Triorion: Awakening (Book One)

by L. J. Hachmeister

  “Give me back the dice, it’s my turn,” he said.

  (Jahx.)

  Her brother looked no older than four, just about the age before their worst year.

  Jetta opened her hand and the rock dice clattered onto the cement floor. She didn’t want to move. None of this could be real, but she desperately wanted it to be.

  (Don’t go, Jahx. Don’t leave me,) she whispered. (I am so, so sorry. I can’t—)

  “Jetta,” Jahx sat back on his heels, his forehead knotting. He twirled a curl of hair with his index finger as he spoke. “You’re not playing fair. You have to let me play my turn.”

  (I can’t live—I can’t believe—)

  Jahx put his arms around her neck and hugged her, his tiny body pressing up tightly against hers. He kissed on her the cheek and whispered in her ear. “It’s okay, Jetta, everything’s okay. It’s time to wake up now.”

  Tears of release were followed by a slingshot back into hell. Screaming voices, hands holding her down. Fighting only made it worse, but she needed the pain. Jahx is gone!

  “Please, come back!” she screamed, wanting back the dream. White walls and silver instruments flashed in and out of her limited vision.

  “Where’s Jaeia?” someone shouted.

  Warm hands pressed against her chest. An ethereal presence slipped beneath her skin.

  I am here, I will not go away.

  Foreign essence, something electric she couldn’t ignore. Whispering voices on the edge of shadow called out to her, but this time she did not look back at them.

  The Healer— Jetta realized. Triel’s presence blockaded her fractured thoughts, interlacing with her senses, soothing the bite of her wounds. The magnetic sensation drew her closer, allowing her to forget her grief.

  “Jetta, come back to me,” Jaeia whispered. “Wake up. Please come back to me.”

  Her eyes opened against the burning light.

  “Hey—hey—”

  Someone grabbed her shoulders. “She’s coming around!”

  “How long...? What happened...?” she mumbled, now feeling the ache in her limbs. She tried to shield her eyes, but straps tethered her arms down.

  “Jetta, it’s okay, it’s okay. You just blacked out for a while. Don’t worry, everything’s okay. We won. Everybody’s safe, you’re safe...”

  Medics and doctors fluttered over her, measuring and correcting things she didn’t care about. Fingers interlocked around hers, and in the back of her mind, Jaeia silently rejoiced at her awakening.

  But everything was not okay. She remembered what she had done.

  Jetta laid back and closed her eyes. She saw herself in her mind’s eye, the crimson expectation of death pooling beneath her body while white tendons, stripped from her limbs like puppet strings, held her upright. A sulphur-skinned creature, drudged up from the stinking swamps of her unconscious, jerked and tugged at the cords.

  I cannot escape what I am.

  When she looked closer, the image she saw reflected in her own eyes tore her from her grief, sobering her to the truth. She saw her sister, she saw responsibility, and she knew she would have to wake up.

  ***

  Jaeia sensed the Healer’s presence long before she came to stand beside her in the starbase’s observatory.

  “Are you all right?” Jaeia asked.

  “I’m okay. Jetta’s doing better, but part of her is still trying to go back to that awful place.”

  Jaeia cringed. “I know.”

  “This has been the strangest experience for me,” Triel said, pulling back her long, dark hair into a bun. “Wherever you two went during that battle was far beyond any place that I’ve ever journeyed. I can’t remember much of anything beyond scattered impressions.”

  “It’s probably better that you don’t.”

  The Healer looked up to see what Jaeia had been studying. A muted exclamation escaped her lips as her eyes moved between the magnified views of the nebula under monitor by the astronomy teams.

  “Sometimes I need reminders like this—that beauty still exists.”

  Jaeia silently agreed.

  “So,” Triel said, turning toward her, eyes earnest and inquiring. “How are you?”

  Jaeia squeezed the guardrail as hard as she could. Weeks had passed since the battle against the Deadwalkers, but time hadn’t eased the pain. It’s more than the circumstances of Jahx’s death, she thought. It’s what I felt—what I saw—when I pulled Jetta from the other realm.

