(No!) she cried, breaking free as M’ah Pae erupted from the fallen angel’s skins.
Jetta scrambled through the wastelands of Old Earth with the Motti Overlord in pursuit, his screeching voice tearing into her skull as his spidery feet cracked against the ground like thunder.
I have to get away from here. I have to get back to me—what I was before this. I have to get out of Victor’s mind, she thought, searching for a familiar connection within. Gray eyes flashed through her memory. (My sister.)
(Jaeia, help me!) she screamed, falling to her knees.
The thing with the burning red eye grabbed her by the waist with its mechanical arms, hissing and cackling. “You are nothing!”
As M’ah Pae reared back to spear her with his pincers, Jaeia’s presence breached the void and pulled vigorously at her mind, retracting her back across time, across the stars.
“I warned your sister about that,” Victor said, tapping his head.
“You’re not human,” Jetta gasped, holding her head in her hands as she fell back into her own body. Her stomach stewed with sickness, but she did her best not to throw-up in her air-regulated helmet. “You’re the devil.”
Victor laughed. “The devil. What an antiquated idea.”
“What the hell do you want?” Jaeia said, holding on to Jetta.
“I want you to join me. There are many that wish to control you, to cage your powers and your minds. But I do not. I will set you free. I will give you the answers you seek about your life, your family and your destiny.”
“Destiny?” Jetta said, head still spinning.
“Warchild,” Victor said, leaning into the subscreen. “I’ll be waiting here, on Jue Hexron, for your arrival.”
“Jetta,” Jaeia whispered, her eyes growing wide in disbelief as the image of Victor panned out and two figures in the background came into focus. Galm’s smile was the same, toothless and timid, though his hair was a little thinner and his posture more hunched. Lohien had also aged, but her sad expression remained unchanged. They held hands as they waved to the camera.
Victor kept his voice just above a whisper. “And so will your aunt and uncle.”
“Jaeia...” Jetta said as the transmission ended. She looked at her gloved hands, but all she could see was the same black, scaly skin she had seen in Victor’s mind. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what I’m becoming,” she said. “I feel like... I feel like something terrible inside me is trying to get out.”
Jetta heard her sister’s fear in the back of her mind: The Abomination.
“Hold on, Jetta,” Jaeia said, inputting the coordinates for their course heading into the jumpdrive. “This isn’t over yet.”
Jetta surprised herself with the speed of her attack as she smacked her sister’s helmet against the crossbeam. Mumbling, Jaeia slumped in her seat.
Unable to sense her twin, or even her own feelings, Jetta put the fighter into standby mode.
“I’m afraid it is for me,” Jetta said, unbuckling her sister and hoisting her over her seat. With a grunt, she dragged Jaeia to the emergency booster pods in the secondary chamber. Jaeia tried to open her eyes, unintelligible words spilling from her mouth in slurs as Jetta clicked her into the booster.
“We both knew it would come to this,” Jetta said, cinching herself on a safety line to a latch panel as she prepared to open the hatch and eject her sister from the fighter.
The medical frigate cast a shadow from above as it drifted by on its side, emergency power backups sputtering. Jetta released the locks, and her sister shot out of the fighter, skimming the belly of the frigate.
After repressurizing the secondary chamber, Jetta unhooked from the safety line and returned to the cockpit. With a strange self-assuredness she inputted the jump coordinates, relying on more than her own intuition. A wave of nausea rose in her throat just before she hit the ignition, but she didn’t hesitate.
I’m coming, Victor.
As the jumpdrive pulled apart the strings of space-time, she felt something wet on her face.
“Goodbye, Jaeia.”
The saga continues...
Jaeia lurched over the railing, but fell backwards onto the lift as if someone had kicked her in the gut.
“Captain, are you okay?” one of the medics asked as another checked her vital signs.
Jaeia reached out, trying to grasp at the connection that was no longer there.
Jetta was dead.
—Triorion: Reborn
For more information go to: www.triorion.com
Triorion: Reborn
Part I
Book Three
L. J. Hachmeister
Prologue
(OLD) EARTH: FEBRUARY 13, 2052
The world was dying. Sirens blared in the distance as explosions shook the foundation of the building. Even beneath the subway tunnels in this unregistered sub-basement, blasts rattled the lab, sending equipment and tools crashing to the floor.
Josef Stein twisted in his clothes, trying to resist the insatiable itch that crawled across his body and concentrate on his objective. He could see the little buggers traveling under his skin, their spreading toxins sullying his olive coloring. It wouldn’t be long before parts of him necrosed, his blood hemolyzing as his acid levels reached critical levels. It would be a painful death, but either way, the Earth was ending, and his demise was imminent.
The part of him that clung to lucidity knew what he had done. It was too much to fathom—becoming the cause of Earth’s destruction after being heralded as its savior. The damage was done, irreparable and irredeemable. But some inexplicable force within kept him from using the gun tucked away in his desk drawer.
The picture of his son fell to the floor as the structure quaked. Dirt and debris rained down from the ceiling, and the emergency power clicked over, inundating the room in red light. Josef scooped up the picture, broken glass cutting him as he removed the paper behind it.
