Triorion: Awakening (Book One)

by L. J. Hachmeister

  Heat built upon heat behind her eyes and in her chest. Jetta shook, her fingers slowly curling into her palms.

  “Look at you!” he laughed. “What the hell do you think you’re going to do? You’re weak—you’re pathetic!”

  Jetta, no! Jahx screamed, staking down her fury with panic. You can’t use your talents—you’ll go too far!

  Yahmen didn’t give her any time to counteract her brother’s telepathic block. He dropped Jaeia and concentrated his malice on Jahx, wrapping his rough hands around her brother’s neck.

  He always chose Jahx first. Always. A dark stain formed around her brother’s crotch, and Yahmen cackled. “Boy, you should thank me for this.”

  The blood drained from Jetta’s face, adrenaline washing away her fear. Her siblings might be able to stop her from using her talent against him, but they couldn’t stop her.

  “Me, you want me!” she screamed, leaping at Yahmen and sinking her teeth into his calf.

  Jetta! Jaeia cried across their bond, pulling at her feet to try and break her away. Please, let go! He’s going to kill you!

  Yahmen released Jahx, and her brother’s tiny body collapsed on the floor in a heap.

  You don’t have to do this, Jetta, Jahx whispered, reaching to her as Yahmen removed his belt and grabbed Jetta by the hair. You can’t always be in his way—

  As Yahmen lifted his belt she whispered aloud, “For you, Jahx. I hope you’ll understand.”

  ***

  “Come here, you little ratchakker!” Yahmen screamed as he chased Jetta around the living room, lashing her with his belt.

  I’ve never seen him this out of control, Jahx thought as Jaeia wrapped herself around his leg, sobbing uncontrollably.

  He won’t stop, Jahx realized. Yahmen threw a lamp against the wall, eyes ablaze. I have to do something.

  (I have to go into his head.)

  Jahx cringed at the thought. Delving into Yahmen’s mind meant not only weathering the rage and navigating through the murk of alcohol, but facing the dark undercurrents of his psyche.

  Even passed out he’s dangerous, Jahx thought, remembering his brush with death a few months ago. I don’t want to get lost in the trenches of his mind.

  Scooting out of the way, Jahx shielded Jaeia as Yahmen kicked over the armchair to grab at their sister. He couldn’t be afraid now. Jetta’s life—all their lives—depended on his ability to reach inside their owner. If he could connect with Yahmen, he could find the reason for their torment, and temper their owner’s wrath.

  And not resort to murder, he thought, feeling his sister’s survival instincts overtaking rational thought. Jetta’s secret power, drawn from a place of pain and terror, was vast in its scope and untamable when accessed. Killing Yahmen would only be the start.

  Jetta crawled under the couch to protect herself, but their owner yanked her out and held her down with his boot, exposing her neck and upper back. The rhythmic blows from Yahmen’s belt reverberated off the bare walls and drowned out the shouts of the arguing couple next door. Jetta’s mouth formed a scream she held back as beads of her blood splattered the cement.

  Because Jetta would not cry out, Yahmen hit her harder. “I want to hear you scream, launnie!” he roared.

  Jaeia clutched his arm. “Do something, Jahx—before she does.”

  Jahx felt it too, the spreading shadow in Jetta’s mind, the dark whisperings that became a seductive chant: (Yahmen is weak, you are powerful. Take what is yours. Take his flesh. Take his mind. Take his soul.)

  He didn’t know where such impulses came from; he refused to believe they originated from within his sister.

  “Help me,” he whispered back, sharing his idea with Jaeia through their telepathic bond.

  “Not that way, Jahx—it’s too dangerous!”

  “Jaeia—we have to,” he said, flinching as Yahmen kicked Jetta in the ribs. His sister’s pain shrieked out across the psionic bonds. Green eyes narrowed, teeth bared. Jahx grimaced, tasting the copper of his sister’s bloodlust. “Or we’ll lose Jetta.”

  “Okay,” Jaeia whispered. “But please, Jahx—you have to be careful.”

  Jahx tried to steady himself as sweat crawled down his neck and back. To go in now would mean sharing Yahmen’s pleasure in hurting his sister, but he couldn’t afford to think of all the reasons not to go.

