Triorion Omnibus

by L. J. Hachmeister

  The first voice is filled with confidence—arrogance. “What are you getting at, Temmins? The Deadwalkers are nothing. They’re puppets. Our puppets.”

  Doubt, suspicion. The first voice becomes irritated.

  “I don’t have time for this—General Volkor is long overdue. I need a full report in three hours or it’ll be your penjehtos that I’ll send as restitution.”

  Oh Gods, what is that crawling up my arm? It itches—no, burns—

  Make it stop, MAKE IT STOP—

  WHERE AM I?

  Jetta lifted her head from the gaming control console. Looking around, she couldn’t decide if she was awake, or if it was a continuation of the nightmare.

  Rogman appeared in her peripheries, bending so his eyes leveled with Jetta’s. Frightened and disoriented, she knew enough not to return her gaze, keeping her eyes fixed on the war globe in front of her as she straightened in her chair.

  “This war globe module is modified to anticipate your command based on your previous strategies,” he said, pointing to the rotating sphere in front of her. Jetta’s eyes diverted to the supercomputer feeding into the opposing console. Expansive, with entire columns of lighted data processors humming and blinking, it spanned half the war room. “Listen to yourself, and listen closely. You have all the training you need. Rely on your eyes. Rely on your intuition.”

  Rogman leaned in for the final delivery. “Or I’ll send your brother back to Fiorah. Alone.”

  Perspiration drenched her uniform. How was she supposed to play an opponent who had no psyche, nothing for her to glean—or nothing for her to frighten? Those were her best tricks—her only tricks for winning—for surviving.

  Attack Rogman.

  Jetta weighed the option, as she had a thousand times before. Though bricked from her sights, Rogman’s mind was not impenetrable. She could sacrifice exposure and dig behind his eyes, tear out his worst fear, and force him to relive his greatest nightmare.

  A smile played at the corners of Rogman’s mouth. “Mind yourself, cadet.”

  I could kill him, she thought angrily, but could I kill all the soldiers in time to save my siblings?

  Jetta eyed the silver-eyed soldiers guarding the exit, fear snaking into her stomach. The answer was always the same. I have to play.

  “Bring the other two in,” Rogman said into his sleeve com. Soldiers escorted Jaeia and Jahx into the war room.

  Jetta could barely stay seated. As soon as her brother and sister came within a few meters, she could hear them again in her mind.

  I missed you—how are you—what have they done to you?! Jetta blurted.

  Jahx’s eyes remained downcast as he logged in to his station. I’m fine.

  Face gaunt and pale, Jaeia sat in her chair and brought up her ancillary holograms for the match. She looked like she had lost another two kilos.

  Jaeia, Gods, they’re going to start force-feeding you again! Jetta thought, but her sister had no reaction to her outreach.

  Rogman placed a hand on Jetta’s shoulder and squeezed. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

  The game was slated against them from the start. Vastly outnumbered, Jetta didn’t know how she would gain any advantage, especially with the opposing forces spread out behind two planets, an asteroid belt and dwarf star. Far more crippling was the enemy itself. Cold and emotionless, Jetta didn’t know how to attack a supercomputer.

  Bring the fighters around to mark 01-1, Jetta instructed her sister. We can draw fire from their battleship and move the warship into position.

  No, that won’t work. We’ll forfeit our defensive line, Jaeia replied silently, swiveling in her chair and calling up different holographic views of the fight.

  Jetta heard Rogman impatiently tapping on his datapad. Looking to her left, she only afforded herself a quick glance at her brother. Blue eyes, ringed with dark circles, weathered storms she could not see.

  I have to win this. He can’t go back, Jetta thought privately.

  Losses tallied up quickly on her console. In less than a minute, she had lost a battleship and a legion of fighters.

  I can’t do this, Jetta thought, watching the enemy fighters descend upon their warship.

  No, but we can, her brother whispered across their bond.

