Triorion Omnibus

by L. J. Hachmeister

  “We don’t need to do it like this.”

  But Jaeia kept pace with her. Jetta knew that deep down Jaeia shared the same reservations. The Exiles were purposely uncommunicative with them, and Jetta wasn’t sure why. Part of it was their uncertainty about the twins’ background with the Dominion Core, but there was more to the story. The Exiles needed them to stay, and Jetta would not allow them to be exploited again.

  “Hey—stop—where are you going?”

  When they entered the first of the lower tunnels, Jetta found Crissn standing over a cold, ashen Senka. She couldn’t feel anything from the Vreaper, and her sister’s memories told her of Senka’s death. She might have paused if she hadn’t sensed the others close on their trail. Instead, Jetta picked up her pace, heading down the tunnels beyond the lab.

  “Why is there so much more fruit here?” Jaeia said, nodding toward the rocky walls overgrown with Macca.

  “Worry about that later. Which way?” Jetta said between breaths.

  Partially covering her eyes with one hand, Jaeia pointed down the tunnel in front of them with the most Macca. “Toward whatever that—that feeling is.”

  Jetta knew what she meant. She had sensed the distortion when they reached the first opening, but didn’t know what to make of it. Similar to the buzz of an old television tuned to a dead channel, the sensation drowned out every little sound in the room.

  As the psionic white noise intensified, Jetta slowed her pace, unsure if she wanted to proceed down the next tunnel. Wind passing through the tunnels brought the sound of a curious metal clicking, like the chatter of an idling engine, to their ears.

  “Ugh,” Jaeia said. “What is that?”

  Swallowing hard, Jetta stepped into the new cavern. A sweet, putrid stench, like fruit decaying in the sun, assaulted her sense of smell. Jetta covered her nose, but when she saw the source of the smell, her arm fell to her side.

  “What is it?” Jaeia asked, running in behind her. As soon as she caught sight of it, she stumbled to a halt.

  Jetta couldn’t catch her breath, and her heartbeat roared in her ears.

  Metal grinding on metal

  (It hurts my ears)

  Please don’t—

  Disgusted

  “He disappoints me.”

  Burning

  BURNING

  My skin is—

  The thing at the far side of the cave looked at her with half a face. Metal casings and circuits punctured the inflamed skin of its jaw and forehead, defiling the last remnants of its organic host.

  It has no eyes— Jetta realized. Citrine pus dripped from its empty orbital sockets and collected around the metal pins driven into its neckline. But it sees me—

  Spider-like mechanical appendages directed themselves toward her, inspecting from afar. The harsh cacophony of its mind gave no impression she could glean, only a sense of icy dread that slithered into her gut.

  Gods, Jetta, look— Jaeia said, pointing. Tubes draped from its neck and sides, draining viscous black liquid into the pool of turgid water at its feet. The fruit clustered the heaviest on the walls at that end of the cave, its vines all routed into the pool. The creature’s blood, taken up by the fruit, meant it was—

  That metallic taste—

  Dinjin and Crissn both ran into the lower cavern, breathing heavily.

  “You’re in a lot of trouble,” Crissn huffed, resting on his knees a moment.

  Rawyll barreled in after them, a firearm already drawn. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Jetta couldn’t have responded even if she wanted to. Her feet were cemented to the spot, her breath sucked from her chest, fingers and toes tingling as her heart beat faster and faster.

  “Leave them be!” the Grand Oblin shouted from further down the tunnel. After a frantic scuttling, the plump, female version of the Oblin popped out through the entryway. “Let me handle this.”

  “Handle this? You haven’t handled this since they arrived!” Rawyll shouted.

  “The Oriyan has a point,” Dinjin said.

  Jetta could not take her eyes off the creature.

  That thing——I know that thing— Jetta relayed to her sister. The mechanical creature’s head gyrated, and it let out a few high-pitched squeaks. Its solitary leg, long and bent the wrong way, kicked against its ties, trying to free itself.

  “Get out,” the Grand Oblin told the men. Her voice, calm at first, rose to a scream. “Get out!”

  Crissn quickly left, but Dinjin lingered. Rawyll didn’t move until the Grand Oblin lifted her walking stick.