  “I’m okay,” she said, resigning a smile. “I’m just glad you helped out. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “No problem,” Triel said, brushing the loose hair out of her eyes.

  Jaeia chortled. “I was a little worried that you weren’t going to show that day.”

  Triel crossed her arms in front of her chest and took a step back. “It took awhile to get the security clearance.”

  Deciding not to push the issue any further, Jaeia switched topics. “I never asked—is Reht okay?”

  “Yes, I helped him recover from his wound. They’re letting him and the crew dock on Trigos. I don’t know what’s going to happen to him—or me, for that matter. The Alliance considers him—all of us—a security risk. And you know Reht’s not exactly the most reasonable person. He tends to make matters worse when he feels cheated.”

  “He won’t sell the device, will he? I have to get that back from him.”

  Triel blushed. “I don’t know, Jaeia. I will do my best to get it back to you. I am sorry about how this ended up. Things never really go according to plan for me.”

  Jaeia steadied herself against the railing, trying not to show her distress. “I understand why you did it. I just really need to get it back.”

  Triel nodded. “Like I said, things are hard for him and the crew now. I just hope he keeps his head on his shoulders.”

  “You two are close, aren’t you?” Jaeia said, reading her body language.

  Triel massaged the webbing between her fingers. “We have a complicated relationship. I wouldn’t try to label it anything else. Rarely is anything normal with a dog-soldier.”

  “But he isn’t going to leave you here, is he?”

  Triel shrugged her shoulders. Jaeia could tell she was hiding something from her by the way her lower lip trembled. “I don’t know. It depends on a lot of things.”

  Seeing her discomfort, Jaeia changed the subject. “So how did you find my secret retreat?”

  “It wasn’t hard. I looked it up. The observatory is separate from the main decks. In other words,” she said, absently tracing some of the Prodgy markings on her hand, “it’s the quietest place on the ship for a telepath.”

  “I like that you get that,” Jaeia said, looking back to the stars.

  “Jaeia,” the Healer began hesitantly, “I know what it’s like to lose family. But not many people understand how that feels when you had a telepathic bond with the one you lost. It’s a different kind of grief altogether.”

  Jaeia’s throat tightened, and she couldn’t find the words to reply. She had focused so hard on keeping her sister’s emotions in check during the battle and over the last few weeks that she had barely addressed her own.

  “I described it once to Reht, but he didn’t really understand. I told him being a telepath was like listening to music, and each family member had a different melody. I lost my entire family. Now all I’m left with is silence.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Jaeia whispered. Triel understood her loss, and perhaps even her fear. What would happen if Jetta died? She would be all alone in a gray, tuneless world.

  Several moments went by before Jaeia could find her voice again. “Can you ever hear that music again? Could you bond with others?”

  Triel wrapped her arms tightly around her chest and sighed. “I hope so. But there are so very few telepaths left. That’s why I’ve decided to stay with the Alliance—to help recover those that survived this massacre, maybe even find some of my people.”


  Jaeia nodded. She and Jetta had realized the deeper implications of this after Sebbs revealed their past. With so many telepaths impounded by the Core, the possibility of finding any of their original family members was slim. She, Jetta, and Triel were part of a dwindling few.

  “When things settle down, Jetta will want to look for our blood relatives and for our uncle and aunt on Fiorah—if, of course, they’re still alive. Family has always been important to her, and to me. You could come with us.”

  “Where would you start?”

  Jaeia rolled up the sleeve on her right arm, revealing her tattoo. “With this, I guess. It’s our only clue for now.”

  Triel smiled sadly and turned away from her. “I was wrong about you, Jaeia. I’m so sorry that I ever thought that you were capable of being Volkor. It’s funny, in a way. A lot of times you think you know somebody because of what you hear or see, but it’s not always true. A lot of times we see what we want to see.”

  I know, Jaeia worried, hands knotting together. That’s why she had come to the observatory—to get away, to clear her mind and answer the question burning inside her every since Jahx’s death: Has love blinded me to the truth about Jetta?