“Kurt,” he whispered.
He shuffled painfully over to the desk drawer and pulled out a video-recorder module. Wiping the dirt from his eyes, he held the camera with shaky hands, focusing every ounce of strength on his last words. He wondered why—there was no way to send it out, and Kurt was already dead. But through the agony and hallucinations, it was the only thing that felt like it came from his old self.
“Dearest Kurt, I am ashamed of what I have become. I have let the devil inside me...”
When he was done, he sealed the picture of his son, the recording, and a few other personal items inside an envelope and placed it carefully in the safe under his desk, whispering a prayer as he locked and replaced the protective cover.
“Please forgive me for all that I have done...”
A close-hitting explosion tore into the building above, sending the support pillars crashing through the ceiling as bricks and concrete slabs tumbled from above. With dust stinging his eyes, Josef coughed and struggled for air as he rolled over and crawled blindly through the debris.
(Oh Josef, look what you’ve become.)
“No, no, NO!” he screamed, racking his head against the wall. It was impossible. He shouldn’t have been able to find him here. This was his sanctuary, the one place on the planet that he should have been safe.
(You can never escape me.)
Josef thought of the gun tucked away in his desk.
(Tsk, tsk—such thoughts. You are getting in the way of your destiny.)
“My destiny?” he asked as the debris settled. A single unbroken emergency light blinked in the darkness. Though Josef heard the familiar voice, he couldn’t locate its source within the shadow.
(You were useless, blind, inhibited—but I showed you your power. I destroyed that which was unnecessary inside you. Now, Josef, you can help me end this war.)
“Stay away from me!” he screamed, swinging blindly at the dark.
Something slithered in the shadow. (Now is the time to be reborn.)
Josef cradled himself as
phantom fingers wrapped around his throat. Pain exploded through his head, and in the wreckage new desires dilated his mind, animating his dying body. The foreign compulsions were fierce, implacable, the pain immense until he yielded, letting himself drift down into in the dark interstice.
A thought cut right through him: the experiment.
Something inside him protested as the dwindling remainder of his sanity slowly pulled apart. He thought again of the gun. What was he becoming? He had to end himself before he lost the last of his control.
But the will to live was strong, as was the pull of the abomination he now harbored.
The experiment.
Barely commanding his own muscles, he limped over to the last stasis vial where trial Smart Cell Technology Series #117 hung suspended in gelatinous fluid.
Kurt. Edina. Martin. All dead. No hope.
He couldn’t fight his instincts, or the desires boiling inside him.
Josef broke the glass, gelatinous fluid dripping from his hands and down his arms as his teeth tore open the safety seal. The nanites were invisible to the naked eye, but he felt them tickle his throat as they crawled inside him, burrowing through flesh and integrating themselves into his decaying body.
“I know who I am,” he whispered as he fell to his knees.
The voice in the shadows laughed at him.
Chapter I
While cryostasis had slowed Triel’s mind, it had not stopped it. Pulled apart from corporeality by chemical slumber, she drifted in and out of consciousness, faintly aware of her existence in the parallel universe.
A swirl of kaleidoscope colors danced across the dimensional planes as she drifted lazily. Though disconcerting, the separation was eerily painless, and she grew weary of her mind’s struggle to maintain its tethers to her body. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep.
That’s when she saw him.
Jahx had only been a borrowed memory to her. She had seen him in Jetta and Jaeia’s mind hundreds of time, felt their bond to him, but now his approaching light jolted her awake. Jetta and Jaeia’s minds were powerful, but Jahx’s was on an entirely different scale. His strength stemmed from a different source, one that seemed infinite and timeless.
(Hello,) he called to her as he approached. Crisp circles of light dotted the outline of his features. (My name is Jahx. You’re friends with my sisters.)
(How did you know?) she whispered. He was more handsome than he had looked in his sisters’ memories. His bright blue eyes stood out against his dark features, and his smile was magnetic, drawing her closer to his luminescence.
(I felt you in Jetta’s mind. You’re very important to them, but especially to her.)
Triel didn’t know what to say. (I am?)
Jahx nodded. (Yes. And you need to go back to help them. They’re in trouble. You need to tell them the truth about Rion, about Algar legend, before it’s too late.)
(What is this place?)
(The place between. I can guide you back to your body,) he said, pointing to the vibrating strings of light that encircled her and wound back toward the glowing horizon.
(What about you?)
(Don’t worry about me; I will find a way. Just promise me one thing,) Jahx said, his ethereal light enveloping her mind. Suddenly aware of her lungs, she breathed in sharply. The air was warm and invigorating. Blood thundered through her core and down her arms and legs.
(Anything.)
(This is very important. Their enemy is not who they think. Their real enemy is—)
Enemy. Her memories returned in a rush. The Alliance had tricked her. Reht and the others—they had been made into Sleeper Agents. She remembered the cover-up orchestrated by Unipoesa. She remembered being struck down and shoved into a freezer case. She was betrayed, lied to—used.
(Triel—no—wait!) Jahx said, but she broke free.
