Triorion Omnibus

by L. J. Hachmeister

  Jaeia squeezed Triel’s shoulder. “Let me find out what happened,” she said, accessing her uniform sleeve to contact the Minister.

  “Don’t bother,” Triel said, her voice cold and inhuman. “It’s too late.”

  Chapter IV

  Jetta lay on her side facing the wall, testing the strength of her arms and legs as inconspicuously as she could. Still sore and tired, she found that she had her usual mobility back, and with Jimmy’s antibiotics and treatment, even her broken arm seemed fairly solid.

  This isn’t right. I should be dead, she thought, putting pressure on her arm. Dull pain radiated from the old fracture site, but barely registered above the revulsion and resentment souring her stomach.

  Accelerated growth rates, enhanced immune systems, Jetta thought, looking at the fading scars on her hands. The Motti violations saved my life. Am I a miracle—or a freak?

  (Freak.)

  Chewing on her lip, Jetta pushed aside her discomforts and examined her situation. As puerile and stupid as Agracia and Bossy acted, they seemed to have her number. I won’t be able to hide the extent of my physical recovery much longer. Soon they’ll be playing me for cash.

  A door slammed. Drunken legs plowed into crates. “We’re back, assinos!”

  Jade rebuked the two Jocks, trying to get them to sit before they broke one of her prized collectibles. “Can you not go one night without getting sloshed?”

  Bossy belched. “Nope!”

  “How’s our new friend?” Agracia asked.

  “She’s still out,” Jade said. Jetta felt three sets of eyes on her back, studying her movements. Slowing her breathing and relaxing her shoulders, Jetta tried not to blow her cover.

  Agracia and Bossy talked with Jade in low tones. As much as she tried, Jetta could only catch snippets of their muddied, inebriated words as they slipped in and out of Common.

  Frustrated, Jetta tilted her head back as far as she dared, trying to catch more of the conversation.

  “You’d better cough up that money for your little ‘hostage storage’ by tomorrow,” Jade said. “You’re not taking advantage of me this time.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Bossy said, hocking up something and spitting it out. “We’ll pay you soon.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  Jetta couldn’t tell what Agracia pointed out, but from Jade’s reaction, she guessed it was something precious to the Scabber woman.

  “Jeez, more junk?” Bossy exclaimed. “Why do you waste your time scavenging for that gorsh-shit?”

  Jetta caught a glimpse of Jade’s reflection in the finish of a metal storage unit. The Scabber woman cradled an armful of broken plastic toys. “These are priceless.”

  “Yeah, right,” Agracia snorted.

  Jetta agreed. It’s junk.

  A deeper knowing pulled at her conscience, not allowing her to dismiss the woman’s attachments. (Those toys represent the last remnants of Earth’s long-forgotten past.)

  Waves of nostalgia came crashing over her. Jetta held her breath, surprised by the flood of emotion for a planet and people she didn’t know.

  Bossy pulled down her pants and waved her butt in the air. “Hey Jade, I’ll crap on a plate and sell it to you for fifty bucks.”

  Jade turned away in disgust.

  “Come on, we’re friends! I’m giving you a bargain!” Bossy said, hiking her pants back up and pretending to look hurt.

  Agracia laughed so hard that snot shot out of her nose. With an exaggerated snort, she wiped it off on her sleeve. “Jade, seriously, who do you think really cares about any of this stuff?”

  “You’re a selfish bastard, Agracia Waychild,” Jade muttered, shelving her prizes with great care.

  Overcome by a curious longing, Jetta’s hatred for Jade trickled away as empathy reshaped her thoughts. She’s not another callous, heartless Scabber—not with the way she treats Earth’s “treasures.” She has a passion for preserving Earth’s culture. All that gruffness is not because she’s uncaring; it’s the only way to survive this rotten place.

  Feeling the tensions rise, Jetta carefully rolled over to keep an eye on the situation.

  “And another thing,” Jade said, tripping over the empty bottles of booze that littered her living space. “Get off your assinos and clean up this mess!”

  Agracia clinked her bottle against the crate she sat upon, spilling more alcohol onto the sticky floor. “We’ll get right on that, captain cranky,” she slurred, giving a stiff salute.