  Not knowing what else to do, Jetta yielded, allowing her brother’s perspective to take hold. The game pieces in the display came to life, lighting up across the globe. Impossible numbers and variables projected on every holographic access. Panic dissolved, and something new, something beyond her steadied her thundering heart and expanded her sight.

  “I see...” she whispered. Her arms reached out to touch the holographic interface, tentatively at first, but when she selected the first attack, a warm wash of confidence filled her, and her hands, as if working on their own, found the next move.

  “Beta team in flight pattern Nova,” Jaeia commanded across the console.

  “Move all ground units to position 1-1-9,” Jahx added.

  Jetta licked her lips. Hands moving faster now, her voice called from within, projecting her ideas to her siblings and receiving their augmented perspectives in blasts of wheeling light. She felt perfection, a flawless intuition she had never experienced before. Impossible against a non-Sentient opponent, but somehow—

  “Yes,” Rogman said, coming up behind Jetta as they flanked the enemy warship and prepared for the final assault. “Finish the job.”

  Torn between two realities, Jetta mouthed Rogman’s orders, barely aware of her body already reacting to the command.

  “Fire all weapons,” Jetta said.

  “Firing all weapons,” Jaeia echoed, locking in the enemy target.

  “Target destroyed,” Jahx announced as the enemy warship exploded. Wreckage spewed across the holographics as the remaining enemy fighters retreated.

  What was that feeling? Jetta wondered, reaching out to touch the war globe. The lights reacted to her touch, burnt oranges and sun yellows dancing around her fingers. Connection like I’ve never felt before...

  “Well done, cadet,” Rogman said. “Better than projected.”

  Jetta shot out of her chair as soldiers, armed with shockwands, yanked her siblings from their seats and shoved them out the door.

  “Why are you doing this?” Jetta screamed, lunging from Rogman.

  Rogman faded back, allowing the soldiers to tackle and pin her down.

  One shock, then a second to extinguish all the fight from her. Jetta lost focus, though she recognized the smell of charred flesh wafting up to her nose.

  Standing over her, Rogman gazed down at her, his hands clasped behind his back. “Don’t worry. We’re almost through with you.”

  REHT JAGGER FOUND THE Healer in the black hills of Algar, five kilometers from her village. Barefoot and clothed in only a bloody, ripped nightgown, Triel sat in a bed of wildflowers.

  “I came as soon as I heard,” he said, approaching her cautiously.

  “It all happened so fast,” she whispered, still looking out toward the bright flames that consumed her village. Tears ran steadily down her cheeks as she shivered in the cold night air. “Everyone is gone.”

  “Not everybody,” he said, offering her his jacket.

  The Healer took it absently, but did not pull it around her shoulders.

  Her tribal markings haven’t faded, Reht said, remembering what she had told him long ago about Healers turning into Dissemblers. She hasn’t Fallen...yet.

  Reht glanced down the hill where the Wraith idled a few meters off the ground, his crew ready to depart at a moment’s notice.

  “Ro, Cray,” he whispered into the com on his shirtsleeve. “Anything?”

  “No,” Ro said. “Not a single chakking warship on the scopes.”

  Not that there would be. By the swath of destruction, Reht couldn’t imagine the Dominion had anything to stick around for. Still, he didn’t want to take any chances.

  “Keep on it,” Reht ordered. “Those bastards use autodroids an
d robotic surveyors to comb the debris for survivors.”

  “Aye, captain,” Ro and Cray said in unison.

  Reht clicked off the com. Not yet knowing what to say, Reht fiddled with the bandages on his hands. He had no ties to Algar, but still, the flames, the peaceful blue and green world gouged and gashed, reminiscent of his own pain—

  Elia. My own world, destroyed.

  “Reht,” Triel said, pulling him from his thoughts. She hugged his jacket into her chest. “How did you find me?”

  “You said you always ran to the hills when you got in a fight with your parents,” Reht said, braving a few more steps toward her.

  Finally, she looked at him, blue eyes searching him for answers he didn’t have. “I ran away. I hid. Again. I couldn’t just let the Dominion take me.”

