Triorion: Awakening (Book One)

by L. J. Hachmeister

  “All the relays are down!” one of the techs shouted over the commotion. “There’s a network blackout!”

  “The White—the concentration doesn’t seem right—” one of the men in lab coats shouted.

  “Get that thing up here now!” Rogman yelled.

  As the red and blue orbs of the game pieces rotated on the screen, anger swelled inside her. The Core places such importance on this stupid game. What’s next? Real battles? I don’t want that—I never wanted any of this.

  “We need your orders—they’re mounting a counterattack!” the voice in her headset repeated more urgently.

  Jetta watched as the enemy ships zeroed in on her game pieces. The tingling sensation intensified to burning, and her vision narrowed.

  I’m losing control, she realized, grabbing the armrests and squeezing as hard as she could. The veins on her hands and arms bulged, and the catheters running underneath her skin backfilled with blood.

  And then it came down on her like an invisible sledgehammer. Fiorah. Yahmen. The other child laborers. Laborminders. The Dominion. Cadets and teachers. Rogman. The thing with the burning red eye. Her persecutors, her tormentors. Tasting copper in her mouth, Jetta ground her teeth together as if biting through lead.

  I want to eliminate them—all of them. Both sides. We could do it— Jetta thought to her siblings. I’ll end this game, and then every last person that’s hurt us, every last living thing—

  Don’t, Jahx whispered. It’s a trick.

  I don’t understand— Jaeia cried.

  I will kill them all!

  But before she could act, two soldiers grabbed her by the armpits and dragged her away from her console. Chaos swarmed around her as officers shouted orders and soldiers frantically worked their stations, but it didn’t bother her. The milky white fluid had resumed infusion. Her anger, once ripe and visceral, dissipated in a cloud of serenity as she floated away from herself.

  The soldiers held her tightly while white-coated men shouted at each other. She tried to contact her siblings, but fog smothered their connection. What did she need to do?

  What is happening to me?

  (It is all my fault—Jaeia, Jahx—Galm, Lohien—I am so sorry—)

  As she struggled to free herself from the soldiers’ grip, something stabbed her in the shoulder. She tried to swat at the pain, but her arms were too heavy to lift. The world went upside-down, and her feet were no longer on the walkway. As her consciousness waned, she heard Rogman shout above the clamor:

  “Terminate them immediately!”

  ***

  There was no telling the difference between yesterday and the day before. For all Jahx knew, ten years could have passed just as easily as one week. There was the momentary clarity of the last Endgame and Jetta’s revolt, and then today. Everything else was a blur of needle sticks and machine laughter, dissociation and terrible loneliness.

  How or why he woke up again from the nightmare, he wasn’t sure, but when he heard the gunfire and saw the guards leave the post outside his door, he didn’t hesitate to make his escape.

  Blast fire and blood painted the ruined corridors. Lights, torn from the ceiling, sparked and sputtered. Running as fast as he could through the rubble, Jahx noticed deep gouges in the walls and floor.

  The monster—Jahx panicked, and tripped over a fallen beam.

  Scrambling back to his feet, Jahx spotted the sign next to the door just in front of him. Environmental Control Tower B. Reason took charge of panic, and he kicked aside debris to get inside the control tower.

  With limited power still routing into the terminals, Jahx punched up a keyboard interface. He searched the base files, trying to figure out what was going on, who had attacked the Dominion base.

  (You already know who.)

  The console blinked red. Error code: 177-01

  “No,” he muttered to himself. Something or someone had corrupted all the Dominion files.

  Did the Dominion do this? he wondered, tracing the pattern of code destruction. He had gleaned from one of the high officers that it was a Dominion failsafe if all hell broke loose.

  It must be really bad out there...

  Gunfire popped and rattled off down the hall. He didn’t have much time.

  Working as fast as he could, Jahx found an unlaunched jump-ship still sitting in one of the lesser docking bays while he queried the location of his sisters on another terminal.

  Subjects in termination holding cell 2.