  “Godich ratchak Jocks!” Jade said, flinging a bottle at her head.

  With astonishingly quick reflexes, especially considering her state of inebriation, Bossy caught the bottle and cocked it back to throw at Jade.

  “Easy, kid,” Agracia said, stripping the bottle from her hands.

  Infuriated, Bossy shoved the ragged mess of her hair haphazardly underneath her cap. “Don’t—hic—call me kid!”

  “See, when you get all bent like that, you give yourself hiccups,” Agracia said.

  “Bite me!” the pint-sized girl growled.

  “Look, Jade, we’ll get her on the circuit tomorrow,” Agracia said, pointing a lazy finger at Jetta. “She’s good enough to fight now. Then we’ll get you some money. And maybe hire a maid or somethin’.”

  “You know—hic—you got the good—hic—end of the sycha,” Bossy added.

  They’re more drunk than I thought, Jetta realized. The thought briefly crossed her mind to try for the remotes again, but she dismissed it with a shudder. Her only way to gain the advantage was using her telepathic powers, but after another aggressive attempt had triggered more shocks, her body wouldn’t allow her any more tries.

  Nausea and fear gripped her insides. Even the thought of another shock...

  No—I can’t give in. Jetta firmed up her thoughts. Besides, there’s still a chance.

  Lying quietly, Jetta relaxed the boundaries of her mind, keeping her mind open to the surrounding psionic wavelengths.

  The two Jocks are drunk; Jade’s upset. If I keep my mind open to them, maybe I’ll catch a stray thought or emotion...

  “I thought you had some big job to run before this one showed up,” Jade said, pointing to Jetta. “Whatever happened to that? You really want to play the circuit? Those guys aren’t regular Scabbers—you’ll be in over your head.”

  Agracia and Bossy looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

  Greed. Anticipation.

  “Are you kidding me?” Agracia exclaimed. “They wanted to pay me two thousand for some ol’ scavenger hunt. With her fighting, I’m gonna be making millions.”

  “We’re,” Bossy said, punching Agracia in the shoulder.

  “I stand corrected!” Agracia said and sucked down the last drops from her bottle.

  “She needs a name,” Bossy said, picking her teeth with a bottle cap. “We can’t say she’s the Slaythe or we’ll get tagged by the chakking Skirts.”

  Jetta hid her amusement; she had heard the Alliance called many things, but never “Skirts.”

  “Name... a name,” Agracia said, her head rocking back and forth to the beat behind her headphones. “How about ‘Sinister Sister’?”

  “That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!” Bossy said, punching Agracia.

  Agracia didn’t fall over, but she held her hands as if she was about to. “Whoa—I’m not feeling so good.”

  Jetta looked away as Agracia lost her stomach into a box of scavenged plastics.

  Cursing, Jade struck Agracia across the head. “I told you no more booze!”

  With lightning speed, Bossy backhanded Jade clean off her feet. “Lay off!”

  “I want you two out by morning!” Jade shrieked. She picked herself up and stumbled out the door, slamming it behind her as hard as she could.

  “Let’s call her ‘Betty Bruiser,’” Agracia said, unaffected by Jade’s departure, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

  “Dumb!” Bossy sighed, sliding down the crate and sprawlin
g out next to the clump of candles. “God—hic—I could use a smoke.”

  “You quit, kid. Bad for your health.”

  “Don’t call me—hic—‘kid’!” Bossy said, slapping Agracia’s leg.

  “Well, what bright ideas do you have?” Agracia said.

  Jetta realized her opportunity. Escape would be very difficult if she went against her captors, but if she could gain their trust she would have a better chance.

  Even though they’re idiots, they’ve been clever enough to survive the wastelands. I have to be careful; they’ll suspect something if I’m suddenly friendly.

  “Who’s Earth’s most notorious killer?” Jetta asked, propping herself up on one elbow.

  The two of them looked at her with red-rimmed eyes and a gaze that was anything but fixed. Jetta clutched her stomach. Just like Yahmen—

  “You chakker—you want to be named after a killer, killer?” Agracia said.