  (I’m afraid.) Jahx looked down at his soiled pants and flushed. He pressed his fists against his belly to keep himself from throwing up.

  What if he feels you digging in his head? Jaeia pleaded as Jahx stretched out his mind.

  He won’t—he’s too drunk. Please, Jaeia, you have to trust me.

  Jaeia’s worry persisted in his head, but she didn’t try to stop him as Yahmen took another swig from his bottle. Rolling onto her stomach, Jetta’s face suffused with blood, eyes portending brutal intent.

  “Oh, little launnie,” Yahmen chuckled, wrapping his belt around his fist. “You look like you’re ready for round two.”

  Hold onto me, Jaeia, he called silently, rising to his feet.

  Arms wrapped around his legs. I won’t let go!

  With Jaeia as his anchor, Jahx tore through the superficial layers of their owner’s thoughts. Sifting through unmitigated anger was a daily chore on Fiorah, but being in this deep meant saturating himself in Yahmen’s obsessive rage, and he couldn’t prevent the backwash. His heart raced, and he bit back a snarl.

  Jahx tried to fight back, to remind himself of who he was and who he was trying to save, but Yahmen’s thoughts dominated his mind, their perversity intoxicating his senses.

  I like the feel of tender pink flesh splitting apart, Jahx heard himself say. Alcohol warms my muscles, makes me feel stronger than I could have ever imagined.

  Wait, Jahx cried, trying keep hold of himself. Is it Yahmen—or me—beating Jetta?

  Any concern, any moral sense, twisted into the pure, raw pleasure of leather cracking against skin. He had never known that disciplining the weak could satisfy him so well, or how his ugly hands could become such beautiful vessels of pain and punishment.

  Jahx no longer felt his own body or the pull of his conscience. I will finish her—

  When he had all but given in to his new self-image, Jaeia called to him.

  (Jahx!)

  Memories, shared across a familiar bond, poured into his mind. Laughing with his sisters under a fort made from their cots, playing rock dice until Galm reminded them to go to bed. His aunt’s warmhearted smile and soft embrace. Fixing engine parts with junkyard scraps and splitting bakken with his sisters.

  And he remembered him. The ruddy monster that reeked of booze and cigarettes who stormed into their apartment in the middle of the night. With Jaeia’s thoughts, he surfaced from the drowning pool of Yahmen’s mind, and he remembered what his mission had been. (I will lose myself to Yahmen if I don’t leave now.)

  The shock of pulling his mind out abruptly threw him backward, taking Jaeia down with him. Vision swinging sickeningly, Jahx clung to his sister as he reoriented back into his own body.

  I almost lost myself in Yahmen. Oh Gods, Jahx thought, horrified. He covered his mouth to keep back a scream. I almost killed my sister!

  “What are you two doing?” slurred Yahmen. He stumbled over, dragging his belt along the ground. “Do you want a lesson, too?”

  Jaeia’s fingers dug into his chest as Yahmen tripped over the armchair and lost hold of his booze. The brown bottle shattered against the wall, spraying them with alcohol and glass. Closing his eyes, Jahx prepared for the blow. It never came.

  With his heart thumping in his ears, he slowly opened his eyes to see Yahmen sprawled facedown across the carpet. His breathed loudly, snorting and mumbling, but appeared passed out.

  “Jetta,” Jahx whispered. Careful not to wake their owner, he crawled over to her. She didn’t open her eyes, but when he put his hand on her forearm, she smiled.

  “It’s okay. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  Jahx felt t
he distant pain of her wounds, and the inner wall she had constructed to keep him from experiencing its full breadth. He didn’t understand her unwillingness to let any of it be shared. “Thank you, Jetta.”

  Jetta’s breath came in quick and shallow gulps. Her body will survive, but I don’t know about the rest of her, he thought to himself, a chill running up his spine. He had heard and felt the dark pull of her secret talent before, but it had never been this fierce.

  Joining him by Jetta’s side, Jaeia helped dab the blood off their sister’s back with the ends of her sleeves. This is worse than it looks, he heard Jaeia think.

  “Jahx... if only you would let me. This could all be over with,” Jetta whispered. “I could kill him now. We could just plug his nose and cover his mouth...”