  Carefully, Reht laid a hand on her bare shoulder. The coolness of her skin worried him, but when she placed a gentle hand on top of his, his concern evaporated. He knelt down and took her in his arms, kissing the top of her head. “My Starfox, oh Gods, I was so worried.”

  The Healer’s tears soaked through his shirt. “There’s nothing left for me here.”

  “You’re coming back with me,” he said, squeezing her tight. “You’ll still have your family.”

  She pulled back, looking him in the eye. “You know I can’t go with you. Not now.”

  Guilt and sorrow tore down the illusion of his words. “Okay,” he relented, cupping her face. “But I’ll take you somewhere safe until this Scare is over. I know a safehouse in the Polaris system.”

  Triel of Algardrien looked back to her village. Buildings, caving in, gave rise to reaching flames and plumes of smoke. “Volkor must pay for this,” she whispered.

  “Yes, baby, he will,” he said, still holding her tight. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  “No,” she said, voice cold as ice. “I will.”

  JETTA KNEW IT HADN’T always been like this.

  Wasn’t there someone else?

  She felt as if someone was missing

  Who?

  (I can hear them—there are others here, listening.)

  (I must tell them what to do.)

  Too hard to think too hard to think. Think. Think. Must finish, then I can drink again.

  This cannot be—

  So hot, thirsty.

  Not water. Something else.

  My eyes, what do they see?

  Holographic

  Full of voices needing answers right away

  Whole body skin crawling

  Command. COMMAND. Come in, command.

  Yes, that’s right. Command them and drink

  Scratch away this terrible—

  No. This is wrong. THIS IS WRONG.

  SCRAPING AND SCRATCHING sounds surrounded her on all sides. Something warm and gooey dripped down her cheek. Jetta’s left ear hurt; something had been crammed into the canal. She felt cold, wet breath on the same ear and smelled the musty tang in the air. Jetta wanted to open her eyes, but they stayed shut.

  “Awaken, now. See them. Awaken now, and let them taste your power.”

  THE ALARM SHRIEKED in Jetta’s ear, but she laid in bed, breathing hard, her mouth full of sand. Her mind chased after her most recent nightmare, but it receded from her consciousness, leaving behind only the distinct sense of dread that had poisoned her sleep. She spread out her fingers and toes, arched her head back and held her breath, trying to steady the thumping in her chest.

  Breathe, calm down, she told herself.

  Still shaky, she untangled herself from the covers and placed a foot on the icy floor. The unpleasant sensation jarred the image of a machine creature with a burning red eye from her dream. Her stomach knotted, and she bent over, catching herself on her knees.

  I have to get it together. What if we have games today?

  As she dressed in the limited space of her quarters, she tried to avoid the stare of the mustached man pictured on each of the four walls. His martial scowl and hardened features frightened her, reminding her of the cruelty in Yahmen’s face. Rogman told her that his name was General Volkor, and he was the newly appointed chief commander of the Dominion Core’s fleet. His face infected every centimeter of the ship—on posters, news banners, and even in holographic tributes before game time. But it seemed like she’d heard the name before, somewhere, somehow, before his popularity exploded across the Starways.

  As she left her room, the two guards stationed outside fell into step behind her. The mustached man and his dead black eyes followed her too, staring at her from the propaganda posters lining the corridors. The soldiers passing by barked the new Dominion salutation.

  “Hail Volkor, long live the Sovereignty!”

  As she boarded her lift, she wondered what Endgame scenarios they would be playing today. In the latest iteration, Rogman ordered for the Endgame controls to integrate voice command like the real war room, as if he wanted her to feel more like a real commander and less like a pet.

  This is it, she thought as they sped down the corridors. This is the last time I play, I can’t—

  Nausea licked at the back of her throat. She grabbed the siderail of the lift panting for breath, cold sweat beading on her forehead.

  Maybe just this one last game. I’ll play this one last game.

  The nausea subsided, her heartrate slowed. Yes, I’ll play.