  “That’s what you want me to do, right? You want to attract a large crowd? Give me the most obnoxious name.”

  Agracia’s eyes narrowed. “All the sudden you into our biz? You wanna fight?”

  “Do I have a choice?” Jetta said, nodding towards the remote peeking out of Agracia’s jacket pocket.

  Agracia half-smiled. “Nope, ya don’t, but glad you’re on board. You made things a lot easier on yourself. Didn’t want to have to break you in. It can get rather messy.”

  Jetta caught a psionic glimpse of something that didn’t make sense. Agracia implied that she had hurt or tortured someone before to do her bidding. Although Agracia believed it, the memory itself felt flimsy and two-dimensional.

  It’s a lie, but not one she created.

  Curious, Jetta reached out to explore the gleaning, but the shock cuff on her ankle buzzed a warning.

  Skucheka, she cursed, withdrawing her talent. I need to know more.

  Agracia inspected her upside-down bottle with one eye to make sure she had gotten every last drop. “Doctor Death. He ended Earth. That’s you then.”

  “Doctor Death?” Jetta repeated. She didn’t remember hearing the name before. Then again, she didn’t know much about Earth’s history. “That sounds campy.”

  Agracia lifted a brow. “Tell that to the dead. Or the undead.”

  “She wants a—hic—history lesson,” Bossy guffawed. “Like she even cares. You—hic—playin’ us, Skirt, and we know it. Don’t think chummin’ us up is goin’ get you—hic—anywhere. You fightin’!”

  “Chak it, Bossy,” Agracia said, dropping her bottle on the ground. “She’s the fancy commander who saved the universe, but she doesn’t even know about Earth.”

  “This here,” Agracia said, stumbling to her feet, “is the planet responsible for your well-being!”

  Drunk and leaking emotions, Agracia hit Jetta with an enormous psionic wavelength.

  Oh Gods—

  Jetta cringed as a massive and labile compilation of memories assaulted her senses. Though not Agracia’s direct experience, it was her imaginings of what the human race had endured in the last 1,100 years:

  Humans stacked up on a rotating conveyor belt and dropped in vats of acid. Flesh reduced to essential elements and turned into white powder medicines. Pregnant women giving birth to squirming reptilian babies. Human laborers dressed in nothing but loincloths, scarred skin covered in soot, toiling in the mines and erecting great cities with foundations on their bones.

  Jetta bit her lip and pushed the rabid thoughts away, but the echo of Agracia’s sentiments lingered in her mind: The lowest members of the human race are the backbone of the Starways.

  Tightening her fists, Jetta tried to deny the unfortunate reality, but the evidence overwhelmed her conscience. So much suffering—how has the human race survived?

  “Doctor Death ended Earth,” Agracia said. “He was responsible for everybody leavin’. He spread the necro-plague to start the Last Great War. He’s the devil.”

  “Necro-plague?” Jetta said, unsure of the Scabber slang.

  “Chak, I don’t remember what the real name is,” Agracia mumbled. “It made the dead come back to life. That’s why we got all them Necros roaming around up top. It makes traveling suck even worse.”

  “Is it still an active plague?” Jetta asked.

  “If they spit, bite, or bleed on you, then you’re chakked. But we ain’t going to the surface anytime soon. You have to win at least three matches here before we make the tourneys in other Pits,” Agracia said, twirling her finger in the air.

  Jetta thought it over. “What happened to Doctor Death?”

  Agracia shrugged. “Who cares? He went six feet under centuries ago.”

  Jetta dropped it, realizing her captors were probably not going to offer any more information.

  The alcohol is catching up to them, she thought as Bossy yawned and tucked her arm under her head.

  Even with the industrial music blasting in her ears, Agracia eyelids grew heavier and heavier. “Don’t think ‘cause we’re sloshed that we don’t have an eye on you,” Agracia muttered, activating a setting on the remote before finding a resting spot against one of the crates.

  Jetta sighed and lay back down on her pile of cardboard boxes. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How did you let yourself get in this situation?

  The self-directed reprimands continued until she felt blood trickling out of her clenched palm. She uncurled her fingers and saw where her nails had bitten into her skin.

