning the list. “You were only three, I think.”

  “I don’t actually remember it. I just remember the images,” Nathan said, chuckling.

  “Here.” She stared at the ridiculous mass of hair under Papa’s nose. “I don’t know how Mama put up with it,” she said as Nathan snickered. “No wonder it didn’t last long. I think this is the only set with him and that monstrosity.” She flipped to the next image and snorted. “Argamon, look at Les! She must have been…um, you were three, so she would have been nine or ten, depending on when it was taken.” Mo glanced at the date. “Ten.” At that time, Jayne would have been eight and oblivious to what was going to hit her in four years. What had she looked like?

  “What are you doing?”

  Mo turned toward the door. Andrew was leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded.

  “Looking at old images.” Nathan nudged Mo’s shoulder. “Go back to the one with Papa’s moustache.”

  Mo did so and waved Andrew closer. He gazed at the image. “Oh, yeah, I remember that,” he said, his tone lacklustre. His mouth didn’t even twitch. Mo sighed as he wandered out of the study.

  “I don’t understand why he’s still moping around
over Ann,” Nathan said.

  That made two of them. “I just hope they don’t cause a scene tomorrow.” Then again, seeing Adelaide and Ann go at it might be worth the disruption. Ann wouldn’t stand a chance. She smiled again at Papa’s moustache, then flipped back to the image of Les and returned to the question she’d asked herself when Andrew had interrupted. What had Jayne looked like? Mo realized with a start that she didn’t have any images of Jayne. “Here, you take over,” she said to Nathan as she rose. He eagerly sat down and flipped to the next image. Mo hung around for a minute, then went into the hallway and pulled out her comm unit.

  “I wasn’t expecting to speak to you until tomorrow,” Jayne said. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I was just looking at old images, and I realized that we don’t have any of you in our family collection. Do you have any you can send me? Recent ones, or of you as a child?”

  Jayne was silent for a moment. “No. Well, I suppose Carol has a few, and if you search the public academy archives, you might find me. I don’t have any.” She paused. “If you do find images of my academy classes, I’d prefer not to see them.”

  Who could blame her? And Mo should have known better. Jayne’s parents’ image collection would have been destroyed, or at least sealed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I like that you don’t instantly think of my family history every time you think of me.”

  Warmth surged through Mo. Nope, Jayne’s surname wasn’t the first thing that came to mind anymore. “Plenty of images will be taken of you tomorrow.”

  “I won’t mind looking at those.” Jayne’s voice softened. “They’ll be our first images as a family.”

  A lump formed in Mo’s throat.

  “And the two most important women to me will be in them.”

  Mo forced a chuckle. “That’s funny, I can say the same.” Okay, time to say good-bye before she said a bunch of mushy stuff she’d cringe over after they disconnected. “Anyway, I won’t keep you from Carol and Ronald. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, you will.” Mo could hear the smile in Jayne’s voice. “Bye, Mo.”

  “Bye.” Mo slid the unit into its holder, and didn’t try to resist the sudden urge that felt so right. She stuck her head around the study’s doorframe. “I’m going to Les’s.”

  Nathan spun the chair around. “What? You’re not supposed to stay there.”

  “I won’t. It’s only nine. I just want to see her one last time before we Join.”

  Nathan rolled his eyes. “Argamon, talk about lovesick.”

  “Yeah? I hope you’re as lovesick about your Chosen when you’ve been with her for almost fourteen years.” Grinning, and feeling as if she could face anything, Mo grabbed her cloak and almost skipped through the front door.

  *****

  Lesley perched on the edge of the sofa and sipped her tziva as she read Laura’s dispatch. When she reached its end, she set her mug on the coffee table and read Laura’s words again. When the dispatch had arrived minutes ago, she’d assumed it would contain good wishes for the next day, like every other dispatch she’d recently received. She’d been right, but Laura had added the following to the usual optimistic words:

  As your Joining Day has approached, I’ve been thinking more and more about my family’s triad. I suppose that’s natural. Eleanor kept journals, and I reread one of them tonight. The journals contain her private thoughts, so I usually don’t share their contents. But I don’t think she’d mind me sharing this small excerpt with you. In fact, I believe she’d be delighted. See you tomorrow.

  Then, the excerpt:

  It finally hit me as I watched them approach the steps. Charlotte clutched Miriam’s arm, which surprised me. Charlotte’s usually the bolder one, but I guess everyone finds some circumstances intimidating. I remember thinking about how I’d like to clutch Miriam’s arm.

  We must be mad! Almost every triad before us has failed. But what else were we to do? Neither of my Chosens deserved execution and, in time, I can see myself loving both of them. Maybe I already do, I’m not sure. It’s difficult to sort through my feelings when I’m growing closer to two women who are also growing closer to each other.