  The offer tempted him. No more Yahmen. A chance to be a family again. I wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore.

  Jahx hid his trembling hands underneath his knees and swallowed hard to keep the contents of his stomach down. He’d gone farther than he had ever before in Yahmen’s mind, and it had only deepened his fright. However, he couldn’t give up hope, in himself, or in others.

  It’s all I have.

  “No, Jetta, we can’t. There would be investigations; we’d draw attention to ourselves. And more importantly,” he added softly, “we don’t want to become a monster like him.”

  Jahx could tell she wanted to yell at him by the way her fist flexed, but she wouldn’t risk waking Yahmen.

  “There are evil people, Jahx; why can’t you just accept that?” Her breath came faster now, and she squirmed onto her side. “We can kill Yahmen and be done with this—we can save our aunt and uncle and be free!”

  “Jetta...” Jaeia whispered, placing her hand on her leg.

  Jetta’s eyes narrowed and she grabbed on to his wrist. “You’re the one that’s keeping us back. Even if you’re right, that doesn’t mean everybody’s worth saving.”

  Jahx hung his head. She can’t be right—can she?

  A gentle hand lifted his chin. Grey eyes met his. Don’t give up, Jahx. On anyone.

  Thanks, Jaeia.

  Closing his eyes, he helped Jaeia wade her way through Jetta’s frustration, diffusing tensions with comforting memories:

  The three of them crowding Galm’s lap as he read them a bedtime story. Jetta and Jaeia playing with Lohien’s hair, not appreciating their aunt’s patience as they argued about how to style it.

  In pain and too tired to fight their efforts, Jetta surrendered, tears brimming her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Jetta,” Jahx said, carefully hugging her. He so desperately wanted her to understand.

  She traced the tattoo on her inner arm. “Me too.”

  ***

  Two of Yahmen’s watchmen appeared an hour later, searching for their boss. Yahmen, still fast asleep, snored loudly as they dragged him out of the apartment by the armpits. They gave no notice to the broken furniture or blood painting the carpet and walls.

  Jaeia watched behind the safety of bedroom door. Her brother, too distraught, sat on the bare mattress, picking at the menagerie of patchwork holding the bed together.

  “Jaeia, we need to talk,” Jahx whispered, pulling up his knees to his chest. Jaeia scooted next to her brother, crossing her arms and leaning against him.

  “Yes, I know,” she whispered back.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “We told her not to go tonight. We can’t make her listen, Jahx.”

  Jaeia peered over at the vent grate in the corner and shook her head. Despite her injuries, Jetta had insisted on continuing their nightly mapping mission.

  “She thinks she has to take on everything and everybody herself,” he said.

  He didn’t have to say anything else. She knew it too. Jetta was very different than the two of them. Stubborn and headstrong, she tried to keep her feelings locked away, but hers burned the fiercest of all. And she could never forgive anyone, especially herself.

  “That’s why we’re here, remember?” she smiled.

  Jahx nodded but still seemed troubled.

  “What is it?” Jaeia asked, unwrapping herself and facing him squarely. She strained to sense his emotions, to see his thoughts, but he stared intensely at the vent grate, holding himself beyond her reach.

  “She’s not as strong as she thinks. Always keep her in your sight, or at least in your thoughts. Be her anchor. Do it for all of us, but especially for me, okay?”

  “Of course, Jahx,” she replied, kissing his cheek. She didn’t understand his anxiety. At that moment, all she could think of was their uncertain future and their sister, who was about to cross into one of the darkest corners of the Fiorahian Underground.

  ***

  The metal duct squeezed the breath from her lungs as Jetta desperately wiggled around a sharp juncture. Her struggle through the angled turn scraped the skin from her chest, but the pain barely registered. Most of her attention wrapped around the argument with her sister. Jaeia had wanted her to stay and tend to her wounds, but tonight proved they needed to get out now, at all costs. There was no time for coddling, especially after what Jahx had said the last time they had collected water together.

  “I know that Yahmen will kill me.”

  His words echoed in her head, spurring her on, even though the shaft only got smaller. The walls smashed her from every side, squeezing her shoulders together, making it harder and harder to squirm forward.