  “If you don’t settle this now, I will,” he said, turning to go.

  Falling onto her knees, Jetta threw up the meager contents of her stomach. She continued to heave until the Grand Oblin came over and touched her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry. I knew this would upset you. I didn’t want to tell you if it wasn’t necessary,” she whispered.

  Jetta wanted to run, but the room swooped around in a dizzy spin. She looked over at Jaeia, who knelt on the floor and wiped her mouth with a trembling hand.

  “What—what is...?” Jetta managed to say.

  The Oblin looked surprised. “This is a Liiker, a creation of the Motti—you might know them as the Deadwalkers.”

  The Motti. I know that name. She covered her ears as the phantom sound of gnashing metal filled her head.

  “—You are an organic being that I do not despise—”

  Cold blackness ate at her belly. She remembered. That thing—that thing with the burning red eye—

  (Cornering me in my room. Nobody can see. It wants something from me—)

  “He disappoints me. If only he had your desire...”

  She broke apart from the inside out. Spidery metal legs crawled up her body as her brother wept.

  “Kill it!” Jetta screamed. “Kill it!”

  The Grand Oblin settled his hands on her shoulders and looked grimly into her eyes. “We cannot. It is what is keeping us alive.”

  Jaeia’s broken thoughts raced in the back of Jetta’s mind as starry motes burst before her eyes. Panic ate up her last ounce of reserve, and she threw herself toward the exit, but the Grand Oblin held her fast.

  “Don’t touch me.” Jetta clawed at the Grand Oblin’s face. “I’ll kill you!”

  “My child,” she heard the Grand Oblin whisper, as two warm arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. “What happened to you?”

  WHEN JETTA BLINKED open crusted eyelids, she found Jaeia hunched at her bedside in their cavern, looking ghostly in the phosphorescent light of the Macca.

  “I don’t like this place, Jetta.”

  Jetta pinched her forehead with her fingers, but couldn’t push past the memory of the rank cavern and the mechanical beast it harbored. Fear fluttering inside her ribs, Jetta turned to her sister. “Ready to go?”

  Jaeia nodded.

  A frail voice interjected. “Please, don’t go.” The Grand Oblin, once again an old man, stood in the doorway to their cavern, hanging onto the rocks with a trembling hand. “It is not safe—for any of us—if you do.”

  Jetta plucked a few bundles of Macca from the wall, wrapped it in her blanket, and took her sister’s hand in hers. “We don’t trust you. It’s time we left.”

  “We haven’t lied to you,” the Oblin said. “I’ve been protecting you.”

  “Protecting us?” Jetta scoffed. “What—by letting us drink the blood of that thing?!”

  The Grand Oblin kept his voice low. “The Liikers are despised across the Starways. Your reaction is not at all unique. Unfortunately, the Liiker’s augmented immune system is the only thing keeping us alive.”

  “Augmented immune system? What?” Jetta gaped at him. “This is so stupid. Why the hell are you still here, then, if you’ve found a way to survive? And why the hell do you have a Liiker here in the first place—and—”

  The Grand Oblin held up his hands, but Jetta cut him off before he could speak.

  “
No—I don’t want any more explanations,” Jetta said, shaking her head. “My sister and I are leaving.”

  “Please, hear me out.”

  Jaeia clung to her sleeve, her thoughts a conflicted flurry in the back of Jetta’s skull. A part of her sister wanted to listen to the Oblin, but Jetta refused. That Liiker is sinister and wrong; we have to get away.

  “If you don’t like what I have say, then you may go,” the Oblin said.

  Jetta clenched her teeth to keep herself from yelling but stayed put when she felt the break in the Grand Oblin’s concentration.

  He’s vulnerable, Jetta thought, feeling the Oblin’s self-control faltering with his emotion.

  Dabbing the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his robe, the Oblin continued. “We siphon some of the Liiker’s blood into the pool from which the Macca derives its hydration. Alone, the Liiker blood is intolerable—if it doesn’t kill you, it will drive you mad—but the Macca is a very safe and effective delivery system. That is why we still aren’t able to leave.”