  When Jetta destroyed their brother’s mind, an ugly power took her over. Jetta, the most protective person Jaeia had ever known, wanted destruction with a vicious joy that twisted her desire to keep her family safe into pure vengeance.

  Jetta’s will has always been stronger, she thought. I’m not capable of standing up to her if she decides to take that power in hand.

  Holding tight to the guardrail, Jaeia embraced her own the dark truth. …At least not without consequences I couldn’t bear to live with.

  Looking up to the stars, Jaeia found them gazing back at her with cold indifference. Somewhere, deep inside her, she heard more than her own subconscious’ whisperings: Jahx had faith in me to be Jetta’s anchor. I have to trust his judgment.

  (I have to trust in myself.)

  Resolutely, she decided their fate: It’s up to me. Jetta is our fire, but I will be our voice.

  Jaeia sighed and turned to Triel. “I choose to see the best in people. I choose to hope.”

  ***

  Admiral Unipoesa nursed the last few drops of Old Earth vodka in his glass, watching the stars pass by as the Alliance Central Starbase rotated on its axis. Even though he had turned out the lights and blocked all incoming calls to both his personal com and his desk, he had accurately timed the moment the door to his quarters would be forced open.

  “It’s not the same galaxy out there. Not anymore,” he whispered.

  The Minister’s hand grazed the top of Unipoesa’s desk as he came to stand beside him. “I had my guards sweep your office twice now. By their accounts, you’re clean. But I know your resourcefulness.”

  Unipoesa smirked. “I’m glad you think so.”

  “And you’ve stopped using Rai Shar,” Razar said. “I thought you of all people would be interested in protecting yourself. The Kyrons seem to trust you.”

  The admiral stared at his empty glass and grunted. “There’s no point. They know we have countermeasures against their mind reading; they’ll know we’re up to something.”

  “We can’t have them finding out more than they already know,” the Minister said, eyes threatening punishment. “You made a mistake showing them that letter.”

  “I had to give them something. Besides, you know it wasn’t the whole thing.”

  “The Special Missions Team tracked down that Reptili, got him to talk. We have names. Those launnies—there’s a significant history there. I want to know what we’re dealing with before anything else happens.”

  “I won’t lie to them,” the admiral said, squeezing his glass, knuckles turning white. “I made that mistake before. We both did. Look what happened to Li. He’s going to start a new war.”

  A long silence drifted between them as the Minister chose his words. “Then you know what I’ll have to do with you.”

  The admiral looked back at the stars, taking in as much of it in as he could. It would be a long time before he saw them again. Maria. Tarsha. I’m so sorry.

  “Tidas, don’t be foolish,” Unipoesa said as two guards emerged from the shadows, guns pulsating. A white flash sent incredible electric pain searing through his chest and down his limbs. Damon flayed wildly, knocking his drink from his desk as he crashed to the ground in convulsions.

  The Minister picked up the fallen glass as the guards handcuffed the admiral. “Time for you and me to have a long talk.”

  ***

  Jetta sat cross-legged on her bed, quietly contemplating what she and her sister had been through. It had only been a few days since she transitioned out of the medical bay, and her arms and legs still bore the discolored evidence of her ordeal. Triel had offered to heal her wounds, but Jetta refused. I don’t deserve that kindness.

  Through counselors, borrowed memories and newsreels, she put together the broader consequences of what they had done. Though the Alliance had been outnumbered and outclassed, in one battle Jetta and Jaeia had won them the greatest war in the history of the Starways. She should be proud, or so the Minister had told her.

  Earlier, the admiral tried to cheer her up with pitiful attempts at redirection. He showed her the newsreels of the crowds on Trigos chanting their names, and the banners running across every holographic broadcast: The Kyron twins—our heroes! The saviors of the Starways!

  If only they knew who Volkor was, Jetta thought.

  “This is your vindication,” Unipoesa told her, seeing her disbelief.

  If so, it feels hollow.

  “At the very least,” Unipoesa said. “You’ve saved all of us from becoming Deadwalkers. Think of your sister.”