  Excitement tingled down her arms and into her fingers as they came to a stop and she exited the lift. She licked her lips with anticipation. I’ll play, and I’ll win.

  Yes, play and win. Winning kept her brother and sister alive, and could be so fiercely satisfying. No reason to dissent or rebel, not with such power at her fingertips.

  Jetta stopped mid-step, her brow knitting on her forehead. What was I...?

  It wasn’t until the guard nudged her with his rifle that she picked up her pace again.

  When she reached the war room, her brother and sister were already in their stations, with an entire room full of people crowding the staging area. Observers weren’t uncommon, but never this many.

  Ecstatic to be with her siblings, Jetta headed straight toward her brother and sister, taking a seat in between them at the console.

  Jaeia, Jahx, she thought, trying to hide her smile.

  Hello, Jetta, Jaeia replied wearily.

  Jahx said nothing, and would not make eye contact.

  What’s wrong with him? Jetta asked her sister.

  Jaeia kept her eyes directed to her console. I don’t know. I can’t get him to talk to me, either.

  Jetta wanted to reach across to her brother, but Jaeia pulled her attention to the readouts. Jetta, look at this. The last twenty games have gotten progressively easier. The computer is using fewer game pieces and more defensive strategies.

  It’s a trick, Jetta replied. Some sort of test of character. I don’t know. Rogman would never make things easier.

  Jetta shook her head. She hadn’t felt doubt or suspicion like this in a long time. She looked around; her observers were still mulling over their clipboards and datafiles for the game.

  Jetta sucked in her lower lip. Something’s different. Something’s out of place. Normally she felt more focused, more adrenalized than this.

  Daring a glance over her shoulder, Jetta spied Rogman talking to another man in a lab coat, his words heated. After the man in the lab coat hurried off, Rogman approached her and gave his orders through tightly compressed lips: “Get your secondary fleet out faster today. I want a quick victory, not a pretty one. Their forces will surrender once you cross the Front.”

  Jetta was supposed to nod her head, so she did. Rogman resumed his previous post next to the other decorated officers on the observation deck just behind her station. She didn’t let her gaze linger long, but she realized that she knew each of the officers standing with Rogman; they were the high commanders she had been forced to play in the Endgame so many months ago. Why were they all here?

  Jetta’s hands trembled as the playing field do
wnloaded onto her console and projected the blue and red lights of the game pieces across the war globe. Normally she would ring in to her fleet on the headsets, but she hesitated.

  I don’t have to.

  Frightened at the thought, she rang in her fleet anyway and gave out her orders to start the game. After seeing that the initial assault was working, she sat back in her chair and extended herself to her siblings.

  What is happening? What are we doing?

  I don’t like this, Jaeia answered. I don’t like the way the others are watching us. They’re so anxious. There’s a lot riding on this game.

  The thought repeated in her head several times: There is a lot riding on this game.

  “Game...” she said aloud.

  The compulsion hit her quite suddenly. She looked down at the sleeves of her uniform. Oh Gods—

  Parts of her uniform penetrated her skin. On closer inspection, she could differentiate the threads of her sleeves from the tiny cannulas that pumped a milky white substance into her body.

  “What is happening?” she whispered. Why are my thoughts so clear?

  She didn’t dwell on the question for long. Something’s happening to us, something bad.

  Resist. We need to resist! she cried out silently, feeling the pitting nausea in the bellies of her siblings as they too backed off of their command duty.

  She perceived the reverberation in her own voice, and the shadow behind the psionic presence of her siblings. There are others listening...

  Her idea of resistance resonated farther than the scope of the room, or the span of her siblings’ minds; she felt like it echoed across the stars.

  Game pieces stopped moving, sending ripples of satisfaction and terror coursing through her veins. Did I just turn off the entire fleet with a single thought?

  “What is happening down there?” screamed Rogman. Men in lab coats rushed over to peer at a nearby data display. Her arms tingled, but she barely noticed over the overwhelming shift in her superiors’ minds from anticipation to fear.