  Pressing her hand over her mouth, Jetta tried to keep down the contents of her stomach. The thought was beyond revolting. She and her siblings had been forced to skin dead rats when Yahmen withdrew their rations, but nothing compared to this. When she looked into the Liiker’s eyeless face, she felt a little less human.

  It’s a part of me, she realized, wanting to peel out of her own flesh.

  “How did you... discover this?” Jaeia asked, folding her arms across her stomach as her skin took on a greenish cast.

  “Before they ended up here, Rawyll and Crissn had been working in the fighting rings on Old Earth, supplying Liikers as bait to the main attractions. Crissn had already spent years experimenting on Liikers before he was exiled, and he was the one to come up with the idea of filtering their blood through sort of medium. Even with his experience, he managed to kill almost the entire lot of them before figuring out how to do it.”

  Jetta held up a hand. “That doesn’t explain how the Northies and Prigs are still alive. Shouldn’t they be monsters by know? There has to be another source of a suppressant.”

  The Grand Oblin nodded. “The Northies use a restasis chamber to keep themselves alive. It’s not as effective since it’s programmed for Narki anatomy, but it has slowed down the progress of their infection, allowing them to survive for several months.”

  “Restasis chamber?” Jaeia repeated.

  “Like recycling themselves—but their tissue degrades after every use, and the infection gains a stronger foothold,” the Grand Oblin explained.

  “I saw little spots on those Northies that attacked—especially under their eyes and behind their ears,” Jetta said.

  “So you see the shortcomings of their method.”

  “Where can I find this restasis chamber?” Jetta asked, temporarily forgetting her disgust.

  The Grand Oblin shook his head. “The restasis chamber is enormous and immovable, and the Northies have a hard enough time generating the energy for it in that crumbling city. Furthermore, that’s where they’ve set up their base, and it’s heavily guarded.”

  “Well, what do the Prigs have?” Jetta persisted.

  The Grand Oblin shuddered. “There is a species known as the Heli, and one of their abilities allows them to move active sickness from one body to another. The Prigs have at least two in their group. Sometimes the Prigs will capture one of us or the Northies, and the Heli transfer all their infection to their prisoner—or in harder times, to an unlucky member of their own group.”

  “You said ‘active sickness.’ So they’re still infected?” Jaeia observed.

  “Yes,” the Grand Oblin said, pointing to his forehead.

  “But they could escape,” Jetta said, voice rising to a shout. “Why don’t you make a deal with them so you can get out of this hellhole?”

  The Grand Oblin folded his hands on top of the walking stick. “My dear, barring the moral ramifications of sacrificing other Sentients for our own escape, and assuming we could make it past the Warden, we would spread infection. There is no cure. Every ship in this sector would hunt us down.”

  “The Warden?” Jaeia repeated.

  “He is employed by the Dominion to make sure there are only arrivals, not departures, to Tralora. You can see his vessel at night—it’s like a bright star circling the sky.”

  Jetta dropped the blanket and backed up into a rock, bracing herself against it. If she stayed here, she’d have to drink the blood of that thing, but if she and Jaeia joined the Northies, they’d die a slow and miserable death. As for the Prigs, they couldn’t risk becoming sacrifices. We’re trapped.

  The walls of the cave came closing in around them. Squeezing her eyes shut, Jetta reached out to her sister, but Jaeia was just as distraught. There’s no one to balance us out.

  Hovering on the horizon of her mind, the Grand Oblin gently pushing against her anxiety, but she pulled back. There’s no difference between him and the dead machine in the recesses of the tunnels.

  Jetta wanted to rid herself of her unwanted emotions, but the other minds on Tralora were too distant, and dumping them inside any of the Exiles in the caves would be dangerous.

  “Stop it,” Jaeia whispered. The consequences are too great, she added silently, pushing the memory of Jetta’s misdeed across the psionic planes. Pouring her emotions into a ship’s operator aboard the mining ship resulted in a downed ship and the shooting deaths of ten deckmen.

  Jetta struck the rocky wall with the back of her fist. “Why are we so important to you, huh? Why won’t you just let us go?!”