  The text recycled itself on the terminal three times before it sank into his bones.

  “Termination...”

  I can’t do this, he thought, looking back at the flickering image of the jump-ship. One keystroke to prep the engines and lay in a course to anywhere but here. But he would do it alone, which meant he couldn’t do it at all.

  He searched for the curl of hair at the nape of his neck, not realizing his head had been shaved. Instead, his fingers found stubble, and closed lacerations at the base of his skull. The square lump jutting out of his cervical spine made him retract his hand with a stifled cry.

  I am changing.

  Focus. Jahx closed his eyes. The only other course of action involved a time-consuming hack into the Core sub-systems. Letting his mind expand, he saw a burgeoning putrescence, and heard the screams and cries of those who had fallen before him. Darkness was coming, infectious madness at its heels.

  I can’t think of what is to come for me, he thought. With tears squeezing through closed lids, he clung to memories of his sisters while his mind was still his own.

  Jaeia, the quiet one, who always looked out for him in the little ways that meant so much. Cleaning out the entryway so the rats would leave them alone. Making sure that nothing was laying around the apartment for Yahmen—or Jetta—to use as a weapon. He didn’t have to tell her anything—most of the time she already knew.

  Jetta, the fighter. Between their minds it was always a tug of war, but he couldn’t imagine a better friend or sister. He remembered when Jetta risked a beating to pick a drunken miners’ pocket for his stash of red opium and then slipped the ground-up weed into Yahmen’s drink. Her success bought them all a day of peace. No matter how ugly things got, Jetta always pulled through for him and Jaeia.

  Jahx licked his lips, wishing he could quench his maddening thirst, but the gunfire outside his door became more sporadic as the Core’s resistance dwindled.

  He had to make the decision. Scratching at the dry skin on the base of his neck, Jahx looked longingly at the secondary shaft that could lead out of the utility room and drop him into the docking bay. It would be so easy. He could hide out on one of the far moons until things settled.

  “Jetta,” he whispered under his breath as his fingers worked furiously to access the sub-systems, “I hope you’ll understand.”

  ***

  A boy with black hair and bleached-blue eyes stood in front of her against an endless black mirror. His lips did not move, but he spoke to her in a language that did not need words.

  Jetta felt his sorrow and his love, but it receded like the boy himself, wavering, vanishing into shadow.

  He had traded his life for theirs.

  She screamed, but sound was not possible in this place. She had failed him.

  He was lost.

  Chapter III

  Black smoke, pumping out from the broken engine of the escape pod, blotted out cloudy skies.

  Is this real? Jetta thought, trying to lift her head off of the ground. How did I get here?

  She remembered being afraid, trapped inside grey walls with men in uniforms holding her down.

  A blue sky with white clouds. Grass and trees. Somewhere new—

  The noxious smell of burning fuel irritated her lungs. Coughing, Jetta tried to roll onto her side, but the broken door from the escape pod pinned her legs.

  Oh Gods, I can’t move—

  Taking fistfuls of grass and tugging with all her strength, Jetta tried to free herself. The door creaked,
but didn’t budge. Bolts of pain shot through her legs and up her spine, and she collapsed, panting for air.

  “Jaeia? Jahx?” she called out. The trees, swaying in the light winds, answered with a rustling of leaves.

  Propping herself up on an elbow, Jetta scanned the surrounding forest. The crash landing stripped limbs from trees and set fire to branches. Jaeia, Jahx—where are you?!

  Head spinning from the fumes, Jetta spotted her sister shaking violently on the ground ten meters to her left.

  “Jaeia!” she croaked, stretching out to reach her. The shift in her weight caused the escape pod door to come crushing down on her legs.

  The pain, oh Gods—I can’t—

  A feverish heat seized her body. With each breath she took, an invisible vice tightened down around her chest. Fresh blood dribbled from her mouth as she clawed wildly at her throat, trying to pull air into starving lungs.

  As the world gave way to suffocating darkness, she tried to call out to her siblings one last time.