  Not too much further. The slatted vent covering lay just ahead. The smell of smoke and booze wafted into the air duct, and the telltale bar sounds of banter and metalcore music vibrated the walls.

  Jetta bit back a sob. Yahmen had been drunk enough that his kick to her ribs hadn’t been full force, but the crushing struggle through the vents ignited fresh agony.

  Fear pushed aside pain. I can’t fail my brother and sister.

  Arms pinned to her sides, Jetta could not take in a real breath. Smaller and smaller gasps left her lungs screaming for air as tiny points of light obscured her vision.

  Come back, Jetta, her brother and sister called out. Please—you don’t have to do this.

  Her one free hand fumbled with the rusted latch of the vent cover. Through the slats she could see the scene below. The barkeep yelled at the bouncers to remove a drunk patron while a busty waitresses passed out shots to a rowdy circle of mercenaries.

  Can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe—

  The vent covering fell off, into the bar. Not caring where she fell, even if it was right in the lap of a flesh-eating Toork, Jetta struggled frantically through the tight opening.

  —I can’t fail them—

  She didn’t feel the fall.

  ***

  Reht Jagger, dog-soldier captain of the Wraith, licked his long incisors and took a swig of his brew. Scanning the Fiorahian bar, he couldn’t help but notice the increased patronage. That means the Core is shutting down more Underground hideouts.

  “Why the hell do they want this stink-hole anyway? It’s the one decent place left in the galaxy,” Reht muttered under his breath, sloshing his drink around his mug to the thundering beat of whatever metalcore band blasted over the speakers.

  The joint was just how he liked it: seedy and rough, full of outerworlders and Sentients banished from regulated space. Even with the Core crackdown, it proved a decent place for business. Not a single cop or narc in the bunch. Besides, most deals that went on in the sublevels made his illegal weapons trade look like child’s play.

  How Mantri Sebbs, “the Jittery Joliak,” got down to the bar without getting beaten or killed still amazed Reht. The ratchakker never even changed out of his uniform. Then again, Sebbs dealt within the ranks of the Dominion Core.

  Even the rats can smell their own kind, Reht thought as Sebbs fumbled with his drink and continued his jabbering.

  “No, no, really! I’m telling you the truth. They were no older than five. Identical girls and a boy—triplets. Brilliant. Look, I wouldn’t be
lieve me either…” Sebbs said, staring into his drink.

  Reht sighed. Sebbs had spent the last half hour trying to convince him that some wild story about “genius launnies”—a laughable contradiction—was worth a trade for methoc. No one else took the bait either. His first mate, Mom, and Bacthar, the crew surgeon, sat with him in the alcove, listening to Sebbs’ intoxicated drivel, looking perturbed.

  “Why did I come here?” Tech mumbled into his drink, getting up from the table. Reht didn’t bother to keep his nervous engineer from pacing just outside their alcove. The poor guy never felt comfortable around any other company than machinery.

  Bored, Reht mindlessly picked at the bandages covering his scarred hands and looked around for the other members of his crew. Diawn, stationed in another corner, had already shed about half of her clothing trying to seduce a Froanan porter into a hot deal on the new phase inversion weapons system. Reht spotted Ro and Cray at the bar, gathering information and securing the allegiances they would need on their next run.

  My Gods, those bastards are actually working, he laughed to himself.

  “What do you think Billy Don’t and Vaughn are up to?” he whispered to Mom.

  His first mate growled, unappreciative of the tease. Leaving the unwelcomed crew members back on the ship without a chaperone was not Mom’s first choice.

  “Come on,” Reht joked. “How much fun could a rehabilitated ex-con and pre-pubescent Liiker have in a dirty, sublevel Fiorahian bar?”

  “Probably more fun than we’re having,” Bacthar sighed.

  With a chuckle, Reht turned his attention back to Sebbs. “If Di didn’t acquire us such fine upgrades this trip would be hardly worth it. Tell me you have something worth hearing or I’m postponing your shipment.”

  Sebbs’ eyebrows shot up and lips peeled over stained teeth; Reht placed his hand over his gun. The Dominion officer was normally a bit edgy, especially when he was low on hits, but this was abnormal even for him.