(I’m tired of letting others abuse me,) she said, striking his outstretched hand.
(They are ignorant. They’re afraid. They don’t understand what they do—)
Triel grasped the threads leading back to her body and hurtled toward the horizon that separated her body and mind. As she slipped back into the physical realm, anger throbbed in her chest, hot and alive.
She couldn’t open her eyes. Triel tried to move her hands and feet, but her body wasn’t responding. Everything was cold and numb, disconnected from her will. The muffled sounds of the monitors were barely discernible behind the glass of her cryotube. Though she had successfully reawakened from within, she wasn’t sure how long she was going to keep controlwith the medications flowing through the intravenous lines.
Triel felt around herself in the ether, searching for accessible minds as she stared into the blood-lit darkness. Two technicians were conversing nearby, their minds unaware and unobstructed.
Hear me, she said, projecting her thoughts. The nearest one was a human hybrid. His flesh was simple and easily divisible. She reached into his skull and dug in with invisible fingers, and his neurons flared to her touch. Get me out of this thing.
He screamed, bucking backward against the console. The other technician tried to calm him, but Triel dove deeper, scorching his nerve fibers. Release me.
The repeated pounding of flesh finished with a crack, indicating the job was done. A body slumped to the floor, rolling against her cryotube. The steady beeping of the monitors was interrupted by a crescendo whine. Warm stasis fluid intermixed with the cryon, her limbs and core slowly reviving. She frantically pulled at the tube down her windpipe with numb hands, gagging and coughing as she dragged it from her airway. She opened her eyes as the fluid pressure dropped and the stasis lid retracted. Her victim was there, eyes bloodshot, half-crazed, claw marks ringing his neck.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he mumbled as he disentangled her from the leads and pulse oximeter. His hands shook as he frenetically removed her monitors.
She looked to her left where the dead body of the other technician lay. “You do quick work.”
“Please don’t hurt me,” the technician whimpered, falling to his knees.
Triel ripped the intravenous line out of her arm, letting the blood trickle onto the tiled floor. “It’s too late.”
She watched with cold indifference as the technician tore at his skin, his heart racing and nerves afire. “The burning—I’m burning alive!”
Triel walked away as he crumpled to the floor. It was so easy. With a little misdirection, she could induce complete cell lysis, liquefying his organs and tissues. It was the release she had been fearing and craving for years, and she allowed her mind to linger within his as he took his last breaths. She inhaled sharply, completely exhilarated as the technician’s congested heart stilled.
And to think—all these years I had been afraid.
She peeked out through the doors of the cryostasis chamber. Only two guards posted. Too easy. With the power she felt, she could tear apart an entire armada with a single thought.
“Weak minds. Putrid thoughts.”
Triel leaned against the wall, suddenly aware of how hot she was. She slid down until she was sitting on the floor, resting her head on her knees. She had come out of stasis too soon; it normally took days to revive, and plenty of supportive care. As her head throbbed with every beat of her heart, the compulsion to attack the guards faded.
With her emotions quieted, she sobered to the terrifying reality. I’m Falling.
“Father,” she whispered, raising her hands in front of her face. “Help me. The temptations are too strong.”
Green and black veins snaked up her arms, mottling her fair skin and occluding the fading markings of her people. She thought of her betrayal, how some of the people she trusted most had lied to her, and her anger returned with an icy rush.
“Jetta,” she said, seeing her marred reflection in the plated door frame. “Help me.”
HIS HEAD HURT WHEN he finally woke. He found himself strapped to an exam table. Damon Unipoesa groaned and lifted his head, but his
contact eye enhancements had been removed. He could make out details within a few meters, but everything beyond that was a fuzzy blur.
To his right was a stack of datascopes with his vital signs, to his left an IV with the red cryon prep dripping down the tube into his forearm.
“Soldier, I’m giving you a direct order to release me,” he said to the nearest technician bent over the datascope keyboard.
The technician glanced at him before pressing the bedside com. “Sir, the admiral’s awake.”
Razar’s image organized itself in pixilated blue dots next to his table. At first he thought his eyes were playing tricks. The Minister looked sick, his eye sockets ringed and his face swollen, and the monitor showed him only from the neck up, which was unusual.
“Damon, I warned you,” the Minister said, his words, slightly slurred, delivered with measured precision.
“You’re making a mistake, Razar. You thought you had trouble before, but it’s about to get worse. You can’t do this to me, especially not right now, not when there’s so much at stake. You’re going to lose the last of the Kyrons’ trust.”
The Minister’s eyes trained themselves to his. “You put yourself there. I can’t afford another security risk, especially right now. I’m putting you on ice. We’ve got enough on you to make the case.”
“Tarkn’s don’t sleep well.”
“Would you prefer to be an Agent, Admiral?”
“Someone like me with advanced training wouldn’t take. You know it. Look what’s happening to Tarsha.”
“Wait!” Damon exclaimed as the hypothermia cycle began to whirr. Liquid ice flowed into his veins. His arm spasmed, and bolts of pain shot up into his shoulder and neck.
“Goodbye, Admiral. You’ve always disappointed me,” the Minister said.
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