  Jetta twisted the bed sheet between her hands and pulled until the fabric tore. My sister, my twin. She didn’t know what she felt. Her sister had made her do something terrible, something she could never have done alone. Whether or not it was the right decision, it tasted like betrayal. How can I ever face her again?

  Dumping her despair into someone else’s head crossed her mind, but she passed over the idea as quickly as it came. It won’t bring Jahx back. Besides, pain is all that is left of our connection.

  The door chime rang through her chamber, and Jetta stirred. Without acknowledging the call, the doors swished open. She did not have to look up to see her mirror image in the doorframe.

  Cheers echoing up from the main assembly rose to a roar of applause, forcing Jaeia to step inside. The door slammed shut on the world outside, locking them in silence.

  “Everybody tuned into Admiral Unipoesa’s peacetime speech,” Jaeia said, voice tremulous. “I wish you could have been there, Jetta—he revealed a lot of classified stuff. It was either incredibly stupid or incredibly brave. The demand for an uplink almost shorted out the interfleet circuitry.”

  Jetta didn’t respond, turning away from her sister.

  Dragging her fingers nervously along the top of the chair, Jaeia tried again. “They’re waiting for us in reception, you know...”

  Jetta shook her head. “I’m not in the mood to celebrate.”

  “Even the chancellor assembled for the peacetime speech.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Jaeia did not rustle the bed sheets as she sat next to her, trying not to encroach on her space. “Talk to me. Please.”

  “Was it easy for you?” Jetta whispered.

  Jaeia recoiled as if she had been struck. “You think... you think I wanted to do that?”

  “You said we couldn’t ever use our talent because it’s too dangerous—and then you use it against our brother!”

  “No—I had to—you wouldn’t have—”

  “You’re right—I would never have hurt Jahx!”

  “Jetta—you had to do it! The Motti would have used him to kill us!”

  “I hate you!” Jetta screamed, pounding her fist against Jaeia’s chest. Her sister grabbed her by the wrists, but J
etta pinned her down with her knees and snapped her arms back. “Didn’t Jahx mean anything to you?”

  Jaeia stopped struggling, but she turned her face aside so Jetta couldn’t see her tears. “He’s my brother too, Jetta. Maybe we didn’t have the same bond that you two did, but I still loved him, just like I love you.”

  “Jaeia—”

  “It should have been me. Maybe then it wouldn’t be so bad for you.”

  “What? No!” Jetta said. Tears formed in her eyes, but she couldn’t wipe them away without letting go of Jaeia, so she let them fall on her sister’s face. “Jaeia, no—Gods—I don’t wish it was you instead of Jahx. I love you. I do. You are everything to me. You are my sister.”

  Jaeia inhaled deeply and relaxed a little, but Jetta wasn’t done yet.

  “It doesn’t change the fact that we murdered him, Jaeia.”

  Jaeia tensed again. “Jetta—we didn’t murder him. We set him free.”

  “There is no difference!”

  “There is!” Jaeia shouted back. “It’s what he wanted all along. You said it yourself—that’s why he made the connection. You did save him, Jetta.”

  Jetta let her go, but Jaeia didn’t get up. Instead, she curled into a ball and her eyes relaxed, not focusing on anything that Jetta could see.

  “I love you, Jetta. I would never want to hurt you or manipulate you. I only did what I did because I knew you would have never done anything to harm our brother.”

  Sitting back on her heels, Jetta wiped away the tears with her sleeve. Jaeia was right, like always, but that didn’t justify what they had done. She wanted to scream, to tear the sheets to ribbons, but sheer exhaustion took away the bite of her anger.

  “It must have been hard to do what you did,” Jetta whispered. “That’s what I felt. That’s what made me turn back. I felt how much you cared. I felt how much it tore you apart to do that. You risked everything to save us both.”

  Jaeia sucked in her breath and held it, tears cascading down her cheeks. Jetta reached out and touched her sister’s shoulder, unsure if she should, but Jaeia reached back, sitting up and hugging her until Jetta had to pry herself free.