  ***

  “Not so fast or she’ll choke,” said a gruff voice overhead. Strong hands forced Jetta’s jaw open, and a thick, tasteless liquid filled her throat. When she spit out the contents of her mouth, the hands gripped her more tightly. Finally she swallowed, defeated.

  “Enough. Let her rest,” the voice said. The hands went away, and she collapsed into something soft and warm. She slept.

  ***

  Voices, above her.

  “Wait—I’ve seen those markings before.”

  A hand gently turned her right arm outwards.

  “And?” another voice inquired.

  Silence. Reflection.

  “How unusual. This was spoken of when I was with the Order.”

  Silence. Fear.

  “Gather the others quickly. We must prepare.”

  ***

  Blurry images hovered above her in the low, phosphorescent light. A thick, metallic taste lingered in her mouth. She tried to sit up but couldn’t.

  “You’re still weak, dear,” an old, raspy voice said. A calloused hand came to rest on Jetta’s shoulder, and she shrugged it away. “Please—I mean you no harm.”

  “Where are my brother and sister?” she managed to say, though her jaw felt stiff and sore. The image overhead solidified into the face of an old man stroking his bedraggled length of white beard. Withered brows overshadowed dark amethyst eyes.

  “Your sister is right here.” He leaned back so she could see the rocky outcropping where her sister lay. She seemed to be sleeping, peaceful and safe.

  “How did...?” Jetta muttered, squinting to see in the dim light of what seemed to be a cave. Bundles of glowing orbs clustered on vines winding along the cavern ceiling and walls, illuminating massive pillars and stalagmites.

  Wasn’t I just outside?

  No, the air here smelled thick with moisture and mildew, reminding her of the inside of an engine coolant mixer she had fixed on Fiorah.

  “Where is my brother?” she asked, trying to leverage up on her elbow. Her side screamed in pain, and she fell back into her bed made of animal skins.

  Confusion bunched together the old man’s brows. “We found only the two of you by the escape pod. There were no others.”

  Where is Jahx? Why isn’t he with us?

  Closing her eyes, Jetta thought back to the Dominion ships, but the last thing she remembered was playing Drakken Varkanian in the Endgame. Beyond that, there was nothing. Nothing at all. Her mouth went very dry and her stomach ached.

  “Who are you? Why are you hiding Jahx from me?” Jetta demanded.

  The old man looked shocked. “Goodness, child. I am the Grand Oblin, and I am not hiding anyone.”

  Jetta rolled on her side and bent at the waist, but every fiber in her body protested against the effort until, exhausted, she lay back again. She could sense Jaeia’s thoughts but not Jahx’s. He’s not here.

  “My child, you’ve been through so much,” the old man said, gingerly patting her shoulder. “I’ll let you rest and come back later.”

  He tried to get up, but his knees locked. When he strained, his eyes almost disappeared between the folds of wrinkles.

  “No—” Jetta shouted, reaching out and grabbing him by the sleeve of his robe. His memories exploded across her retinas, thrusting her headfirst into his most recent thoughts.

  Through his eyes she saw men in fatigues carry her and Jaeia’s broken bodies into the cave. Someone waved a bioscanner above her chest while another bandaged her leg. Meanwhile, a muscular man with a red facial tattoo yelled at the Grand Oblin, challenging his decisions. He was afraid of Jetta and Jaeia and the marking on their arms.

  “Gods,” Jetta said, retracting her hand and covering her eyes. Someone else’s memories never came rushing into her with just a touch.

  “Be careful, child—you’ve been through a lot.” His forehead creased in concern. “Things must seem drastically out of place.”

  “Where is Jahx? Where are we?” she said, her voice rising in intensity.

  The Grand Oblin leaned on his walking stick and stroked his beard. “This is Tralora, former home of the Narki, in the Elaraqui system. Do you remember why you were sentenced here?”

  Sentenced? Jetta thought. Wake up, Jaeia! she called to her sleeping sister. I don’t understand what is happening!