  Lesley could relate, in the sense that she was coming to terms with Mo and Jayne’s relationship at the same time her feelings for Jayne were changing. She didn’t want to initiate a romantic relationship with Jayne until her emotional state had settled. Fortunately, Jayne would be patient. They had plenty of time. She read the rest:

  Sometimes I feel insanely jealous and wish I could go out dancing once, just once, with only one of them, but when I do get the chance to snatch some time alone with either of them—when I’m out walking with Miriam or gardening with Charlotte—I miss the other one.

  When I stood in the Joining Chamber, I wondered what the chances were that we’d die natural deaths. Then I looked at them, and they both looked so serious and determined that I thought, if anybody can do it, we can. We’re either embarking on an adventure that will get us into the history books for other poor triads to follow (maybe we’ll even inspire them!), or we’ll earn ourselves a place on the Wall. No! That won’t happen, not if I have anything to do with it. I’m the Principal. The Chosen Council expects me to guide this triad, and I will! And since you’re reading this, we made it. We flaming made it!

  Yes, they’d made it. Fourteen daughters and umpteen descendants, including a commodore. And yes, Eleanor’s words had inspired. Lesley had the responsibility of guiding her triad, and her two Chosens were as determined as Eleanor’s had been. Of course, their situation was different. Eleanor hadn’t faced sharing someone she’d loved for years. She hadn’t had a Chosen some regarded as a threat to the Way. But she’d refused to exercise CT134 and had vowed to guide her Chosens through the challenges unique to triads—and she hadn’t had a successful triad with fourteen daughters to point to when they had their wobbly moments.

  Lesley had Eleanor’s—and Miriam’s and Charlotte’s—success to draw upon. She’d reread this excerpt whenever she needed a reminder that she, Mo, and Jayne could, and would, make it. She and Mo didn’t shy away from challenges, and Jayne had shown that she could weather just about anything. As Eleanor had said, if anyone can do it, we can.

  Tomorrow, as she stood in the Joining Chamber, Lesley would remember Eleanor’s words. The next triad would have two successful triads in a row to encourage it—and perhaps wouldn’t have to deal with CT134? The article’s existence rankled—no, offended! An innocent Rymellan should never be executed. Yes, triads were difficult and had a spotty history, but those in them should be treated like every other Rymellan. The Chosen Tradition already covered every imaginable transgression. As Lesley had once said to her parents, when it came to executions, what could happen had no place. Her commander training had strengthened her conviction in that regard.

  CT134 was on the very short list of articles in the Chosen Tradition that was open to amendments, which included deletion. She could think of two advocates who would relish the challenge, but they didn’t specialize in the Chosen Tradition. Perhaps Advocate Phillips would agree to lead the team. Lesley could look past his involvement in Jason and Mary’s scheme; he’d only been doing his job, and she’d want the best advocate for this undertaking. She’d help, too. If the others wanted to look down their noses at her because she wrote opinions for the military, so be it; challenging the article was too important to allow pride to get in the way.

  The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that her parents would jump at the opportunity. They’d have to wait until the triad had a few successful years behind it, but they would challenge the article. As for Phillips, if he believed the article to be sound, he could take some persuading. Historic case, likely to be covered on the monitors, lead advocate on the team…Lesley had time to come up with the carrots she’d dangle. The case he’d written against Jayne could bring his credibility into question, but people were allow
ed to change their minds, especially when the dire predictions laid out in the case weren’t coming to pass. Phillips’s about face could actually work in their favour; it would show that he didn’t cling to theory when reality countered it. After all, wouldn’t the fact that a triad with an Adams in it was surviving—and flourishing—mean that any triad should survive? Lesley couldn’t deny how satisfying it would feel to turn the hate directed at Jayne into ammunition they could use to strike CT134 from the Tradition.

  Her musings came to an abrupt end when the front door swung open. A glance at her comm unit told her it was 21:15. They weren’t expecting more visitors, especially at this hour. She felt her face tighten when Mo strode into the living room.

  Mo held up her hands. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to trample all over tradition by insisting on staying over. I just had the sudden urge to see you. It’ll be the last time we see each other before we’re officially Joined. We didn’t get much time alone together today.” She shrugged off her cloak, tossed it over the arm of a chair, and plunked down next to Lesley. “What are you doing?”

  Lesley hesitated, then held her comm unit where Mo could read Eleanor’s excerpt, sure that Laura wouldn’t mind her sharing it with Mo and Jayne. “Laura sent this over. Apparently Eleanor, the Principal of the Finney triad, kept journals. This is an excerpt.”

  Mo leaned closer. When she grunted and sat back a minute later, Lesley assumed she’d finished and slid her comm unit back into its holder.

  “Good to know they weren’t sure how their lives would turn out, either,” Mo said. “She sounded optimistic, though. I guess they had to trust themselves and believe it would work out.” She met Lesley’s eyes. “Like we will.”