  Jetta stared at the blood as it ran down her arm, not feeling the pain. This is all my fault.

  Her best hope had been that Jaeia could somehow find her, but with the shock cuff impeding her telepathic abilities, that would be impossible. She wanted very badly to believe that the dream she had the other night was real—that Jaeia had called out for her, that she was looking for her—but she wouldn’t let herself believe it.

  The dark voice inside her whispered crippling words: (She’s better off without me. I am nothing but a disgusting waste. I just bring her down.)

  Dangerous thoughts hovered at the corners of her mind, but she brushed them aside by holding tight to her biggest fear. She had to find a way back. For Jaeia, for her sister. I’m a fool for leaving her in the first place.

  Jetta closed her eyes and cautiously let her thoughts drift toward her sister. Please, where are you?

  A familiar tune rang across the psionic wavelengths, seeking connection.

  Jaeia, yes, please, oh please—

  No! she silently screamed, pawing at the vibrating cuff. Panicked, she yanked her awareness back into the confines of her own mind. The cuff went still.

  After a few heart-pounding minutes, Jetta finally let go of the cuff and lay back down on her cardboard bed.

  What was that? she wondered, sifting through what little she gleaned. Dissonant chords marred her sister’s tune. She’s anxious—strained.

  Jetta clenched her fists. What is happening on the outside is serious enough to affect her psionic signature. I have to get out of here.

  Taking a deep breath, Jetta made a promise to herself. I will control my temper. I will be patient and bide my time until I can make solid contact with the Alliance or my sister. But until then, I will play my captors’ stupid games, no matter how violent or unscrupulous.

  And for some reason, despite her fears, she found herself smiling.

  JAHX KYRON RAN AS FAST as he could down the entryway, but he was trapped. Their old apartment on Fiorah was not very large, and in this reality it was even smaller. The doors to the separate rooms disappeared before he had a chance to try them, and even the boarded-up windows were gone. It was just him, the figure in the shadows, and purple tendrils rising from the burning end of a smoke.

  (Jahx, my boy—I found you. This is only the beginning.)

  He had thought the nightmare was over, that he had finally found peace. Jahx huddled in the corner as the bare bulb flickered and dimmed, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before he was completely in the dark again.
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  (Don’t be afraid.)

  He didn’t recognize the voice, at least not immediately. But then a shared memory, one that he must have inadvertently gleaned from his sister during the terrible fight, brought him a sense of orientation.

  Someone familiar. Someone safe.

  The world changed again. The lights came back in full, and the apartment was the way he remembered it best: sparsely decorated but comfortable. Except this time his family was not there; it was just him and the man in the shadows.

  (Don’t be afraid,) the man repeated, this time stepping forward. His amethyst eyes were just how Jetta remembered them. (My name is Oblin.)

  Jahx slowly uncurled and got to his feet. Still unsure, he stayed pinned in the corner. (How did you get here?)

  The old man smiled and put the smoke to his lips, taking a long drag. (That, my friend, is what I’m trying to figure out. Quite the mystery, yes?) He stepped a little closer and looked Jahx up and down. (I must say, you are exactly as your sisters described. And you are quite the gifted telepath.)

  (Why do you say that?) Jahx asked.

  (I was lost out there,) the old man said, pointing toward the door. (So much chaos, so much confusion, but your radiance—you shine from so far away. I followed your light, and it brought me here.)

  Trusting his intuition, Jahx took the old man’s hand and led him to the family room. He showed the Oblin the couch and took a seat across from him on the ottoman.

  (I felt myself leave the physical plane when my sisters freed me from the Motti’s captivity. Do you think we’re dead?) Jahx asked.

  The old man ran his fingers down his braided beard. (I do not know. Your sister, Jaeia, tried to save me and my companions by sending our biosignals into the wave network. I think that’s where I am... unless I died too.)

  Jahx looked around, trying to understand the dynamic world. The cement walls cracked open, the paint flaking and peeling away. Windows shattered and decorations vanished one by one.

  (I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m just so tired,) Jahx said, resting his head in his hands. Fatigue ate at his bones. It felt like he hadn’t slept in years. (I just want to sleep.)