  The Grand Oblin’s brow creased, and he chose his words very carefully. “You are under my watch now. I couldn’t allow you to come to harm.”

  “You have no idea who I am or what I’ve done!” Jetta shouted.

  Realizing what she said, her fury melted away. She looked down at her feet, her voice stripped down to a whisper. “Hell, I don’t even know. I could be a horrible criminal, and by protecting me—whatever you’re doing—keeping me alive—you could be committing a terrible crime yourself.”

  The Grand Oblin drew a circle in the dirt with his stick. “On Tauri-Mone, when a priest’s thoughts became disordered, he took the day to meditate. Have you ever done that?”

  Jetta couldn’t believe his suggestion. “I want to find a way off this hellhole! I don’t want to sit on my assino and get in touch with my ‘feelings!’ And I’m certainly not staying here knowing what you do with that—that thing!”

  Anger expanding with every breath, Jetta tasted the rich and corrosive fury boiling through her chest, arms, and legs. With every heartbeat she lost sense of reason, her animal instincts hyper-tuning to the old man’s movements. I could easily overpower him. With one thought I could—

  “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...” the Grand Oblin chuckled. His eyes narrowed and he spread out his fingers.

  Feelings and thoughts came to a grinding halt. She wanted to fight—didn’t she? No, she didn’t. Not anymore. She wanted to sit down and think, collect herself. The ungrounded energy inside her fizzled away to a dull memory, and her body’s natural rhythm took over. Closing her eyes, Jetta crossed her legs and placed her arms on her knees. Time to rest.

  The old man’s voice came from very far away. “I will check on you in the morning.”

  Her sister’s thoughts returned to her mind, in tune and balancing with every breath. That stupid old man did something to our minds, Jetta projected to her sister, but lost grasp of the anger behind it.

  Just like how Jahx used to do, Jaeia whispered back.

  The thought of her brother upset her again as she fell into the deep recesses of her own mind. As the world fell away, Jetta settled into a place she had never gone before.

  AFTER WEEKS OF TRACKING and lost deals, Reht Jagger finally found Mantri Sebbs floundering in one of the many dingy interstellar bars of unregulated space. From a safe distance he watched with amusement and disgust as the Core o
fficer overturned the near-dead body of a private dancer on the table in one of the exclusive sections of the bar. Her head fell back under its own weight, a frothy white substance foaming from her mouth.

  Even over the screeching and howling of the musicians onstage, Reht could hear his Talian warrior snarl in revulsion.

  “I know, old friend,” Reht chuckled.

  They watched Sebbs cover his nose with his shirtsleeve as he searched the crevices of her body for something valuable. The stench must have been horrible if the smoke from the bar hadn’t smothered it.

  “Wait for me on the ship,” Reht said.

  Mom crossed his massive arms over his chest and growled. The flashing red lights from the stage made his teeth appear drenched in blood.

  “I promise I can take care of myself,” Reht said, patting the gun holstered at his hip. “And besides, good ol’ Mantri’s done enough methoc these days that his heart is about one beat away from crappin’ out. I think you’d put him over the edge.”

  When Mom didn’t budge, Reht supplied him with a more persuasive reason to return to the Wraith.

  “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on Diawn and Billy Don’t. I thought I saw the two of them messin’ with the gravity specs again, and I know how you hate motion sickness.”

  Mom’s eyes ballooned out of their sockets, and he took off into the crowd.

  Not wanting to draw unnecessary attention toward himself or Mantri, Reht took his time approaching the booth. He had shaken the tail that had followed his crew since the Vrea sector, but he knew he couldn’t get comfortable, even among his own people.

  After checking over his shoulder, Reht parted the translucent curtains to the private booth and stepped inside. “Still hard up, aren’t you?” Reht laughed as he lit a cigarette. He blew a curl of smoke into Sebbs’s face, which sent the startled Joliak into a coughing fit.

  “Who the hell—?” Sebbs drew a corroded knife from his belt.

  “Come on, Sebbs, that’s no way to treat an old friend.”

  Sebbs let loose a sigh of relief when he recognized his face, but he didn’t let go of his weapon. “Jagger, what are you doing here?”