  With frustrating deliberation, the old man felt around in the pockets of his robe. Finally he withdrew a bright red plant root and placed it in his mouth, chewing with exaggerated bites.

  Since Jetta didn’t answer him, he probed further. “Do you remember how you got here?”

  His words triggered a hazy memory of the crash and she flinched, but she fought through it, trying to think harder about the question. What’s happened? How did we end up here? Where is Jahx?

  When she tried to focus her energy on her brother, it seemed to rebound. Her mind raced with disjointed thoughts and images—Escape

  Resistance,

  Thirsty, so thirsty,

  Must escape

  MY SKIN

  Jahx?

  Jetta held her throbbing head in her hands. Something terrible lurked just beyond her grasp.

  The old man nodded as if he understood and removed the root from his mouth. He broke it open, and an orange-colored gel oozed from the tip. He held it by the thick end and leaned toward her.

  “Stay away—” she warned, scooting backward on her elbows. She bit her lip against the pain.

  His tone, which had been warm and lighthearted, turned serious. “Sometimes when bad things happen, we start to see the enemy all around us. I assure you, I am not your enemy.”

  Jetta’s hands clenched into fists, but tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away. She wouldn’t cry in front of this stranger.

  “If you are not my enemy, then who is?” she asked.

  The Grand Oblin placed the root next to her. “This is only to help with the pain, help you sleep. Rub the gel on your skin until it’s completely absorbed. But if you don’t want it, you don’t have to have it. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

  His knees made a cracking sound as he rose from his perch on the rocks. He paused for a moment, seeming to take in more than just her image.

  “Sleep well, my friend,” the Grand Oblin said, lifting a weathered hand. He slowly shuffled out of the cave, the soft tap of his walking stick eventually fading into the darkness with him.

  “Jaeia,” Jetta called. When her sister did not rouse, Jetta tried more firmly, using her inner voice to augment what she said aloud. “Jaeia!”

  As she struggled to free herself from the bedding, her hand slipped, and her elbow landed in the orange gel.

  “Skucheka!” she cursed in Fiorahian, trying to rub it off.

  Within seconds her heart rate slowed, and the need to rush over and wake her sister replaced by the irresistible desire to sleep.

  “No, Jaeia—Jahx,” she mumbled, her head very heavy—too heavy to hold up.

  She
haphazardly rolled out of bed, falling to the ground in a crumpled heap. Her eyes, weighted, could barely stay open.

  Can’t fall asleep.

  Jetta crawled and clawed her way over to her twin, injured leg screaming in pain as it dragged along the rocky floor. With a grunt she lifted her arms and pulled herself with the last of her strength atop the rock pile next to her sister. There, concentrating on the presence of her sibling and the steady pulse of pain in her leg, she fought the urge to sleep.

  ***

  Hours passed in dreamlike realness. Still perched on the rocky outcropping next to her sister, Jetta chewed her thumbnail, rocking back and forth, waiting for Jaeia to wake up. She had fought off the sedating effects of the root, but as tired as she was, she couldn’t stop herself from drifting in and out of sleep, and she awoke to Jaeia tentatively shaking her by the shoulders.

  “Jetta,” she croaked. Her eyes were wide and frantic in bruised-looking hollows. “Where’s Jahx? I can’t feel him.”

  Jetta held her head and tried to push back the despair that rushed in with Jaeia’s words. “He isn’t here. I don’t know what happened. We’ll find him, just as soon as we get out of here.”

  “But where are we?” Jaeia asked. She wobbled as she tried to stand but managed to catch herself on a nearby stalagmite, gasping at the pain. Her ragged shirt gaped, and Jetta sucked in a breath at her first sight of the deep, scabbed lacerations on her sister’s torso.

  “What’s that?” Jaeia asked, pointing to where Jetta’s pants had rucked up, exposing wounds of her own. Jetta rolled her pant leg up further, wincing as it brushed the bloodied lump just below her knee.

  Seeing her sister’s wounds and some of her own, Jetta’s heart raced. She didn’t want to know any more, but before she could stop herself, she pulled up her shirt.